Sis, I Love You (Final Part)

Honestly, the sight of that left my arms too weak to keep holding on to the wall. I was utterly shocked and furious. I had to keep reminding myself:

”This is her home, this is her home…” to stop myself from doing something crazy. I’d already done so many things that put her in an awkward position and caused her pain. Enough was enough…

But every time something like this happened, my mind went blank and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Was I supposed to rush over and ring the doorbell now? And once I was inside, what would I say? How would I say it? What was she doing kneeling like that? Had she done something wrong, or was this her father’s way of continuing to torment her after what happened that day? If that was really the case, it must have been horrible for her.

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Author: CusiuvOz – Narrators: Kún, Mèo Mun – Technical production: Đức Thụy, Kún

But no, I couldn’t. Who was I to her, anyway? What right did I have…? Her father already hated my guts. Judging by the way he’d behaved at my house that day, I figured the only thing stopping him from chopping me into a hundred pieces was his pride and his reluctance to make a scene.

A while later, I heard her mother’s voice. She came out to help her poor daughter back inside. Her father just sat there, perfectly calm, as if nothing had happened. She’d once told me that her father got drunk and beat her mother, and all the two of them could do was hold each other and cry. Her mother seemed to accept it as her fate. There wasn’t the slightest resistance in her. She was like the women in chieftain Pá Tra’s household, like a turtle huddled in a corner of the kitchen…

Once she was back in her room, I stood there for a while, then went home too, not knowing what else to do. Feeling so useless, so utterly unnecessary, was unbearable…

The following evening, I decided to do something that, looking back, was a terrible idea. I dressed smartly, put on proper shoes, and went over to her house. My aim was to see her father and apologize for what had happened the other day, and also to find out what had happened to her. Most importantly, I wanted to ask her parents to let me… take responsibility for her. Or, to put it more plainly, I was willing to be the guy left raising another man’s child. My thinking was far too naive and simplistic.

That evening, her father was still out drinking. Her mother politely invited me into the house. As for her, the moment she saw me, she panicked and kept trying to shoo me away. She even pinched me several times, hard enough to really hurt. Her mother saw it but didn’t understand what was going on, so she just sat there looking utterly bewildered.

Before I could explain anything, her father came home, drunk and red in the face. As soon as I saw him, I stood up and greeted him very politely. He, on the other hand, reacted as though he’d seen his mortal enemy and roared:

“Get out! Get the hell out of my house!”

I’d prepared myself for this, so I still tried to remain calm and politely asked him to let me say a few words. But between the alcohol and his fury at finding me in his house, he couldn’t control himself. He pointed straight at my face and said:

“Get out! Get out! I’ll call the ward police and have you hauled away.”

Then he turned to her mother and shouted:

“Why did you let him in? Do you want to die?”

Her mother went inside, trembling…

(…)

The End