Water flows down the river in the evening.

Short story: Hoang Khanh Duy

"Oh dear... The wind blows in all directions."
If you still love me, my dear old friend, please send me a few words.
"Does Dang Tuong still have the springtime of life?"*

Thà sat with her knees drawn up on the veranda, gazing out at the river, softly singing in the rustling afternoon breeze. On the river, a lone bird anxiously searched for its mate, its mournful cry echoing. Those passing by, hearing the girl's song, thought she had experienced enough bitterness and hardship, yet Thà was still so young, her cheeks still rosy, glistening in the lingering afternoon sun. The golden sunlight was fading in the small courtyard leading to the riverbank, the last rays gathering around the marigold flowers, igniting them into a fiery blaze.

Since leaving the boat and moving ashore, Tha has always longed for the rivers she once traveled. The river is etched in her mind, a soft silk ribbon winding around her on a moonlit night, a gentle embrace that nurtured the lives of her and her husband as they drifted on their tiny boat. Tha loves the river; she lets all her joys and sorrows flow into it. On sleepless nights, she sits at the bow of the boat, singing country songs and sweet, soulful folk melodies to the river.

Back then, Thà thought that the two of them would be bound to the river for life. They would never be separated.

As the moonlit nights passed, the boat drifted along many different rivers, and when it returned to places it had once traveled, especially the stretch of river where her husband's mother's house was located, Thà's heart would ache with longing. She watched her husband diligently repairing the boat's roof, his bare back glistening with sweat in the scorching midday sun, and her heart ached with sorrow.

- My dear, if you marry me, your life will be miserable.

He stopped what he was doing, looked at Tha, his eyes as sad as the evening river whenever Tha said that. On those occasions, he would take Tha's hand:

No, it's all your fault!

It's better to smile, but the joy won't be fully reflected in her eyes. Women in this land often learn to accept things. A little sacrifice is acceptable, as long as it doesn't upset anyone. But Thà knows that even if she accepts the sacrifice, his mother won't appreciate her sincerity.

I remember the day he brought Thà home to meet his mother; she didn't approve. Her anger at her only son disobeying her made her face turn purple. At that moment, Thà didn't know what to do, whether to stay or leave, comforting and massaging his mother. He told Thà to stay on the boat for a while, and that his mother would eventually calm down.

But his mother never gave up. She never accepted Tha as her daughter-in-law because Tha was an orphan from a young age, raised by the kindness of the people in the market at the river junction. Growing up, Tha lived on a boat, constantly on the move. One day she was on one river, the next she was on another, a life of wandering and uncertainty, never knowing where to settle. Tha's life was simple and impoverished. Her home was a small boat on the river; a little rain and wind would soak the inside, forcing her to use plastic bags to cover this and that. Tha lived a life of hardship, surrounded by the fates of many river traders, meeting one day and parting the next.

"Of all the girls in this land, why marry some vagabond? Are all the girls here dead or something?" his mother said angrily. He knew his mother wasn't cruel. A mother who had endured many hardships, who had to struggle and sacrifice so much to raise her son without a husband, she understood the trials of life. She couldn't bear to see her son walk the same precarious path she had walked. He felt like he was standing at a crossroads, unsure which way to go. He loved Thà deeply and wanted to protect her for life. He always wanted his mother to have a peaceful old age.

Life is so paradoxical, isn't it?

Thà often said that to her husband, then hugged him from behind. At those times, Thà felt a mixture of warmth and bitterness in her heart. For all these years, he had been her unwavering support. For him, Thà lived not only by love but also by gratitude. That day, he chose Thà, instead of abandoning her as his mother had advised…

***

That year, the rainy season arrived later than usual. After a light afternoon shower, the sky calmed down, became clearer, and glowed a brilliant red in the twilight. In the sky, a flock of birds flew swiftly across the wide field.

It was the saddest day of Tha's life. That afternoon, Tha took him across the wide river, the pole heavy with water, her heart heavy with the wind. He stepped ashore, looking back at the boat where he and Tha had shared so many peaceful moonlit nights. He walked towards his mother's house, and Tha stood at the bow of the boat, watching his figure disappear across the fields and vanish completely behind the dense vegetation. Tha's heart ached, for she understood that this might be the last time she would see him. The night before he left home after hearing that his mother was seriously ill, he had held Tha for a long time, as if it were the last time they would be together on that boat, drifting through so many seasons of rain and sunshine.

Then another rainy season came, and he still hadn't returned. Every afternoon, Thà would stand silently, gazing at the shortcut across the fields that he had once walked. She didn't moor her boat elsewhere because, unconsciously, she feared that if he returned, he wouldn't be able to find it. But gradually, she just moored her boat there, because she didn't know where to go or what to do to fill the emptiness after he left. More than anyone else, Thà knew how she could keep him on this boat forever, how he could live peacefully beside her for the rest of his life, when he still had a mother who had sacrificed her whole life for him.

Thà only felt more affection for him. He had left his mother to follow Thà for a period of his life, so it wasn't a case of unintentional betrayal, why should Thà resent him? Even though Thà still cherished his image, still felt tormented by memories of the time spent with the man she loved, a time of hardship but also the happiest time of her life.

***

Later, Thà learned that he had a small family. His wife was kind. The whole family lived comfortably in the old-fashioned house that his mother had preserved for many years. From then on, Thà stopped mooring his boat at the old stretch of river and chose a piece of land to settle down. Only occasionally would Thà go down to the old boat. The boat had been left there for so long that it had a few cracks, and river water trickled in with each stroke of Thà's oar. Thà would go down to the boat and row somewhere, wandering around the rivers he had once traveled, gazing at the old scenes associated with beautiful memories that he could never forget.

"Loving each other means suffering for a lifetime."

"Who would dare let go of a lonely bracelet?"

------

* Lyrics of the song "Lonely Friend," composed by Dong Duong.

Source: https://baocantho.com.vn/nuoc-chay-song-chieu-a189146.html