Chapter 8 — Behind the Door is Still Home

“Buy a house for my parents.”

I stared at that note. Look at that number. For me at that time, that was everything. It was all the money I had saved by riding the bus in the mornings to eat sandwiches, eating boxed lunches worth more than ten yuan in the afternoon, working overtime until past ten o'clock in the evening before taking the train home. Little by little, it adds up. I remember before transferring money, my mother hesitated many times on the phone, her voice tense as if she was trying to hold back something. Then dad picked up the phone, lowered his voice and said:

"Tri Dao, consider this money as if I borrowed it from you. I will keep it in mind."

At that time, I smiled and replied:

"Dad, don't say that. We're a family, our parents raised us for so many years, it's only natural for me to spend some money."

At that time I spoke very seriously. Very sure. Even a little proud. It's like I finally have the ability to be filial to my parents. Now that I think about it... That feeling of pride is truly ridiculous. It was my hand that gave someone else a knife. Then they took it and stabbed it back into my heart. I pulled up the transaction history section again. Stopped by the transfer tonight. Transfer amount: 6,000.00 yuan. Recipient: Trieu Que Lan. Message: Wishing you and your parents a happy new year. Two transfers. One time 60,000 yuan. One time 6,000 yuan. There is a three-year gap in between. Cleaned out my savings in one go. One time to wipe out my last bit of extra money this month. All for the so-called "family". But now, that "family" is planning to use the house they bought with their first money to push me out. Then I used the second amount of money I sent home to have a bustling reunion dinner... the only thing missing was me. They even criticized me for giving me too little, refusing to go home, and not understanding the situation. I turned off the banking app. Place the phone screen face down on the table. Then stood up, went to the window, and pulled the curtains open. Behind the cold glass is a heavy night with a few lonely lights in the distance. New Year's Eve has passed. It is now dawn on the first day. My new year started amid a pile of cold truths and bone-chilling cold. I didn't sleep almost the whole night. It wasn't until dawn that I curled up and fell asleep on the sofa for a while. Not dreaming at all. But my sleep is very fitful, as soon as there is a slight noise I immediately wake up. After seven o'clock in the morning, the phone vibrated again and again. Not a call. It's a series of WeChat notifications. Family group.

“Our House is Happy (5)”

Now when I look at that group's name, I feel extremely dazzling. I picked up the phone and opened it. There are more than ninety-nine unread messages. The latest news is a New Year greeting video sent by Tri Tinh. I click open. The frame is a bit shaky, filming the living room of a new house in the countryside. Doan Doan wore a bright red cotton shirt, his hair tied in two small buns, and was held in Chu Hao's arms, clasping his hands in front of the camera. With a young voice, you can tell you've memorized it before:

"Happy New Year, Grandparents! Happy New Year, Auntie! Happy New Year to everyone!"

Behind the sofa, my parents wore new traditional clothes, smiled a bit awkwardly but their eyes were really happy. Tri Tinh stood outside the frame and smiled and said:

"Mom and Dad, smile brightly! Doan Doan, read it again!"

Doan Doan obediently repeated the same thing. The video ends. Immediately below appeared a series of messages.

"🎆🎆 Wishing my parents and sister a happy new year! Wishing you both good health Well, everything goes well, I hope you make a lot of money in the new year! ❤”

“Happy New Year! I hope this year our family will have smooth sailing and prosperity!

“🙂 Doan Doan is so good. Wishing everyone a happy new year.”

“Happy New Year.”

A happy, harmonious scene. Warm, peaceful. Just like the atmosphere of a family chat group on the morning of the first day of the Chinese New Year. If it weren't for the phone call last night... Maybe I would have sent a few emojis, then replied something like "Doan Doan is so adorable", "Happy New Year, Mom and Dad". But now, looking at that string of happy words and icons on the screen, I only see cold streams crawling down my spine. It's all an act. Perform for each other. Each person stands in their correct position, creating a play called "reunion". And I became an absent supporting character. My name is still mentioned. Wishes are still sent to me. But my place, my room, the whole part that belongs to me in this house... is being silently erased, divided, rewritten. I even almost lost my qualifications to appear. Only the role of the audience remains. An unjust audience member spent his own money to buy a ticket and was almost kicked out of the theater. My finger stopped above the chat box. In the group, Chu Hao @ me again.

“@Miss Tri Dao, have a happy new year! Thank you for your super big lucky money 😏 When you get home, I'll cook you a whole table of delicious food! 🤤”

Tri Tinh also immediately @ followed:

“Sister, are you awake yet? Happy New Year!”

My mother also mentioned my name:

“Tri Dao, happy new year, have you eaten anything this morning?”

How thoughtful. How caring.