Small Hưng with a bag on his back cast his figure on the wilderness at yellow dusk. The whole prison population fixed their attention on the scene, agitated. No human beings were ever seen on this red earth road leading through a wild light blue grass patch scattered with pallid bushes. In early morning or late afternoon only trucks packed with labor prisoners to and from the prison were seen running past. Never could you see a kid alone, for it was a dead end path leading to the prison.
When Hưng arrived at the gate, the warden was slowly coming to the officer-on-duty's booth. Hiding his surprise the warden beckoned him over, "What are you here for?"
"I'm looking for my father, sir," answered Hưng confidently.
"My father is Hai Hơn," he added.
As it turned out, he was Hai Hơn's son; the one who was always dead drunk destroying things, beating his wife and son; he was many times reeducated by the local authorities but had never properly corrected his mistakes. The last time he had been drunk, he beat his wife, seriously wounding her. She died in the hospital leaving a young son of five, who was now six.
The warden turned to speak to the officer on duty, "Take Hai Hơn out here."
While waiting for Hai Hơn, the warden studied the red-haired boy, meager and in shabby clothes covered with red dust which appeared redder in the late afternoon sunshine. He seemed not to be tired, instead appeared so anxious to meet his father.
"How come you knew your dad is here?" asked the warden.
"Hmm…," Hưng answered with a merry recitative tone, "My grandma had said that dad was in a far place working and wouldn't be back until I was a grown-up. But some days ago, she was seriously ill, she told me that he was here.
This morning I came to the bus terminal and asked for directions.
Elderly women helped me, fed me and even gave me some money."
He emptied his pocket and showed the warden a pad of money notes of different denominations, VND2000, VND5.000 and VND200, VND500, all wrinkled-up. The warden shook his hand to say no and told him to put it back into his pocket. Right at that moment, Hai Hơn was taken up to the booth.
"Dad,"… Hưng said jabbering and came hugging his father. Hai Hơn took his son's hands off looking at the warden. Unwanted, the warden stepped out, thinking of a proper place for the prisoner and his son's rest for the night.
Tomorrow, we'll have plans for it later, he thought. This was the first time he had been in so complicated a situation.
Hiding his embarrassment, Hai Hơn asked his son, "You are alone?"
"Yes, Dad," Hung answered, excited. "I've come to stay with you for good."
Hai Hơn's face clouded over when he said, sarcastically, "Go back to your grandmother tomorrow. Here is no place for kids."
"Didn't you know?" Hung burst out crying.
"She died. And now you are the only one I have left. If I'm not here, where else?"
Hai Hơn stood still, stupefied.
He shook his father's hand begging, "Dad, I will not cause trouble. I have all my clothes, notebook and pencil. I'll study, I'll sweep the floor, cook meals, wash your clothes. I'm able to do the chores. Please allow me to stay in the prison with you."
"Oh, my son!" For the first time in his life he uttered these two words. He embraced his son in his arms. His face wrinkled. His pain and embarrassment was transmitted to the warden and other young warders; the sunset becoming vio-letish in the coming twilight.
- Lê Thanh Huệ