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| Illustration: Phan Nhan |
Ngan always welcomes the new day with slow, deep breaths. At over thirty, she is almost ready to feel “old”. Many nights she stays up late working, only to be startled awake by her child’s school alarm clock after only a few hours of sleep. Ngan’s day is confined to work and the activities of mother and child.
While waiting for her child to have breakfast, she took the opportunity to surf the web. Her ex-husband sent an email, full of affection: “Honey… I came to Saigon, wanted to visit you and your child very much, but yesterday afternoon I took a nap, opened the hotel room window, and some crazy guy stole my wallet. I have no money left, only a few tens of thousands left in my pocket, I cannot visit you and your child. Take your child to Hoa Lan Hotel, Hai Ba Trung Street, let’s meet…”.
“Damn it!” Ngan was irritated. The boy looked at her blankly: “Mom, what did you say?”. “Noooo.” The boy looked like an old man: “Ah, so you’re swearing again.” Ngan didn’t reply, just gave the boy a wet towel to wipe his mouth and urged him to hurry to class.
At that moment, Ngan quickly ran to the office. Hundreds of cotton flowers were spinning and pushing each other like parachutes from the high green domes, landing on the shoulders of passersby. One cotton flower just landed on Ngan’s shoulder, causing her to slow down a bit. It seemed like that was her reaction when walking through the streets full of flowers and fallen leaves. After so many years in Saigon, having bumped into each other over this and that, she simply thought it was a reflex, not thinking that the little romanticism of the girl who studied Literature and loved to write poetry was still in her.
The car drove through Hai Ba Trung street, to Hoa Lan hotel, Ngan looked up. The hotel was below average. Her child’s father - her first love - was the person she waited for like a fire every time she was late, and her husband was up there, on the 3rd floor. Smiling slightly, she ignored the young man with a fierce face who crossed the street and honked loudly.
* * * * *
Nearly six years ago, it was a hasty marriage. After graduating, Ngan applied for a government job. There was not much time to deeply understand any relationship. She got married because she was almost thirty years old, her parents urged her back and forth. She weighed the pros and cons between the relationships around her, and chose whoever seemed suitable. When her mother-in-law first met her, she immediately liked her daughter-in-law because she was "so young but a government employee" - she bragged all over the village. However, Ngan still believed that her mother was a good person because one time, when she showed her daughter-in-law her wardrobe, she said that the most beautiful outfit in her life was her wedding dress. The white silk dress was a little faded with time, with a few yellow chrysanthemums that her mother embroidered with simple thread, making Ngan's heart soften when she touched it. Ngan told her mother that it was a pity that she knew about this wedding dress so late, otherwise she would definitely borrow it from her mother to wear on her wedding day. Mom smiled slyly: "Is it still beautiful? I think it's very old-fashioned."
Hai graduated from university after nearly ten years of struggling, failing exams and retaking them. Hai continued to struggle from one company to another, leaving every place because the boss was stupid. When they first fell in love, Ngan thought Hai was a man of will, spirit, and unruly. That was what a real man should be. Ngan believed in her knowledge. After living together for only a year, she realized that all the virtues that "real man" had created for her were to cover up his incompetence and laziness. After days of continuous unemployment, Hai got into alcohol and gambling. The result of alcohol was that his girlfriend, who had lost her husband two months ago, was pregnant. The result of gambling was that the house of the mother, children, and grandmother was seized for debt.
The day of parting was as quick as the day they met. The only thing that lingered was the four-year-old son. At that age, he should have been with his mother, but both his mother and father won the battle for their child. They had more than enough time to take care of their grandchild compared to her demanding job. Ngan left, her luggage only containing books, a laptop, tears, and a few sets of clothes. "I have nothing to make up for you." The day she left, hugging her mother-in-law, hearing her say that, Ngan felt that was all she needed. Her head felt light, her steps were slow and uneven, like someone out of breath.
It was spring but the weather was still cold. For a long time Ngan had waited for the clear sunny mornings but they never came. The wind blew on the tiled roof. Ngan lay in a warm blanket, the smell of Chuot's sweat still lingering from the old season. On cold windy nights, Chuot curled up in a warm blanket and still snuggled deep into his mother's chest. He whispered all sorts of things. Sometimes the stories had nothing to do with each other. It didn't matter. The purpose of those stories was to lull both mother and son into a warm sleep.
Ngan pressed her ex-husband's phone to call her child. She wondered if he was awake yet.
What do you need?
I want to see my child…
Mom?
Mouse, it's mom. What are you doing?
I just came back from bathing in the stream.
Oh my god - Ngan kicked the blanket - You're going to bathe in the stream? It's so cold, you're going to bathe in the stream?
Mom, take a bath at home. The bathroom door is broken and it's colder. It's warm in the stream, Mom.
Immediately, Ngan felt the cold wind biting into her heart. On the other side, the child's voice was clear:
Mom, when will you visit me?
Mom come up this weekend.
“Tell your mother to remember to buy lots of milk and sausages” - Hai's voice echoed.
Mom, I miss you…
Yes, I remember, milk, sausage.
Mom remember to buy two year old milk for baby Na.
Yes, I remember.
Okay mom, I'm hanging up.
The dry clicking sound rang out. As always, Chuot’s father knew how to use the boy’s mouth to beg for food for the whole family. Regardless of his pride, he also asked for his second wife and stepchild, who were completely unrelated to Ngan. A sigh filled the air. The roof tiles still rustled in the cold wind.
That spring was so cold.
The season was less cold, strangely enough it was last winter. When Hai was too stressed with taking care of the two children, he agreed to return Chuot to his mother. The grandmother was old and no longer had the strength to help take care of her grandchildren. The day she returned to pick up her children, a spring morning, she felt sorry when she saw Ngan was prettier and younger than the day she left. Her hands trembled as she handed Ngan an old ao dai: "I gave it to you, if you have the chance in the future, you can wear it if you still like it, but don't neglect Chuot in any situation." Ngan bent down to hide the tears that had just flowed: "I accept it, because I love you very much, Mom, and this precious gift. My happiness, perhaps, only needs Chuot." "I have always prayed that your happiness would be complete. There are half-happy things that we lie to ourselves that are enough, just because we haven't had the chance to make it full, my child"...
* * * * *
Life always has surprises waiting ahead. For some reason, Ngan's surprises often come in the spring. The biggest surprise, as Ngan's friends say, is probably that Ngan has returned to writing poetry. And her poems are bestsellers, and her poems are still read by people, in a time when people still tease poets: "When we meet, we shake hands and greet each other/ Whatever you say, please don't give me poetry."
Phi is one of the readers who loves Ngan's poetry. He knocked on the door on a late spring afternoon, after ordering poems on FB. They met for the first time in a milk tea shop, surrounded by teenage boys and girls who spent time taking selfies, loving each other more than chatting and drinking. Both Phi and Ngan spent time silently looking at each other, occasionally smiling, occasionally asking some incoherent questions. For a long time, Ngan had stopped thinking about how to be charming in the eyes of the man in front of her... And they left with gentle feelings.
Ngan still thought that was the last time they met, because Phi said he was going to settle in the Netherlands, and probably wouldn't come back. His whole family was there, he was the last one to hold on, lingering in his heart for the homeland. After ten years of lingering, he realized he was so lonely without relatives in his homeland. Friends and relatives became increasingly distant, when talking to them, it was only about this project, that partner. It had been a long time since he had such a gentle conversation about music, books, tulips, chrysanthemums... like with Ngan.
And so, just for that, can I give Ngan a hug to thank her?
Ngan smiled. After the smile was a warm hug. It had been a long time since Ngan felt her heart soften when she heard her heart beating so gently. She was nearly 40, not having much time compared to when she was in her 20s, but she knew how to spend enough time listening deeply to her heart's beat.
This afternoon, Phi stood at the apartment gate waiting for Ngan to return, without prior appointment. He held a bouquet of tulips from the land of windmills, keeping them safe throughout the long flight. His return was even more surprising than the day he “plunged” into Ngan’s life.
I miss you.
The autumn wedding, the bride wore a chrysanthemum ao dai. During the wedding, when Phi pinned a crystal rose on the ao dai, Ngan heard her heart beat a melody as pure as the morning sun. And it was those patches of sunlight, out on the porch, that Ngan had been waiting for for a long time.
Source: http://baolamdong.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/202409/ngoi-doi-nang-mai-7193347/
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