She shouted while kicking with her legs, “Meow, meow, ow.”
The animal jumped to one side, crying out miserably, its eyes turning toward her, round with fear and surprise. She clicked her tongue: “I forget. It’s not fed yet. All night I was busy with guests and forgot about the cat.”
Leaving the pile of dishes she was cleaning, she went to the storage cabinet and took out a large salted fish and put it on the cracked dish reserved for the cat.
“Now it is your turn…”
The animal approached the dish, continuing to cry, its eyes always following its mistress as if it could not understand or forget Miss Vui’s rudeness. She suddenly laughed:
“Stop meowing and eat…”
Then she sat opposite the animal to make it realize that her anger had passed. When the cat lowered its head to the fish on the plate, she suddenly had a strange thought that she was like a cat: a cat waiting for its prey in the dark. But not an old cat — rather a female cat that is very young and full of vitality. That thought made her smile to herself for a while.
After the cat had finished eating, licking its lips with satisfaction then running to the other room to curl up in a bed made out of leftover materials, Miss Vui continued to clean the house and wash dishes. Gigantic candles burned brightly from the house to the kitchen, their light plentiful and wild.
She did not have to live frugally like most women with five or seven kids in tow. This New Year’s Eve banquet had satisfied her. While washing the dishes, she hummed the song “Rise Up, All You Slaves of the World.” She was proud of her extraordinary memory and because her literary aptitude was suddenly on the rise. When she was done washing the dishes and cleaning the house shiny like a mirror, it was sunrise. It was cold, but damp sweat ran down her spine. She said:
“A bath first! Thus, this year, before and after New Year’s Eve, I bathe twice.”
That was unusual, because people usually avoided bathing after New Year’s Eve. But single people like to worship the patron genie of cleanliness. This genie brings them a pride that those with children, grandchildren, husbands, and wives have no right to enjoy.
When Miss Vui finished her bath, the clock struck fifteen minutes before seven in the morning. Fog still covered the young mountains but the rows of trees started to appear faintly with soaking wet leaves. The mistress looked at the patio for a while, dreamily. Then she locked the door and went to bed:
“What will come tomorrow?” she asked herself while leisurely stretching her large body under the quilt.
What must happen, will happen!
But people don’t need to be armed against life with literature and words, and don’t need to waste time waiting. That afternoon of the first day of the new year, what-must-happen came to life.
It happened when Vui’s house was still shut. Snoring like thunder rose up high and fell down low, like the singing of people dragging timber logs, spreading through all five rooms of her house. What comes to life, life raises up. Act Two of Mr. Quang’s family drama that she secretly awaited had begun. Unfortunately she did not witness the curtain rising, even though she was the only person who had climbed ravines and crossed streams to get all the way to the distant Khoai Hamlet.
It is customary on the morning of the first day of the three-day Tet celebration for everyone to dress nicely, to replace incense on family altars, and to make remembrance offerings to the ancestors. In the early afternoon, after the offering, families may bring the offering food down from the altar to partake of a joyful meal that will ensure plentiful rice wine and tea all during the coming year. After the banquet comes the time for welcoming guests to the family home. Then, each family host welcomes his sons and their wives, his daughters and their husbands, and scores of grandchildren. There must be trays of five kinds of fruit for the children to eat to their heart’s content. There will be red lucky envelopes with cash inside to distribute fairly among the grandkids, no distinction being made between boy or girl or between the children of sons and the children of daughters. There must be candies and cakes and many kinds of different candied fruit for people to munch with tea.
This year, Mr. Quang’s house had only the newlyweds. Master Quynh still lived in the lower section with his maternal grandmother. After the failed negotiations by the two uncles, it was Quynh himself who had come up and asked his father for his clothes and other things, plus a sum of money large enough to pay for his tuition and activity fees. After living with his maternal family for a week, the young man had realized that nice words cannot mint money. The grandmother and the two uncles only provided him with empty advice or ineffective actions. They could do no more. Therefore, Quynh accepted living there as if in a boardinghouse, making monthly contributions for his food. The young man did not want to return to his family home, partly because of pride and partly because of his stepmother’s beauty, which inflamed his emotions. Obviously the father understood his son’s heart and did not force the matter.
“OK, whatever you want is fine. What about the five rooms reserved for you, what do you want to do with them?”
“Dad, just keep them for Stepmother and the younger siblings. I do not have any intention of returning.”
“Please think carefully.”
“I only ask you for the money to finish college. After graduation, I’ll take care of myself.”
“If so, I am happy for you. I’m only afraid you won’t qualify for secondary school.”
“I know. From now on I will attend public school.”
“OK, I’ll make sure you have enough money.”
“It’s what I ask for, Father.”
The conversation ended and the youngest son picked up the shiny varnished trunk and left. It was a good separation because, subsequently, Quynh suddenly became more mature and began to do well in his studies. His new grades surprised his whole school.
This New Year, it was Mr. Quang who presented gifts to Miss Ngan. The gift for her was not a red envelope containing a few bills but a pink velvet box. When she opened the box, her eyes flashed like electricity and she jumped up to put her arms around his neck:
“Good-looking old man! This is truly marvelous!”
“Is this gift fit for a girl from Khoai Hamlet? Or are you the literary star from the right branch of the celestial horoscope?”
“Literary star of the left or the right branch does not equal becoming mistress of the house of Mr. Quang in the upper section.”
“Are you sure of that, honey?”
“As sure as teak wood is hard.”
“If Teacher Tuong returns and entices you to leave me, I will hang myself on the jackfruit tree at the end of the yard.”
“Smack that lying mouth. You do want to hang?”
“I’ll hang your neck first, then mine; in the same hour, no more, no less. It’ll make it easy for the kids to do the funerals.”
“That is horrible.”
“Why such a faint heart? Just a little joking around.”
“Don’t be so foolish. We’ve had our share of bitterness. We will live with each other until we step into the grave.”
She held on to him tightly, her tears welling up as if separation were stalking outside just beyond the door sill. He held her tightly, too, to confirm his unconditional protection. At that moment, he had a feeling, extremely definite, extremely strong, like his feeling when he first met her, when she, embarrassed, had put the two bottles of rice wine on the table in the boardinghouse in town: she was part of his bones and flesh, part of his own life, the part that he had forgotten, which he had ditched many incarnations before in someplace so far away, on the far side of the horizon. They stood like that for a long while in the calming New Year’s air, both knowing and surprised as to why they were so passionately in love with each other. Then the sound of a barking dog and the footsteps of young men going out for a New Year’s stroll on the hamlet road startled them out of their love enchantment. Miss Ngan hurriedly put the two red ruby solitaires in her ears.