Souvenirs Of Our Green Years

Souvenirs of our green years by Pham Thanh Thuy My old friends Vinh and Ha, a married couple, had come downstream to the district capital to welcome me at the lonely coach station. When I got off the bus and rushed towards them, they seemed only half happy and half worried, waiting for someone else to emerge from the coach. Knowing what they were thinking, I had to explain: "Thuong’s very busy and something came up just before we came. I’m sorry, but she didn’t make it." "Really?" Vinh asked in despair. His wife Ha’s response was even more desperate. "After all these years, she pulls out at the last minute!" "I’ve come all this way, along the long and steep pass of Pha Din, just for you. That has to count for something," I tried to dissuade them. We all burst out laughing. Vinh dragged me onto his practically antique German Simson motorcycle. "Don’t look so worried," he said, smiling at me as my eyes scanned to old bike. "On this terrain, it’s as strong as a horse, the perfect way to get around in the mountains." "A wild horse?" "You could say that. In a minute you’ll see for yourself." Looking at Ha, I found her smiling too. She seemed to me like a wild flower that just sprung up in the thick of the forest. Her Honda Model-81 motorbike was in much better shape. Attached to it were bags filled with various things she had bought at the market of this highland township. "Here we have to stock up on enough food for a fortnight, you see," she explained, catching my glance. The two small bikes hurriedly shot away. I leaned my head against Vinh’s back, half conscious, half dreamy. I dreamt they were taking me to a wonderful valley full of white clouds and opaque fog amid a luxurious green forest. It had been years since the four of us had all been together. ***

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We were practically inseparable the four of us – two boys and two girls – growing up in the same school, in the same class. We ended up as two married couples to the surprise of our schoolmates. Not because we had married inside our close group of friends, but that we seemed to have ended up with the wrong partner. Those days I loved Ha dearly, but married Thuong. Vinh was fond of Thuong, but he took Ha as his wife. When Thuong and I were living together, she once tried to commit suicide. While she survived the attempt, her crazy act left a scar on my heart. The truth was, it would have been a way out for both of us. Worse still, rumour had it that I had wanted to drive her to the grave. After her horrible attempt at self-destruction, our relationship grew even worse and she became even more stubborn and irritable than ever. "I’ve already tried to kill myself once. The next time you may find yourself standing over me in my grave," she threatened me one day. A divorce would have been logical, but it became impossible after the suicide attempt. She came to realise that "honour" mattered a lot, far more than life itself. As a wealthy and pretty headmistress of the district secondary school, the failure of our marriage would have been unacceptable, no matter how idiotic the relationship itself was. In a word, I was unhappy. Nevertheless, I considered my wife as truly a brave woman. Defiance of death is, for most of us, a courageous deed beyond our imaginations. You can think what you like; she remained romantic and loveable. In our last school year, she bought a thick notebook so that her classmates could all write her farewell messages. Most of them were full of flowery language about their friendship. At first, she used to read them again and again in a state of euphoria, but later she became less and less eager and enthusiastic until finally those sweet memories sank into oblivion. I myself had read it occasionally and I realised a bitter truth: all that fancy language and those expressions of love were superficial, and faded with time. On the last page, Ha had written simply: "Sorry! Words fail me! We’ll let time express them for me." I found them the most sincere words of all. Since the days Ha and her husband settled down in the highlands, I did not hear much of them, except for a few rumours that they had to send their son to their parents in the lowlands and that they were leading an uneventful life. Occasionally, Ha wrote to my wife saying that she was quite pleased with her choice. However, deep in my heart, I knew that she only wanted to save face, although I always wished her luck and happiness. To be frank, I could never get over my love for Ha. We never had a love affair, only sharing the expressions of affection that come with the innocence of youth. Among the four of us, there were no sentimental disputes. When I said farewell to Ha two years later, Vinh came to me and asked me sincerely, "Dung, I care dearly about Ha, but if you’re still in love with her, I’ll withdraw from this triangle."

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"Damn you! Ha and I left each other peacefully, just as you and Thuong have just done. ‘Man proposes, but God disposes,’ you see. I don’t think that we’ll regret these separations," I replied. Ironically, ever since I said those words I’ve regretted them. The longer I lived beside Thuong, the wider the gap became between us, a gap that could only be filled by Ha. The only thing that I respected about Thuong was the failed but daring action she took that day. *** Once I arrived at their house, I saw that they were living in a poor but romantic place full of rosy clouds. They lived in the compound of the local health station. Vinh was on duty in the consulting room daily. As a physician, he usually treated his patients right there. When he was called for by relatives of very sick patients, he would make house calls. Ha worked as a teacher in a secondary school near his station. "Locals here are very kind-hearted. If we don’t make it to the market, they bring us fish, vegetables and so many other things. Nevertheless, we try not to abuse their kindness," she said to me. While I was sitting on a bench waiting for a hot cup of tea Vinh was preparing, he laughed. "Frankly, since the moment you told us of your visit I’ve wondered whether you just wanted to see how we’ve been living or if there was another motive..." Vinh questioned me suddenly. I was startled. He remained calm, and didn’t seem worried about offending me. He has seen right through me, I told myself, and I tried to change the subject. "What a question! Can’t I spare a few free days to see both of you here after so long?" I said. "I guess that makes sense." In the courtyard, Ha and two young nurses were preparing dinner. Vinh glanced at them and whispered to me, "The two young ladies over there came here from the midlands just three months ago. At first, they did nothing but cry all day long. Maybe if you come back two years from now, you’ll find this locality completely different because the provincial authorities have promised to invest a lot of money into the region." I wasn’t really thinking of the potential of this new residential area. I had other things on my mind. "Vinh, do you mind if I take a quick nap?" "Why not? Make yourself at home. I’ll wake you up in around an hour for dinner."

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I laid down in the bedroom. Although I tried to keep calm, laying in their simple cosy nest, my heart started to race at the thought of sleeping in the bed of my old flame. I remembered at that moment Ha’s resolution before she left to settle down in this remote mountainous region. "Why don’t we take a chance to live in a quiet setting, instead of lingering among these boring blocs of concrete crowded with human beings?" They had just settled down in the North-western region when she wrote to us: "I’ve already become accustomed to the climate here. Pardon the analogy, but I feel like I’ve turned into a beautiful forest flower. ‘Seeing is believing’, so come here and see!" she challenged us in her letter. Shamefully it took me years to finally gather up the courage to take her up on the warm invitation, and it wasn’t with the best intentions in minds. *** I graduated from the College of Mining and Geology with a bachelor of science, with honours. Instead of taking a position related to my degree, I started working at my father’s factory as an accountant. It was there I realised that I had a flair for monetary matters rather than geological surveys and mineral exploitation. While I was getting on very well in my business, Thuong was working as a successful headmistress at a district primary school. Like so many other successful civil servants, we led an indulgent life filled with lavish dinners and parties. We usually didn’t make our way home until midnight, always travelling in our luxury car. I intentionally ignored the rumour that my wife had an affair with the chairman of the district people’s committee. For her part, Thuong looked over the fact that I had a young and pretty girlfriend. We figured life was grand, until one day our oldest daughter snapped back at her mother by rudely replying, "Where do you think I learned to behave this way?" It was that day that I realised our muted sins were not as secretive as we would have liked. Several days later, the chairman’s wife arrived at the house to have a few words with Thuong, me and our two daughters. What she said sent my wife into a depression, followed shortly by her suicide attempt. Looking back on it now, I think we both learned something during that period. *** "Wake up for a few shots of rice wine," Vinh drew me out of a beautiful dream. Dinner was ready. A large tray full of food sat in the middle of the house. Ha introduced me to her husband’s new female colleagues and we all got to know each other over

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dinner. Outside, the rain was falling heavily. The sky quickly turned dark. As the tray of food emptied, the party died down, and soon only the heavy drinkers were still chatting away: me and Vinh. The torrential rain continued to fall. "We were lucky enough to make it home before the rain started, or we would have had some trouble mid-route," Vinh said to me. "Here, you doctors aren’t so busy, are you?" "When we’re not we’re happy, because it shows that our locals are doing well," Vinh answered. "We often visit far-away villages to check up on their residents," he added. From the bottom of my heart, I asked myself if Ha really loved him and was committed only to him. As the night went on, the rain got heavier and heavier. Unable to keep up with the heavy drinkers, she asked permission to take leave. I was a bit offended by her early retreat. Had she become a stranger? "Dung, you can be honest with us about what’s going on," Vinh spoke to me softly. "We know about your money troubles at your father’s factory, we know about them in detail," he went on. "What do you mean?" I asked, bewildered. "To put it frankly, I don’t think you can run away from it anymore. Do you think you can hide from the authorities for good?" I dropped to my knees. A moment later I said to him, "How can you both know about that?" "Needless to say, we’ve kept track on both of you. It’s only you who lost touch with us completely," he replied sadly. Blank figures and my scheme to cover them up came to my mind. Obviously, I was running away. *** Heavy footsteps could be heard approaching in the rain. Vinh jumped up. "A patient’s relatives have come," Vinh remarked. "How do you know that?" "By experience." he said as he rushed to the veranda. A few minutes later, he came back. Ha was standing by the table, drinking. She looked calm. "I have to go down to a remote village tonight," he told us. "Ha, take care of our guests. As for you Dung, you should go to sleep early, you must be tired after such a long trip."

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"Of course my dear," Ha answered. "But, but…," I muttered as Vinh put on his raincoat. "It’s nothing out of the ordinary, just a delivery, that’s all," he reassured us. Then he disappeared into the dark. I stared at Ha in confusion, my heart started to race. Here I was, with my old flame, alone and stuck in the rain. I could hardly sleep that night as my mind raced through my current trouble and the embarrassment attached to the old memories that rushed back. Was this a favour from God? Or were we predestined to meet each other again in such a convenient situation? She would be here, under the same roof with me alone. that was beyond all my expectations. I woke up to loud noises coming from outside. It rained the whole night. Dawn finally came. I rushed towards Ha’s bedroom. It was empty. I walked to the door. I was locked in. I had been alone in the house all night and she had stayed with the two young nurses. Thinking of it, I deeply respected my old friend. *** They took me back into town the next day. The mountain range stretched endlessly around us amid blue clouds. Before I had jumped on the back of Vinh’s motorcycle, Ha had whispered in my ear, "Brother Dung, please tell Thuong that we’re unhappy." "Why not?" "Because I don’t want her to think too much about us." I wasn’t sure whether she was serious or not. Her dedication in Thuong’s notebook ran through my mind as we raced through the mountainside and my thoughts rushed back to my tangled life.

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