It was his thought, perhaps a miscalculation of his naïve mind that he would be able to forget her easily. However, the memories of the recent years haunted him wherever he went and whatever he did. She was like a ghost lurking into every hole he enters and making him feel more miserable. It took more than a month that he could wake up without thinking of her and he can get into the in the night without the pills. After the break up, he did not meet his friends and did not join the social occasions. Grief for his loss was his best friend and he just wanted to be alone, wanted to work long hours and once he realizes that he cannot work more, he gets back home and sleeps. One pill was enough when he gets too tired in order to make him fall in sleep without losing much time. On Saturdays and Sundays, he needed two pills to kill the screaming woman in his mind. Walking on the crowded streets now, he keeps seeing her in every woman’s face. Her eyes, her nose, her eyebrows, her lips are somehow scattered around the city and given to many women so that the city will be carrying the memories for him even if he tries hard to leave everything to the absolute oblivion.
When he turned from the large street to the one of the small lanes going his house, he saw a man looking at the paintings inside a gallery. First he did not recognize him but somehow he felt the obligation to look at his face more carefully to make sure what he thought of who he was could be true. Yes, this was him! This was Kien, the boy with the nickname “Zapata” from the high school years. This was the only boy with high-pitch voice and strong political views in the classroom. Minh still remembered his counter-arguments echoing in the classroom, disagreeing with the social sciences teacher and trying to convince other students for the possibility of a better society. Minh never became a close friend to him as Kien is a sort of loser in his family’s eyes. His father used to say “Don’t talk with those who want to destroy the upper class. They do nothing but complain. We came to this point with hard work and determination, not with whining and crying. This country needs us so it can build up its industry and economy. No country needs people like him. They are parasites and you need to stay away from them to be a successful in this life.”
However Minh’s father was right or wrong, he felt a strong necessity to touch Kien’s shoulder and talk to him briefly about the high school years. After all, this could be a good chance to scatter the clouds in his head and think of the past which is much older than the recent cause of his absent mind. It was once in a life chance to commemorate the good old days and perhaps it could mitigate his pain even it is for a short time only. “Hey, Kien! Is this you?” he said as if he was not sure of it.
The man who was absorbed into the bright yellows of imitation of Van Gogh inside the gallery turned back slowly and stared at Minh’s face with bewildered eyes. His face slowly turned from a distant land to a familiar scene and showed the signs of remembering him. “I am sorry, I think I know you from somewhere but I couldn’t recognize. Were you one of my students in the past?” Minh grinned without losing his expectation. In fact, he liked Kien’s false guess as it unintentionally meant he looked very young. “It’s me! Minh from …. High School. We were in the same classroom for three years in junior high. Don’t you remember? I was the head of Business Club in high school and you were the president of … Mmmm, what was it? Writing? No no, it was Literature, right? Yeah, you used to invite poets to the school. Remember me now?” Minh still looked absentmindedly but this time his face seemed a bit more nonchalant. “I am sorry, I cannot recall you. I know your face and I am sure what you are saying is true. Yes, I was the president of Literature Club. It doesn’t matter anyway. We were in the same high school. When was it? 15 years ago? 16? Anyway, it is nice to see someone from the same high school after many years. How have you been? How is everything” Minh seemed pleased but the question at the end made him a bit worried. Should he just say “I am fine, everything is fine.” and leave it to the conversation on other things or should he give clues about his recent loss. “Everything is almost fine or almost everything is fine” he said without knowing what prompted such an ambiguous expression.
"Ha ha ha, such a nice answer! At least you are better than saying “nothing is fine.”.” Kien’s eyes sparkled, showing the sign of a small laughter without showing his teeth as if it would be a betrayal to his grief if he laughs loudly. Minh seemed slightly pleased with his cheerful response as it melted the iceberg of long years even though there was never a close friendship between them. He looked at the paintings first and then tried to see what is inside the shop. It was one of the many shops mushroomed in the city in recent years, selling the imitations of famous painters like Picasso, Van Gogh, Botero and Munch. Trying to catch Kien’s eyes, “So what are you doing here? Looking for a painting? You can find these imitations everywhere in the city. This gallery is not open yet.” Kien stared at his face suspiciously and said “I am not looking for a painting. I am looking for a painter.” Minh raised his eyebrows as if he understood what Kien meant. “A painter? Why?” Kien scanned Minh’s sluggish look and with a small smirk on his mouth, he said “Yes, a painter with one hand only. Her left hand is damaged. But it is a long story. If you have time for a breakfast, we can sit at a café and talk. How does it sound?” Minh was surprised by the offer. This was the same guy who just did not recognize him. Now he was inviting him to a breakfast. He raised his hand to see his watch but before he even looked at his wrist, he realized he left the watch in the office. “Yes” he said without thinking once more. “Why not? I can go to work a bit late. I worked all night anyway”
In the café which is located on the pavement of a busy street, right across the art gallery, they sat on small chairs and asked for two banh mi op la with coffees. Kien paid extra attention to face towards the street so that he can see if anyone opens the gallery. Their conversation did not go too far from their recent pain so all they talked about the heavy feeling of loneliness they feel after the break up. Both agreed on the difficulty of getting used to the absence of the voice of the one who used to be around all the time. Then Kien told his story of the book. How he paid a deposit for Gorki’s book before going to Hanoi but how the bookseller sold the book to a young girl before he got back to Saigon. He explained why he needed the book so desperately and how much he wants to have it back if it is possible. This explained why he was waiting in front of the art gallery, pretending he is interested in Picasso’s cubism or Botero’s fat asses. When Minh asked what he plans to find the book, Kien said “I will check all the art galleries in this city, including the photo shops and T-shirt designers to find the book. This is the only thing I care about now. I need that book because somehow I convinced myself that it is the only valuable thing which can bring my wife back.” Minh stayed silent for a few seconds, hiding his doubt behind his stagnant eyes. While finishing their first coffee, they were talking about the benefits of free trade and consumerism for Vietnam.
They ordered another coffee but before the coffees arrived, Kien stood up and ran to the art gallery like a rabbit chased by a fox. Minh paid the bill and walked after him but before he arrived to the door, Kien left the gallery with an empty face. “She is not the one who bought the book. I saw the young girl entered to the gallery so I thought she might be the one. But she is not! Damn it! This is 9th gallery so far. How many more I will need to check!” Minh wanted to console him although he did not know how to do it, he just patted on his shoulder and said “Let me walk with you for a while. Maybe when we both look for it, we can find it quicker. We can talk while searching so time can pass fast. I won’t go to work today! Fuck it! I will call them and say I feel sick. Having a broken heart is a sickness, isn’t it?” Kien laughed loudly this time without worrying about the possible betrayal to his heart. “Although we don’t agree on the economic policies of our government, somehow I like your way of ignoring the work. If it is ok for you, I don’t mind walking with you and searching for the book. Besides, we are the ones who are left behind by their loves so this makes us true brothers. Poor victims of love! We are all equal in front of God and the ones who broke our hearts. Ha ha ha!”
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