Chapter 9 — Winter 1980

I know this amount of money basically cannot silence her. But I just want to use this way to tell you that I'm not your cash machine. What I give is "money for life", not "money for old age". Days passed like that day by day. Every day I leave early and come home late, barely communicating with my mother and father. They see me getting thinner and thinner, but my spirit is getting better and better. Looking at the increasing number of books I brought home, the lights in the room were always on until late at night. From the beginning, my mother complained, scolded me, then remained silent, and finally, in her eyes when she looked at me, there was a trace of fear. She began to realize that I was no longer Tran Niem that she could control. I'm turning into an independent individual that you don't understand at all. About half a year later. I received my father's first letter. The letter was delivered from Hong Kong and was very thick. In the letter, he told me that he and his sister had smoothly arrived in Taiwan. He used his relationship to restore Lam Tinh Uyen's identity to her. She started learning how to draw, it was something she liked since childhood. At the end of the letter, she wrote me a paragraph. She said: Niem Niem, you are very good, don't miss it. Dad said you are very brave and are the pride of our Lam family. Wait until you finish handling things at home, then we'll welcome you over. We wait for you. The letter also contained a photo. It's a photo of my father and sister together. They stood in front of a beautiful Western-style house. She wore a white dress and smiled very sweetly. Father stood next to her, although a little thinner, his eyes were full of contentment and joy. I still see two hundred dong. It's living money my father sent me. I held that letter, looked at that photo, and tears kept flowing. I know, I don't fight alone. On the other side of the strait, there are my relatives waiting for me. With this money, I have more confidence. I took out twenty dong and threw it to my mother. "From now on, I will give you this number every month." Mom looked at those two ten dong bills, her eyes glazed over. But this time she didn't cause trouble anymore, just quietly put the money away. She knew I had support that she couldn't reach. With money, I am no longer satisfied with my job at the cultural station. I started taking advantage of my free time, submitting articles to the town newspaper. Write about people and stories in the village, write some feelings after reading the book. Unexpectedly, my manuscripts were published one after another. Although the royalties are not much, this recognition makes me happy like crazy. Station chief Vuong was also especially happy, he encouraged me to continue writing. He even helped me contact a night school in the province so I could study by correspondence to get a college degree. My path becomes wider as I go. But my mother quickly aged. Since my grandmother and I "separated the house", the burden of the house fell back on her and my father. She had to go to the fields herself, cook her own meals, and take care of everything herself. She no longer has new clothes to wear, and can no longer scold her at will. She transformed from a noble "queen" into an ordinary rural woman. One night, I wrote an article until late and went outside to pour water. See the western room light is still on. I heard my dad coughing and my mom sighing. "Sir, tell me... did I do something wrong?" "We... are we at fault with that child Niem Niem..." Dad didn't say anything, just coughed harder. I stood in the dark, without a ripple in my heart. Did it wrong? I just remembered to ask this question now, it's too late. There are some injuries that, once caused, will never be able to be compensated for. 12 Summer 1982. Two years have passed since my father and sister left. During these two years, I earned my associate's degree from night school. My articles began to be published in provincial newspapers. I

even used the royalties to buy himself a radio. Every night, I listen to radio broadcasts from across the strait. Although the signal is not good, the sound is mixed with noise, but I always feel that I can be a little closer to them. The relationship between me and my mother is still a cold creditor relationship. Twenty dong a month, I give her on time. Don't say another unnecessary sentence. She no longer had the energy of that year and became quiet and quiet. Dad's health is getting worse and worse, most of the housework falls on her. She was emaciated as far as the naked eye could see, and her hair was more than half white. The way people in the village looked at me also changed. From the beginning, they pointed fingers and said I was unfilial. Until now, full of admiration and a little fear. They all said that the second child of the Tran family already has a future and has become a cultured person. Today, I received a recruitment notice from a newspaper in the province. They saw my article and decided to accept me as an official reporter. This means I can finally leave this village. I told this news to my father. He lay on a dirt bed, his mind somewhat unclear. After listening, two lines of tears flowed from his cloudy eyes. My mouth kept muttering: "Good... good... it's good to be able to go..." I took the notice and went into the west room. Mom is feeding him food. I put the notice on the table.