Short story The Testament

The glass of lemonade with round ice cubes, clinking happily, melting quickly with each slow and steady stirring of the spoon. Mr. Nam Tan looked at his watch, it was past 10 o’clock, still a long way to go before the appointment time.

After 8am, he quietly carried his small bag and got into the car, sitting behind the faded green shirt. A strong salty smell immediately rushed into his nose. Without turning around, he could still clearly imagine his daughter-in-law's smile and eyes looking at her husband. They must have wanted to say to each other: is this what old age is like?

AI illustration

Old people go to bed early and wake up early. Their sleep is not as long and deep as when they were young. So he always leaves a few hours early when he has to go somewhere or do something. Many times, when his daughter-in-law asked him, he remained silent. They must have thought he was senile!

Old age is not just about the visible wrinkles on the skin. At the age of seventy, how many people do not have layers of memories, longing, regrets and even deep fears hidden in their hearts?

All the noise of life, stirring or sinking into silence, over the months and years, is it any different from the stalactites in a cave, with distinct shapes and forms?

If we don't carve together, don't leave fingerprints, don't leave scratches and bleeding marks together, then putting your hand on that stalactite is just like being an outsider! That's why everyone needs a companion in life.

Gently swallowing the spoonful of cool, sour, sweet water, it flowed from his mouth, down his throat, into his stomach like a wine connoisseur or tea connoisseur. He watched a yellow leaf from a tree outside the shop sway gently and land on the table like a puppy familiar with its owner. He wanted to leave early, sit here and watch, letting his thoughts drift like a piece of duckweed in the mouth of a river.

There is nothing more miserable in life, especially for men, than old age, and old age without a partner by his side. With each passing day, he felt that to the core. Something that he could not imagine when he was young, with his wife by his side!

At this stage, even though there was a glorious past, it was like a passing shower. Everything was lost in the mist of memories. The name of a friend from long ago that we could call each other every day, a face from long ago, we thought would never fade, but now, sometimes we try to remember but we still can't.

I love my children with all my life, one of them comes by a couple of times when something happens, the other one lives next door, all day long I don't say more than two words! No matter what I eat, where I go, I always think about it, my blood pressure goes up and down, my knees, back, and joints feel like worms come out at night to gnaw at them!

Wandering in and out, only he and his shadow remained in the house full of her traces. His wife was like a fallen leaf, disappearing into the cold ground.

The leaves will leave quietly! Leave quietly!

It was as if he heard a whisper somewhere, mimicking his thoughts like a parrot learning to speak human language, loud enough for himself to hear. Everyone would eventually depart on the last train. Whether the passengers were ready or still clinging did not affect the journey. When the time came to leave, no one could resist.

He believed it as he believed in the long, crisscrossing surgical scars that resembled giant centipedes on his back. He believed in the dizziness and the pills, each one as big as a wasp pupa, that he put into his stomach three times a day.

The phone lay silent on the table. Many times a day, he reached out to check if it was still working or broken. Today, it was silent like many other days before, but that was because he turned it off. If he didn't call his 3 children, 2 girls, 1 boy, sometimes they wouldn't call for a whole month.

On weekends, the second son who lives next door takes his children and wife out to eat or play. The babysitter invites them to refuse, but they don't listen. The third son is more difficult, busy teaching extra classes! Yes, he is busy! The youngest daughter lives in the city, on the anniversary of Mrs. Nam's death, she said she was busy going with her friends to do yoga or something in the nature, taking pictures of colorful silhouettes. Yes, she is busy.

He consoled himself. When one is young, one has so many things to do, like a hundred invisible arms always trying to pull one away. Parents are rarely one of their top priorities.

He looked up at the young green leaves on the branches, then looked down at the yellow leaves lying sadly at the base, leaves that could be seen but tomorrow or the day after, very soon, would rot and blend into the mud, disappearing! He tried to remember if he was like his children when he was young?

A person's life is like a cake broken into dozens of pieces. Old parents are just one of them. The dry piece lies in a corner, sometimes untouched for a long time, as quiet as a table or chair in the corner of the house. If life is too familiar, it will become boring.

He told himself that tears would flow forever. What parent would expect anything from their children, even just a few minutes of warm conversation on the phone?

No matter how they are or how they treat you, the people who carry them, give birth to them, and raise them will always use their never-ending love to fill the void.

Like the way ladies make bitter melon filling on Tet, or the way they make banh xeo on the 5th of May. It doesn't matter how much or how little filling, as long as the last cake has everything just right, nothing too much or too little!

He glanced across the street. The sun was shining through the faded curtains, burning his arm.

The mottled brown spots and scars of all sizes were like a flock of creatures in a fantasy movie, breathed life into, coming to life and dancing.

As if there was a strange, invisible, irresistible force urging him to rub his fingers over them, just like the way a blind old man recognizes an acquaintance. They lay there densely, a clear witness to the fact that he was gradually losing his lifeline.

But to remember why they were on the flesh, when, is like a foot tripping over a tangled mess, he is not very clear! The good thing about human life, strangely, our memories often forget the old sad stories, or if we remember, it is only vague, no different from a hand touching a scar that has healed, sometimes the eyes quickly pass by and cannot see. It is the same color as the skin, does not hurt, does not ache! Sometimes somewhere there arises a funny thought that it would be uncomfortable, lacking if instead there was smooth, intact flesh.

The alley is small, just in town but cars weave back and forth like a loom. The roads are too crowded now. The tamarind, sanh, and cotton rows of the past are almost gone.

Could it be that one day, not far away, people will sell air to breathe? No one knows! As if the people living on all sides of the river in his hometown never expected that, before their entire lives, they would still be surrounded by water, and in the dry season they would have to be frugal with each bucket, and have to buy fresh water for bathing and washing.

Who would have thought that one day, standing in the middle of a cluster of canals, rivers, lakes, and clear blue water, one would feel a creepy feeling as if a small snake were crawling from the heel of one's foot to the top of one's head. Just looking at it, one could feel the salty, bitter taste running from the tip of one's tongue to the brain. The fields and gardens that were only a few days ago filled with fruits and sugarcane, before the end of a lifetime, the shores would turn into mulberry fields.

He suddenly thought of his children again. They grew up and gradually changed, right? The love for parents in people's hearts can change over time? He and his wife, like many other parents in the world, gave birth to their children, thought about building a cradle, buying shoes, buying milk, sending them to school, starting a career, getting married...

But it seems that no one is prepared for the thought, which will most likely come true, that our children will completely leave us forever? Instead, there will be strange adults, sometimes calculating, cold and even selfish.

For 2 years, since she left, every day he felt the loneliness like a sharp stone cutting somewhere on his side, lightly, but gradually it turned into a sharp pain. Every morning when he woke up, opened the door and looked out into the yard, seeing the piles of yellow leaves lying on top of each other, he felt like he was lost in a deserted, hazy place, unable to see people's faces, and even less knowing where to find his relatives, after a long time he realized he was home.

He absentmindedly held the broom to sweep the yard, still imagining that his grandmother was standing next to him, sweeping and saying something about how it was summer and they had not brought the children home yet. That there was nothing she wanted in life more than the sound of children! The weather was so rainy it meant rain and sunny it meant sun, without any seasons! The coconut trees in the garden were so dry that he worriedly asked Ri to pick them up, otherwise they would fall all over the place.

It's like that, man. When it's dry, it falls off as soon as you touch it without any effort. When it's not dry, you have to sweat a little, but when the sickle is broken, it still stands defiantly! This tree and land nurtured and raised us, if we don't abandon it, it won't abandon us, huh, man?!

Her style - the style like the raindrops on the sidewalk, light as air but eroding the soil, making the coconut roots stand up alone in the flickering space. That gentle, slow-moving, sweet-and-sour style of talking, very feminine, was incredibly powerful. So powerful that once he half-jokingly laughed, half-seriously, that being with her was like an ant crawling in a bowl. She smiled furtively, her eyes shining like they had been years ago.

Trieu Ve

Source: https://baovinhlong.com.vn/van-hoa-giai-tri/tac-gia-tac-pham/202510/truyen-ngan-di-chuc-fb90557/