Chapter 7 — Lam Du Van

"That certificate, can you send it here for me?" "Maybe I won't come back again after winter break." After sending it, Ms. Truong replied with one word. "Okay." A moment later, she added another sentence: "You can contact me at any time." I took a screenshot of this message and saved it in a photo album. Place with a screenshot of your application submission. One photo is proof that I came out on my own. A photo is proof that someone remembers me. On the third day of the National Day holiday, my mother suddenly called. I thought she finally remembered me. "Du Van, do you know your sister's bank card password? She forgot, call to ask." I know. Her password is her and her boyfriend's anniversary. You don't remember yourself, I'll help you remember. "No seven one two zero two." "Okay, hang up." Eleven seconds. Not as long as last time, but the meaning is the same. When she needs me, she will call. When I don't need it, I don't exist. On the last day of vacation, I received an email. School writing contest, essay topic: “Where are you from.” The submission deadline is one month later. I opened the computer and put my hands on the keyboard. Then type one word at a time: “I come from a family of five people.” “But most of the time, that house has only four people.” The entry won first prize. The academy posted a notice on the bulletin board, with my name printed at the top. To Giac took a photo and sent it to the dormitory group: "Du Van, you're famous!" Hua Gia Ninh sent along a string of exclamation points. Dinh Nhien went directly to the cafeteria to order two more dishes, saying he wanted to celebrate. That night, the four of them sat on the dormitory floor eating fried chicken. Hua Gia Ninh turned on the bluetooth speaker and played music. "I read your article," To Giac suddenly said. "It's really well written." She didn't say "so pitiful" or "so pitiful." She said it was “very nice”. Dinh Nhien nibbled on the chicken leg and said awkwardly: "Can you post it? Post it so more people can see it." "Already sent it to the school newspaper." "That's not enough, send it to the outside magazine." Hua Gia Ninh next to him nodded like pounding garlic: "Yes, yes, send it to a big place." I smiled and said okay. In my mind, I could send that article anywhere. I just don't want people in that house to see it. Don't be afraid of them getting angry. It's because they're afraid that after reading it, they'll say something like, "You've thought too much, we won't treat you differently." That sentence is more annoying than not reading it. In mid-November, the article was selected for publication by a youth magazine. The editor called to confirm the pen name. "Use real name or pen name?" I thought for a moment. "Pen name. Called 'The person who used to stay on the fourth floor'." The editor was stunned for a moment and smiled: "Quite special." Fourth floor. On the day of admission, I alone carried my suitcase to the sixth floor, taking a break once on the fourth floor. That was the first time I stopped to breathe after arriving in this city. It was also the first time I felt tired and could rest. No need to carry it all in one breath. The day the article was posted, Ms. Truong sent me a reissue certificate. In the delivery box, there was also a piece of paper: "I have read your essay, it was written very well. The certificate is intact, this time there is no instant noodles." The last line: "Du Van, you deserve to be remembered." I placed the certificate on the desk, leaning next to the desk lamp. Brand new, name clearly printed on top. Lam Du Van, first prize in writing throughout the city. Every stroke of the letter is still there. No oil stains, no creases. In December, before the week of the final exam, my mother called again. "Are you coming home after winter break?" "If you're not coming back, I'll find a part-time job." "You're not coming home for Tet?" "Not coming home." The other end of the line was silent for a moment. "Du Van, I told you, don't always be angry with your family..." "I'm not angry." "So what will happen if you don't come home for Tet..." "Like a person living their own life." This time it's my turn.

She couldn't say anything. "Mom, give me that one thousand six." "... What one thousand six?" "My summer salary, I borrowed it to build a summer camp for my younger brother, for five months." "Ah that, recently the family spent a lot..." "How much did it cost everyone to go to Qingdao?" "That's the whole family traveling..." "The whole family." I repeated these three words. She didn't answer. "Okay," she said, "I'll send it to you later." Later. What she is best at is later. See the certificate later, two months. Pay later, the year hasn't come yet. Take care of me later, after eighteen years, it still hasn't started. "No need anymore," I said. "Mom, keep that one thousand six, consider me paying off the understanding fee that everyone has owed me over the years." The phone was hung up. This time I hung up first. On New Year's Eve, I was alone in the dormitory. The cafeteria was closed. I stayed at the dormitory to cook a packet of instant noodles and add an egg. There were a few sporadic fireworks outside the window, this city was also celebrating Tet. On the phone, the family group had a photo of a table of food. Five sets of bowls and chopsticks. One more set. Mother wrote: "On the night of the thirtieth day of Tet, I hope Du Van will return, leave a place for you." Below, she forwarded a hug sticker. My younger brother sent a message, "Come home quickly." First time calling me sister. I stared at that photo for a long time.