Duong Huong - The Zenith

After hesitating for a moment his father replied: “It’s your decision.” Then he suddenly emphasized: “In the old days, people said that when you choose a wife, you look at her family; when you choose a husband, you look at his genes. Son, should you not consider whether or not they had it right?”

“Yes, I will mull it over,” he replied at once.

He did think about it. But a young man’s thinking can’t last more than twenty-four hours. The thinking of a young man in love is even shorter. A word from a beautiful person can overcome all barriers of prejudice and suspicion.

The very next afternoon, Vu hurriedly looked for Van and asked her casually: “Do you think your father and mother’s marriage is a satisfactory one?”

“No, a thousand times no,” Van replied without hesitation. The reply was direct and straightforward. The whimsical marriage between the teacher Vuong and the fish sauce wholesale dealer Tuyet Bong had been a subject of constant comment for several decades in the community, so, unwillingly, Van had heard every derisive word since she was about five. Looked at from every angle, from physical appearance to character, Van’s parents presented a rare caricature. A very proper teacher with a sparkling and noble countenance, never speaking but politely, with pleasantly open gestures, living with a heavyset woman, avaricious and caustically argumentative. Behind her back people called her “the fat bitch with the filthy mouth.” And they ranked her principally according to the way she used her loud mouth with its thin, haughty lips: “Pay the price” or “No credit: settle in cash”; quarreling with or swearing indiscriminately at the neighbors’ children and grandchildren. She also constantly stuffed her mouth with junk food — a never-ending indulgence. Without taking into account her maliciousness or her way of putting on airs with money and wealth, just considering her mother’s appetite, many times the daughter blushed in front of her friends.

As if to have her boyfriend know full well her resolution, Van explained: “When my dad’s father was very sick, he called my grandmother and father into his room to ask that he marry my mother, Bong. A week later, before he died, he spoke of this again. So, after the mourning period, grandmother arranged the marriage for them.”

“Why did your grandfather force your dad that way?”

“I don’t know. Because my grandmother didn’t know and my dad didn’t know.”

“Even though your father didn’t love your mother?”

“Everyone — in the family and in the neighborhood — knew that.”

“In the family, grandfather was God. One word from him was an order.”

“Now would your father demand that you marry someone you don’t love, like your grandfather once did?”

“Never!” Van replied right away, automatically. “I would never accept that.”

“Why?”

“Because the times have changed. Now modern women wear shorts in public. I’m not that modern but I don’t live in feudal times either.”

They laughed chokingly, seeing how lucky they were to live in a new age, with freedom to love and to marry each other according to their own desires. He returned home, repeating to his parents their funny exchange, assured that every suspicion had been resolved. Nevertheless, his parents sought every excuse to thwart this marriage. The prospect of an alliance with the teacher Vuong and his wife the wholesale fish sauce dealer brought numerous anxieties to their hearts. His father looked for causes because, according to custom, there had to be some hidden and awful connection if one were to force a child to repay a fearful debt. No one misunderstood this truth: that Mr. Vuong had to live with Tuyet Bong was the same as accepting the harsh conditions of hell or purgatory for the rest of your life, an entire life bartered away in an exchange. And the last point was the important one: every such marriage — strange and unfortunate — often left behind destructive tendencies for future generations.

Popular speculation had provided many theories to explain all this. Some held that Old Mr. Secretary, father of the teacher Vuong, had once gone with Mr. Licentiate, father of Tuyet Bong, to Laos to dig for gold. Once, when the pit had collapsed, the latter had saved his friend from death. Then, out of gratitude for saving his life, Old Mr. Secretary had promised to marry the only daughter of his savior to his only son.

But many others instead insisted that the story of panning for gold was too far-fetched: both men grew their fingernails long and couldn’t even hold a knife securely — how could they have found the strength to follow a group of miners to pan for gold?

Gold always flows in the same veins as blood. In this line of work, if you are not the chief honcho of a pit, having bags filled with cash and a brain filled with devilish schemes, then most likely you take up working in the pit as an ordinary ruffian or rascal, unafraid of quarrels with guns and knives, or you might be at a dead end, without another livelihood, ready to throw your life away as so much straw or grass…In actuality, both “old men” were born gamblers. Year-round they gambled, winning a lot but also not infrequently losing. During one unlucky year, Old Mr. Secretary lost continuously throughout the winter. But the more his pockets emptied, the more he craved filling them again, with a bitter passion, so he pledged his house with its lands and gardens, in town as well as in the countryside. All his wealth, both hidden and visible assets, was placed on the gaming table in the mad hope of getting back the money lost. But destiny abandoned him, leaving only bad luck, the two stuck together like shape and shadow. At last all the wealth was consumed in the fires of gambling. At New Year’s Old Mr. Secretary envisioned the scene of his wife and children being thrown out of their home, to seek refuge in street corners or marketplace nooks. Afraid and tormented over his wrongdoing, Old Mr. Secretary tried to kill himself. At that precise moment, Old Mr. Licentiate settled his friend’s debts large and small, with only the wish that later, after their children had grown up, they would become in-laws.

All intriguing rumors are always just that, intriguing rumors. Such theories are only theories because those who had lived with the two are no longer alive to certify the truth with any finality. Besides, all history is only a book reporting theories when behind each and every theory is a multitude of mysteries. The history of each family is no different. Secrets always exist to embellish and to cover our lives in mystery. Vu’s parents did not much like such mysteries, but after a year’s hard work of investigation they could not find any truth. Thus they had reluctantly agreed to the proposed marriage. And so the wedding had gone off smoothly, though there had been some awkward moments. Indeed, Vu’s parents were classy people, expertly knowing how to hide the awkward aspects to the utmost extent possible.

During its beginning years, the young couple’s married life unfolded as one might wish. They lived by themselves, partly because of their work and partly because his parents lived with his oldest brother’s family. A separate house for them was provided before the wedding. However, during their years of passion, his family was always a warm cradle never out of his mind. His old home was a place to which he often returned. His wife had to accept this. In her heart of hearts, she wanted to monopolize his time as well as his love but knew that this was impossible. Routinely, at the end of every week, they went back to Vu’s family home. Everybody came together around meals of familiar home-cooked dishes that could satisfy more than those in fancy restaurants. Vu’s mother, despite her age, was still an extraordinary cook. She made snail stew with banana stems, frog stir-fried with pepper and bamboo shoots, catfish soup with vegetables, shrimp braised in rice wine, or eel braised in turmeric. Additionally, not only was the food good, the family atmosphere was warm, reflecting genuine affection among people coming from the same root. Only once each year did they visit Van’s home, for Tet, the New Year. That could not be avoided; it was a hallowed tradition. Vu was obliged to go along for a few meals. He could endure that duty, even though he had to see his mother-in-law. He felt as if he were being tormented by sharp thorns every time he witnessed her abrasive manner: when she shouted demands at the servants, her obnoxious way of handling money, or the unattractive, unrefined way by which she expressed her contentment — while still chewing, she tilted her face and laughed, showing all the food mixed up in her big open mouth in a gross display.