Short story: A tree only needs to be green...

( Quang Ngai Newspaper) - Every morning, Thy wakes up early and sweeps up the fallen flowers in the yard. This land is strange; for some reason, all the plants she grows produce male flowers. Thy's passion fruit vines are growing profusely. Hung had to spend an entire weekend building a trellis for them to climb. Before long, they've spread all over the yard, providing shade for the old gac fruit tree that's sprouting new shoots, waiting for a new life cycle. With so many flowers, Thy is sure she'll have a delicious, refreshing treat this season.

Before she got married, Thy used to help her mother scrape the pulp from passion fruit and freeze it to drink throughout the year. Every midday, her mother would make a glass and beg Thy, "Drink it, it's so refreshing." Now, planting trees reminds her of her deceased mother. Watching the trees sprout branches and bloom is like waiting for a miracle. Thy had planted many kinds of trees, and had spent seasons anxiously waiting for fruit. But none of the flowers bore fruit like a woman struggling with infertility, longing for a child through countless cycles of the lunar calendar. Occasionally, Hung would bring a knife and chop down a tree trunk: "What's the point of it taking up space? It's all male flowers." The cut was sharp, sap oozing out. The pointed stump was like an arrow piercing Thy's heart, causing a sharp pain. A woman who can't have children, like Thy, is no different from those trees. Trees at least provide shade for life. Thy has nothing but petty sorrows...

When Thy and her husband first got married, they moved here to buy land and build a house. The town was bustling at four or five in the morning when the central market opened. The women selling goods from baskets and trays woke up very early, their hair sometimes still disheveled, and hurried into the market. Thy was also among the piles of carrots, potatoes, cabbage, and kohlrabi stacked high throughout the market. Thy bought and sold to earn a little profit, paying off debts and supporting her husband's education. They owed several hundred million dong for the house construction, and the monthly interest was enough to make them dizzy. Moreover, Hung was studying various subjects hoping to secure a more respectable position in the company. Hung earned his master's degree just as Thy turned 33. With the debts paid off and her husband's job stable, Thy breathed a sigh of relief and began thinking about having children. But wishing for a child didn't always come true. Month after month passed, yet the longing for a baby remained in her heart. As the street vendor's cart passed by the door, the voice of artist Thu Hien singing poured into my heart: "Does Mother know how much she loves her child? / She loved me from the moment I was conceived in her womb...". If only Thy's belly also held a life now, so she could experience cravings like other women. So she could be affectionate with her husband in the middle of the night: "I'm craving beef pho, I'm craving crab noodle soup."

The first tree Thy brought home to plant was a papaya. It was her husband's favorite fruit; he could eat as much as he wanted without getting tired of it. The plant seller had told her it was a variety with long, sweet, and refreshing papayas with few seeds. Importantly, she also shared some tips on how to care for it so it would bear fruit year-round. When she saw the first flower, Thy had far-fetched thoughts. She imagined that her family's dinner table would soon have ripe papaya as a dessert. If it bore fruit, she would give a few to each neighbor to blend for their children's weaning food. Before long, the flowers bloomed profusely, growing densely from the base to the top of the tree. Her husband was captivated and excitedly suggested buying a few more trees to plant. But the flowers gradually withered, leaving no papaya on Thy's dinner table. One wave of flowers after another fell, scattering across the yard. Thy held her breath several times, waiting. There were times she felt nauseous, craved sour things, and felt like something was changing in her body. Thy couldn't remember how many times this happened, only to be met with embarrassment in front of her husband and herself.

Occasionally, neighbors would come over to ask for male papaya flowers to treat their children's illnesses. Sometimes they used them to treat thrush, sometimes whooping cough... Hung laughed and said:
At least it's not completely useless.
- If a tree doesn't bear fruit, you can use its flowers. But if a woman doesn't have children, she's considered worthless.
- You're just rambling. Many people don't have children, they don't want children, and they still live happily. They're always carefree, never having to worry about diapers, vomiting, or going crazy over children's mischief.
- A house without the sound of children is terribly boring. What can two adults do to pass the time?
- Earn money, cook, travel . There's no shortage of time to spend!

But then, as the two of them grew older, they found life incredibly dull. Earning a lot of money couldn't buy happiness. Saving up money was pointless without a child. Meals were often left untouched, and the enthusiasm for cooking gradually diminished. Travels were devoid of laughter because everywhere they went, they saw other families happily celebrating. The doors of their house were often kept tightly closed so Thy wouldn't be bothered by the sight of neighbors doting on their children. So the sweet, candy-like calls of "Mommy!" wouldn't sting her heart. So when someone scolded their child, saying, "If I knew they were this stubborn, I'd rather have given birth to an egg," Thy wouldn't have to sigh and lament, "Why keep scolding them? If I had a child like that, I'd cherish them to the fullest." Occasionally, she'd hear the neighbors scolding their child, their voices hissing through clenched teeth: "If your child is naughty, kick them out the door. I'm not raising them anymore." And sure enough, Thy would shout back, "If you kick them out the door, I'll really take them in and raise them myself!" Seeing this, Hung quickly offered his opinion:
- Or how about adopting a child?
- Then just ask to come here and I'll take care of everything.

***

Thy heard her husband's sigh of relief. The baby boy he brought home, thankfully, looked exactly like him. The neighbors whispered amongst themselves, but Thy pretended not to hear. If Thy couldn't bear children for her husband, then let someone else have them; she would raise the child. At least it was her husband's blood; there was no harm in that. Thy thought that if she loved her child, the child would love her too. Having brought the child home when he was still a newborn, Thy had little time for idle thoughts. Many sleepless nights were spent caring for the sick child with fever. She cooked porridge and baby food just like everyone else. Her body was also covered in the stench of urine. She had forgotten that the child was only adopted. She felt as if she herself had carried him for nine months and given birth to him. Occasionally, people would inadvertently bring up her pain. When someone came to buy something, they would exclaim, "You're such a good mother, the boy looks so handsome and adorable!" Or sometimes they would say, "You were a surrogate mother, the boy looks exactly like his father."
There were times when the words of strangers made her feel hurt. The boy was the child of some woman she had never met. Often, seeing her husband gazing intently at their son, Thy wondered if he was thinking of someone else. One night, lying beside her husband listening to the rain outside the window, Thy sighed as she thought of one of the many nights he was away from home, when he had been with another woman.

***

Thy planted a few more loofah vines to climb the trellis for shade, replacing the passion fruit vines. The plump loofah shoots stretched long, even climbing onto the roof. Occasionally, Thy would pick the shoots and stir-fry them with garlic, not wanting them to produce more male flowers. The flowers were a painfully yellow until they withered. A swarm of bees would come buzzing around all afternoon. Everyone who passed by praised the beautiful loofah garden. Some people asked her to save some soup for them when the loofahs bore fruit. A bowl of loofah soup with spinach would be delicious in this season. But Thy didn't expect any miracles. And then, only the male flowers fell carelessly on the ground. Once, she wondered if it was the soil. It was the same loofah variety, but why did her neighbor get a harvest while hers didn't? Maybe living in a different environment would make her pregnant, and she would have a healthy baby. Thy once discussed with her husband, "Maybe we should sell the house and move somewhere else." My husband laughed and said there are thousands of infertility cases, and if simply changing residences could lead to having children, they wouldn't have to sit waiting for ages outside clinics.

MH: VO VAN

Lately, Thy hasn't had time to admire the male flowers anymore. She's been busy helping her son with his homework. The house is sometimes noisy because the little boy is so mischievous. He lets the water run all over the bathroom, draws random things on the walls, and covers the refrigerator and bed frame with pictures of the moon. Before Thy can even scold him, he rushes to hug her legs. Wiping away the saliva he leaves on her face after his shower of kisses, Thy feels her heart soften, just like the golden gourd petals gently falling in the yard. Lately, Thy has enjoyed cooking again because the little one loves spring rolls, braised pork, and Doraemon pancakes. Sweat streams down her face after coming out of the kitchen, but all the fatigue disappears when she sits and watches her son eat with relish. Thy will grow old surrounded by warm embraces, by the times her son rushes into her arms… Thy must thank God for bringing him into her life.

These past few days, autumn has arrived in Northern Vietnam, but there are still many days of sweltering sunshine. If it weren't for the loofah vines providing shade, the heat would surely rush straight into the house. The children seem to enjoy the bees hiding among the loofah flowers. The picture you drew yesterday also features loofah flowers, but I no longer find that yellow color so irritating. You are like a refreshing rain, soothing my heart. Now I don't cut down the plants that produce male flowers anymore. Because I think that simply having a green plant is a blessing to life.

VU THI HUYEN TRANG

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Source: https://baoquangngai.vn/van-hoa/van-hoc/202410/truyen-ngan-cay-chi-can-xanh-b03154c/