Last Rights

Something caught their attention. 
There was movement in the adjacent field...white...flowing slowly toward them.

Was it real or a ghost? 
Approaching from across the field, it appeared to be floating above the tops of the field stubble--white silk flowing in the morning breeze.

Closer in now, it became a frail figure in white silk pajamas.
It was holding something as it struggled to make its way toward them.  
At first gracious in its movements, it stumbled, and then caught itself before almost falling.

They now could make out an old, withered man. 
He was carrying a pineapple in his left hand and wore a machete tied with a blue silk sash to his waist.

The interpreter spoke in Vietnamese to the old man.

The old man answered in a soft, torn voice.

The interpreter turned to Rye. “He want talk to soldier who killed son.”

“Oh God! Tell him...I did.”

The old man pulled the machete from his waist, lifted it over his head, and struck the pineapple a swift, sure blow, splitting it in two. He then picked up a half, held it out toward Rye, and spoke.

The interpreter translated: “He say he sorry and want you join him. He want share pineapple with you.”

Tears ran down the old man’s cheeks as he spoke again. 
The interpreter turned to Rye with his words. “He sorry for his son, for trouble his son make.”

“Tell him I did not want to…kill his son. Have him understand his son was threatening to blow us up.”

The old man answered in a distant, sorrowful voice. 
Then came the interpretation: “He say how much he love his son…his son went to VC. He say his son, good son. He is shame, and wants say sorry.”

The old man then held the fresh half pineapple out to Rye again with words through tears.

The interpreter continued. “He ask you share fruit, forgive.”

Rye accepted the pineapple from him, and sat facing him as each took a bite of the pineapple.

It was very sweet, prime, as the juice dripped down Rye's chin.

The old man tried to smile at Rye through the tears that flowed down his creased cheeks.

Rye felt waves of deep sorrow and couldn’t hold back his own tears.