My grandmother, on my mother’s side, has two children - a daughter and a son. For her, the saying "a son means an offspring, ten daughters mean no offspring" was a truism. So all her attention and affection was focused on uncle Ba. My maternal grandfather’s family used to be the richest one in the village. When he died of some serious illness, she inherited his entire wealth. Everyone in the family was respectful to her. Mother and uncle Ba never talked back. She had strongly opposed the marriage between Dad and Mum because his family had no "position" in the village.
He was also not the eldest son, just a soldier waiting to find employment after the nation’s liberation. Mother cried and cried, until grandmother gave in. But she stressed that a woman should follow her husband, and that all the assets of the family would belong to Uncle Ba. The wedding ceremony was a simple one with just close relatives present. As for Uncle Ba, he did whatever grandmother told him. He had a mild and gentle nature, and was careful not to displease her.
When I was five years old, a grand wedding party was organised for Uncle Ba. Grandmother was laughing heartily, and she looked very happy.
When I was 18, my aunt had been a daughter-in-law for 13 years. Mother said that aunt had to work from dawn to dusk, and unlike other people, had no spare time. Although she was very rich, at the end of the week she had to present her final accounts to grandmother. She worked like a machine without any respite or delay. Many evenings she went out into the corridor to cry, taking care even then that grandmother did not catch her doing it. The miserable life of a daughter-in-law made aunt an irascible person.
Grandmother was ageing and ailing and seldom touched her food. She spent the whole day on her bed. Mother often returned home to visit her. Uncle Ba was always glad to see mother and me. Aunt was indifferent. She did not say hello to us. She cleared her throat and asked:
"Mother has not passed away, why do you come to ask for your inheritance?"
Mother pretended not to hear. I stared at aunt. I could not believe that a girl cast in the typical "diligent needle work, modest, proper speech and morality" could behave like that. She took a broom and turning to mother, said:
"Please don’t mind! The house is very dirty, I have to sweep it!"
I threw her an unpleasant look, and Uncle Ba was ill at ease, but as he was used to pleasing his wife, and did not utter a word. Aunt laughed:
"Mother is only slightly ill. If you are worried that we cannot take care of her, please take her to your house. I have no objection."
Mother left the medicine for grandmother, and over and over again, asked uncle to take good care of her. She managed to be polite to aunt, because she knew that her life as a daughter-in-law was miserable. I knew that mother wanted to take my grandmother to the city, but she dared not tell her. She loved uncle Ba so much, she would not agree to leave the house, whatever happened. Also, she did not want to rely on her daughter. Although I was her granddaughter, she did not love me because I bore the family name of another person. And, of course, I was a girl. In these days when gender inequality was becoming obsolete, I could not understand the strong hold it had on grandmother. All those times I visited her, she never greeted me once. I could never taste a fruit, although there were plenty of laden trees in the garden. She never gave me any presents. Everything was given to Sang, my uncle’s son. He was eleven years old, and very small. Aunt feared that if grandmother had some affection for me, she would treat Sang differently. So she did not like me.
But Sang was very pleased whenever I visited his house. He took me around to go fishing, to wade through the stream, and even taught me to shoot at birds. I was fed up with boys’ games, but I did not want to sadden him, and reluctantly followed him. He liked to hear me talking about the city, about my school and my class, his eyes widening as I spoke. Back home, he recounted everything to his mother. She said flatly
"If you like the city, you can go to live there,"
she also glanced at me
"my child, we are people of the countryside, we are used to eating countryside rice, what is the use of going there?"
Very angry, I left for the garden.
The atmosphere in the house was getting colder and colder. Grandmother lay in her bed, racked by coughing fits, groaning occasionally:
"Aunt Ba, give me some water"
or " Aunt Ba, I want to have some soup."
Aunt Ba was very busy in the house at all times. I was very quiet, whenever I was there, but would never do what Aunt Ba told me to, and she would be furious. Once I heard her complain to uncle Ba:
"Why do I have to be so miserable? A daughter-in-law is like a servant in this house."
Then the dam broke and she sobbed uncontrollably, and all that had been locked up within for a long time seemed to pour out. She recounted what she had to do in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening. Uncle Ba remained calm. He tried to comfort her.
"You should try to bear with it, don’t get angry with mother. Anyhow she is very old now."
"How much longer do I have to endure this? Why don’t you entrust your sister with the task of caring for her? She would be much happier if she lived in the city."
Uncle Ba said gently:
"Because mother does not agree!"
"You have only to rent a taxi, and take her there. That’s all!"
Uncle Ba lost his temper:
"Don’t be insulting."
"You dare scold me, do you? Now my husband as well. Have I not been tortured enough?"
Uncle Ba flew into a rage and slapped her. She covered her face and cried out loud. Neighbours rushed in to restrain him. It was the first time I’d seen him like this. Aunt looked so miserable and pitiful. The miserable life she’d had to suffer for so many years had turned her into another person. Too much forbearance sometimes changes the nature of human beings, making them selfish, like the drop of water that makes the cup overflow. I did not hate her anymore, and began to commiserate with her. And I feared the fate of being a daughter-in-law. I’d never seen any sign of discord between my paternal grandmother and mother, nor had I seen my parents quarrel. Mother was devoted to her mother-in-law, who loved her very much and repeatedly said she was very happy to have such a daughter-in-law.
Mother was worried. She decided to bring grandmother to the city. Grandmother would not agree, consenting only after strong persuasion from relatives. Aunt sighed with relief. She said:
"Sister, you can take her away. My husband and I will go see her very often!"
Then she walked briskly into the kitchen. I followed mother home. Sang cried and asked to go with us. Aunt ran up to him and slapped him sharply on his buttocks. I burst into tears. I was very sad for him, but did not know what to do.
Grandmother was sent to the hospital. Uncle Ba came to our house to look after her. Some nights, mother did not sleep. There were dark circles under her eyes. Father, who was always away on some mission or the other, visited grandmother whenever he returned home. Many times grandmother twisted and turned, calling out uncle Ba’s name.
Mother and uncle Ba spent many months beside my grandmother. One day aunt took Sang along when she visited her mother-in-law. Sang sobbed:
"I miss you very much, Granny!"
She nodded and stroked his hair.
Aunt smiled derisively:
"How miserable you are, Sister Hai! But it is nothing compared with what we endured for the last ten years and more."
Grandmother sat up slowly, and said angrily:
"Aunt."
Then she was caught in a coughing fit. Mother was panic-stricken. She ran to grandmother and rubbed her chest. Uncle Ba frowned. Frightened, aunt pulled little Sang home. Sang ran back to hug his grandmother. Aunt went into the corridor and looked into the room from behind the door.
Grandmother twisted and turned for many nights, complaining she could not sleep. A month later, she passed away. She did not leave behind any will. She only held my mother’s hand. Though I was not close to her, I felt deeply the loss of a grandparent. The distance between life and death was so fragile and frightening. Mother looked emaciated. Uncle Ba and father hurried back and forth organising the funeral. Aunt rushed to the coffin and collapsed. I hated the pretence and did not want to look at her crying. People came home to offer their condolences. I was as sad as a stale noodle, but my eyes were dry.
Midnight. The lights in my house were still on. Aunt was sitting in a corner of the house, wiping her tears with the tail of her mourning robe. Suddenly, I felt that I had been too severe and prejudiced against my aunt. I hoped that her tears would flow downstream, not upstream. Her remorse seemed to rise from deep within her heart. I wanted to comfort her, but was afraid. I went to the kitchen to pour some tea for her, and became lost in thoughts. The tea overflowed from the glass.
Translated by Huong Tu
