Chapter 8 — When the Wind Crosses the Porch

Hanh confessed that on the day there was a power outage in the whole town. Every store closed early, every house lit candles, but their old house was only lit by a rechargeable lamp placed in the middle of the table.

Mai and her mother sat opposite. Quan took seven households home and promised to return tomorrow morning. Duy fixed the radio in the outer room, the sound rewound back and forth like a fly caught in a net.

“I don't want to talk while there's still light,” Hanh started.

“Because the darkness makes things easier?”

“Because the light makes me see that you are disappointed.”

Mai did not reply. Hanh took a blue plastic box from the cupboard and opened the lid. Inside was a pocket calendar, a small key and a copy of the power of attorney signed by her.

“This is the night your father died,” Hanh said. “I told you from the beginning, don't interrupt.”

Seven years ago, Hanh received Phuc's phone call at eight o'clock. He said he needed Mom to go to school to confirm Mai's scholarship. Mai's father did not agree and told Hanh to stay at home. But he knew that the tuition fee for that term was overdue. If he didn't have the paper, Mai would be suspended.

“Dad told mom not to go,” Hanh said. “Mom is still going.”

At school, Phuc and Luu showed her the document, saying that Mai's father mismanaged the support money. They did not ask her to sign the land transfer. They said it was only a temporary confirmation so the school wouldn't suspend classes.

"My mother asked if it would affect the family. They said no."

“Did you read it all?”

"Mom read the first line. The bottom part was pinned under the stack of papers. Mom signed."

Hanh was then taken to the salt factory, where Vinh and Tu Hau waited. Phuc did not appear. They said Mai's father was comparing records at warehouse K-17.

"Mom was standing outside the car. At 9:17, she heard an argument."

“Who did you hear from me?”

"Phuc was on the phone. Vinh called him and put it on speaker. Phuc told my father to hand over the original copy. My father said he gave it to someone else."

"Third person?"

Hanh nodded. "My father didn't say his name. But he said that if he did something wrong, he had to bear it himself and couldn't blame the people."

Hau opened the warehouse door. Father Mai walked out, holding his chest. Hanh wanted to run over, but Vinh stopped her, saying that if she called an ambulance at that time, it would cause a ruckus. Phuc over the phone instructed Hau to take Mai's father to the embankment, where the measuring station is located.

“Why did mom let them take dad away?”

"I'm scared. I think he's just stunned and will come back."

“Mom, will you follow?”

"I followed you to the top of the embankment. Your father told me to come back and take you out of town if anything happened. He said you couldn't know."

At the measuring station, Luu waited. He gave Mai's father a blank file, saying it was a signed original. Father Mai opened it and saw that it was all paper without words. He laughed and said, "You guys no longer know shame."

"Mom stood outside the door. She saw Phuc coming later."

“Is Phuc present?”

"Yes. He wasn't in the car with me. He told my father that if I didn't hand over my books, they would cancel my scholarship. My father told him to cancel it. He said it would make it impossible for me to get a job at any company in the province."

Mai felt her fingers numb.

“What did Dad answer?”

“He said: ‘My child is not a hook on which to hang your greed.’”

Hanh looked at the charging lamp. "Then he fell. This time he really fell. Mom called an ambulance but there was no signal. Hau ran to find the security station. Phuc told her not to call her phone, because her number would appear in the records. She used a fisherman's phone."

“Who called?”

“A boy named Khai.”

Mai misses the fisherman's house at the end of the beach. Khai may now be an adult.

“How late did the emergency room arrive?”

“Twenty-six minutes.”

“During those twenty-six minutes, what did Phuc do?”

“He took your father's briefcase.”

Mai stood up. “Is there an original in the bag?”

"I don't know. Your father told me to keep the key to the warehouse and not give it to anyone. Phuc took the briefcase and asked my mother to sign a form confirming that my father voluntarily managed the money."

“Mom, will you sign?”

Hanh nodded. “The paper in the sewing machine.”

“So mom helped them tell dad what he did wrong.”

“I know.”

“Mom knew but still kept it from me for seven years?”

"I hid it because after your father passed away, Phuc sent me a receipt for the paid tuition. He said if I opened my mouth, my scholarship would be revoked and I would be sued for the support account."

“Do you believe him?”

“I believe my fear.”

The air in the room is heavier than the power outage. Mai looked at her mother, not seeing a weak mother but seeing someone who chose to bear the sins for her child, and then got used to not being forgiven.

“Father died at the hospital?”

“He died before arriving at the emergency room.”

“Did you tell the doctor he was just in the warehouse?”

“No. Mom said he was sick at home.”

Mai closed her eyes. The truth has too many layers, each layer is put on by one person with seemingly reasonable reasons.

Hanh gave the small key. "This is the key he gave me at the measuring station. He told me to find the person who kept the original. I don't know who that person is."

“But what does this key open?”

“I haven't tried it yet.”

Mai placed the key next to the one with tag 17. The two key teeth are the same, only the tip is different. Quan once said there were two courses. One can open the cabinet, the other can open the storage box.

Duy ran in and handed over the reinstalled radio. “I recovered the last part.”

The speaker made a crackling sound, then the man said: "Miss Hanh, you just need to sign for her. We'll take care of the rest."

Phuc's voice.

Hanh bowed her head. Mai doesn't turn off the tape.

“Your father cannot save seven lives if your child loses his future.”

Mai's father's voice: "Don't use my child."

“Then sign.”

The sound of a pen falling. Hanh gasped. The tape stopped there.

Duy looked at Hanh, his face turned red. “Auntie is not wrong.”

Hanh smiled at him. "I'm wrong. But you don't need to learn to hate yourself for a decision you made out of fear."

Mai records each sentence. After listening, lawyer Thu said the tape was valuable if the voice and preservation chain could be identified. She asked Hanh to write a report as soon as her memory was still clear.

“I can sign,” Hanh said.

“You need to understand, this report makes you admit that you signed the paper,” Thu replied. “It both helps prove coercion and can cause the other party to counterclaim.”

Hanh said: "I have lived for seven years with the counterclaim in my head. Now I want it to be on paper."

Mai heard that sentence and for the first time did not argue with her mother.

They wrote a report that night, clearly stating the time, people present, statements, and emergency calls. Quan signed as a witness. Duy wrote down the memory card number and sealed it in a new bag.

When the power came back on, the house turned on. Hanh covered her eyes. Mai saw an old bruise on her mother's wrist, perhaps from the time someone pulled her out the door. She didn't ask anymore. She just placed her hand on her mother's hand.

“I still call you mom,” Mai said.

Hanh held her hand and trembled. “I don't need your forgiveness right away.”

"I haven't forgiven you yet. But I don't want you to have to talk alone."

Outside the gate, Vinh's car stopped. He didn't go in, just left a file on the steps. When I went to get it tomorrow, I saw a notice asking the family to respond within three days and a personal letter from Vinh.

“I didn't know Phuc had gone so far,” he wrote. "But I also signed. If you want to know what I signed for, meet me at the old warehouse at 9:17 tomorrow morning."

Hanh read the letter, her face turned pale. “Don't meet.”

Mai folded. “You will meet, but not alone.”

“Vinh can lie.”

“I will record.”

“What if he sets a trap?”

"Mom taught me. Don't go alone."

Hanh looked at her child, tired but did not stop.

The night was almost dawn, Mai sat by the window. The wind through the porch carries the smell of wet soil after a little rain. She opened the map, marked warehouses, measuring stations, schools, and embankments. The points form a loop, eventually returning to the house.

Perhaps her father had tried to take the original through that same route. Perhaps a third person received it. It's also possible that the original never left home.

Mai looked at the key her mother gave her. She tried the lock on the floor of the trunk. It fits.

In the bottom of the trunk, under the paper, there is a small compartment. Apricot has not been opened before because the lid is stuck. The key turned, a piece of paper rolled out, on which there was only the address of a watch repair shop in the old market and the appointment time: 9:17.

Her father left two meetings for two different people. A meeting with Vinh tomorrow morning. A meeting with a watch repairman she had never heard of.

Mai doesn't know where to go first. Then the phone received a text message from lawyer Thu: "Don't go to the warehouse. Phuc has sent a document confirming that Vinh is no longer representing the company. The appointment may be a trap."

Mai looked at Hanh. She fell asleep on the chair, still holding the report in her hand.

Mai texted Quan: "Change of plans. Find a watch repair shop. Vinh can wait."

The wind pulled the curtains, causing the rechargeable lamp to sway slightly. In a moment, Mai heard her father's voice echoing from the radio: "Don't let her know."

Now she knows. And she was no longer a child who had to be shielded.

Before leaving the room, Mai opened a new file, named "Hanh's report - read-along version". She sent her mother a printed copy, marked the areas that needed confirmation, and did not arbitrarily edit the words. Hanh reads each page with her glasses, using a pencil to circle other milestones she remembers. There is a part where she writes "not sure", there is a part where she says "I saw it". Mai does not turn memories into perfect testimony; she left the whole space there.

Duy asked why he had to keep uncertain words. Mai said: "Because people who tell the truth don't need to act like they know everything. They just need to say exactly what they saw." He nodded, then created a separate data field for the reliability of each tape. Quan checked the system time again, Sau Luu compared it with the tide log. The report is longer, but each line has a responsible person.

Hanh closed the file and placed it next to the key. She no longer said, "I'm afraid you won't call me mom." She just said: "Tomorrow, remember to bring a raincoat tomorrow." That ordinary reminder made Mai see that the house could start a different life, where care did not need to come through a big secret.