The Mountains Sing(68)

Two weeks after my mother had laid bare her soul to me, the bàng tree provided shade for us to wash our hair, and the oil lamp gave light for my mother to help me with my homework. She showed me different ways to answer the most difficult math questions, and I was amazed.

Bit by bit, Miss Nhung found small ways back into my uncle’s life. She visited occasionally, bringing with her one time a cassette full of songs that Uncle ??t ended up listening to every day, and another time a book that Uncle ??t stayed up the whole night reading. My mother told me that when Uncle ??t returned, he still loved Miss Nhung, but he believed she would be better off with another man.

The only one who hadn’t turned around was Uncle Sáng, so one day, when my mother told me she needed to pay him a visit, I joined her. My uncle hadn’t been to our house at all, but he and his wife kept eating Grandma’s food. Twice a week, Grandma had been preparing different dishes, and I had to deliver them.

It was night when we lugged the bike up to Uncle Sáng’s apartment. My uncle poked his head out of the door’s crack. “Sister Ng?c . . . H??ng.” He glanced down to my empty hands. A look of disappointment crossed his thin face.

“How are you, Brother?” My mother pushed the bike inside.

Uncle Sáng closed the door behind us. “Fine, Sister.”

“I thought you were sick, terribly sick! Too sick to come see your Brother ??t.”

“Shhh. Keep your voice low, won’t you? Hoa is already sleeping.” Uncle Sáng grabbed my mother’s hand, pulling her deeper into the gloomy apartment. “Sit down, Sister. You, too, H??ng.” He gestured toward the reed mat on the floor.

“We don’t have to sit.” My mother’s voice was icy. “Why haven’t you been home to see ??t?”

“Things are complicated.” My uncle wrinkled his forehead. “I’m leading a campaign to wipe out capitalists, bourgeoisie, and traders. And Mama . . . as you know, is a con bu?n.”

“So that’s the way you two treat Mama? You despise her in front of others but you use her as your slave?”

“No. No. You’re getting me all wrong here.”

“Tell me in what way I’m wrong.”

“Lower your voice.” Uncle Sáng knitted his brows. “I’m thankful to Mama, but I have to abide by the Party rules. We need to rebuild our country with the hard work of laborers and farmers. No association with capitalists, bourgeoisie, and traders.”

“Capitalists, bourgeoisie, traders? Sáng, Mama labors so hard out there to earn every single cent. She’s a worker, not a bourgeois.”

“I have to abide by the Party rules. ‘No association with capitalists, bourgeois, and traders,’” my uncle repeated.

“So the Party is your God, is that it?”

“Sister, we fought so hard to regain peace for our country. We sacrificed our lives to chase away the capitalists, the exploiting class—”

“Exploiting class? Don’t let them brainwash you, Sáng. You know what happened to us during the Land Reform. They condemned our family wrongly. They called us exploiters. They killed—”

“Shut up,” Uncle Sáng hissed. “I have no connection with landlords.”

“I know. You faked your papers. You erased your family roots so that you could become a Party member. How sad. But don’t forget, Sáng, how our father died.”

“Don’t you dare make things up. Get out of my house.”

“Sáng, I’m not here to argue with you. Please come home and see your Brother ??t.”

“I told you I can’t, but he can visit me.”

“He lost his legs, Sáng. He lost his fucking legs and can’t walk.”

“He has a wheelchair and—”

Whap. A smacking sound. My mother had slapped Uncle Sáng across his cheek.

“What kind of brother are you?” she screamed. “Don’t sell your family so cheap for some political ideology!”

My uncle’s hand reached up to his cheek. His face twisted into a look of disgust.

“You crazy woman!” he hollered. “Get out of here, or I’ll have you arrested.”

“Arrest me then. Arrest me!” My mother beat her fists against her chest.

“M? ?i!” I reached out for her. “Let’s go.”

My mother looked at me, tears filling her eyes. “Just a minute, H??ng.” She straightened her back and faced my uncle. “I know you’ve climbed up the ladder, Sáng, but don’t think you’re too high up. You’re still my younger brother. Without Brother Minh here, I’m the eldest in the family. I have the responsibility to teach you.”

“I don’t need anyone’s teaching. Get out of my house.”

My mother coughed and spat on the floor. “From now on, you’re no longer my family. I hope your children will do better than you and remember their roots.”

We walked out.

I felt proud that my mother had stood up for Grandma, but somehow I also found myself mourning for the youngest uncle of my childhood—someone who had laughed with me as he slivered bamboo, creating colorful lanterns that came alive under moonlight of the Mid-Autumn Festival.

I RAN UP the staircase leading to my class, my stomach empty since I hadn’t had time for breakfast. All was quiet around me.