Heading from the university toward Đông Anh's place, Dung had no idea why traffic had decided to jam up right in the middle of this godforsaken noon hour. Even inside the car, the heat seeped in, prickling his skin and souring his mood. He yanked open two shirt buttons, adjusted his dark shades, and flicked on the radio.
The pounding beat didn't do a damn thing to smooth his temper. A minute later, he spat a curse and slammed his fist on the horn—blasting it so loud that a few heads turned to glare at the blue Peugeot.
"Dung… Dung!"
Đông Anh's voice didn't stand a chance against the ear-splitting rock Dung was blasting. Worse, he threw his head back and sang along at the top of his lungs:
"The sun—dark, so dark, as dark as my life,
A life forever yearning to break free, to glimpse some distant sky,
A life like a stray dog, drifting through the night…"
Đông Anh turned the volume down, irritation clear in his voice.
"What the hell are you doing, leaning on the horn like that and yelling along to the music? Can't you see people staring?"
Dung arched a brow, glanced out the window, then shrugged.
"Let 'em stare."
He cranked the dial back up and belted out again:
"Love's never all soft words and peace",
The sun refuses to shine,
To light the way for me to see…"
"Too loud!"
Once more, Đông Anh twisted the knob down and pressed on.
"What's with you, huh? Why's your face looking all smug like that?"
"Nothing."
"Yeah, right. Look at yourself!"
He pointed at the rearview mirror so Dung could see his own brows drawn tight. Dung caught his reflection, then slid his eyes toward Đông Anh and smirked.
"You're not doing much better than me, sir!"
Suddenly being mentioned, Đông Anh's brows hadn't had time to ease. He hedged:
"It's just… you're so damn noisy, that's why I'm annoyed."
"My deepest apologies, sir," Dung said, mock-solemn.
"Don't you go blaming me just because you're in a mood."
"Wouldn't dream of it! I haven't said a word. Far as I know, you've been the only one talking."
"You didn't talk, you howled along to the music, laid on the horn, and then claim you're not pissed? Who's buying that?"
"Says the one who's been giving me the cold shoulder…"
"At least I'm not grumpy for no reason. You're the one who started it."
"Right, it's all me. Always the damn servant's fault."
"Well, maybe if you hadn't made me late to class this morning, I wouldn't have gotten chewed out and left standing in the hallway."
Dung lowered his shades to look at Đông Anh, then drawled, "Tough luck, huh?"
Đông Anh stopped bickering and just stared at Dung.
"Don't stare at me, sir. I said sorry already. Keep that up and I'll run us off the road."
"I don't see you sorry at all. Still wearing that grumpy face."
"Good grief… life of a servant—getting blamed for the face I was born with. Can't win with the boss."
"Don't go throwing that 'servant' word around—I never called you that."
"But your old man paid good money to bring me in as one—order this, order that; even forcing things through seems 'acceptable.'"
Đông Anh frowned at Dung. "Hey… are you pissed at my father?"
"Wouldn't dare."
Dung's clipped, half-sentence replies were getting under Đông Anh's skin. He cranked the music up, like he was ending the conversation right there.
By now, traffic had loosened up, taking some of the edge off Dung's mood. He glanced at the passenger seat, thinking to start up again, when he caught sight of scribbles in Đông Anh's palm.
"Sir," Dung turned the volume down, "what's that you've got written on your hand?"
Đông Anh glanced at it, then closed his fist. "Nothing. Just some friends fooling around."
"What's it say?"
Now Đông Anh was the one frowning. "None of your business."
"Girl write it?"
"No. A guy I met yesterday."
"What's his name?"
"Hiền."
The air thickened. Đông Anh could feel a wave about to break. Sure enough, Dung stopped the car dead in the middle of the street and grabbed for his hand, prying it open by force.
"Dung! What are you doing? Drive!"
Behind them, traffic blared and drivers shouted.
"What's this? Some kind of date?"
"Pull over! People are yelling!"
"I asked you what the hell this is."
"It's none of your business—pull over!"
"Goddammit!"
Dung slammed the horn, stuck his head out the window, and barked at the street:
"Slow the hell down, what the hell are you barking for?
A few curses came back his way, but he didn't care. He steered over to the curb and turned back to his interrogation.
"Sir, I may be a servant, but I'm paid to keep an eye on you. So don't think you can hide a damn thing from me!"
"It's just a get-together with friends. What do you want to know?"
"Where?"
"A seminar."
"What kind of seminar?"
When Đông Anh stayed quiet, Dung pressed harder.
"Why so quiet? What kind of seminar you trying to hide from me? Didn't I tell you, whatever you do now ties directly to whether I live or die?"
"A seminar on turning schools into military training grounds."
"Goddammit!" Dung spat, furious. "Why don't you just let me quit, and then you can go wherever the hell you want? I told you not to get mixed up in politics, why won't you listen?"
"I'm not doing anything. I'm just going to watch a seminar!"
"That guy lures you into one of these things, and one day he'll walk you straight into prison. Someone as naïve as you—it's nothing for them to lead you around by the nose."
"Yeah, I'm naïve. That's why I need to go and see for myself—why people want to protest, why they're against it."
"There's nothing to see. They're just a bunch of troublemakers—people who get off on defying the system, convincing themselves they're heroes fighting for others. In reality, they're just looking for a way to dodge the draft."
"Then I have even more reason to go, to see if what you're saying is true or not."
"Damn it, you're stubborn! Your baby face had me fooled. If I'd known you were the hard-headed, born-with-three-cowlicks type, I'd never have said yes to your old man. Now that he's done pushing me around, you've taken over."
"My father's forcing you into what? Didn't you take this job willingly?"
"Your father's making me tag along with you because of this whole militarizing-schools thing. And now you want to go to a seminar against militarizing schools. Sounds to me like your whole family's pushing this servant way too far."
"You mean I'm about to get military training, and my father told you to come along?"
"Yep."
Đông Anh pressed his lips together, annoyed. "If you don't like it, I'll tell my father."
Dung's voice shot up, full of indignation. "While you're at it, tell him you're heading to that damn seminar, see if he doesn't break your legs. And better order me a coffin too, because he'll probably put a bullet in my skull first."
Đông Anh went quiet, thinking it over. "Then let's make a deal. You do your thing, I'll do mine. I'll go to the seminar, you skip the military grounds. Just as long as my father doesn't find out."
"Sir, what's so damn important about that seminar?"
"Because I want to go!"
Dung planted his hands on his hips, exhaling hard. "Like father, like son. I used to wonder if you were really Mr. Liễu's kid. Now I can see that pushy streak runs in the family."
"So it's a deal then?"
"No! No damn deal, end of story!"
He cranked the music up and sang out:
"Why does the sun still look dark as ink,
The sun—so dark, dark as a ghostly night,
(sung refrain) Ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha…"
Đông Anh yanked the dark shades off Dung's face, snapping, "Why wear sunglasses and then scream about the sun being dark? You're nuts!"
Dung snatched them back and put them on again. His foot tapped to the beat as he got ready to sing "dark sun" again, but Đông Anh looked ready to snatch the shades off a second time.
"For God's sake, can't a man sing? Why's everyone gotta bust my chops?"
"Sing? You're just howling. It's loud!"
Dung slumped his shoulders in defeat, slid the dark shades off and hooked them into his shirt pocket, then switched the music off.
"There now—happy, sir?"
That put a temporary halt to their squabble. A few intersections from home, Đông Anh suddenly spoke up.
"Dung."
"Yeees?" Dung dragged the word out in the most irritating way possible.
"Take me… to buy a birthday present for my mom."
"Well, isn't that something. Finally someone in the house remembers the birthday of Mr Liễu's wife."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"This morning your dad and Ms. Tư didn't remember a damn thing. That's why your mom was so upset she smashed the flower vase."
Silence.
"My family… isn't like what you think," Đông Anh said, avoiding his companion's gaze. "My mom takes care of my dad in every way, so there's no way he'd forget. He's probably just… too busy."
At that, Dung's mouth curved into a smile—one full of pity.