The train

Uyen called her sister, sobbing, "Mom, I miss home. I miss you and Dad." That's just how she is; she's used to living with her parents, always with them wherever she goes, and now she's in a strange place, how could she not miss home?

This year, Uyen started her first year of university in a southern city. Naturally shy, and being away from home for the first time, she preferred to just hop on a bus and go home. Even if her trip home was just for going in and out, helping her father prune the garden, or going to the market and helping her mother cook, Uyen had always worn the clothes her sister bought for her over the years. Generally speaking, Uyen was a good daughter, rarely asking for anything for personal comfort. When Uyen got accepted into university, her sister and Tuyen were overjoyed to the point of tears. Then, the couple arranged for Uyen to move to the city, meticulously choosing a safe and clean place to live and buying all the necessary household items.

Hearing her sister recount Uyên's phone call about missing home, Tuyến became anxious and urged her, "Arrange to go to the city and stay with your daughter for a few days. She'll be so lonely in a strange place, and it won't be easy for her to make friends..." After discussing it, Tuyến booked a ticket for her sister. She preferred traveling by train because, although slow, it was punctual and allowed her to comfortably bring along small snacks. She only flew if the distance was too far. So, she prepared to visit her daughter. Tuyến drove her to the market to buy a kilo of fresh mackerel to stew, went around to buy fish cakes, rice flour for noodle soup, and packed all sorts of miscellaneous things according to Uyên's preferences, reminding her if anything was missing...

* *

Uyen is the result of an unfulfilled love of hers. Back then, she was so naive, like a young bird just opening its eyes, not yet seeing all the world around it, suddenly moved by a patch of green grass that stirred her heart. Tuan was a classmate. They both left their hometowns to study in a seaside city, and met at a school reunion. Occasionally, Tuan would come to her room to invite her for coffee, dessert, skewers, or sometimes just drive her around the streets. Sometimes Tuan would knock on her door and bring her something he'd just bought, or, not knowing what else to do, they'd go to the beach and listen to the waves.

On graduation day, she planned to go back to her hometown, but Tuan suggested they go to Da Lat. For her, Da Lat was a dream, filled with romantic images and music, swirling mists, and carpets of flowers burying her in a sea of joy. She hesitated, but her heart softened when Tuan insisted, "We'll have separate rooms, we'll just be traveling together." She believed him, just as people believe that when water leaves its source, it will flow into the sea. But in this world, anything is possible, and why couldn't it happen when Da Lat was cold, and the young couple were happily in love, wandering and being close together? The days in Da Lat were impulsive for her, but also happy days.

After a week together, she and Tuan parted ways, each returning to their hometown, a distance of 240 kilometers. Tuan promised that after settling into his job, he would return to her hometown and ask for her hand in marriage. She waited eagerly, but the wait was just a long wait. They met a few more times, sometimes just for a meal together, sometimes sitting together in a cafe. Love, by its very nature, is sudden, uncontrollable, and sometimes leads to forgetting the way home. "I'm pregnant," she texted Tuan, trembling. Did her message reach Tuan? She didn't know. But that phone number never connected when she called again. It turned out that in this age of technology, to forget, to escape, one only needs to remove the SIM card and throw it into the void. Those familiar numbers forever drifted into the vastness.

Tuyến met her when she was in despair. He gently cared for her when she was unwell. When the fetus was still developing, they got married and Uyên was born. Tuyến protected and cared for both mother and child, his tolerance like a vast, calm lake, allowing lotus flowers to bloom and spread their fragrance.

* *

The train departed on time. The seat next to her was empty. Perhaps the passenger who bought the ticket hadn't boarded for some reason, or maybe the ticket hadn't been sold yet. That's life; the train departs on time, but sometimes people hesitate a step – she thought to herself. Occasionally, small carts would be pulled down the aisle, calling out, "Anyone want coffee or soft drinks?", "Anyone want hot chicken porridge?". The vendors on the train were so used to the customers' mannerisms that they spoke instinctively, without trying to persuade them. Meanwhile, she was caught between sleep and wakefulness amidst the sounds of laughter, conversation, and the clicking of the train wheels on the tracks.

She suddenly awoke in the middle of the night, removed her veil, and gazed out the window. Outside, it seemed as if a forest was being passed, and the crescent moon hung obliquely, giving it a somewhat hazy appearance. She stretched, and suddenly jumped when she realized someone was sitting in the seat beside her. Her stretching had caused her hand to touch the man next to her, probably the man who had just boarded the train at Thap Cham station. She turned to look, and at that moment, their eyes met. She wanted to widen her eyes, because this coincidence was so strange.

It had been a long time. Tuan was sitting beside her, softly calling her name. She looked at Tuan as if he were a stranger, even though she hadn't expected them to be on this journey together. Then she turned to the window and gazed at the night. She told herself that later she would go and plead with the train conductor to let her move to another carriage.

Tuan whispered softly in the almost frozen air, "For so many years, I've wondered whether our child is a boy or a girl. Can you tell me? Do you have any pictures of our child on your phone now?" She didn't want to answer Tuan. Her mind was still drifting with the sound of the train tracks. Tuan explained and continued to ask, his voice pleading, "I'm going to the city. You're taking this train, meaning our child is studying there, right? Can you give me our child's address or phone number?"

At this point, she gently replied to Tuan: "The girl's name is Uyen, and she's a first-year university student. Just give me your number. Whenever Uyen is ready, I'll tell her the truth about you, and she can decide whether or not to meet you."

Then she moved to another carriage and drifted off to sleep, dreaming until the train arrived at the station at 5 a.m.

Her phone rang, Uyên's cheerful voice rang out: "Mom, have you arrived at the station yet?" Then Tuyến chimed in: "Remember to take a taxi. It's still early, so it's safer to take one."

Following Tuyen's advice, she got into the taxi that was pulling up in front of the train station. The car sped along the still-sleepy streets...

Source: https://baocantho.com.vn/chuyen-tau-a186811.html