by Kien Nguyen
My mother took Loan aside and sent her out into the street, then continued to argue with her parents for another hour. At last, as my mother pushed the door open and stormed back downstairs, I could hear my grandfather's voice chasing after her, filled with indignation.
“Leave Loan out of this. She is too young to make such a decision.”
“Don't you see, Daddy? Neither of us has a choice,” my mother shot back.
“Then wait till we get back home before you do anything irrational. Please, for heaven's sake, don't make another wrong decision today,” he urged.
My mother marched into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Shortly afterward, Loan returned. With her was an old woman, whom she told to wait at the front step.
From the window on the first floor, we watched the elderly woman in silence. Standing by the door and clutching a dirty bag between her breasts, she waited for Loan. Her face was seamed by countless deep wrinkles, and her spine bent, forcing her gaze to the ground. Her hair was thin and white. As she noticed us watching her, her face rearranged itself into a smile that was nothing more than a hollow, reddish, toothless depression. To us, she appeared a figure out of a fairy tale, and we half-expected her to bolt through the air with a broomstick.
Loan reappeared with my mother behind her, and they led the woman down to the basement.
“Are you the other one who needs my services, besides this girl?” the old lady asked. “Are you sure you're only three months pregnant? From the look of that belly, I swear you look a lot more —”
My mother turned to hush the woman. The look of concern was quite noticeable on their faces. The visitor stepped into the room to put her bag down on the floor and breathe out a sigh of relief. Seeing my grandparents waiting by the foot of the basement door, she nodded to them in acknowledgment.
Loan introduced the old woman to us. “Everyone, this is Mrs. Tam, the only midwife left in downtown Saigon. She comes highly recommended to us by the people at the market. I told her that we are not from around here, and that we don't know anyone. That is why she agreed to help us.”
“Yes, yes, nice to meet everyone. Forget the proper introductions. We'll have to hurry up. I have two more cases downtown, and I have to beat the curfew.” Mrs. Tam rushed through her sentences rudely. “Are you two ready for this?” She pointed to Jimmy and me. “What's going on with the children's hair?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” my mother answered irritably. “Let me take the children upstairs first.”
“No need to. There is nothing here for them to watch anyway. I am just going to give you some herbs to take. Shouldn't take more than eight hours for them to work. And tomorrow, your problem will be all over.”
“In that case, let's do it,” my mother said.
The old lady searched her bag for two small wooden cases. They had rustic carvings of two golden dragons holding a black capsule and were sealed with sap. She laid them on the floor like two objects of great value.
Looking up to my mother, she said with a trace of concern in her voice, “Madam, I know you don't want me to repeat this question, but the gods give me strength, I can't help it. The job that I do makes your business my concern. Are you sure you're only three months pregnant? Because it looks like you are either carrying triplets, or a special present from the elephant god himself. That girl over there”—she pointed at Loan—“she won't have any problem taking this medicine. See? Her body doesn't even show the pregnancy yet. You, I don't know.”
Leaning against the door, my grandfather commented, “My daughter is four months along in her pregnancy.”
“I knew it. I must tell you, madam, I don't think this will work in your case.” Mrs. Tam shook her head. “Besides, it's too risky.”
Again, my mother interrupted the woman. “Never mind about what you think. I don't have any choice, you understand? I can't afford any more children. Just give me the damned medicine.”
“Okay, fine.” The woman shrugged. “Here is a case for each of you. Inside you will find a black pill. Tonight, eat dinner as usual, and then take the pill at bedtime. Tomorrow morning, the fetus will be shed from your body. Bleeding and pain are normal signs; don't be too alarmed. Any questions?”
“One pill? Do you think that will be enough for me? Should I take more than one?”
“You? I think so. And for the girl? One pill should be more than enough.”
“Then give me two extra boxes.”
“That is a lot of drugs, madam.”
“I don't care. Just give them to me.”
“Fine,” Mrs. Tam said, sighing. “Anything you say, but of course, it will cost you more money.”
“I will pay you in a minute. But first, tell me more about the side effects. Will there be more risk for myself if I take the additional pills?”
“Of course,” the woman said, nodding.
“Then for goodness's sake, tell me what kind of risk are we talking about, old crone?”
“What do you think? More pills mean more toxin, which means more bleeding and more cramping. But if you want more drugs, I will do what you ask. However, think about it carefully before you do this, madam. I can't stop you from making your decision, and I can't guarantee whether or not it will work properly. In all of my years of doing this job, I have never given the drug to anyone over three months pregnant; not once, because everybody listens to me, except you. So don't ask me anymore what will happen to you. Because whatever it is, I will not take responsibility. I've already warned you in front of your family. Now, you'll take it at your own risk. Understand me?”
“Khuon —” my grandmother spoke up.
“It's fine, mother,” my mother said. “I know what I am doing.”
“Really, daughter? Do you really know what you are doing?” my grandfather asked. He looked dejected.
“That will be seventy dong for the four boxes. I am giving you ten dong off for good luck. May the gods help the living,” the woman said. She got up and clasped her bag between her breast and her arm.
“Thank you,” my mother said, giving the old woman her fee.
No one uttered a word after the old woman left. On the floor lay four wooden boxes, with gold writing scrawled across their covers proclaiming, “O-Kim.” Underneath those words was a much smaller inscription: “For women only.”
“Loan, take one,” my mother said with determination. “Leave the other boxes for me.”
“Yes, madam,” Loan said.
“Do you want to give this some more thought, Loan?” my mother asked the maid. “You know that it is your right to keep the baby if you wish to do so. And you don't have to do everything I do. I have my own reasons for my actions.”
“Yes, madam, I know. But like you, I have my own reasons. I'd like to take the pill.”
“Well, good. Looks like you and I are in the same boat together then. Take the pill with you and go prepare some dinner.” My mother breathed a heavy sigh. Loan got up to take a box with her and disappeared behind the door. My grandparents withdrew to their usual corner without another word.
“Mommy?” I asked my mother after everyone had left.
My mother jumped slightly before she looked up at me. Her eyes rose as she waited for my question.
“What is going on? What are those little boxes for?” I asked her.
“Nothing that concerns you.”
From his futon, my grandfather interrupted her. “What's the matter? Can't you even explain your actions to your own son? Don't do that to him. You owe him some kind of clarification. Explain it however you see fit, but don't brush him off like that. The child isn't stupid.”
“Dad, stay out of this,” she said angrily to my grandfather and then turned to me. “Nothing honey, everything is fine. Those boxes are for the adults. When I take these pills, they will make me stronger and lighter. They won't hurt me. Understand?”
“Are they going to hurt the baby instead?” I asked.
My mother sank to the cold f
loor and shook as if a strong current were being shot through her body. Then with a glare, she shot up to grab me by my shoulders and lift me against the wall of sandbags behind me. She bent over so that her eyes were level with mine and spat from between her white teeth, “What do you know about the pills, you nosy little bastard? Listen to me, and listen good. There are no babies inside my body. Everybody thought I was having a baby, but it turns out that everybody was wrong. These are healthy pills for me that will make me stronger so that I can take care of all of you snot-nosed parasites. If you ever breathe any of this to anyone, I'll kill you. Do you understand me? And for the Buddha's sake, don't ask any more questions. Keep them all to yourself. I don't like it when you behave this way.”
Unable to speak, I nodded my agreement and felt her grip loosen from my shoulders. The marks of her nails left a red imprint for the rest of the night.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Night overtook us like a skillful thief. There was no electricity in the house. In fact, the whole town was submerged in darkness. Loan descended from upstairs, holding a candle in her hand. Shadows flickered on the wall as she moved across the basement.
For dinner, Loan made a dish of steamed chicken with young bamboo shoots and sautéed spinach. My grandmother refused to join us at the table; instead, she lay unmoving on her mattress, under a thin bedspread. My grandfather ate with difficulty, as if every bite he took was devoid of taste. The rest of us ate quickly and in silence. When it was time for dessert, Loan served a simple yet popular Vietnamese pudding made from sweet bananas and tapioca, but without the usual coconut milk to complete the flavor. Nonetheless, my brother and I found it delicious.
After dinner, my mother disappeared behind the bathroom door, and Loan excused herself to go back upstairs to the kitchen. When my mother returned, she looked paler and more anxious than usual. She sat down on her futon, chewing her nails thoughtfully as we moved cautiously closer to her. Seeing us, she smiled and reached out to grab my brother by his waist. Pulling him to her bosom, she touched his newly dark hair and closed her eyes dreamily.
My grandmother stirred to face the three of us. “How many did you take?” she asked, addressing no one in particular.
“I took them all,” my mother replied.
“Oh, God,” was my grandmother's moan.
To get my mother's attention, my brother held her chin in his hand and asked her, “Mommy?”
“Yes, darling?”
“When can we go outside and play again?”
“Soon, darling, soon.”
“Okay. How do you feel, Mommy?” he then asked.
“I'm fine, and you?”
“I am fine, too, thank you for asking,” he answered politely. A moment later, my brother asked her another question with hope in his voice. “May I sleep with you tonight? I don't want to sleep alone.”
“Sure, if you like. But why? Your bed is only a few steps from mine.”
“I don't know. Sometimes when I wake up at night, I get scared. Can I sleep next to you, Mommy?”
“Anything you want.” My mother spoke in monotone. Her eyes were closed. She looked like she was falling to sleep.
“What about you, Kien?” my brother asked. “Do you want to join us?” To my mother, “Can he join us?” His eyes fixed on my face, waiting for her approval.
“If he wants to,” she answered with little interest.
“He does, don't you, Kien?”
I nodded. In fact, I dreaded to spend the night alone, awaking in the dark, and thinking of the unknown.
Jimmy and I took our positions, each of us on one side of my mother's mattress. I put my arm across my mother's belly and felt her falling asleep. As I drifted away, I watched the night pass by slowly through the window. On the ground next to our bed, the candle was still burning. Its light danced in the moving air, making strange images on the wall like the coming of hell's angels in the coloring book the nuns used to hand out to us in Sunday school.
Around four in the morning I woke up to the sound of agonizing screams. The basement was submerged in darkness as I jumped up and looked around for my mother. The only light that I could see was a tiny beam escaping from the closed bathroom door. Next to me, my brother was still sleeping, his body curled on one side with his knees bent up to his chin. He was sucking his thumb. I searched for my mother, my fear rising. Before I could cry out, my grandfather slipped beside me. His embrace calmed me down. In the dark, his breath smelled like Jolly Rancher candies.
“Quiet, little one,” he whispered to me. “Your mother is fine. Go back to sleep with Grandpa.”
“What happened to Mommy?” I asked him.
“She has a stomachache.”
From the bathroom, my mother's cries tore through the house. I heard a hollow sound like liquid splattering on the cement floor. Falling noises followed. My brother moved about for a moment. Then his eyes opened wide and he realized that my mother was missing. My grandfather reached out to hold him in his arms, muttering to him the same comforting phrases he had spoken to me a few moments ago. Together in his embrace, Jimmy and I listened to the moaning and yelling coming from behind the bathroom door.
Then we heard my grandmother's voice, thick with worry. “I can't make the bleeding stop. Loan, do something.”
Loan said, “Let mistress lie on the floor. Standing up only makes it worse.”
“I can't lie down. It hurts too much,” came my mother's voice.
More gushing sounds, and something hit the floor.
My grandfather raised his voice with concern. “What is going on in there? Madam, is your daughter well? Do you need my help?”
“No, you watch the children, please. I can manage in here. Just trying to stop the bleeding.”
“Well, it is taking too long. I am going to get a doctor,” my grandfather said.
“What?” my grandmother replied to him, panting. “Have you lost your mind? It's curfew time; do you want to get yourself killed out there? Please, stay there with the children.”
“Oh, God,” Loan cried out.
“What is it?” my grandmother asked her.
“My tummy is churning, and it's starting to ache. I think it's my turn now,” she said. “Please help me!”
The bathroom door opened, and my grandmother poked her head out. In the candlelight, the bloodstains shined darkly on her hands.
“Help me carry your daughter outside,” she said to my grandfather.
He got up from the futon to limp into the bathroom, forgetting his cane. In a minute he reappeared with his back to us, moving slowly backward with my mother's head resting in between his hands. My grandmother faced him, carrying my mother's lower limbs. Mother's body was wrapped in white towels that were dark with blood. My grandparents put my mother on a mattress opposite my brother and me. She turned to her side and curved her body into a fetal position, as my grandmother hurried back into the bathroom to assist Loan.
“Mommy, Mommy, are you all right?” my brother asked. The smell of blood made us dizzy.
My mother ignored us. She buried her head in her hands. Her knees were up, protecting her midsection. My grandfather stood at her feet.
“How are you feeling, daughter?” he asked.
She did not reply. He asked with more aggression, “Are you feeling well? Talk to me.”
My mother's face remained hidden. “The bleeding seems to have stopped,” she said, “but the fetus is still inside.”
“I see. Get some rest then. Don't think too much about it. We can see the doctor tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” was her reply.
In the bathroom, Loan and my grandmother struggled for another hour. Loan never cried out in pain. We heard her occasional grunting and panting, and finally the flush of the commode.
My mother lay motionless on the mattress for the rest of the night. Her cramping diminished as the night wore on. We could see her body shake weakly under the terry cloth, and blood continued to seep from underneath her. As morning c
ast its cheerful light on my mother's bed, she startled.
“The drug is no good,” she cried out. “The baby is fine. It just kicked me.”
I could see the relief wash over my grandfather's tired face. My grandmother sank down to her knees, expressing her gratitude to the gods. My mother let out another scream. Her hand curled into a fist, beating her abdomen.
“What is the meaning of this?” she shrieked. “Damn that stupid hag and her cheap drug. Why me? Why now? Damn you.” She hit her stomach again and again, screaming to the fetus inside. “Why don't you get a hint that I don't want you? Why don't you do us all a favor and just die?”
My brother and I watched, unable to utter a word.
For the next couple of days, my mother spent most of her time in bed. Four days passed and finally, the Communists came knocking at our door.
Inside, we all jumped up in terror and held each other, holding our breath, as my grandfather hobbled up the stairs. We listened as the soldiers strode across the floor into the living room. We heard the strange way they talked to each other, with a heavy northern dialect, and we heard my grandfather's voice answering their interrogation. It was not long before he bade all of us come upstairs. My grandmother went up first, carrying the wooden beads in her palms as though they were a talisman. My mother held on to Loan's arm. My brother and I were the last into the living room.
Once we were all assembled, my mother sat on a chair as the group of men stopped in mid-conversation to stare at us. Their fatigues were old and wrinkled, and the once deep green had turned to a muddy brown. The oldest soldier, a man in his forties with saltand-pepper hair, pointed a dirty finger at us.
He spat to my grandfather, “Is anyone else still down there? Or are they all here?”
“No, they are all here, sir,” my grandfather replied.
“Comrade, go to the basement to verify if he is telling the truth or not,” he ordered one of his men. Then turning to us, he asked, “Why did you hide down there all this time instead of coming out and celebrating the dawn of a new era with your country? What are you hiding from?”