TOXIC

“I’m sorry! The company is in financial difficulty now. We will have to let you go at the end of this month,” the senior manager said and handed Hung a layoff termination letter.

“But…,” he stammered. “I’m nearly 50. Where can I go now?” Hung asked with a shaky voice.

“I hope you can understand,” the manager had a scowl on his face and walked away.

The clock chimed 5 o’clock. Hung threaded his way through the busy streets during the rush hour. His head was filled with desperation. He opened the door, tiresomely dragged his step into the house.

“I’m home,” Hung called out. Nobody replied him.

Hung saw his wife cooking inside the kitchen. He came in close, tried to speak louder.

“I’m home.”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded in a perfunctory manner but still held a surprise in her eyes. “Go change your clothes for dinner”.

Dinner was ready. His children by now walked slowly out from their private rooms, still holding comic book and mobile phone in their hands. There was an appalled silence around that table. Only the clicking sound from moving chopsticks seemed to exist.

“Have you looked at any colleges?” Hung broke the silence first by asking his son.

“What ‘s wrong with you today? It’s not a question you ever ask,” the son said with a wry face.

“Never mind. You should take time to think about it,” he diverted the conversation and picked up a piece of food.

Hung turned to his daughter. “Have you did some research about studying abroad?” He asked with a low voice.

“Hmm. I am still considering but I prefer a private school in Seattle. The tuition fee is a little bit high. My classmate, Ha My, also chooses it. She is my best friend. I want to study in the same school with her,” the daughter replied with an exciting face.

Hung could not say a word. He picked up the Thanh Nien newspaper under the table that he had been too busy to read in the morning then buried himself in it to escape from the reality. Sometimes, he timorously glanced at his family.

“Why do you reverse the newspaper?” the son has realized his father’s unusual behavior.

“You don’t seem to be yourself today. What’s happened?” The daughter kept assailing him with questions

“Please tell us!” the wife started to lose her calm.

Hung took a deep breath, avoided to look into their eyes and tried hard to stifled a groan

“At the end of this month, I will lose my job,” he breathed out.

The spoon of the wife landed with a plump on the floor. Everything lapsed into silence. Hung kept his head down, crossed his arms tightly across his chest, his hands balled into fists. It closed around one with a thick palpable drug-like heaviness, layer on layer of silence tended to last forever.

“How about my dream to study abroad?” Tears came stinging to the daughter’s eyes.

“So can I go to the college anymore? You’re a useless father!”. Suddenly, the son screamed angrily.

The wife did not say anything. She sighed a long sigh then casted a sly glance at the calendar on the wall. The deadline for paying electricity bill was circle in red. There were not many days left. The children jumped up, stormed out of the kitchen and slammed their room’s doors.

“I’m sorry…” Hung whispered. His words dissolved into nothingness.

He sat down on the armchair, turned on the television. The familiar voice of the evening newsreader raised up monotonously: “This is the live newscast from Viet Nam Television…”. Hung could not hear a word. His mind was whirling round and round. His thoughts traveled back to the old time when the whole family was living in the poor province Yen Bai. He missed that day, when he was just an employee of a local office. The newly-wed couple with paltry sum had much ado to raise their children. The family always had meager meals with rice and vegetable mostly but filled with laughters. Then Viet Nam has opened up its market to the world, making the life of every household more comfortable. Hung could buy his family the first black and white television.Every night, the whole family clustered around together, glued their eyes to newscaster who always read in monotone: “This is the live newscast from Viet Nam Television…”.

Time was fleeing away. They had migrated to Ha Noi with the hope for a better life. Because of hard-work, dedication and honesty, he quickly rose to the rank of manager. The job provided enough money for the family to live in affluence. The children now had their own private rooms, computers and mobile phones. The old black and white television that they carefully carried from their native village was simply thrown away in a place that only God could remember. In the blink of an eye, it sank into oblivion. A latest flat-screen color one soon took its place. However, everything has a price. Sometimes, the price is too high. The moments that all of them were together watching premature TV programmes were no longer existed. Gradually, the time that Hung spent on local pubs with his business partners was more than home. He usually came back at midnight, when the children and even his wife were sound asleep and left early in the morning. He even barely remembered which grade were his children in or how many days he did not talked with them. Hung tiredly subsided into sleep with his memories ceaselessly returned.

The ineffable air of tragedy covered the house over the following days. Hearing that Hung was going to be fired, no one disdained to make him a call. He travelled to work and went back quietly as a silhouette. The family seemed to still not get used to with his frequent presence. His children pretended not to see him. They usually hid themselves in a room, whispering about something until his wife entered and remind them to go back to their desks. Hung kept flipping the channels but nothing appeared to fit him. In the dead of the night, he noticed his daughter’s room door still open. He walked slightly in. Moonlight streamed through the window, lighted up the study abroad guides all around, some of which had been torn. He felt a lump in his throat, his fists were clenched tight. Quietly closing the door, Hung went back to his room. A thought had just dawned upon him.

The final day of Hung at the company soon came. He was on his way to the office for packing his remaining stuffs as well as receiving the last wages. Hung could feel the sun beating down on his head. His face glazed with sweat or maybe his tears were rolling down stealthily. Hung stormed out of the company, leaving the regretful looks behind. He took out his phone and called a guy to ask about his necessary stuff. Having gotten what he needed, on the way back home, Hung was lost in a brown study. He thought about the current enormous debts to pay his children’s tuition fee and living expenses. Hung realized that it had been a long time since his wife treated herself with a new dress. He had secretly bought life insurance for a rainy day. He hoped that his action today could bring them a more stable life after all. Tears well up in his eyes when he thought about the day his children graduated, the day they got married, the day he would become a grandfather. That was all a stupid dream. He opened the door, tiresomely dragged his step into the house.

“I’m home,” Hung called out. Nobody replied him, as usual.

Hung tore his hair in despair. He recalled this morning his children said they would go to extra classes tonight and his wife would visit her friend. That’s why he chose today. Hung carefully brought out the fake coke bottle that he got from this secret guy. He was going to die, very peacefully, from a sudden heart attack. Nobody could know he had committed suicide. He looked around his home for the last time and took the lid off.

“Happy birthday, father!” the son shouted happily.

His family was entering with the biggest birthday cake he had ever seen in his life.

“We’re sorry to have made you sad, dad. We have prepared this day for a long time to say sorry to you,” the daughter lowered her head, spoke softly and indistinctly.

“We will fight with you. As long as you are here, we can start over again and again,” the wife rested her hand on his shoulder.

Hung stood rooted to the spot, struggled to hold back the tears welling up in his eyes. His memories came back in one big flood. He could see himself from the past, from the days they gathered around the obsolete black and white television every night, the days they lived hand to mouth but shared the real joy and gladness.

The wife smiled at his happy face. She incidentally grabbed his bottle on the table, took a mouthful of it after a long day being parched with thirst.

“I thought you had forgotten your own birthday. You actually bought drinks for us,” there was a slight smile in her eyes.

Hung’s eyes turned dark. Things got blurry. Far away the familiar voice of the evening newsreader raised up monotonously: “This is the live newscast from Viet Nam Television…” then faded away.

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