Longings, page 9
What n had been expecting eventually came to pass. Takashi proposed. Looking into his eyes, n didn’t dare say no. But she asked him to give her some time. Her business was going strong, and she wanted to focus on developing it further while enjoying a few more years of freedom. She didn’t want to tell Takashi that her mother didn’t like him. Her mother thought he was too old for n and didn’t look like a trustworthy person. n kept asking her mother to explain why she didn’t approve of him, but she never did. n’s mother also had disapproved of n’s father marrying her off to Hùng, arguing that she feared he would be violent, although she had no evidence.
n’s mother seemed to have a supernatural ability to judge people. Although she never could provide any evidence to back up her claims, n trusted her mother’s intuition. Still, n was grateful for Takashi as he entered her world voluntarily and reawakened her ability to love men. He played a very important role in her life. But she wouldn’t marry him.
So, how would she select a husband? n sat down, overwhelmed by the idea. She had never before listed all of the criteria her husband must fulfill. Absurdly, before she married Hùng, she hadn’t even taken the time to picture what married life would be like. It had happened so quickly, and to this day, she still couldn’t visualize the type of husband she wanted.
“Go for a young, masculine man. One with sturdy legs, so you and your children can travel the world, exploring all sorts of splendors. A man with a broad back will be able to carry you and your children to the hospital in case of an emergency. A man who can be a friend to your children. Think about such a man, and one day you’ll definitely meet him,” Thanh advised.
“And he must be wealthy so that the whole family can travel by air and stay in nice hotels,” n added. “You wouldn’t want your student to have to walk across the world, would you?”
“No. You should never rely on a man financially, whether it’s your husband or any other man,” Thanh said. “A relationship based on money is fragile and will ruin your talents.”
“People say a woman who has to earn a living by herself suffers a poor fate,” n stubbornly countered her teacher. But n knew Thanh would never concede.
“That’s the reasoning of a spineless, inept scumbag. I don’t care what they think. They own nothing, not even their own lives. Parasites. Making money is a pleasure that is its own reward. Treasure it.”
Thanh was right. What’s wrong with making money? n’s business had thrived despite the occasional hassles. She was thrilled by the many opportunities it granted her. She had risen from a miserable woman in Núi Xẻ into a wealthy urban dweller. It seems that a very thin line exists between the rich and poor and one must be daring to cross it.
But she also understood that she needed a real husband—someone who would always be waiting at home for her after hectic days in the office. Her husband should be able to control the wild instincts that Takashi had awakened in her. Since meeting him, she had become so empowered that whenever she saw an attractive man, she felt an urge to have crazy sex with him. Before he could make a move, she always initiated a flirtatious conversation. She sampled different types of men, to satisfy her curiosity and to explore her libido to the fullest. But she understood that when she did marry, she would need to contain her monstrous lust.
n often gravitated toward adventure. Sometimes she traveled for business, or to visit a faraway friend, or simply to discover somewhere she had never been. She said she traveled to re-energize her mind, but in truth she was looking for the man that Thanh had described. Or some other rare creature she couldn’t fathom, but who must exist somewhere. Thanh had dwelled in the same corner of the capital city for most of her life, surrounded by pollution, rapacity, and vanity. Yet n, who traveled extensively, was still unable to picture who her husband would be. Who would be the best of all the bad choices? What about love? Why does Takashi only arouse her sexual desire, but not her deepest love?
In a world where everything is automatic, designed and programmed to function with complete efficiency, is love an antiquated, secondary luxury, too ludicrous to be desirable?
But Takashi persisted. During the Tết holiday, a time to spend with one’s family, n would complement his life in his luxurious nineteenth-floor apartment. Unlike the n of the old days—a country girl with a soul scarred from the wounds of a shattered marriage—the n of today could enjoy an extravagant dream-like experience with a foreign businessman. She could spend the five-day holiday feasting and having passionate sex.
On the night before the Tết holidays begin, n leans against the window, contemplating Nguyễn Trãi Street stretching below. The lights shimmering on either side resemble two lines of stars streaming endlessly into the distance. n wishes she had wings so that she could fly off among those dazzling stars.
Back in the kitchen, n watches Takashi lower a tray brimming with Tết specialties. He arranges the fried spring rolls, fermented pork, bánh chưng, and pig bladder soup into the traditional Hà Nội peacock and phoenix shapes. This Japanese man is a genius for being able to make such authentic local dishes. However, this artistic ability is not enough to win her heart.
As soon as Takashi loosens himself from her body after having taken his pleasure, n whispers, “Takashi, will you go with me to the end of the world?”
“I want to stay by your side forever,” Takashi says with a curious expression, as he stares into her eyes. “But we should stay here, in Hà Nội. This city is large enough for me. We’ll be safe and happy for the rest of our lives.”
“But the world is immense, full of amazing things, incredible foods, enchanting lifestyles. I want to explore all the best, the most beautiful places out there.”
“Those things are appealing merely because they seem exotic,” Takashi explains soberly. “By nature, of course, you should be unique. You don’t want to blend in with others or become someone else. But you need to stay here with me, indulging and exploring yourself. Otherwise, you’ll never be able to understand yourself fully.”
n silently nuzzles her face into Takashi’s chest, refusing to contend. Because he is from Japan, Hà Nội is far enough for him, but it’s not far enough for her. Takashi’s experience isn’t hers. When she was in Núi Xẻ, n naively believed that all women would have to get married and birth children after suffering painful sex and a husband’s violent abuses. Only when she left Núi Xẻ did she realize that women deserve to be loved and cherished. She came to understand that sex satisfies both one’s physical instincts and one’s soul. Women can have children without entangling themselves in a marriage. One’s life can always be improved if one is daring enough to abandon one’s comfort zones.
n still intends to find a husband for herself. Or so she tells herself. After staying with Takashi for the five days of Tết, n leaves. But she plans to introduce another woman to him—someone who can explore herself with him.
She then spends a steamy night with an Indian businessman seven years her junior who considers sexual intimacy to be a religious ritual. It’s then n realizes that she has been wrong from the start. The ideal man in Thanh’s fantasy, or the man young women imagine meeting and marrying, doesn’t exist. That’s why Thanh had never been able to describe an ideal man vividly.
During their carnal ritual, n was able to achieve an until-then unknown ethereal passion and satisfaction only because she made the Indian man understand and attend to what she wanted. n thus came to the epiphany that the perfect man is one she must make for herself.
The Haunted Garden:
Trầm Hương
I called and called outside the gray wooden gate beneath a trellis overflowing with buttercups. Nobody answered. A chain dangled on the unlocked gate. I left my suitcase on the ground. A text scrawled across the gate’s walls read The Haunted Garden. The door cracked open, the face of a young woman poked out, dazed, as she approached the gate.
“Is Hằng home?” I asked.
At first the girl said nothing and only stared at me. Then she likely didn’t see me as threatening and replied timidly, “Hằng is still at the brick factory. She hasn’t come home yet.” She then slammed the gate.
“Come on! Hằng and I have an appointment today,” I cried out. “I’m Phương and I’ve come to help design this garden.”
She shook her head and then jumped up and down like a kid.
“Ah! Ms. Phương. Hằng told me about you, but I forgot. Come on in!”
The girl opened the gate and greeted me with a strange hospitality.
The gate opened onto a poetic scene. A concrete bridge spanned a canal that flowed through the front of the garden between the north and south walls. I was mesmerized by the glamour of this haunted garden. Apricot trees lined the two main paths. Spring was already over but yellow flowers continued to blossom gorgeously in the tropical sunlight. Pure white grapefruit blossoms emitted sweet fragrance. Bees and butterflies hovered in the tranquil, serene slice of nature. The girl who answered the gate carried my suitcase in for me.
I was about to turn toward a two-story, red-tiled house, with its ostentatious architecture, but the girl stopped me.
“Not that house. Yours is on this side. Hằng told me to take you to the retreat.”
I followed her.
Maybe she could read my mind. She scratched her head with embarrassment and said, “The main house. . . . Hằng has never received guests there before.”
“So who lives there?”
“Hằng and Tuấn.”
“Hằng isn’t married yet, is she?” I asked, full of shock.
“Well, she has never been married,” the girl explained but seemed embarrassed. “Tuấn is her brother.”
Realizing her careless disclosure, the girl fell silent. She was demure and passive as we walked down the path. I followed her, looking at the plants in the garden while my thoughts went wild. Ripe grapefruit swayed on branches on either side of us, which no one had bothered to pick. The girl stopped at the southwest corner of the garden beside two clear creeks. Amid yellow bamboo and bodhi trees, a lotus pond, and a cluster of flowers, I noticed a humble dwelling.
Why am I here in this utterly deadly, desolate place? I asked myself, resentful of the owner of the garden. But when I climbed the steps and entered the retreat, I felt calm and peaceful. All my anger evaporated as I immersed myself in the serene atmosphere. It was neat and simply decorated inside: a mattress spread on a glossy black ebony floor, a desk, and a bookshelf. I suddenly didn’t want to go anywhere else.
The girl helped me arrange the furniture.
“Aunt Hằng built this retreat for Uncle Tuấn to come stay and practice meditation,” she said. “Since he left, she’s told me to clean it as if he were still around.”
Her words made me curious about the relationship between Tuấn and Hằng.
“Is he Hằng’s younger brother? Why does he practice Buddhism?”
“After Hằng’s older sister suffered burns and died, Hằng didn’t get married but stayed to raise her six nieces and nephews and support her brother, Tuấn, as he finished his studies,” the girl hesitated and then said. “After Tuấn finished college, he became a monk in a temple and didn’t return home. Hằng was depressed and she kept looking for Tuấn wherever he went to receive alms. But whenever they saw each other, Tuấn ignored her. She was devastated.”
The girl’s naiveté and honesty were so attractive. Without her, I never would be able to understand the secret behind the mossy gray gate.
“Hằng is pretty, so why did she stay single?”
“What a question! How could she get married and support her mother, brother, nieces, and nephews? She’s stayed here with Tuấn.”
The girl pouted, shrugged her shoulders, and began to sulk.
“Our neighbors envy Hằng for her prosperous business and talk behind her back a lot. They said a brother-in-law and a wife’s sister only live under the same roof if they’re having an affair. They urged me to leave. They said Hằng was wicked and the whole family was cursed. But that’s not true. She loves me like a family member.”
“What is your relationship with Hằng?”
“I’m an orphan. My name is Bí and I had scabies. She adopted me and raised me. I’m grateful for that, and I’ll live with her until I die.”
“She’s so kindhearted and generous. So why do people say she is evil?”
The girl shook her head, frustrated.
“People hate her, so they spread that rumor. Please don’t ask further. Hằng would scold me if I said anything more.”
She quickly walked away, disappearing into the bushes.
“Spooky house,” I murmured, looking around exhausted. I had to arrange everything in the retreat. After bathing and changing into my pajamas, I felt relieved. Leaning back on the mattress, I wanted to read something. Bí suddenly returned, bringing a platter of fruits.
“Are there any books for me to read and forget my boredom?” I asked.
“Yes, Tuấn has a lot of books about Buddhism,” Bí frowned before responding. “Hằng stores them in a closet to keep them safe from insatiable moths. Let me see.”
Bí ran toward the big house. Moments later she returned with a black, musty notebook in her hand.
“Hằng used to read this book frequently, keeping it hidden the way a cat hides its shit. It must be a good one!”
Sheesh, Bí couldn’t even differentiate between books and notebooks! Reluctantly, I took it and casually flipped through it—Diary of the Haunted Garden. I sprang up. This was Hằng’s diary! She wrote in lofty but assertive handwriting that drew me in.
. . . Karma and retribution? I heard this phrase uttered briefly when I was a kid. My family was well off and employed many servants. My mother was beautiful, diligent, and kindhearted, but austere. One day, she caught one of my father’s sisters stealing ten silk sheets. Mom didn’t care about losing the silk but hated the act of stealing. She was furious and whipped the woman ten times in front of the servants. The relative was so ashamed that she committed suicide and left a curse that someone from each generation in my family would burn to death. I don’t believe it, but that curse keeps haunting my sisters. They continued to pray about it, but I forgot the curse when I went to school. My older sister had been married for a long time. My brother-in-law is a handsome, rich, and wise businessman. Thanks to my sister and her husband, my family continued to live a comfortable life even when experiencing economic calamities. My sister gave birth to seven children—one died, six survived. My sister carried the burden of the entire family. She contentedly accepted that mission.
Bí suddenly became upset.
“I smuggled this book from Hằng’s room. Please take care of it after you finish reading it. Don’t get me in trouble!”
“I’ll be careful. She will never know,” I said softly, fearing that Bí might take the diary back.
To assure Bí, I gave her a hair clip with a beautiful white bow. Bí was so thrilled that she left right away.
The curse became obvious. Oh gosh! Why it was my sister and not someone else. Her death was hard to believe. It seemed like there was some invisible hand that arranged all this. It happened when she was making a fire to cook dinner for my brother-in-law and the children. Did she mistake the fuel tank for the kerosene because she was distracted? The fire was inevitable. Her nylon clothes were so flammable. She died a tragic death. During the funeral, looking at her children, standing by their mother’s coffin, wearing standard white mourning headbands with tears streaming down their faces, I felt like someone was rubbing salt into my intestines. My brother-in-law was still young. What future would my nieces and nephews have? What if he remarried a selfish, evil wife? Where would our properties end up? What would our future be like? Countless questions tormented my heart. I had just finished my undergraduate studies and wanted simply to enjoy my life. But misfortune fell on our family. I loved my nieces and nephews. No, from now on, I would replace my sister by raising them. I would protect our family’s properties and not lose anything to anyone. And I would bravely face all venomous rumors. What else could I do when the responsibility I shouldered was so enormous?
So, I had already opened the gate of this haunted garden. The next pages made me admire Hằng enormously. Who could imagine that beneath the woman’s fragile, glamorous, peaceful façade, an immense power lurked. I was drawn to her beauty the first moment we met. It was the same with this wild, mysterious garden. It turned out this splendid, verdant space had a tumultuous history.
Then a day came when I didn’t want to be made into a shadow by some man. I have shouldered. . . . Over the past ten years, my nieces and nephews have grown up. The first three have become doctors, the next two are engineers, and the last one is going abroad to pursue further studies. Only Tuấn remains. My brother-in-law doesn’t want to get married. He is obsessed with the curse. After finishing his undergraduate studies, Tuấn left our house for the temple. Seeing him commit himself to an arduous life breaks my heart. I’m also terrified of the curse. But what can we do? How can I leave my children for the temple? No, I have to make a living, I have no other choices. I’m indifferent to the rumors, indifferent to those who say I am some selfish hoarder. Indifferent. It’s time to make a living on my own. My brother-in-law didn’t know my plan. Leaving the three-story house downtown, I went looking for a good piece of land. The soil here is fertile but desolate. I bought a few acres. Broken roads. We would have to cross several canals to reach it. I was wearing a silk outfit. Who cares? I waded through the stagnant canals. Woods rife with snakes and weeds. Then I looked at my hands. I told myself, Hằng, you can’t give up. And I bent down, uprooted a tuft of grass. I will turn this forest into a well-trimmed, spectacular garden. I will let Tuấn inherit it. He is more than forty years old. C’mon, Hằng, stop day-dreaming. Don’t you already have six grown-up children? Tuấn, where are you now? If only you were here, I would be much more bold . . .
