The Mountains Sing(62)

I turned away at the harshness of his voice.

AFTER FINISHING BREAKFAST, I was about to feed the squealing pigs when my mother called at the door. Pulling it open, I met her face, wet with tears.

“H??ng, where’s your uncle?”

Uncle ??t was sitting with his back in our direction. He was as still as a statue frozen by time.

“??t!” My mother stumbled toward him.

My uncle remained motionless until his shoulders shook. He grabbed his chair’s wheels, turning around. His body was bathed in morning light, his chest sunken under his shirt, his face gaunt under the sprouting beard. The stumps of his legs. Their horrendous scars.

“Sister Ng?c.” His face twisted into a smile.

My mother held my uncle, her cries muffled.

“You made it home.” She knelt down, touching the stumps. “Your legs . . . I’m sorry.”

“Mama told me you went to the battlefields. I’m glad you got out alive.”

“Brother, I wish they’d taken my arms and legs instead.”

“Why say that, Sister? What happened?”

My mother didn’t answer. Her back hunched, as if she had to carry a burden larger than herself.

“Sister, something bad happened to you? Tell me.” Uncle ??t dried her tears. “No secrets between us, remember?”

The look on my mother’s face told me she wanted some private moments. She had a secret she didn’t want me to know.

The pigs’ squealing had risen into a high-pitched screeching. “These awful animals,” I mumbled. “Let me go feed them.”

Hurrying over to the animals, I prepared their food, dumping it into their trough. In the living room, my mother was pouring tea into cups. Wiping my hands against my pants, I sneaked into my room. Keeping the door slightly ajar, I stood eavesdropping. For once, I was grateful that our house was small and the distance between me and the kitchen was short.

“Mama told me you saw Hoàng,” my mother said.

“We underwent the same training in Ba Vì with Thu?n, Sister. Unfortunately, all of us were separated before going south. I saw him weeks later, when I was struck down with malaria and had to camp by the roadside.”

“How was he? How much time did you have together?”

“He was in good spirits, and in good health. During the one day that we had together, I laughed more than I did during the many previous months. Hoàng couldn’t stop talking about you. He told me how he’d torn up his outer shirt to win your heart—”

“You know where he was going? Did you see him again?”

My mother’s questions told me she didn’t want to talk about the happy memories with my father.

“I didn’t see Hoàng again, no. . . . ,” said my uncle. “He was heading south but didn’t know exactly where. He told me he’d do all he could to survive, to come back to you.”

“Brother, I don’t deserve him.” My mother’s words were not knives but they would leave me bleeding for years to come.

“Sister, why did you say that? What happened?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m ashamed of myself. I did a very bad thing. I’m a bad, bad person.”

My palms were sweaty. So my suspicion was true. My mother had killed people on the battlefield. Innocent people.

“Listen to me, Sister Ng?c. Look at me. I won’t judge you. Trust me.”

Silence. The shuffling of my mother’s feet. Was she leaving? I reached for the door’s handle, ready to rush out to stop her.

“Sister Ng?c, we all had to fight against the enemy to be able to survive. Don’t feel guilty—”

“It’s not about that, Brother. It’s worse.”

“Tell me. I’ve seen enough horror to understand.”

Silence.

“Sister, if you can’t talk to me, confide in Mama. She can help you.”

“No, Brother . . . I can’t burden Mama. Besides, I feel filthy. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve H??ng, either.”

I cupped my mouth with my hands.

“I don’t know what happened to you, Sister, but the fact you risked your life looking for Hoàng is very honorable. And you must have saved many patients along the way.”

Silence.

“Sister, why don’t you move back home? H??ng needs you. I’ve seen the sadness in her eyes.”

“I have nothing to offer her. My misery will only drag her down. I’m not ready yet.”

“When will you be ready? Look at me, Sister. . . . I can’t cope without you here. There’re even two beds in my room. Come home and be my legs. Do this for me, please?”

DESPITE UNCLE ??T’S best efforts, it was more than another week before my mother came home. Grandma acted as if they hadn’t fought; she prepared a big welcome-back meal. But my mother hardly ate; she didn’t talk at all. While we were still at the table, she retreated into the bedroom.

I got up early the next day, excited to share breakfast with my mother, but she’d already left for the factory. Returning home, she had dinner in silence. And in silence she helped Uncle ??t wash. Watching them, a lump of envy filled my throat. Perhaps I had to make myself injured so she would touch me?