Out Of Season

Out of season by Quynh Van Drip,drop... Drip,drop... "Is it raining, darling?" Thoa asked her husband sleepily, looking peaceful as if she had just come out of a beautiful dream. Dung hugged her tightly. "Far from it. It’s water trickling from the tap, drop by drop," he whispered to her. "You see, it’s the best way to prevent the water meter from going too high. Within a day, our tank will be half full and we won’t be charged for it. Our water bill will be less and you can wash our clothes here whenever you like instead of going to that deep and slippery stream." "I don’t think so! Are you afraid your wife may be charmed by another if she goes out?" she remarked, then burst out laughing. "Whatever happens, I must protect my beautiful wife," he replied smiling. "Why don’t you let me stay by the roadside at night and see if anyone kidnaps me?" she challenged him. "If nobody takes you away, I’ll surely do it myself." They both giggled. The happy couple had been married at the beginning of that rainy season. Two years later, she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. They named her Hai Ly. Trying to give their little child the best life they could, their shanty hut was torn down and replaced by a shiny new house. While she devoted her heart and soul to their small clan, he worked diligently to support them. The water tank stayed in the same place and the taps continued to drip over the years. While initially endearing, the sounds of the tap began to haunt Thoa more and more at night, as they replaced the sound of her husband’s voice. She embraced her little daughter tightly, trying to ignore the sounds of the faucet which were eroding away her loyalty, drip by drip. She stretched out her arms over her right side in search of something, only the find the space empty. Unable to hold it in anymore, she burst into tears. She rushed towards the tap, trying to turn it off in vain, for the valve had become too rusty. As these sad nights seemed to last endlessly, the drip of the faucet was often the only company she had. ***

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"If only you loved your child a little less and paid more attention to him, things would be different," Nham, her close friend, tried to console her. "Are you saying that my love for my little daughter is a sin?" she asked, although she knew her friend was only trying to help. "There are some things you can’t understand." What Nham didn’t understand was that Thoa had been obsessed with being a mother ever since she was a child. At the age of six, Thoa used to fondle her doll as a mother did her baby. She pressed it against her breasts as if she were feeding it. She got along with children of every age, no matter how stubborn they were. Her love of children was one of the reasons why Dung had fallen in love with her. In the early days of their romance, the two would stroll in the park in the afternoons, and she would play with toddlers on the grass while he sat back and quietly admired his wife. But it had been many years since those happy afternoons. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly when things started to turn. *** One day, he returned home after a long trip. In the narrow room, their little child had a fever and was being consoled in the arms of her mother. She tried to lull her to sleep, but the child stayed awake. Just outside the room Dung paced back and forth, smoking cigarette after cigarette. As she rocked her child, Thoa fell asleep. Suddenly, she felt two strong hands lift her up and carry her to bed. A few seconds later, Ly’s little hands were there again, reaching for her mother. "What are you doing in here?" Thoa asked her little daughter. "I followed you." Mother and daughter giggled as they cuddled. "You don’t want to share that place with Dad, do you?" she asked her lovely daughter. "No, he snores too loudly." "But I belong to him, you see." "That’s right. You’re mine, that’s all," her husband interrupted angrily. "You’re crazy! Jealous of your own daughter, are you?" Thoa reproached her husband. "Because you indulge her too much. She’s old enough to sleep alone. I want you tonight. Is it such an outstanding request?"

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"My dear, you two are so much alike, in every respect." She pushed her groping husband away. "Please, don’t do that, she’s still awake." "Who cares? I want you, right now, that’s all," he said resolutely. But Dung gave up on his quest and soon fell asleep, snoring terribly. Thoa stared at him in his sleep. She noticed some lines on his face she hadn’t seen before and realised that she hardly knew this man sleeping next to her. *** The couple’s old classmates used to talk of their young love affair like it was a fairy tale. During those years they went to the same university and shared a single food ration that Dung took to her room from the canteen. He supported her in those days on so many levels. After they graduated, she was appointed as a math teacher in a high school, while Dung was recruited to work for the headquarters of the provincial military police force as an officer in charge of the unit’s cultural matters. Many summers later, those romantic days had faded into the monotony of day-to-day family life. She had to attend a 10-day professional training course in the province. She decided to send Ly to her mother’s house. After leaving her daughter, Thoa felt a bit uneasy throughout the morning and by the afternoon she had a high fever. Her breasts were swollen with milk, and two large glands appeared in her armpits. Not able to eat her dinner, she went to sleep early. Dung came home late from a friend’s wedding, half conscious and tipsy. He found his wife sleeping soundly. As he watched her in her sleep, he found her more beautiful and attractive than ever with her rosy complexion and her swollen breasts. Following his impulse, he swooped down on her like a bird of prey and took advantage of his wife’s warm and soft body. Seven hundred nights after that evening, Thoa wasn’t doing any better. She suffered from a long spell of menorrhagia. As a result of her illness, she seemed to age a week with every passing day. *** Dung sat silently for hours, reading over again and again his daughter’s letter with the clumsy handwriting of a second grader. It was the first one he received without any lines about the child’s mother. An uneasy feeling was invading him. He tried to remember his child’s face as he read her words. He decided it was time to return home. He found his wife more calm than when he last left her, and there were no more trivial fights between him and his daughter over Thoa’s affection, and little conflict between him and his wife. Along with the easy atmosphere, however, came little emotion and he felt as if the door to her soul had been shut for good.

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Since then, each time he came home he realised that she was afraid of something. Although she remained polite with him, she shuddered at his touch. She was treating him delicately, as if she were afraid to hurt him. He looked at his wife and realised he hardly recognised her as the woman he had married. He imagined that after giving birth she had suffered greatly, both physically and mentally. She had grown afraid of excessive sensual desire and turned rigid when it came to sex. When they did make love, she appeared to have little satisfaction, acting mechanically, only to please him. When he got angry, she didn’t argue, but stared at him as if he were a stranger. The more Ly grew up, the less her father felt he knew her at all. Even her resemblance to him seemed to be fading away. When he was away for work, he missed his family dearly, but when he came home and saw his wife’s vacant and icy look he felt like he didn’t belong. He asked himself what had gone wrong. Adultery? No, he had always been loyal to his wife, the woman he loved the most in this world. Selfishness? Impossible. He took home almost all of his pay. While his home life swindled, his career prospered, and he was promoted to section chief. On this cheerful occasion, he should have gone home and shared the honour with his wife, but instead he stayed with the men in the barracks. Suddenly, his mind went back to the days they were both in university. It was a hard time for them indeed, but somehow they were so happy by each other’s side and their tiny room was always filled with laughter. Life was better now, they lived in a big house with food to spare, but somehow the laughter had disappeared. When did it all go so wrong? He thought about it endlessly, but found no answer. That day was the 10th anniversary of the death of his wife’s father. After visiting his grave, the couple took their daughter home. Reaching a large rural market by the roadside, Thoa asked her husband to stop to get a few kinds of food to offer to their forefathers’ souls. Dung protested. "Do we really have to? Why don’t we just give the money to your mother and she can buy anything she needs," he suggested. These occasions always confused Thoa. On Ly’s eighth birthday, she wanted to get her daughter a fancy cake, but he didn’t agree, saying he preferred to buy her some new clothes instead. When he acted like this, she preferred to stay silent, even though she found his behaviour annoying. Sometimes, she wondered how much longer she could stand these random protests. She imagined that her husband had no idea what she was really feeling. *** The news about her unilateral annulment of their marriage came as a shock to everybody, family and friends alike.

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Receiving a summons to go to the district court, Dung was equally amazed. He headed home at once. While his daughter was thrilled to see him in the middle of the day, Thoa stubbornly tried to avoid him. For hours he had no idea how to approach her. "After all these years, you want to end things just like this? What’s wrong with us?" he asked her. "It’s too late, there’s nothing to talk about," she replied, staring blankly ahead of herself, avoiding his gaze. "It’s over, that’s it. Our daughter is still too young to understand what’s going on. Your absence will be regarded as another business trip, one far away from home for a long time. We have no other choice." "How will we live separate lives? I’m not ready for it. Please, I need more time," he implored her. "That’s just not possible, it’s too late," she answered softly, shaking her head. "Who is ever ready to separate? I’m sorry, it has to be done now." "Is this woman in front of me the Thoa I married, delicate and loveable, considerate and altruistic ?" he asked himself. Upset, she went for a walk along the dike. An old almond tree at the end of the alley spread its red canopy wide as if it to say good-bye to autumn. From one of the large knots in the trunk rose a single bud, challenging death as an affirmation of its eternal life. Sometimes, several buds could press on, growing out of season, pushing past the heavy bark that tried to suppress it. *** That night, the tank was filled with water for the first time. It was the first night that Thoa slept deeply, undisturbed by the sounds of the water drops.

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