The Zenith by Duong Thu Huong Page B

Tuyet Bong closed her eyes and kept her mouth shut. Even though she could be quite vulgar, could pull up her skirt and start a fight with anyone over a penny or let loose a string of toxic curses with any neighbor who dared touch her or her son, she still feared her husband a lot. To him she was like a loyal dog. Her extremely thick lips always shut when he raised his voice. Her tigress eyes flipped into those of a meek rabbit whenever he glared at her. When he gave an order, immediately she had to jump off her high horse, even though just a minute before she had been prancing around on it as if off to do battle. Neighbors said that she was born under the sign of the rat and he under that of the snake, thinking that, while a rat can taunt a cat, in front of a snake it will become completely paralyzed and just wait for death. Others of meaner spirit would say that the zodiac made no difference; a person like her, thanks to a mysteriously predetermined fate, could onlysit and daydream…of a guy with torn pants and shirt, barefooted, with infected eyes, whose job was to chase after hogs down country roads.
    And so, for many years they lived by this principle: a daughter-in-law belongs to you; a son-in-law is a guest. Van had never showed annoyance when her husband criticized the bad habits of her beloved younger brother, Tung. But recently, everything had changed. Ever since their own son had grown up to become a second beloved Tung, there was a risk that he would become worse than the original one. The rottenness that grows on the tree of power is a thousand times worse than any mold that sprouts from plain dirt or just pops up or in the middle of the hay.
    “Alas! Children are golden chains, fetters…”
    A plaintive thought suddenly popped up in his mind. Simultaneously, his heart was pierced by two arrows. Two faces appeared all at once: that of his own son and that of another man’s son.
    “I will die…I will die because of this tug of war…for this pain is something I cannot share with anyone…in this dark tunnel there is no escape…”
    He moaned. He suddenly remembered that his wife was in bed and for sure was still awake. He hurriedly gnashed his teeth to put a stop to his moan. Then another face appeared, along with a thought as sharp as a sword’s blade:
    “But no, I have no right to die; at least not now. With my death, those scoundrels will have a free hand. With my death, too many people will be affected. I wouldn’t know what misfortunes will occur. No, I have to live. I don’t have the right to give up…”
    Holding his head in his hands, he groped as if he were injured and found his way to bed.

4
    The airplane cannot take off due to thick fog.
    The fog hangs like white silk swatches twisting over the airport and the green grass turns dark as it drunkenly absorbs moisture from the low-hanging fog. A young woman brings a tray of tea and politely places it in front of Vu:
    “Sir, please drink some tea. It will be a long while before the plane can take off.”
    “Thank you, miss. How many times this month has the plane been delayed?”
    “Three times already. Today is the fourth.”
    “Usually how long is the wait?”
    “It depends on each day’s weather, but on average until past noon.”
    “You know that proverb, too?”
    “Yes, the elders said: ‘Rain does not last past noon; wind not past three p.m.’…My maternal grandmother taught me that.” Saying this, the girl turns the teacup faceup on the saucer, and pours tea. The fragrance of the jasmine tea rises and makes the room less desolate and empty, as guest houses and railway stations often feel.
    “In one hour the cafeteria will sell beef soup and sesame balls. But if you need them now, I will fetch some for you.”
    “Thank you. I have already had breakfast at home,” he replies, but then changes his mind.
    “If it is not too much trouble, could you bring me some sesame balls? What kind do they sell at the canteen?”
    “We have