Chapter 63
Miss Hue Lan and I walked in the opposite direction of the cliff. Behind us, the loud shouts and laughter of my mother and two friends still echoed, but they gradually faded away, as if they belonged to another world. We walked along the smooth white sand, where the waves only gently lapped against the shore. The air here was strangely fresh and quiet.
We rounded a small bend and a nearly secluded bay emerged. The water was calm and clear enough to see the sand and shells on the bottom. In the distance, a few small fishing boats were moored, silent. It was like a forgotten world.
“It’s so beautiful here,” Ms. Lan whispered, her voice melting into the quiet of the space.
“Yes. It’s quiet here, isn’t it?” I replied, my voice also low.
We said nothing more, slowly stepping into the cool water. Miss Lan began to swim, her strokes gentle and graceful, not making much noise. She was like a swan gliding on the lake, a beauty of calmness and elegance. I was in no hurry. I just swam quietly beside her, keeping a distance enough to show respect, but close enough so that my presence would not be forgotten.
*”Just as mom said,”* I thought to myself, while my eyes still did not leave Miss Lan’s figure. *”With women like Miss Lan, you cannot use force. You cannot be as aggressive as Nam, nor as graceful as Khoi. You must use weakness. A son’s weakness will be the strongest weapon to break down a mother’s defenses.”*
My mother taught me that, not with words, but with the way she treated my father, me, and her pack of wolves.
After a while of swimming in silence, I began my play.
“I like watching you swim,” I said, my voice tinged with regret. “Since the accident, my legs have been weak, and I don’t dare swim fast or far.”
I saw Ms. Lan stop. She turned to look at me, and as I expected, her eyes changed. It was no longer just polite, but had more concern, more worry.
“Oh, poor thing,” she said softly. “You must be careful. Do you want me to help you to shore?”
*“I took the bait,”* I smiled inwardly. *“She went from being a stranger to an ‘aunt’ who wanted to protect her poor nephew.”*
“No, I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. “Just a little slow. I like it here. It’s quiet.”
I deliberately emphasized the word “quiet.” I knew that was the key word.
“Sometimes I see you sitting alone,” I continued, pretending to let it slip. “I think you like the quiet as much as I do.”
This sentence was like a small stone thrown into the still lake in Lan’s heart. I saw her stunned, the smile on her lips faded slightly. She did not answer immediately, but turned away, looking at the fishing boats in the distance.
I knew I was on the right track. I decided to throw in the finishing blow, a direct question but wrapped in innocence and empathy.
“Uncle Cuong and Khoi seem so energetic,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You must feel lonely sometimes?”
Space seemed to freeze. Only the sound of waves gently lapping on the shore remained.
Ms. Lan did not answer.
She just stood still in the water, her arms around her shoulders, her eyes staring into the distance. Her silence was more eloquent than any answer. It was a wordless confession. An admission of the loneliness of a wife and mother in a seemingly perfect family, where the husband and son were always caught up in their own noisy circles, leaving her alone in a quiet but desolate garden.
I did it.
I didn’t ask any more questions. I didn’t say anything else. It would have broken the moment. I just swam silently beside her, sharing the silence. The silence had a strange weight, drawing us closer together than any lively conversation.
The silence lasted for a few minutes. But it was not an awkward silence. It was a silence of understanding, of a newly formed bond. Miss Lan no longer saw me as her friend’s son. She saw me as a reluctant confidante. I had succeeded in breaking through her shell.
Now is the time to start sowing seeds.
I was the one to break the silence, but in an unexpected way. I watched Lan swim a few easy laps, then spoke, my voice full of the professionalism of a coach.
“Your swimming form is really nice,” I began with a compliment. “But,” I paused, squinting analytically, “it seems like your kicking isn’t quite optimal. It creates too much drag. My mother used to have that problem.”
I had thrown the perfect bait. Complimented, gently criticized, and most importantly, brought in my mother to create a sense of “normalization.” Helping an elderly woman improve her swimming form, that was what I had done.
Miss Lan, as I expected, was pulled out of her thoughts. She was a little surprised, then laughed, a natural laugh. “Really? I thought I was a good swimmer.”
“Good, but it could be better,” I replied, smiling. “Shall I show you? It’s easy.”
She nodded happily without a doubt. “Okay, teacher.”
The play begins.
“First, just relax and float,” I instructed. “Let me hold your waist so you don’t sink.”
This was the permission I needed. I swam out behind her. Miss Lan followed suit, slowly leaning back, her body floating on the water. I reached out and placed my hands on either side of her waist.
The moment our skin touched, a jolt of electricity ran down my spine. Lan’s skin, though not as fair as my mother’s, was surprisingly firm, warm, and soft. Through her one-piece swimsuit, I could feel every curve of her body. My hands did more than hold. They began a delicate exploration.
“That’s right, relax a little more,” I said, still sounding professional. My hands slid from her waist, down her hips, and then down to the top of her plump ass. I felt the elasticity of her skin under my palms. “You have to feel your center of gravity. It’s right here.”
Using my thumb, I pressed lightly against her sacrum, just above the crack of her buttocks. I felt Lan tense slightly, but she said nothing. She thought it was part of the lesson.
*”Oh my god, Khoi’s mom’s ass is even bouncier than mine,”* a sick thought flashed through my mind. *”I can’t believe I’m getting to touch him in public.”*
“Now, try pedaling gently,” I continued the lesson.
Miss Lan started to tread water. But perhaps because of my touch, or because she was distracted, her movements became awkward.
“Ah! Your leg…”
She suddenly let out a small cry, her whole body shaking.
Golden opportunity.
“Do you have cramps? Let me!”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I reacted like a lifeguard. I dove right under the murky water.
The underwater world was a perfect stage for sin. Everything was distorted, unclear. I found her calf. It was slim and firm. I grabbed it and began to massage it.
“Relax, it hurts more,” I called back, my voice distorted by the water.
My hands began to move. I wasn’t just massaging her calves. I moved up, to the back of her knees, then to the insides of her thighs. This was an extremely sensitive area. I could feel her shiver as my fingers brushed against it. The skin was much softer and smoother there.
I continued to move up. My hand was very close to where the two paths met. I deliberately let the back of my hand **rub hard against the edge of her swimsuit**. A decisive rub. Through the thin, damp fabric, I could feel the bump of her mound and the soft pubic hair underneath.
Miss Lan’s whole body stiffened. She held her breath.
She knew. She certainly knew it wasn’t an accident.
I surfaced, my face a perfect picture of innocent concern and worry.
“Are you feeling better?”
Miss Lan looked at me, her face red, her eyes full of confusion. She did not dare to look me straight in the eye. She stammered:
“I’m… fine. Thanks.”
She started swimming quickly towards the shore, as if running away.
I swam after her, until I was abreast of her. I leaned close to her ear, close enough for my breath to brush against her salty skin, and whispered, loud enough for only the two of us to hear:
“Next time you feel any ‘tightness’, just call me. I’m a great massager.”
The word “stiff” is given special emphasis by me.
Miss Lan froze in the middle of the water. Her whole body was shaking. She said nothing, just swam towards the shore, faster than ever.
I watched her back as she hurriedly ran away, a cold, triumphant smile on her lips.
==========
On shore, the world is a completely different picture.
Under the shade of a large blue umbrella, two folding chairs were placed side by side like two thrones. My father, Huu Thang, and Uncle Minh Cuong, Khoi’s father, were leaning back comfortably, their two big beer bellies shaking with each laugh. Between them was an ice chest filled with cold beer cans, sweat dripping down.
They were on their third can. Both cheeks were rosy from the beer and the sun. They were in their own bubble, a successful man’s world where everything was under control, where family was a trophy and beautiful wives were accessories.
“I have to admit that your wife My is the best,” said Uncle Cuong, after taking a long gulp of beer. “She just won the city prize, and when she comes home she is a good wife and daughter-in-law. You are truly blessed.”
My father laughed heartily, his face unable to hide his complacency. “It’s all thanks to your grandparents’ blessings. But I have to admit, My is really good. Schoolwork, housework, everything is done right.” My father stretched, looking out to sea. “Look, even though you’re here, you’re still radiantly beautiful. No wonder the kids are always clinging to her.”
“That’s how it should be,” Uncle Cuong agreed. “A beautiful woman needs someone to admire her. My son Khoi also loves Miss My very much. He always compliments her on how talented and kind she is.”
They continued their idle chatter, about work, about a contract they were about to sign, about their plans to play golf this weekend. They were kings, discussing matters of state in their sand kingdom, completely unaware that their territory was being invaded, and their most precious jewels were being defaced.
Uncle Cuong squinted his eyes and pointed towards the large rock. From this distance, they couldn’t see anything clearly. All they could see was splashes of water and faint sounds of shouting and laughter. It looked exactly like a happy game of tag between children.
“Your wife My and my two sons are really mischievous,” Uncle Cuong commented with amusement. “It’s quite fun.”
In his way of speaking, Nam was naturally included as “my son”, a general way of speaking of adults who do not care about small details.
“Young people,” my father replied, his voice full of understanding. “They have excess energy. Let them have their fun. That’s what life is all about.”
My dad took another gulp of beer, then glanced around the beach. “By the way… where are my son Huy and your wife?”
They both squinted, looking along the shore.
“Oh, there it is,” Uncle Cuong exclaimed, pointing to the quiet cove in the distance. “Huy is so thoughtful. Seeing Mrs. Lan swimming alone, he swam with her for safety. He is truly my friend’s son.”
My father looked on, a proud smile spreading across his lips. He slapped his thigh and turned to pat Uncle Cuong on the shoulder.
“He’s just like me! Very gallant with women!”
The two men looked at each other and laughed, a hearty, carefree, self-satisfied laugh. They were completely satisfied with what they saw, with their own interpretations of the picture before them. A caring son caring for his mother. A good wife playing with her students. The perfect family.
My dad raised his beer can.
“Come on,” Dad said loudly. “Let’s drink to our good kids and our wonderful wives!”
Uncle Cuong also happily raised his beer can.
“Dry!”
*Clang!*
The sound of two beer cans hitting each other, a cold metallic sound, rang out then faded into the sound of the waves.
It was a toast to a reality that didn’t exist. A toast to a perfect play that they were the only audience members unaware they were watching.
On their thrones, the two blind kings continued to drink beer and laugh, while their kingdom, just out of sight, rotted from within.