No one is with me tonight

Hello, my name is Vu Thi Nga. At the time of writing, I am 35 years old and single, or to put it more elegantly, unmarried. Can I find myself a man? Yes, it’s possible. But I haven’t tried to get anyone else to pay attention to me. Long gone are the days when men would douse themselves in classic cologne and try to impress by wearing sunglasses. But now, effort in relationships is rarely one-sided; it comes from both sides, and men have turned to using more neutral fragrances. That’s what I’m thinking as I get dressed and step out of this empty house. It’s big, but dust is a more frequent visitor than I am. This house also has one peculiarity: there is no altar. I think I gave up worshiping 16 years ago. I simply don’t have much faith in it anymore, and going to the temple on major holidays is enough for me. Many people initially tried to stop me, advising me against it. In their eyes, my actions were blasphemous and shameful. I don’t blame them because, after all, they weren’t wrong, and I shouldn’t have discarded traditions so quickly. But not worshipping anymore didn’t change anything. When the investment fund I put money into increased by 3.7%, it could be called luck. When my car got scratched on the way to the beach because a motorcycle bumped into it, that could be called bad luck. Ultimately, it’s just a way of describing things. Our society operates like an assembly line, where one person’s actions affect another, making the variables in life countless and unpredictable. But it’s not too countless and can also be predicted. This happens because, whether in the past or present, people always have a certain way of perceiving things and always surround themselves with community rules and standards related to the community or the individual. This creates a somewhat fixed and rule-like uncertainty in life. But we humans love to label, imagine, and fantasize about things in nature. Fate, luck, misfortune, and supreme beings beyond human boundaries are just a few of the things we conjure up.

As my wandering thoughts came to an end, the clock struck 2:00 a.m. I opened the door, got into my car, gently started the engine, and drove away. The streets were deserted. All the lights I saw were streetlights, traffic lights, advertising signs, the lasers of speed cameras, and the lights lining the overpass. The further I drove, the darker the color of the sidewalk tiles became, and I could see a tea stall tarp fluttering in the wind ahead, along with a few plastic bags ready to grab my windshield. Slowly slowing down and turning onto a small road, I stopped in front of the wall of a villa that had once been very familiar. Although the house looked a bit mossy and resembled several children’s building blocks stacked on top of each other, it was very large overall. Inside that house was the answer I had been searching for over many years. I turned on my phone, found my contacts, selected the notes section, and clicked on someone’s profile picture. The latest message in the conversation was from me: “So, I’ll come over to your place on the 21st.” I added another line: “Can you open the door for me?” A short while later, I saw a figure slowly approaching. Dinh opened the door for me and suddenly joked, “You’re still as beautiful as ever, aren’t you?” “And you always invite me into your house wearing that blue shirt.” We walked down to his basement, where he kept a bar he was always proud of, empty of customers. This wasn’t a family-style bar you’d find in someone’s kitchen; it was a real bar with mixing tools, a stainless steel counter, teak wood bar stools, and padded high chairs. The basement was heavily panelled with wood, with the lower third alternating between oak and walnut, while the rest was painted white and covered with green wallpaper. The kind he loved.

He handed me a warm glass and said, “How many years has it been since we parted ways?” “I think it’s been ten years,” I replied. “I really didn’t think time would pass so quickly.” “It’s understandable, everyone says that when they start to grow old,” I added. “I think we’ve reached the age where every time we wash the dishes, we start reminiscing about the past while playing old songs.” “You’re describing how you do it and giving examples,” he commented astutely. “How did you know?” “We’ve known each other for years. I’m no stranger to you using yourself as an example for your own opinions. It’s easy to figure you out.” “You’ve never told me that before.” He explained gently, “The thing is, everything I do has a reason. I was afraid you’d feel offended, so I didn’t say anything.” The man no longer hid his fatigue. He looked into my eyes, twirling his cup as he explained, “It’s the same with other things I do. To be honest, I don’t care about the things you care about, and you don’t care about mine. We are two individuals with different interests, and I know that. I tried to listen with the expectation that you would do the same, but you didn’t make any effort to respect the things I care about.” Looking back now, it’s true that I had a relationship that exceeded my expectations. I had an attractive girlfriend, dates full of silly jokes and drives together, and we slept together, but it wasn’t enough. We loved each other for four years, a relationship long enough for me to think about the future, but you just wanted us to laugh and joke through each day. You didn’t want a deeper, longer-term relationship, and I respected that, but I was 25 years old, Nga. Things like starting a family and fixing up a house haunted me to death, and that’s the law of life. That’s why I broke up with you. I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I would feel unfair to myself if I didn’t let go. ‘Do you have the answer you wanted?’ ‘Yes, I do,’ I quickly replied and stood up. The atmosphere in here was a bit tense; he must have felt awkward with me too. ‘Do you need me to walk you out?’ “No need,” I didn’t want to say much, I wanted to get out of there. My shoes tapped on the tile floor, and I was also tapping my head. I could figure out the reason why we let go of each other, I knew that. But I also knew why I wanted today to happen, who wouldn’t be greedy, right? I hadn’t really changed, I knew that. Everyone had gone too far ahead of me, and by the time I got there, they were already somewhere else.

I got back in the car and closed the door. I quickly started the engine and pulled myself out onto the dark street outside. He wasn’t wrong. No matter how hard I tried to make it sound like it was both our faults, I was always the one at fault. He must have been very disappointed in me when I left so abruptly. But facing my own mistakes was much harder than I thought. All I could do was send him two lines: “Thank you” and “I’m sorry.”

No one was with me tonight.