Chapter 10 — Dark Corner Outside the Light

"I don't hate my mother. I don't hate my father either. We're not bad people, we just never learned how to love our two children. We gave all the light to our sister because she was bright enough. But we forgot that people who aren't bright enough also need light." "It's not that I don't need it, it's that I always need it. Just because no one responded, I learned how to shine on my own." Mom cried so much that she couldn't speak. Dad spoke up: "Are you willing to... come home to visit your parents sometimes?" “You can go home.” All three of them looked up at me at the same time. "But I won't come back to be the second child to make everyone feel secure anymore. Mom and dad have to see me as Du Van. Not anyone's sister, not anyone's daughter, but a person named Du Van. If you can do it, I'll come back. If you can't, then that's it." She walked over and took something out of the cloth bag. It's a photo. Family photo. But not like the previous ones. This is a reprint of an old photo and has been edited. In the photo, which originally showed only three people, a human figure was clumsily added. She pointed to the picture of that person: "I asked someone to do it. The document is the photo on your high school student card. It was very ugly, but I wanted to let you see... you were supposed to be there." The shadow of the person being inserted is truly very ugly. The proportions weren't right, the lighting wasn't right either, it was like they belonged to two different worlds with the three people next to them. But she wanted me to appear there. Even if it's just a clumsy figure. I received the photo. Looked for a long time. “Very bad.” “I know.” “Your photo editing techniques need to improve.” “I know.” “Next time, don't ask someone to do it, you can do it yourself.” She was stunned for a second. Then she laughed. Laugh then cry again. I placed the photo on the table, blocking it next to the manuscript I was editing. That evening, the four of them cooked a meal together in the small kitchen of the rented apartment. Mom made stir-fried eggs with tomatoes and added too much salt. When Lam Tieu Man returned, smelling the food, she stood outside the door for a while. “Are your family members coming?” "YES." She looked at the three people in the living room, looked at the food on the table and said in a low voice: "Your egg stir-fry with tomatoes is better than your mother's." “I know.” The dining table is very small, barely able to seat four people. There were no banners, no trophies, nor anyone's name hanging in the hall. There were only four sets of bowls and chopsticks, four cups of water and a plate of fried eggs with salty tomatoes. Dad took a bite and then smacked his lips. “Next time just add a little salt.” “You can come in and stir-fry yourself.” Mother glared at him. She picked up a piece of egg and put it in my bowl. I looked at her. “It's okay if it's not Long Tinh cake.” She laughed: "I remember, cinnamon flower cake." This meal is not perfect. The food is salty, the rice is a bit hard, and the chopsticks are all disposable. But there are four people at the table. There is not one person left over, nor one person missing. The sky outside the window gradually darkened. Downstairs, someone was walking their dog, and from afar there was a very vague sound of music. I sit in my rightful place. Eat a bowl of rice that belongs to you. That's enough. Run out of.