"Where's Mr. Út?" Sister Xuân asked, leaning back in the big chair at her desk.
"Asleep," Dung said, palm pressed to his forehead, looking beat.
"Lucky kid. If only, back in the convent, I'd had someone take care of me like that."
"Guess that's what you get for being pure-hearted. You, on the other hand…" Dung shrugged and curled his lip.
"The Lord will cut your tongue out in hell when you die, Dung."
"Then I'll see you down there."
She stared at him a long moment, then asked, "You've got status and money now. What are you most afraid of, my boy?"
"In this whole world? Sister Xuân—especially when she calls me in for a chat. Never know what you're after."
"Nothing big. I just want to remind you to guard our little pot of gold. Don't let anything slip. If Madam Kim gets angry and stops donating to this place, we're finished."
Dung sighed. "I told you—go find a few more society ladies who want to do charity. Don't lean on Madam Kim forever. What if tomorrow she bites into a grenade by mistake and drops dead?"
"If you're so good at it, you go find them. Me, I'm guarding the pot we have. Dozens of mouths here depend on it."
Dung stood and turned his back to her, hiding the wince on his face. His head kept buzzing now and then. "Money talk—let me sort it next month."
"It's only babysitting one rich boy. Why the long face?"
"Because that rich boy doesn't bend as easily as his father and brother."
"If so… tell me what you need."
"Yes, mother." Dung started for the door.
"Dung, I think it's time you found someone to love—make your life whole."
"You mean someone to wait for death with me? Sounds about right."
"You and that mouth!"
"In this war time, love just means waiting to die together. Where's the fun in that?"
"Dung…"
"I'm heading out." He cut her off.
"Hold on—one more thing!"
Dung let go of the doorknob and looked back, his brows pinched tight.
"I hear Hiền's been doing anti-government things. Should we bar him from coming here?"
"You already kicked him out. What's there to worry about?"
"But you're the one who brought him in to teach!"
Dung rubbed his scalp; the buzzing flared again. "Do whatever you want."
"Why don't you talk him into quitting all that busybody hero stuff?"
"Just banning him from here would be quicker."
"Then… should we finger him?"
Dung stared at the old nun, eyes locked in a frozen glare. Whether it was to break into a smile of scorn or of bitter amusement—he no longer had the strength. A heavy disgust and weariness rose in his chest.
"No one's won yet—we don't even know whose flag's gonna be flying. For all you know, he might be the one bailing you out someday. Don't burn that bridge so fast." With that, Dung walked out without looking back.
.
After class, Đông Anh strolled lazily toward the school gate, squinting to spot where Dung had parked. Under the sweltering Saigon sun, he groaned inwardly at the thought of having to wait around for his driver again.
"Út!"
Following the voice, Đông Anh saw Dung standing beside the blue Peugeot, holding an open umbrella. Then Dung hurried across the street toward him.
What's with him today? Since when so eager? Đông Anh wondered.
"Let's go, sir." Dung held the umbrella over him, taking him by the elbow to guide him across the street.
"What's gotten into you? All of a sudden you're… considerate?"
"Nothing. You said you had a headache this morning, so I figured I'd bring an umbrella."
But that explanation didn't stop Đông Anh from studying him. The young master even resented those dark glasses hiding whatever expression was in Dung's eyes.
"Careful!" Dung yanked him closer, avoiding a car that skimmed by. "Watch where you're going—stop staring at me. This is Saigon, traffic's like a flood, not Dalat where you can daydream."
Hearing that, Đông Anh quickly tore his gaze away. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. The feeling of being looked after made him feel oddly… pleased. When they reached the blue Peugeot, Dung opened the door for him, even shielding his head with a hand so he wouldn't bump it. Seated up front, Đông Anh was still smiling until he saw who was in the back seat.
"Tư?" His smile fell.
The soft thud of the driver's door closing.
"Here we go, sir."
Getting no reply, Dung glanced over and immediately sensed something was off. Sliding his dark glasses down, he peered more closely.
"Why's your face red? You mad? You running a fever?" He reached out to feel Đông Anh's forehead but got his hand slapped away. Looking from Đông Anh to Ms. Tư, Dung put two and two together.
"Ah, since it was on the way, Ms. Tư asked for a ride to the restaurant."
Đông Anh didn't answer. He wouldn't even look at Dung.
The car had barely pulled away when Ms. Tư struck up, "Hardly ever ask a favor from you, Út, and you act like it's such a burden!"
When Đông Anh stayed silent, she went on, "Strange, though—a grown man, and everywhere you go, someone's driving you to the door, fussing over you like a baby. Better treatment than us women get. Honestly, our daddy's spoiled you rotten, Út!"
"I never asked anyone to drive me anywhere. If you like it so much… you can have it."
At that, Dung shot Đông Anh a wide-eyed look, while Ms. Tư leaned forward, wrapping an arm around Dung.
"If Út says so, then why don't you come to the restaurant with me for lunch, Dung?"
"Better not, Ms. Tư—Mr. Út's not feeling well. I should take him home."
"Oh please, spare me the devoted act. Everyone knows you shadow people for money. And… once something's been offered, why turn it down?"
"Alright, now—don't the two of you start teasing me. My business is my business. Last thing I need is someone getting upset and running to tell Mr. Liễu—I'd be dead meat."
"Who'd dare tell? You, Út?" Ms. Tư raised her voice. "Borrow the man for a little while and you still have to make a fuss? He used to be mine, you know."
"Do what you want. I'm not forcing anyone. If it's not willing, don't push it."
Before a full-blown quarrel could break out, the eyes of all three in the car were drawn to the commotion outside.
After sizing it up, Ms. Tư sneered,
"Another bunch of protesters. Useless for anything except blocking traffic! And what are they yelling for this time, Dung?"
"It's the protest against turning schools into military training grounds," Dung said, glancing at Đông Anh. "Big march today, no one invited you, sir?"
Ms. Tư smacked the back of Đông Anh's seat. "Hey, hey, hey—you stay out of this, you hear? Or I'll tell Dad!"
"Go ahead and talk some sense into him, Ms. Tư. Me? I couldn't boss Mr. Út around if I tried," Dung said, fanning the flames so she'd scold her brother even harder.
"You—our Dad can clean up after you no matter how much trouble you make, but once you get mixed up in politics, no pile of cash big enough's gonna save you. Use your head for once!"
"I'm grown. I know what I'm doing."
""Grown? You're still green as grass, acting all high and mighty."
Đông Anh didn't answer, he was used to his sister's barbs. Instead, he turned back to the crowd outside, scanning for a familiar face. The protesters were clearly fired up.
"God, we're jammed in here—when are we gonna get there? I'm gonna be late. Dung, do something!"
Drumming his fingers on the wheel, Dung said evenly, "Looks like the crowd's big this time. Who knows—maybe thanks to them, Mr. Út won't have to do the mandatory military training after all."
"Even if I have to, you don't need to tag along," Đông Anh shot back.
"What's this? You're planning to do military training and still expect someone to tag along after you? Dung, are you being sent too?"
"Yes. Your father wants it," Dung replied.
"Christ—Dad's spoiled you rotten, Út. Eighteen, nineteen years old and he still sends someone to babysit you. And when you were up at the seminary, did Grandma bring a wet nurse along too?"
"I told you—if you don't like it, don't go. Stop turning it into a whole sob story to tell people."
Even though it was Ms. Tư who had started the quarrel, Đông Anh kept aiming his temper at Dung.
"I'm not telling any sob story. Your sister said it herself."
"Because you brought it up. If you weren't willing from the start, then don't take the job—saves us both from this complaining."
Irritated, Đông Anh kicked the umbrella propped against the seat, sending it clattering to the floor.
"Look, Mr. Út—your dad's paying me, so I'm doing my job. I'm trying to do right by you, and you keep flaring up like a spoiled brat."
"Yeah, that's me. Don't like it? Stop tailing me."
"Fine by me!" Dung finally blew his stack—the whole mess starting from the umbrella he'd gone out of his way to bring and hold over someone's head, only to have it kicked to the floor without a second thought.
"Stop the car!"
At Đông Anh's order, Dung hit the brakes hard.
"What the hell—why slam on it like that?" Ms. Tư barked.
Dung didn't even glance at the sister, just kept his eyes fixed on the brother—knowing exactly what he was about to do.
"You planning to walk home?"
"That's right."
"See? And you say you're not a child."
"Leave me alone!"
When Đông Anh tried to open the door, Dung grabbed his arm to stop him.
"You keep acting like that, your dad'll just spend another mountain of cash hiring someone to look after you. Can't you see there's about to be trouble out there, and you still want to go into it alone?"
"I've taken care of myself in Dalat since I was little—don't lecture me. Let go!"
Dung yanked him back, then floored the gas, throwing the car in reverse so Đông Anh fell back into his seat.
"As long as I'm your babysitter, I forbid you from pulling stunts like that. If you've got a problem with me, take it up with your dad."
He spun the wheel, driving straight into a quiet side street.
"Where are you going? I've still got my lunch at the restaurant!" Ms. Tư shouted.
"With all that chaos out there, and you still want to party? We're going home," Dung said, like he owned the place.
"Hey, my lunch—"
"Just keep it down. If you want anything, tell him to pull over..."
"Sit up straight, sir!"
…
The blue Peugeot had become a battlefield for three people: one sulking over the word "willing," another fuming over a missed lunch.