Read Online The Unwanted by Kien Nguyen - Free Book Online

mother lay motionless on the mattress for the rest of the night. Her cramping diminished as the night wore on. We could see her body shake weakly under the terry cloth, and blood continued to seep from underneath her. As morning cast its cheerful light on my mother's bed, she startled.
    “The drug is no good,” she cried out. “The baby is fine. It just kicked me.”
    I could see the relief wash over my grandfather's tired face. My grandmother sank down to her knees, expressing her gratitude to the gods. My mother let out another scream. Her hand curled into a fist, beating her abdomen.
    “What is the meaning of this?” she shrieked. “Damn that stupid hag and her cheap drug. Why me? Why now? Damn you.” She hit her stomach again and again, screaming to the fetus inside. “Why don't you get a hint that I don't want you? Why don't you do us all a favor and just die?”
    My brother and I watched, unable to utter a word.
    For the next couple of days, my mother spent most of her time in bed. Four days passed and finally, the Communists came knocking at our door.
    Inside, we all jumped up in terror and held each other, holding our breath, as my grandfather hobbled up the stairs. We listened as the soldiers strode across the floor into the living room. We heard the strange way they talked to each other, with a heavy northern dialect, and we heard my grandfather's voice answering their interrogation. It was not long before he bade all of us come upstairs. My grandmother went up first, carrying the wooden beads in her palms as though they were a talisman. My mother held on to Loan's arm. My brother and I were the last into the living room.
    Once we were all assembled, my mother sat on a chair as the group of men stopped in mid-conversation to stare at us. Their fatigues were old and wrinkled, and the once deep green had turned to a muddy brown. The oldest soldier, a man in his forties with saltand-pepper hair, pointed a dirty finger at us.
    He spat to my grandfather, “Is anyone else still down there? Or are they all here?”
    “No, they are all here, sir,” my grandfather replied.
    “Comrade, go to the basement to verify if he is telling the truth or not,” he ordered one of his men. Then turning to us, he asked, “Why did you hide down there all this time instead of coming out and celebrating the dawn of a new era with your country? What are you hiding from?”
    “We are just a bunch of women, children, and elderly people. We didn't know what was going on. Please forgive us,” my grandfather said.
    He shook his head. “That's not an excuse. This is the time to celebrate, not to hide.” His eyes swept over us, checking our faces. “Is this your house?”
    “No, sir. We rent it.”
    “Where is the owner now?”
    “I don't know, sir. He lived in Cholon [Chinatown] before the event. So much has changed in the last four days. We aren't sure anymore.”
    “Well, brace yourselves. There will be more changes, as we are in the process of wiping out capitalism from the south. But answer me, why are you here if this is not your home? Where did you all come from? And are you counter-Communists running away from the Revolution?”
    My grandfather swallowed a lump in his throat before speaking. “Well, sir. We are from Nhatrang City. We didn't run away. We are here for a reason. You see, Commander, this is my daughter. She is pregnant and because she has had bad complications with her past pregnancies, we took her to Saigon. Because, sir, here she can give birth in Tu Du Hospital. We were just being careful, we didn't mean to run away from the Revolution. The timing was just bad when we ended up getting here.”
    The commander wrote down everything my grandfather said. He walked toward my mother and studied her. She avoided his stare by looking down at her stomach. She had lost so much weight in the last few days that I could see the blue veins in her thin hands, which were folded neatly on her lap.
    “Lady, how are you