Short story: Night wind

( Quang Ngai Newspaper) - In Dung hamlet, everyone knows that Dau Dua was picked up by his grandfather while he was cutting grass on the hill. Whenever talking about Dau Dua, people in Dung hamlet often tell the story of Mr. Manh coming back that afternoon, one hand pulling a bag of grass, the other holding him, who was limp like a rag, his body covered with scabs. That day, as usual, his grandmother herded the ducks from the pond into the pen, but when she turned around, he still hadn't returned. She looked up at the sky worriedly. At noon, when he was holding a scythe and a winch, she told him: "It looks like it's going to rain this afternoon, go quickly and come back!". He mumbled: "Just treat me like a child."

She went into the kitchen to prepare dinner, and had just turned the pot of rice over the ashes when she heard a commotion outside the alley. She looked out, and in the evening light, he was running, followed by Mr. Buong, Mrs. Nhu, and Mrs. Man from the neighborhood. Holding the chopsticks, she had not yet had time to stir the pot of rice when she threw them away and ran out. In his arms was a child about one year old, with a nose that was bubbling. “Quickly find something for him to eat, he’s hungry!”, he shouted.

Not understanding what was going on, she hurriedly went into the kitchen to scoop rice into a bowl and pick up a piece of braised fish. While Mrs. Nhu helped the boy down and fed him, she went to the water tank to wash the towel. The boy finished his bowl of rice and then woke up, looking around blankly. She wiped his face, his face looked bright after wiping but his body still smelled fishy. Mrs. Nhu turned away: "Poor thing, full of boils!". "Look, what happened to his hand?", Mrs. Man pointed to the boy's left arm hanging down like a piece of excess flesh.

At this time, the grandmother asked softly: "Whose child is that, grandpa?". "I don't know, I was cutting grass near the pineapple field and heard a baby crying, I ran over and saw him lying in the grass, his body red from ant bites". "Now I know where his parents are so I can return him?". "Let's wait and see, if they don't accept him, I'll bring him to the city for our son Manh and his wife to raise". "Manh? Do you think he'll raise the boy?", she exclaimed. "Why not? They've been married for more than six years and haven't had any children, now having a boy is a blessing from heaven, grandpa!", he smiled, showing off his teeth that had fallen out more than half.

She held back a sigh. Mr. Buong, Mrs. Nhu, and Mrs. Man looked at each other with pity. After chatting for a while, they went home. When they reached the alley, Mrs. Nhu muttered: "Looking at the boy, I feel sorry for him. Raising a child like that would be a lifelong job."

Dinner was served, Mr. Manh ate while watching the boy. In contrast to him, she held her bowl of rice and looked out at the field. As if understanding her, he smiled: "There's nothing to worry about. If Manh doesn't raise him, you and I will. Tomorrow, after releasing the ducks, you should go up the mountain and pick a handful of antlers to boil water to bathe him in. Wait for his parents to come. If they don't, I'll take them to the city."

She silently thought to herself: "With him, everything in this world is easy." Turning to the boy who was timidly looking at her, he seemed to understand. She felt sorry for him, pulled him closer, caressed his limp arms, then sighed: "I feel so sorry for him, opening his eyes is already painful...".

For more than two months, she had asked someone to send word, but there was still no sign of the boy's parents. Since he returned to his grandparents, he had become more fleshy, and he knew how to fold his arms and say "yes" to everyone he met. Every week, she would go up the hill to pick three-leafed leaves and fill a bag to save for bathing him. The scabs on his head and legs were now dry. In the afternoon, after herding the ducks, she turned around and saw her husband sitting on the bench. "I think, the little guy is fine now, next week I'll take him to the city." "Oh... but I'm worried...", she looked out into the field, her habit every time something difficult happened. "Just leave it to me! From now on, I'll call him Long Bean," he laughed. "On the thirtieth day of the month, when you stir-fried long beans, I was sick of it, but he still ate it well. What a poor boy!"

She smiled, her eyes filled with tears as she watched Bean Spoon walk around the yard, hissing as he chased the chickens, imitating her exactly...

On Sunday morning, Mr. Manh woke up very early, his wife also got up and hurriedly cooked rice, packed food for the road. Knowing that Mr. and his grandson Dau Dua were going to the city, Mr. Buong helped drive them to the national highway. The red dirt road was bumpy, going up and down, Mr. Manh wobbled behind, Dau Dua was sandwiched in the middle, his face was bewildered. The road was more than three hundred kilometers, when they arrived it was already evening, Mr. Manh waved at the motorbike taxi driver to give them the address written on the paper. The motorbike taxi driver, who was familiar with the road, sped up, several times Mr. Manh felt overwhelmed, patted the motorbike taxi driver's shoulder and said: "Let me and my grandson get off and walk!" The motorbike taxi driver laughed heartily, sped up again.

Mr. Manh stood for a long time, looking at the tall bronze carved gate. “Tsk tsk... what a castle-like gate,” he muttered. Dau Dua timidly grabbed the hem of his shirt and looked around. “Manh!” he called, then banged on the gate, and a big German Shepherd jumped out.

MH: VO VAN

The gate opened, a plump woman stuck her head out and said harshly: "Who are you looking for!?". "Where is Manh?", he smiled, showing his missing teeth. "What's your name so I can come in and say hello", the woman asked in annoyance. "I'm his father! Okay?", he snapped.

The woman nodded and quickly opened the gate. Climbing up the steps, he breathed heavily and looked up to see his son standing in front of him. "Dad?". "Oh, I've been waiting for you for a long time and you're not coming back. I came here for something important.". "What's the matter? Come in first, Dad!", he said, then turned to Dau Dua: "Whose son is this, Dad?". "Come in and let's talk."

Mr. Manh told Dau Dua to sit still on the chair in the garden, and waved to Mr. Manh: "The little boy I picked up on the hill when I was cutting grass. His face is bright and gentle, but his arm is crippled. I'll take him in and raise him. My wife and I are infertile. Having him will bring joy to the family, and we'll be doing a good deed."

Before he finished speaking, Mr. Manh jumped up and said, “What are you thinking, Dad? I won’t adopt that boy, just think about it...”. “Okay, okay!”, Mr. Manh waved his hand. “If you don’t want to adopt him, I will, no need to think about it anymore”, he hurriedly walked out the door, to Dau Dua who was engrossed in looking at the swallows in the cage. He picked up Dau Dua and put a cloth cap on his head. “Go home, go home to your grandparents, eat whatever you have!”. “Dad...”, Mr. Manh stood on the porch and called out. Mr. Manh walked ahead without looking back.

She passed away five years ago. Dau Dua is now twelve years old. He now cuts grass, herds cows, and cooks rice for his grandfather. Sometimes he looks at him without blinking, as if God, seeing his kindness, sent him to him in his old age.

One day Dau Dua went to school, one day he went to the fields, no matter how far he went, he would run back to his grandfather. His son and his wife in the city came back twice a year and then left. When his grandfather was sick, Dau Dua was the only one by his side. He was affectionate but his face was always pensive. Now that Dau Dua is grown up, he knows that his grandfather picked him up on the hill. When the housework is done, he often finds an excuse to cut grass. He goes alone, sitting where his grandfather saw him crying. Dau Dua sits for a long time, then returns in the afternoon. His childhood was spent in the garden with the wind, with his grandfather, with this hill. He remembers when he was little, his grandmother often sang a lullaby "Au o vi dau cau bo dac dinh...", that sad lullaby is deeply ingrained in his memory.

Sometimes he imagined his parents' faces like this or that person on TV he had seen, then looked down at his arm like a piece of excess flesh, sadly saying: "When I grow up, I can still do all those things... why did you abandon me..." He was angry in silence. Many nights when he slept, Mr. Manh sat beside him, holding a bamboo fan and fanning him. Sometimes he heard him mumble and sob in his sleep. He loved his adopted grandson more than his own son in the city. In the twilight, there was the sound of a car horn honking outside the alley, his son was back. Lately, he came back frequently, each time he brought him gifts. From outside the alley, he heard his son's eager voice: "Dau Dua, where is grandpa?". "Yes, grandpa is hoeing in the back garden", Dau Dua politely replied and then sneaked out to the garden to find an excuse to put straw for the cows.

The father and son sat on the porch, Mr. Manh whispered in his ear: "Our land is now gold, Dad. People are preparing to open a big road through here, this road leads to a tourist area. Now I'm thinking like this...". He lowered his voice: "Soon I'll send someone here to look at our land and design a European-style garden house. My wife and I will come here to live with you, the villa on the street is for rent...".

“Well, what you said sounds good to me, but I’m a farmer, I’m used to living in a farming house, just let me stay here and raise cows, raise ducks, grow vegetables, you should stay in the city”. “Dad!”, Mr. Manh was annoyed. “What kind of father is this, you can never say more than two sentences”. Then he stood up and smoothed his hair: “I’m going, I’ll come back next week to talk to you, think again...”.

Mr. Manh silently stacked the baskets he had just woven, not bothering to look up at his son. Holding the baskets and putting them on the porch, he went out into the garden to look for Dau Dua. In the dim afternoon light, Dau Dua sat next to the not-yet-dried straw, his good arm wrapped around his pillow, his chin resting on his spare arm, his eyes wide open...
“Green Bean! Come here to me!”

Bean Spoon turned back, in the evening light it saw its grandfather's worried face, not understanding what made him so sad. He looked into its clear eyes, eyes that were always bewildered and worried. He hugged it to his chest and inhaled its sour, sweaty back.

Night. Dau Dua slept soundly, under the lamplight he silently admired the radiant child's face. After a while, he fumbled around to find a piece of paper and a ballpoint pen, tremblingly bent down to the bed in the middle of the house, and carefully wrote "Will... My name is...".

Outside the night wind still blows.

VU NGOC GIAO

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