The Unwanted by Kien Nguyen

back had been turned into my mother's bedroom. Since my grandparents had moved into the Nguyen mansion, they brought with them every piece of furniture, leaving that place almost vacant. On the same lot was my aunt's house, where she lived with her husband and fourteen children. Both houses shared a bathroom, kitchen, and well.
    On paper, my mother owned that house. The adjacent dwelling was in my aunt's husband's name. The entire complex was located five kilometers away from my old home, surrounded by rice fields and countryside. The idea of returning to live there among the farm animals and her relatives was an overwhelming blow to my mother. She could not help but protest, “That house was built for my parents. I just hold the paper for them.”
    “Your house, their house, you all are family to each other. What is the difference? We need that big house of yours for our permanent office,” he said.
    “Why don't you take the small house instead?”
    Mr. Tran got up, kicking the chair behind him. “Look at me, you filthy, arrogant ex-Republican traitor. I am trying to make your life easier, but you are making mine more difficult. You don't want to give up that house? Good. Let's see how long you can survive in jail, away from your children. Comrade Sau, get in here, please.”
    The policewoman appeared at the door with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. “Yes, Comrade Tran?” she asked.
    “Take this counterrevolutionary to the correctional center. Keep her there until it's her turn to go in front of the People's Council. I wash my hands of her. Let the Court of the People judge her crimes exactly the way it did to every other criminal. Good night, Khuon. Have fun sleeping in the Hilton.”
    My mother clasped her hands in supplication. “Please, I didn't mean what I said. Don't put me in jail. Mr. Tran, please, we can talk about this.”
    The policewoman grabbed my mother's arm and swung her around. Mr. Tran walked around his desk to meet my mother faceto-face. Waving his arms, he hissed at her, “No more talk! It's time to knock you down, Khuon, because we are moving ahead.” He smiled and walked out the door, leaving my mother and the policewoman behind. Once outside, he said to the people in the waiting room, “It is five o'clock. The office is closing now. All of you come back tomorrow morning.”
    The policewoman did not have a pair of handcuffs. Instead, she used a rope to tie my mother's hands together. She dragged her captive down the street, ignoring the commotion she caused along the way. At the correctional center, after throwing my mother into a cell, the policewoman turned to assign her to the officer in charge. Lying alone on the cold pavement in the dark, my mother feared for her life as well as our lives at home. By morning, she felt totally defeated. But somewhere deep inside her womb, the baby was kicking.
    Mr. Tran came to see her in the morning with the same smile tattooed on his face. He looked at her from the other side of the bars and shrugged at her woe.
    “Let me go,” she begged him. “You can have the house. Let me sign the paper.”
    “I am not sure I want your house anymore, Khuon.” His teasing cut her like a knife.
    “Please, let me go. I have responsibilities to my elderly parents and to my young children. They have done nothing against you or the government, Mr. Tran. Think about them, think about the new life inside me, and spare us this time. If I die, they all will die with me.”
    He reached into the front pocket of his shirt for the keys. As he opened the cell door for her, he whispered in her ear, “It is very wise for you to come to this decision, Khuon. You got yourself a deal—the house for your life. You get out of this town, get away from me. Take your family and make a fresh start someplace else, where no one knows you and hates you the way we do here. Get out by tomorrow or face the consequences. You have twenty-four hours to get ready,