Chapter 22 — Summer After the Rain

The bank sent a notice that the theater had another debt in Linh's father's name. The number that appeared in the email made her read it three times to make sure. The money was used to repair the dyke gate after the flood, but the invoice had no receipt stamp, only a scribbled signature that was difficult to read. Linh is angry because her father borrowed without telling, a financial secret on top of the other secrets he left behind.

Minh said her father may have borrowed to buy rescue materials, a hasty action on the night of the emergency. Linh replied that he might have been wrong, she did not want to turn all of her father's actions into absolute magnanimity. They checked old books and saw money transferred to a contractor named Duc. Duc currently opens a machine repair shop in a neighboring district, about an hour's drive from An Binh.

Duc remembers Linh's father bought steel, but did not receive enough goods as ordered. He believed that the missing portion was transferred to Mr. Hai's factory project, a suspicion he kept in his heart for many years without daring to voice it. Duc kept a delivery note with Phuc's signature. The paper was yellowed but still kept carefully in a leather briefcase.

Linh doesn't want to call it absolute proof. She asked a lawyer, sent a copy to the investigation agency and continued to repay the debt with theater funds, not letting an unclear question delay her current financial responsibility.

Minh said she did not need to bear the debt for her father. Linh responded that financial debt can be paid in installments, but truth debt must be paid by not hiding it anymore, a principle she set for herself from the first day back.

The theater's debt is divided into three parts: electricity bill, roof repair fee and the loan that Linh's father took out in his name to buy a projector last year. The bank sent a final notice, with a specific deadline, causing the group to have an urgent meeting. If you don't pay, they can confiscate the equipment and seal the machine room. Linh looked at the number, realizing it was smaller than she thought but heavier than any apology.

Minh offered to sell his old truck to make up for it. Linh refused immediately. Mrs. Nam told everyone to contribute a part, not letting the person with the least money have to give the only thing that helps them make a living, a principle of fairness that the whole group agrees on.

They held a fundraising screening that weekend. Hau sells popcorn at an "arbitrary" price, posting a handwritten sign at the counter, but people are very generous with their money, sometimes more than the actual value of the corn package. Some people paid with bags of rice, others donated an old fan that still worked well. A little girl brought a cracked piggy bank, coins scattered as she placed it on the table. She said she didn't have much money but wanted the theater to show a cartoon on her birthday next month. Linh asked what movie she wanted to watch. I replied that the movie has a character who doesn't give up, even if he falls into a hole. Minh said that was their accurate description, causing the group to laugh amid the busy evening.

The screening ended with an old but emotional silent film. The audience laughed by breathing, cried by gently touching each other's shoulders in the darkness. When the lights turned on, Phuc stood at the end of the hall, his quiet appearance completely different from his previous appearances. He did not enter the honorary chair, just put an envelope in the fund box and turned to leave. Linh wanted to return it, but he said it was money he owed the theater many years ago.

“I don't want you to use money to buy forgiveness,” she said.

"I know. I'm just paying off a debt with a bill."

Linh received the envelope and asked Mai to clearly state the sender in the public treasury book. Minh looked at her and said they finally had an income without having to guess the source. She smiled very lightly, even though her heart was still filled with emotions at Phuc's actions.

At the end of the night, Linh realized that the debt was no longer just a number. It was the materials her father bought, the people he wanted to save, and the people who took advantage of others' fears for personal gain. She decided not to sell the theater to pay it off quickly; she would pay in a way that wouldn't erase herself from the story. She wrote in the notebook: "Today, we were able to pay the electricity bill and maintain our dignity."

After the fundraising session, Linh tallied each account under the late night table lamp light. There was an envelope with no name on it, inside was cash equal to the loan her father used to buy light bulbs, a coincidence that made her shiver. Mai told me not to enter the book without verifying the source, in accordance with the transparency principles they have set. Hau suggested posting a notice “mysterious sender please receive receipt,” an idea that sounds silly but works.

Three days later, a trembling old man using a cane came to receive it. He used to work as an electrician for a theater. In the past, Linh's father lent him money for medical treatment without asking for it back. He didn't have any papers, he just remembered Mr. Khai told him to pay it back when he could, no need to rush. He said he had kept the money for eighteen years, waiting for a suitable opportunity to repay it.

Linh doesn't know whether to call it debt or gratitude. She made a receipt, clearly stating the story and asked him to only pay part of it. He shook his head, saying that if he didn't pay in full, every time he passed by the theater he would find himself still standing outside, like someone who owed an unsaid thank you.

After listening, Minh said that the theater could not ask people to pay back all the things they had given in the past. Linh replied that she knew, but she could not take away the rights of anyone who wanted to contribute in their own way. They set up a separate fund for voluntary refunds, carefully labeled so they don't mix with the main repair fund.

That night, Ha Vang showed free shows for those who had contributed money, no one asked for tickets at the door. Linh sat at the end of the hall, looking at the blue light covering familiar faces, realizing that debt repayment sometimes did not end with an equal number, but with people stopping feeling like they were alone in debt.

Hau hung up a new fund board, clearly stating the amount of money received and spent in careful handwriting rarely seen in him. One person asked why the money to buy cleaning towels had to be made public. Linh replied because small things also create a big place. The other person nodded, then contributed two more packages of towels on the spot, making the whole group laugh.

Minh re-measured the amount of electricity used for each screening, looking for ways to reduce costs without reducing safety. He replaced the old light bulb with an economical one, but kept a spare in stock in case he needed it urgently. Hau said it was a lesson about hope: there is always a second light bulb, a joke that seemed to be a joke but made the whole group silently nod in agreement.

A few days later, Duc, the contractor who used to supply steel to Linh's father, suddenly stopped by the theater. He brought with him a stack of old invoices that he had rummaged through in his computer repair shop's archives for several nights in a row. He said that after Linh asked about it, he kept wondering about it. He showed Linh three more delivery slips, all with the same scribbled signature of Phuc, the same motif: the quantity written on the slip was always about fifteen percent higher than the actual quantity delivered.

“I didn't dare say it sooner,” Duc admitted, his hands shaking as he turned the pages. "Because Phuc's company was also my shop's biggest customer at that time. If I spoke up, I would lose my source of income."

Linh does not blame him. She understands better than anyone the vicious cycle of fear of losing their livelihood that has kept so many people silent for the past eighteen years. She thanked him, asked for permission to photocopy the entire invoice, and then asked if he would be willing to sign a confirmation if the matter was brought to official light. Duc hesitated for a long time, looked out the theater door where the afternoon light was fading, then nodded. He said now that his machine repair shop has stabilized and is no longer dependent on a single customer, he has no reason to continue remaining silent.

Mai recorded Duc's agreement in the file, placing it next to other evidence that was gradually filling a separate drawer. Linh looked at that stack of papers, feeling both heavy and relieved. With each passing week, the picture of what really happened on the night of the flood becomes a little clearer, and each new piece of the puzzle, however painful, is a step closer to the day her father will be seen for who he really is.

Before leaving, Duc stood for a moment in the lobby, looking around at the rows of chairs that had been almost completely repaired. He said the last time he went to the theater was when he was a young man, watching a war movie with his friends from the studio, and did not expect to return decades later in such a difficult situation. Linh invited him to stay for a free screening on the weekend, as a small thank you. Duc laughed, for the first time in the meeting that day, saying he would bring his wife and children, and perhaps that was the most meaningful way to repay his debt that a worker like him could think of.