The Mountains Sing(85)

I shrugged. Only Uncle Sáng could talk to the doctors. I hadn’t seen him. It was his assistant who’d returned the tin boxes, telling me to bring more of Grandma’s porridge.

“This is insane!” Grandma’s shout startled me. She lifted the containers. My eyes popped open as she flung her arms in the air, sending the boxes crashing down onto the pavement. “I can’t stand this a minute more.” She walked away.

“Where’re you going, Grandma?”

“To see Hoa, and to tell Sáng enough is enough.”

The corridor was filled with people. No sign of my uncle or his assistant. Grandma stopped a hurrying nurse. “My daughter-in-law is giving birth. Nguy?n Th? Hoa. Where is she, please?”

“Nguy?n . . . Th? . . . Hoa?” The nurse went through her list. “In the operating room.” She pointed toward the end of the corridor.

“Operating room? Is there something wrong?” Grandma’s words came out as a yell.

“It’s an emergency.” The nurse hurried past us.

I pulled Grandma’s arm. Racing past people who lay and sat in the corridor, we arrived in front of the operating room as three men dressed in white medical gowns emerged. They looked tense, whispering to each other.

Grandma dashed past the men, toward the closing door.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” someone shouted.

“I’m her mother-in-law.” Grandma pushed against the door, charging in. I followed her.

The strong stench of medicine hit my nostrils. Auntie Hoa was on a bed, her hands on her face. Uncle Sáng was standing beside her, his back to us.

At the sound of our footsteps, my uncle turned. I’d expected him to scorn Grandma, but his face was twisting. “Oh, Mama!” he cried.

“Is the baby all right?” Grandma ran to the bed.

Arriving at her side, I cupped my mouth with my hand. Was that a baby next to Auntie Hoa? Its head was at least three times the size of its chest. Its forehead bulged out. It had no arms or legs.

“No. No. No!” Grandma picked the baby up, holding it against her chest. The baby didn’t move or make a sound. It was lifeless.

Uncle Sáng wrapped Grandma in his arms. He buried his head in her hair, his muffled cries cutting through my heart.

I knelt down next to Auntie Hoa. She looked terrified. I took her hand into mine. I wanted to hug her, but she quietly turned away from me.

LATER, IN AN office where piles of documents were stacked on top of a cluttered desk, an old doctor told Grandma and Uncle Sáng that he was sorry.

“Where did you fight during the war, Comrade?” he asked my uncle.

“Mainly in Qu?ng Tr?. Why, Doctor?”

“Qu?ng Tr?, I see. Were you exposed to Agent Orange?”

Uncle Sáng stood up, walking to a wall. His shoulders began to shake. Grandma ran to him. When my uncle turned back to the doctor, his face was white.

“Agent Orange? I felt it many times on my face. It drenched my clothes. That chemical, wasn’t it meant to destroy the trees?”

The doctor rose up from his chair. “We’re not sure yet how Agent Orange affects people. But many veterans who were exposed to it have had dead or deformed children.”

Uncle Sáng beat his fists against the wall. Grandma reached for his hands, pulling them back.

This couldn’t be happening to our family. What about Uncle ??t and Auntie Nhung? What would happen to their children?

A FEW DAYS later, we sat around the dining table. Uncle Sáng looked haggard, a bag of clothes in front of him.

“Can’t believe she asked you to move out,” said Uncle ??t.

“Things hadn’t been going too well between us. And now, whenever she looks at me, she sees the Agent Orange Devil, you know. . . .”

The bàng scratched its branches against our roof. Would the ghosts of war ever release us from their grip?

“The areas where I fought were heavily sprayed.” Uncle ??t sounded like he was about to cry.

Auntie Nhung reached for his hands, bringing them to her lips. Tears glimmered in her eyes. “We’ll raise our child, regardless of what happens.”

“Don’t worry, ??t,” said my mother. “People react to chemical exposure very differently. Many war veterans have had normal, healthy children.” She shifted her gaze to Auntie Nhung. “My hospital is going to import an ultrasound machine. It can let us know about problems before the baby is born.”

Auntie Nhung took Uncle ??t’s face into her hands. “Have you heard Sister Ng?c? We’re going to be fine. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together, okay?”

Tears rolled down Uncle ??t’s cheeks.

Grandma blew her nose. “Sáng, I’m glad to have you home.”

“I’ll only trouble you with this one night, Mama. Tomorrow I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

“This is your home, Sáng! It’s warmer with you here. You don’t need to go anywhere else.”

Uncle Sáng cast his eyes around the room. He looked c?ng nh? day ?àn—stressed like taut guitar strings. “This lavish lifestyle . . . I can’t.” He lowered his voice. “Please, don’t tell anyone I’m staying here tonight. I’ll leave before dawn tomorrow.”

My mother shook her head. I’d seen her grieve for Uncle Sáng’s baby, but she hadn’t spoken to him since the argument. She was so right about him: he’d sold us for some political ideology.