Mai loved the feeling of coming home, washing banana leaves, sorting beans, arranging fresh flowers, watching over her mother's pot of jellied meat, and eagerly awaiting New Year's Eve. Early in the morning, the weather was freezing cold; even her woolen gloves weren't warm enough, so she walked very slowly. Behind her, on her old, papaya-green Wave motorbike, was a sack of groceries, with several bunches of flowers wrapped in newspaper tied to the side. Mai wore a red puffer jacket, jeans, and white sneakers . The wind howled, and the exposed area between her ankles and the hem of her jeans made her feet numb with cold.
Illustration: China. |
When Mai arrived home, she was freezing, her teeth chattering. Her father came to help her carry the sack and complained, "We don't lack anything, why did you bring all this stuff?" "Mom always loves things from Dong Xuan Market, Dad. I bought her a jacket and a pair of shoes, and you a pair of gloves and a few pairs of socks too." Mai's mother ran out into the yard: "Mai, you're home? It's so cold, why did you ride your motorbike? Wouldn't it have been better to take a bus?" "Oh my god, I'd be squeezed in there! I rode my motorbike at my leisure and still got home." A plum-colored Dream II motorbike sped through the gate. Tra, who had been somewhere with a young man, saw Mai and exclaimed happily, "The village beauty is back! Did you buy her any gifts?"
Tra got off her Wave motorbike and took the bouquet down. "This lady is so romantic, always liking flowers," she said. The young man accompanying Tra politely greeted her and added, "Tra is very proud of you." Mai frowned slightly, wondering what Tra had said about her that made him so talkative, but she admitted that Tra had a keen eye. The young man was very handsome, with a striking height and a strong, confident look. He wore cement-colored khaki pants, a chestnut brown blazer, and a matching woolen scarf casually draped around his neck, exuding an air of sophistication. Tra introduced her friend as Le, currently a reporter for a major newspaper in Hanoi .
That afternoon, Lê stayed for dinner with Mai's family. She wondered why this young man seemed so free during the busy Tet holiday. At first, she thought he was Trà's boyfriend, but Trà said, "He and I are just friends. Because you rarely go back to your hometown, you haven't seen him, but he actually comes to our house often." Lê's attention was almost glued to Mai. Trà asked Lê, "Do you know how much older my sister Mai is than you? She's been scolded constantly by her parents but is still single. What's your purpose in staring at her like that?" Then Trà giggled. Mai felt a little embarrassed.
During the Lunar New Year holidays that year, Le always found a way to visit Mai's house. It was the first spring Mai felt a stirring in her heart at the sight of such an incredibly attractive young man, with his proud and generous demeanor. In fact, it was also the first spring Le had met a girl with such captivating charm. The holidays passed quickly, and Mai returned to Hanoi for work, overwhelmed with teaching sessions, school and departmental activities, and her duties as head of student affairs, which constantly required her to shout and yell. She often told her friends that teaching wasn't hard, only the scolding of the students was.
Le texted Mai, inviting her for coffee. Mai said she was busy preparing for the city's excellent teacher competition and would meet Le the following weekend. However, before the scheduled date, they unexpectedly met at a newly opened café. It was Vaquero, a café with a Wild West American style. Located on a quiet little street, the café's design was close to nature, from the dark brown wooden pieces combined with animal figurines made of real leather. Mai was impressed by the very lively deer with its round, sparkling eyes, standing alone in a corner of the café. The ceiling was decorated with incandescent lights with a warm yellow light, making the space feel cozy. There was an antique pizza oven, tables, chairs, and flower vases, all harmoniously arranged for a spacious and airy atmosphere. The large bar had huge glass coffee jars, and the aroma of coffee filled the air…
Le was startled when he saw Mai. He paused for a few seconds before proactively greeting her. His awkwardness was endearing; he seemed unable to hide his emotions. Then, as fate would have it, they began dating not long after. That spring, Mai was like a little swallow, carefree and innocent. No one would have thought she had reached the age that the elders often call "approaching old age." Since meeting Mai, Le felt his heart always full of joy. He often liked to see her smile, to admire her clear eyes. He often called her "little swallow," meaning she had brought into his life like a swallow heralding the arrival of spring. Mai said his metaphor was cheesy, but he was still happy because he truly felt that way.
Le often met Mai on weekends. He loved the feeling of holding Mai's hand and strolling through the old town on Sunday mornings, admiring her ivory-white fingers, and occasionally watching her playfully toss her hair back, tilt her head, and smile innocently at him, her eyes burning with desire. This week, Le said he was going to Hai's house on Saturday night for a birthday party, and would probably be home late, so they planned to meet at the "Vaquero" café on Sunday afternoon to eat something she liked. Le missed their date on Sunday, and Mai called him several times without success. She lingered, waiting, but even at 1 PM, Le was nowhere to be seen. The café was deserted, and the melancholic song "Once Loved" played, with its lingering lines: "A past love has faded into oblivion, memories are just vague waves, if we keep regretting past affections, why love when our souls are only shattered in this long dream…"
It wasn't until late Monday evening, without prior arrangement, that Le arrived at Mai's room. He confessed that, as he had told Mai earlier, he had gone to Hai's house for a birthday party the previous Saturday night and drunk too much—wine really does intoxicate, he must have drunk at least two bottles, he couldn't even remember anymore—so he had to sleep at a friend's house, sleeping until noon and forgetting his appointment with Mai. It wasn't that he forgot, but that he was genuinely drunk. He explained awkwardly. Mai noticed that Le looked utterly exhausted, as if he had just been through a storm; his eyes were vacant and weary.
Le leaned his head on Mai's shoulder, seemingly unable to control his emotions: "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it was terrible." Mai said, "What's wrong with being drunk? But next time, remember to text me so I don't have to wait so long." Le felt utterly despicable; he was tormented by the fact that he hadn't told Mai everything. "Half the truth isn't the truth." On Saturday night, Le had indeed been drunk, and he had indeed stayed overnight at Hai's house, but in that drunken state, he didn't know what he had done. Waking up in the middle of the night, his mind reeling, he was horrified to find himself lying on a strange bed, naked, and next to him was Thuy—Hai's younger sister.
He didn't understand why he was lying next to Thuy, what she had done to him or what he had done to her; he couldn't comprehend it. A jumble of conflicting emotions overwhelmed him. He hastily put on his clothes. He felt disgusted with himself. He jumped up, intending to escape the room, but Thuy was already awake, her voice cold, "My father has put away the key, you can't come back." Le reluctantly returned to bed, his hand on his forehead, tossing and turning. Thuy put her arm around Le's shoulder, and he closed his eyes, hoping for dawn to come. He felt disgusted with himself, wondering why he had let himself fall into such a ridiculous situation.
***
Le arranged a trip away, wanting to make amends with Mai and tell her everything that happened the night he got drunk. Actually, the tourist destination could be considered far or not far; it was about 50 km from the center of Hanoi, a large, isolated, rather deserted and pristine tourist area. Mai was impressed by a vibrant green lotus lake, and especially by the many monkeys in the forest within it – so many of them! They were incredibly friendly, even a little too boisterous, ready to snatch things from visitors at the slightest opportunity. The two of them rented a small room after cycling around the lotus lake.
At that moment, the lotus buds were just beginning to sprout, the white buds still green like leaves, each bud only about the size of a betel nut, but they looked so plump and juicy. That afternoon, Le promised to love Mai for the rest of his life, that she would always be his little swallow, and that no matter what, he would only love Mai. Mai was overjoyed. She opened her heart because she saw that he was truly serious about their relationship. Le said he would soon take Mai home to introduce her to his parents and relatives. He wanted them to get married at the end of this year. The declaration of love was simple but sincere. Mai felt like the happiest person in the world, a warmth enveloping her. However, after today, she knew she would have to face the pressure of her age tomorrow, and she wondered if Le's family would accept her.
Le completely forgot that he intended to confess to Mai about getting drunk and suddenly having a girl fall on him... He forgot because Mai was too beautiful, too captivating, overwhelming him. Le was infatuated with her; Mai made him feel like he was drifting through fragrant, flower-filled lands, sometimes like a lost wanderer in a scorching desert... he didn't know anymore, he wanted to stay in this feeling forever. Mai gave him everything most precious in the most intense way, as if tomorrow they might lose each other in this life.
***
Some people believe in reincarnation, thinking that their current life is not their first, but a continuation of their soul's journey through many reincarnations. Le vaguely realized that Mai gave him a familiar feeling, not from the first glance. Sometimes he told himself it might be because Mai was very beautiful, very attractive, but he still felt there was something about her that was difficult to describe in words, a strange sense of familiarity. Twenty years have passed since that first spring, everything has changed, the earth and sky have changed, only the human heart remains the same each spring.
Le always remembered Mai like a little swallow bringing spring, he remembered her beautiful smile and sparkling black eyes, her figure. Every time he thought of that moment, he felt like he was sliding down a sand dune, yearning to explore. He remembered the times they were in the height of happiness, Mai's fingers drooping like dragon's claw flower petals. He liked watching her sleep, peaceful, relaxed, and fresh, with her light brown lips and sweet, peachy pink inner lips. He couldn't understand why, all these years, Mai never sought the truth about his betrayal. He wondered why she never reproached him, or perhaps Mai had decided that she needed generosity—self-love, generosity to live more peacefully, as she had shared before.
For years, Lê has been tormented by self-reproach and disappointment, and he feels immense pity for Mai. He is haunted by that night he got drunk, feeling as if he had been trapped, a perfect trap set by a predator. Four months after that night, Thúy informed him that he was about to become a father. It was a devastating blow, humiliating for him, and even more so for Mai. After that, Mai stopped seeing Lê, cutting off all contact with him. She didn't cry or scream, but it's certain that she found it difficult to forgive him.
As for Le, after his drunken incident, he had no other choice but to hastily hold a wedding with extremely simple rituals. Three days after the wedding, Thuy's father suffered a stroke. A very quick funeral then took place. Within four days, he witnessed and experienced a wedding and a funeral, a test and irony of fate. Thus, from a 27-year-old man, Le officially became a stay-at-home dad when baby Bi was born, and the young man began to face the many burdens of family life.
***
Ever since learning that Bi wasn't his child, Le has been depressed. He gritted his teeth and endured, but he loved Bi so much; love is freedom, and surely nothing could change that. Family life was heavy and stagnant. Thuy became increasingly irritable, never satisfied with anything. When angry, the whites of her eyes would become more prominent. Her large, newly surgically enhanced red lips looked suffocating. He loved Bi, and for some reason, he never got angry with her. Le often resented himself; he had thought about that fateful night a thousand times. Clearly, there was something strange about Thuy's body; she wasn't a young woman in her early twenties. At that time, though it was only a vague feeling, he couldn't overcome his fear and judgment.
Many times, Le wanted to see Mai, but she refused with silence. Deep down, he wanted to dedicate the entire spring to Mai because he only felt truly happy and fulfilled when he was with her. This year, Tet came early, the weather was pleasantly cold, just like Tet of yesteryear, with sticky rice cakes, pickled onions, bamboo shoot soup, jellied meat, and pork sausage, but he still missed Mai. It had always been like that, for 20 years. On the first day of spring, he often texted Mai, but she never replied, not even with a short message.
Now, after the storms of life, he silently blames time. Time is more wicked than anything in the world, more indifferent than anything in the world, more cruel than anything in the world. Why? Because it never looks back, never grants anyone any favor, never waits for or favors anyone. It just keeps going, headlong, like a madman, utterly clueless. For Le himself, time—that thing also carries the name of cruelty. A few strands of gray hair have appeared in his hair, his face is deeply etched with the wrinkles of time, his son has grown up, still handsome and well-behaved, but also somewhat simple and bland.
Without hesitation, he texted Mai: "I miss you, my little swallow, I wonder when we'll finally be together again." After sending the message, he tidied up his belongings, sent a letter to his son (he always considered Bi his son), and another to Thuy. He could have texted, but he preferred writing, as if the pen could more easily touch his heart, or something similar. His heart was racing; he wanted to find his little swallow, the swallow that had once brought spring to him, and whom he had abandoned so heartlessly and callously. Now he understood that to achieve something great, one might have to sacrifice thousands of things they already possessed.
Short stories by Doan Thi Phuong Nhung
Source: https://baobacgiang.vn/mua-xuan-nam-ay-postid416382.bbg
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