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A niny day
by Song Thu
Hi,
go home by yourself this afternoon, I’m a little busy.
He put the phone down even before she could reply. He
had a free afternoon. It was four o’clock. He pushed his
motorcycle to the gate, rearranged his shirt collar and
started the engine. Being a government employee was not
bad, really. The salary was a bit low, but he could be a
millionaire in time. Every afternoon, he and his friends
gathered at a restaurant or pub to drink draught beer.
Today, one of his friends seemed to have made some
gains, the whole gang was invited to the Sichuan
restaurant.
"Right. Here is an exemplary husband. Let’s go in.
Use the time we have to quench our thirst before I go
fetch my wife...."
"No problem, you can drink like a fish today, I don’t
care."
He took a glass of beer and sipped it. It was cold and
satisfying.
"We should know how to relax sometimes. If we just
went roaming about with our wives, we would become dull
men."
"Let’s bottom up! Please, one more dish of sach bo
(cow’s entrails) and more beer....".
"How long has it been raining! It’s spring now and
it’s been pouring the whole day...."
"It’s great to drink beer in the rain."
She put the phone down and looked out of the window.
Actually it was not a window. It was only a transparent
glass wall from top to bottom. Rain splattered all over
it. House-tops went up and down in all forms, blurred by
the blanket of rain. When things were nearly finished,
she rubbed her eyes and switched off the computer,
relaxing for a moment. She wished she could sit down in
some small dusty cafe with a close friend over a cup of
steaming coffee, looking out on to the street.... Her
world was now a room on the 10th floor of an office
building with bamboo curtains barring her view. People
walked to and fro in silence like small ants. A white
wedding car bedecked with a huge pink tie darted by, a
reluctant hue that did not match the panorama. She
smiled. Oh yes, two years had passed, but the fashion
for wedding cars the year before last was floral
decorations. Then, it seems such a long time ago, he
always waited for her in front of the foreign languages
centre "You look a little bit tired. Can I take you
to have some Hue pudding? Or some steamed snails, my
teacher? Oh, how I wish for the day when I can drive you
and our child around the town." His smile was so
sweet and protective... .
After marriage, he’d said: "I don’t want you to go
teaching in the afternoons like this. Once you finish
work, I want you to return home and cook dinner." So
she took up this job, this representative office of a
foreign company. The floor was carpeted, desks were
imported, and air-con made the room so cool. The chief
was a European. It was spotlessly clean, and the
cleanest of all was the toilet. The working day began at
eight in the morning. 30 minutes were reserved for
reading newspapers. Then it was time to examine
documents, prepare letters for exchange and translate
some documents. This morning at a meeting with the
ministry on the proposed technology transfer project
with training courses, the chief had been livid. "If
the procedures cannot be cleared over the next two
months, I’ll withdraw the money," he’d fumed. As
they stood up to leave, she heard the muttered comment
from the other side of the table; "Please withdraw,
others will give us the money if you won’t. Much ado
about nothing." When the chief asked her, she said:
"They are saying that the project is under the
management of many agencies. This ministry wishes to
implement the project immediately, but other ministries
are still considering it." The chief shrugged his
shoulders. "You people have a long way to go."
There had been so many official letters and telephone
calls exchanged to urge the officials. But the project
only benefited the trainees, there would be no change in
the salary of those managing the project, and it was not
easy at all to get some money for themselves from this
project. So there was no point in hurrying.
It was 12 sharp. The Vietnamese staff entered the dining
room. She was cooking instant noodle in the microwave.
The chief put his head in: "Such a strong smell! What
are you cooking?" Then he slammed the door hard. "And
when he spoke to me this morning, his mouth smelt of raw
onions," someone commented. Another sighed: "What
if I could eat steamed snails or some bun dau phu (soft
rice noodles with shrimp paste and fried beancurd." "I
wish I could lie down for a few minutes after lunch..."
"Stop dreaming... ."
Five minutes to five, she got up and prepared the
documents. The chief said with a serious voice: "We
pay you to work from 8 in the morning until 5 in the
afternoon." Yesterday and the day before, she’d
stayed back and worked until 6 or 7 o’clock in the
evening to finish the work. She sat still and waited
until 5 o’clock. The lift was filled to capacity with
staff members. Skirts, ties, shining shoes, perfume and
tiring faces. It was still raining, and cold. Gone were
the days when she rode the bicycle fast in the rain,
turning her face up to let the fresh tiny drops fall on
her cheeks and forehead...
The bill recorded the number of glasses with plus signs.
His friends were still laughing and speaking with
hardened necks, none of them giving in.
"What an exemplary husband! Why do you look so silly?
Are you missing your wife?"
"Look, let’s go into some karaoke parlour."
"Right. It will be warmer and we can drink some more.
This is not enough... ."
"Will there be girls to help while away the time?"
"No, shouldn’t we join the anti-social evils
campaign?"
"What an idea! We should create jobs for the surplus
labour force."
The xe om (motorbike taxi) stopped at the foot of the
stairs. "Please give me VND10,000." "What? It is only
four kilometres!" "Well, you’re well paid there, how can
you spend all your money?" She intended to say
something, but decided to refrain. She shook the
raincoat and walked upstairs. The staircase was dark.
She tried to avoid stepping on the rubbish scattered
everywhere. On the second landing, a dim electric light
on the notice: The cleaning schedule - Stairs on Block A
-Monday... . Behind the closed windows were brightly
lit, newly renovated apartments. These families went to
work every morning, and kept the doors closed after they
returned home. The doors were closed during the weekends
as well. The neighbours never called on each other. She
inserted the key, pulled the collapsing gate and opened
the wooden door. Then she switched on the electric
cooker. A baby’s cry echoed from the next house. She
wished she had a child in her lap to cuddle. He’d said:
"Better not to have a child now, don’t you think? Let
our situation improve. And by the way, you should reduce
the time you spend with friends. Now you’re married and
should have more time for me." She had obediently
acquiesced. The phone was ringing. She lifted the phone.
It was her mother-in-law: "Are you there? Have you
made dinner?... Are you tired? No tiring work in your
office, I think. A life in luxury, no rain on the face,
no sunlight on the head, and a high salary... . When
your husband comes home, tell him to phone me." "Yes,
mother... ". The phone rang again, this time it was
her husband: "Please go ahead and have dinner. Don’t
wait for me. I’ve got to finish some work."
The dark green velvet blinds fell down heavily. The
black settee looked sticky. The smell of beer, brandy,
cigarette was pungent. The service girls - 15 to 16
years old, rushed in. White faces, red lips and tanned
necks.
"Please let us join!" "Dear, sit closer to me."
"Please drink with us for fun! Do sing a song...."
Then they screamed some familiar tune at the top of
their voices. "When we sing sending our songs to our
far-away lovers..."
The rain continued to fall without let-up. Millions of
tiny drops covered the leaves on the tree, dropping down
when they became too heavy, mingling in the muddy soil
that was getting condensed under passing feet.
Translated by Manh Chuong |
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