The Zenith

by Duong Thu Huong

  “Yes, you are right,” Vu says. “This is totally my fault. I am so preoccupied and did not think sooner about this.”

  Vu then grabs his brother’s hand. “Look here, Brother, your hands are rough and dark, mine are white. Thus you carry all the heavy burden in the family on my behalf.”

  “You are joking; everybody who works in an office has a white face and hands.”

  “I cannot use my mouth to thank you because words are ordinary and bland. But, according to the old ways, I must kneel down and bow to you.”

  “Now, Brother Vu…” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. You and I are from the same womb. A burden on your shoulders is a burden on mine.”

  Tears well up in his eyes and also begin to roll down Vu’s cheeks. Vu turns toward the yard at the back of the hospital to avoid curious eyes. Bac also looks down, and drinks cup after cup of tea.

  After a long while, the older brother looks up. “The business between you and Miss Van: in what way has it been solved?”

  “I have not gone through the process of separation but will move into the office complex. When little Trung has summer vacation I will take him there. The other day when the secretary came to visit me, he requested that I prepare all the formalities so that, when I leave the hospital, I can go straight to the new place. Van will stay in the villa with Vinh, and, certainly, her brother will crawl in there.”

  “It’s hard to resolve amicably. I think she will not agree to it.”

  “As of now, I cannot find a better solution.”

  “In this situation, it is hard for you to take in Nghia. Let me take her to the city with the family. Whatever happens, a girl from the city is always less deprived than a peasant from a farm.”

  “I am indebted to you, but I will manage to find help somewhere. In truth, the little girl is really at a disadvantage.”

  Bac gets up. “I have to return before I miss the afternoon ferry. I am not comfortable leaving the girl alone overnight. Perhaps I will have to make arrangements to sell the house and garden or hire someone to look after it when I take her to the city, the sooner the better.”

  Hesitating a moment, he sighs and adds: “Do you know that plenty of guys stalk the paths day and night? She is not yet fourteen and she is quite attractive. That is why I dare not leave her by herself.”

  He rubs his brother’s back. “Take care of your health. I feel all your ribs here.”

  Putting his hat on, he leaves.

  Vu sits down and looks at Bac disappearing into the bustling crowd of people entering and leaving the hospital. He does not like emotional good-byes in front of a crowd, which is why he does not walk his brother out. In his family, often an opposite scene was played: on his visits to Bac in the town, when it came time to leave, the two brothers dragged things out for a good hour, unable to separate. Bac always found excuses to accompany Vu to the car, then would take him around, stopping here for a while to drink tea, there to watch a fish pond or a rock garden. Then, at the end, Bac would suddenly cry out:

  “Oh, my goodness! I forgot to give you a pack of tea. The lotus-smoked tea from Mrs. Lieu of Cham Lien village. During the lotus season, flowers from all the large ponds are brought to her to sell. Her toasting hand has no equal. Hanoi people always come down to buy.” Or:

  “Oh, my goodness! I have packed some fish in a bag of water and have forgotten it in the kitchen. Wait for me. These fish are superior river fish. Bother yourself a little to take them back and put them in a great big ceramic pot. Ask Miss Van to make porridge or put them in wine and ginger to eat.” Or:

  “Oh, my goodness! The ocean shrimp I carefully grilled—I forgot them in the chest. Wait, I will get them. Take them back to Hanoi to enjoy with beer.”

  Each time, he found many different kinds of such “forgetting,” which enabled their partings to be drawn out for a little more time. On the contrary, when Bac visited Hanoi and it came time for him to leave, he would quickly run alone to the car while the younger brother looked quietly on. Their personalities were different; so were their behaviors.

  “He is a worthy man: a brother replacing a father!” Vu thinks to himself a little later. Then, “He replaces the father but has no brotherly authority!”

  It is indeed true. Vu was responsible for all important decisions in the family, but his brother carried out the most arduous duties. When they were little, their mother often told their father, “Our family’s two sons seem under a love charm for each other. But the little one has a big head and always bosses the older one.”

  Vu smiles as he drinks his tea. As Tran Phu and Le Phuong cross the yard arm in arm, an idea suddenly pops into his head: “These two fellows! It could be these two fellows. Why not? For sure, I can rely on one of them. My intuition tells me that.”

  Putting his cup of tea down, Vu runs to the door and calls out to Tran Phu. Both men turn around immediately.

  “Hello, great man…”

  “Does the great man have an appointment with someone or does he just want to hide from people?” Le Phuong asks with a smile.

  “Hide from people? What do you mean by that?” Vu replies.

  “To avoid those comrades of yours in the ward. Regular encounters with those comrades does not make you comfortable either physically or emotionally, right?”

  “Well, that’s true enough,” Vu admits. Then he turns to tell Tran Phu, “Do you remember the patient adjacent to my bed? The officer that knew you when you headed up Battalion507?”

  Tran Phu looks at him, puzzled. “I have not found my bearings to recall that time so very far in the past.”

  “Well, he’s a military officer but dares not go to Hospital 108 to be treated, so he sneaks in here. He sends regards and says that you know how to correctly choose one’s way in life.”

  “Ah, now I remember. The guy with purple lips like Lang Son plums, right?”

  “Exactly…He died this morning.”

  “Really?” Tran Phu blurts out, neither surprised nor sad. Then he turns to tell Le Phuong, “That lieutenant had a stormy life and, of course, plenty of a loner’s regrets. I will tell you more when I am free. A novel could tell it all.”

  To Vu, he says, “After he died, the hospital staff took him to the morgue, and no close relative came; is it true?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because I’m kind of nosy; I want to know what happens to all in our generation. So I opened an investigation immediately.”

  “He died about three or four o’clock this morning. Since he was admitted to the hospital, no one set foot here. The sideboard at his bed never had any oranges or foods brought by others. The doctor said he had been here almost three months.”

  “That is the extent of a life. But enough, let’s change the subject, we need not bother ourselves with such a person on a beautiful morning like today.”

  “You are right,” Vu says. “Because I personally am having a headache and want your help.”

  Both burst out laughing; people around them become curious and glance over. “A big shot like him speaking humbly before two carefree playboys. Honorable One, are you joking or are you serious?” Le Phuong asks.

  “Never in my life have I joked with anyone,” Vu replies, and his serious tone shuts the two men up.

  “You two know that I agreed to raise two children of a…big brother…”

  “Yes, we heard.”

  “The son lives with our family. But the girl had to go to the countryside to live with my older brother, in an isolated village all the way up in mountainous Thai Nguyen. Now she is thirteen, I want to take her back to Hanoi but don’t know whom to entrust her to.”

  “Is she indeed the firstborn daughter of…the most elder uncle?” Le Phuong asks, taking a few minutes to find the right word for the mysterious father, while preventing the ears around from guessing to whom he was referring. “This is the very fruit from the last blossom in the life of a great man!”

  “Exactly
so,” Vu says. “The two kids are only twenty months apart.”

  “The girl has lived in the countryside since she was young?”

  “Yes, since she was two, to be accurate. Now she is almost fourteen. If she is not brought back soon to Hanoi, she will surely become a peasant and so she will live out her whole life as a gardener or a laborer.”

  “I understand,” says Tran Phu, nodding. “A woman’s life is quite short; especially those from the countryside.”

  “I know that this is an extremely difficult situation,” Vu goes on. “I am reluctant to ask even those I have been close to for many years for assistance in the matter. But now my intuition tells me to ask the two of you for help.”

  Smiling broadly, Tran Phu says, “The sixth sense always provides the wisest compass. You are right to ask us. Because we sit with our butts on the grass. Only those who have dirt on their butts would dare to get involved in such a thing.”

  Vu is puzzled. What does Tran Phu mean by “dirt on their butts”?

  Seeing this, Tran Phu explains: “There are two kinds of people with muddy butts. One kind are farmers or dirt-poor people. They would have a hard time helping you even if they wanted to, because they lack ability—intellectual as well as financial. The other kind are those who voluntarily live outside the circumference of power. They choose to live like that because they are able to see the failings of those who govern. Moreover, they equip themselves only with minimal financial support—enough to sustain their survival with a little extra to cover others when needed. Thus, they are relatively free.”

  “Yes, now I understand. However…”

  “However, you are still hesitant because doing this would really be a crime for those who are still living in your world. We understand that very clearly. When living in the world of power, the hierarchy of position rules over everything. The more power you have, the more you want, and the more you belong to it. But we—we are like those who stand at the sides of the machine. Even though my friend is the director of a publishing company, his position is like a piece of stale bread compared with the other cushy jobs. A stale piece of bread with no butter or jam spread upon it; one munches on it only when one is very, very hungry. Nobody wants to live on it forever. Especially when age starts to slide toward the end and we need to protect our upper and lower teeth.”

  Stopping, Le Phuong turns to ask his friend, “Am I right or not, Mr. Director?”

  “Correct one hundred percent!”

  Both burst into deep laughter that leads to coughing.

  “They seem oddly very happy,” Vu thinks to himself. “I wonder, are they serious or are they joking?” He asks after taking some sips of beer, “Will you be able to endure threats or interference from this machine or not?”

  “I may joke and laugh but my mind has covered all the implications of what you are suggesting,” Tran Phu replies. “I know that you worry a lot. In addition, all your life you have used the correct terminology, the serious language of politicians and administrators. It is understandable that you are a bit apprehensive when dealing with a couple of unsettled guys like us. Therefore, I will explain everything carefully to put you at ease.”

  For the first time since they had met, Vu sees that Tran Phu is serious. “I have a sister who has married a medical doctor—she brings the food here for me,” Tran Phu begins, going on: “The couple is childless. For a long time they have wanted to adopt. Everyone, especially me, has discouraged them. Adopting a child is a dangerous venture, because most kids given away or sold have an abnormal history, or are full of elements not beneficial to their psychological and physical development. However, we know also that taking care of an abandoned child brings auspicious fortune. If this is possible with ordinary adoptees, why not more so with the kin of a distinguished person? Don’t worry. I have not asked my sister but I am sure there will not be any problem. We shall announce that we have found a girl for her to adopt; and it is you who has brought her to us, right here, in this hospital. Whatever the truth, I will say it as it is, in the context of having known you since the northern front. Our knowledge has limits, not an inch more. A girl of thirteen with no prior convictions; never cheated or killed anyone. If concerns are sought, it is hard to find any basis.”

  “Thank you,” Vu replies, both anxious and moved. However, he still doesn’t completely trust what Tran Phu is saying. It is too good to be true…

  “Let’s pretend,” he says, “that…that the entire truth could be openly told…”

  “It cannot…And if someone dares say anything, I will declare him a traitor, who accuses and defames the highest leader,” Tran Phu firmly replies. “For years, the Party and the government have always used propaganda to teach the people that our leader is the Father of the People, the one who always fought for independence and the nation’s future, and therefore who has no personal happiness. I will accurately quote one hundred percent of all the teachings of the Party’s Central Indoctrination Office. I will repeat exactly all the things they have asked me to memorize all these years. I will throw in their face exactly what they have vomited out systematically.”

  “Splendid!” says Le Phuong. “There is no better way than to pick up a stone lying in front of the house of Mr. Tu to throw at the guava trees of Mr. Tu; it’s like taking the cane from the canton chief to hit the head of the canton chief…This type of counterattack, of turning the tables on the big shots, has been used for thousands of years. Now they explain it in a more modern way: the action of a boomerang.”

  Vu remains worried. After a few moments, he says, “I don’t know, perhaps this is too much trouble for the two of you; I’m still a little uncomfortable with the plan. If you agree, I could certainly ask my secretary to bring money and food, monthly, as a contribution to the family.”

  “We don’t have need of your food ration,” Tran Phu replies. “In reality, these ration cards don’t provide enough to feed a cat.” Lowering his voice, he goes on: “We are not as well off as the people were in old Hanoi, but now we know how to tighten our belts. We cannot trust any directions given to us by those who once sat on sidewalks pouring cash out of cans to count what the passersby had contributed and then, the next day, thanks to the generosity of the revolution, sit in the finance minister’s chair. No, we are not that stupid. Our money cannot be deposited in government banks, nor can it be declared to these officials who once were beggars. We have to find ways to transform it…as if we might bury it at the foot of an orange tree. It is that simple. Now, are you comfortable or not?”

  “Yes,” Vu replies, though his face is hot as if someone had just slapped it. This is the first time he has heard such words. Unfortunately, they are true.

  At that moment, a loud clang sounds in the yard. Looking out, they can see a large, perplexed fellow forcefully hitting the steel sheet. The three stand up.

  “It’s lunchtime,” Vu says. “Good-bye to the two of you. I have to go back to my room. Thank you for all you have said.”

  “Oh, Older Brother, don’t stand on ceremony,” Tran Phu replies. “Everything is within reach. Now I have to see a friend off to the city center. Have a good lunch. Please make preparations for the young girl. Whatever can be done, we will do it; it doesn’t have to be perfect. What’s left, my sister will take care of. Next week we can pick her up.”

  The two men walk arm in arm to the doors of the hospital. Vu returns to the patient section, his step light and bouncy as if walking on clouds, murmuring to himself, “Too good to be true.”

  At the top of the stairs, the duty nurse comes up to him, smiling happily. “Please come and eat your lunch while it’s hot. I put it on top of the cabinet.”

  “Thank you very much. I will be there soon.”

  She quickly walks away but, suddenly remembering something, hurriedly turns back to say, “You got some mail. I put it in the drawer so that no one else could try to open it.”

  “Well, thank you. You may be young but you are very careful.”

>   “You are kind. I have never been called ‘careful.’ At home my mother called me ‘the crow with its insides out.’ But in the village, my mail was often opened, therefore…”

  “I appreciate it,” says Vu warmly. He hurries to his room, curious as to who might have sent him a letter. “Could it be Sau?” he thinks to himself. “Sau’s letters come in the form of some scrawled lines on a page torn from a notebook and never put in an envelope, so whoever delivers the letter can read it freely. Most often these notes are sent when he needs to have an urgent meeting. He knows I am in the hospital and can’t go out for meetings, so it can’t be him. Then who? Could it be Van? Perhaps she desires that we make one final attempt at reconciliation?” Vu goes to his room and pulls the envelope out of the drawer. Tearing it open, he sees that the letter is written on the kind of ruled paper that students use.

  “A letter from the young boy. Thus, he knows how to write. The first letter in his life.”

  He holds the letter, thinking back in time to when the boy had started to walk and begun to talk and to feed himself. All this seems like yesterday, but now here he is composing letters like an adult.

  My dear father:

  I am sending you this letter, knowing that you are in the hospital and there is no way to leave this place to come visit you. From the school to the hamlet is more than forty kilometers but there is no bus, only a horse cart. Father, please forgive me that I am not able to comfort you while you are sick. I can only pray to heaven for your speedy recovery and return to your regular activities. Here, we study well. Once in a while Vinh stays home because he has a tummyache, but I take notes for him. Last week, Mother Van came and visited us. She was very strange. I do not know what happened in Hanoi, but Mother Van stared at me and suddenly said: “Because of you our family is destroyed.”