The Mountains Sing(72)

“Sister, may I make an offer?” I held out the blouse. “This is silk, woven at V?n Phúc Village.” I rubbed the fabric against her cheek.

“So soft.” She grinned. “I heard about silk and always wondered.”

“It’s my brother’s precious gift to me.” I choked, not wanting to part with my last memory of C?ng, but knowing I had no other choice. I put the blouse into the woman’s hand. “It’d look great on you. Try it on.”

“No.” She pushed it back, eyeing me up and down.

“Sister . . . I didn’t steal this, I swear. My brother paid a high price for it.”

“Why would you want to give it to me then?”

“Would you accept this in exchange for your baskets and carrying pole?”

The woman stared at me.

I held her gaze. “Sister, I need a job. I want to earn my living with these baskets and carrying pole.” I gave her the two cents. “This and the blouse?”

I pulled her up and made her put the blouse on.

“??p quá.” Sáng clapped his hands, praising how beautiful the woman looked.

The woman twirled around, laughing. Seeing how her eyes lit up, I knew the deal was done.

“AH, VUI, VUI.” Sáng babbled about being happy as he sat in the front basket, bouncing up and down together with the rhythms of my footsteps. At my back, another basket bounced up and down, half-filled with guavas and oranges. “Sit still,” I told him, going slowly at first, then faster, as Sáng clutched the ropes with both hands, sitting like a Buddha. He lifted his head, chuckling, eyeing a flock of birds speeding a large V shape across the deep blue sky.

“You’re a good boy, Sáng. Sit still and we’ll be in Hà N?i in no time.” I pressed on harder toward the national highway. Now with the baskets and bamboo pole, I’d have a reason to travel on the road: to get to the next town’s market. I hoped nobody would make trouble for a poor saleswoman who carried a baby, traveling through winter.

“Ai mua ?i ?ay, cam ?ay?” I sang out loud, red juice oozing from my mouth. I was chewing a betel quid, to discolor my white teeth. In exchange for the blouse and money, the woman had given me all the contents of her baskets. The sale of these oranges and guavas would make the capital for my business.

“Ai mua ?i ‘ay, cam ‘ay,” Sáng babbled, enjoying the new way of traveling. He couldn’t pronounce the ? yet and sounded hilarious.

“Get out of the way!” Shouts rang out from behind my back. I turned to see a man and several women on a buffalo cart.

“Sisters, Brother . . . my guavas are homegrown . . . sugar sweet,” I called out to them.

“Ai mua ?i ‘ay, cam ‘ay,” Sáng chanted, and clapped his hands.

“Oh, that baby’s so cute,” a woman said and the rest of them burst out laughing.

The cart pulled to a stop. The women hopped down, approaching us.

But I could no longer see them. The panting buffaloes had caught my eyes. My father was standing by the cart, smiling at me. Papa!

“Sister, how much for one? Didn’t you hear me?” A woman was pulling my shirtsleeve.

I blinked and the image of my father disappeared.

As the woman tugged my arm again, I turned to her. “Sorry. Two cents each.”

“That’s expensive!” snapped another woman.

“It’s a long way to bring them here, Sister. They’re tender and juicy.”

The women shook their heads. It was Sáng who rescued me. “Ai mua ?i ‘ay, cam ‘ay.” He clapped his hands, dimples flowering onto his cheeks.

The women burst out laughing again.

“All right, give us three oranges and two guavas. We’re only buying because of this cutie.” A woman giggled, unhooking the safety pin that secured her pocket. She pulled out a stack of coins.

“You did it!” I dropped to my knees, hugging Sáng as the cart crawled out of earshot. “We earned two bowls of ph? in just a few minutes.”

Sáng and I sold everything we had that afternoon. The money we earned that day, Guava, it was enough for us to buy twenty bowls of ph?.

FOR WEEKS, I journeyed, trying to make as much money as I could. At checkpoints on the highway, the guards always stopped us. I bribed them with money or fruit, and managed to convince them that I was truly heading to the next town’s market. And Sáng did such a great job in charming those guards. Yes, Guava . . . I know your uncle has become quite a serious young man, but he was my cute and cheerful helper then.

To get new supplies, we had to travel to nearby villages. Arriving at a market before sunrise, we could buy the best fruits at the cheapest price. By then, my teeth were colored red by betel nuts and my skin dark. I’d also become very thin. I knew my hunters wouldn’t recognize me so easily anymore. Still, dangers were sharp thorns that surrounded me. Coming closer to Hà N?i, my middle-region accent made me stand out from everyone else.

I tried to imitate the Northern accent and speak as little as I could. With our profit, I bought us sandals, some warmer clothes, and a nón lá for Sáng. Now that your uncle sat all day in the sun or rain, he needed a hat. But he almost always tilted his hat backward to seduce customers. He was the one who made everybody want to buy our fruits. As for my hat, I had to keep it. The children had found it for me and, as I wore it, I heard them urging me on. By then, I’d had enough time to think, and I still believed that the only one who could help us would be Master Th?nh. My father had been so close to my former teacher that he used to stay with him, his wife, and their two children in Hà N?i.