Chapter 5 — There's No More Room For You

I called a car to go 40 minutes to the airport. He sat and drank coffee with me in the waiting room for exactly 15 minutes, listening to three calls from Chu Au Vi. Every time he answered the phone, he turned aside, lowered his voice, and became gentle as if he had turned into a different person. Then he stood up and told me it was time to board the plane. He patted my shoulder and told me to be careful on the road. I sat on the high-speed subway train coming home from the airport, crying all the way. The driver looked at me in the rearview mirror a few times, then finally gave me a bag of tissues without saying a word. I kept that bag of tissues for a long time. Because that was the only bit of goodwill I received from a stranger during that time. I started cleaning from the mysterious entrance. In the shoe cabinet there is a pair of dark gray men's sandals, only worn once. Throw it in a trash bag. In the bathroom there is a dark gray toothbrush, a men's razor, and a bottle of aftershave rose water he often uses. Throw it in a trash bag. The dark gray pillow on the living room sofa is something he often uses when he comes over. Throw it in a trash bag. The photo we took together on the nightstand was taken at the riverbank four years ago. That's the photo I begged for a long time before he agreed to take it. He said he doesn't like taking pictures, his face is nothing to take pictures of. In the photo, he looks straight into the camera, his face expressionless. I looked at him, eyes full of stars. I looked at that photo for a long time. Then remove the frame, take out the photo, and tear it in half. The half with his face, stuffed into a trash bag. I put the other half in the deepest drawer. That night, Chu Au Vi posted a status line. *There are people who never grow up, turning all the good intentions of others into evil. Being related to this type of person means you owe him a debt in your past life.* The accompanying photo is a photo of her and Tham Do Chu together. Two people sat in a Japanese restaurant, the table was full of food. The man's long fingers are picking up a piece of salmon for the woman. In the comments section, our mutual friends asked what was going on. Chu Au Vi answered with two words: "Family matters." Add a sigh icon. I gave her a like. Three seconds later, Tham Do Chu's phone call came. His voice sounded a bit secretive, as if he was trying to suppress something.
“Trinh Yeu, have you really returned the wedding dress?”
"Paid."
“Where is that watch?”
“Sold.”
The other end of the line was silent for a long time. When he opened his mouth again, his tone had changed. It was no longer the questioning and denial like before, but a more complex emotion, one that perhaps even he couldn't express clearly.
“Trinh Yeu, that's what my mother left me.”
“Not anymore.”
“…What happened to you.” He asked this question very quietly, as if he was asking a problem that he really couldn't think of. "You weren't like this before. You were never like this before."
“How?”
“Excellent love.”
He was on the other end of the line waiting for my answer. I'm also waiting for my own answer. Trinh Yeu of the past will soften at this time. She will say “I'm just so sad”, will say “Do you know how long I've been waiting for you”, will say “Can you keep an eye on me a little more”. Then he will say "I know", say "I will pay attention later", say "Don't make trouble anymore". The two of them each took a step back, as if nothing had happened. Months continue to pass. The vacancy continues
leave. But that empty space soon grew mossy, covered with dust, and turned into a time bomb. Sooner or later it will explode. Just today, it really exploded.
“Tham Do Chu,” I said, “Do you still remember my habits?”
“What habit?”
"Eat meals, ride cars, watch movies. Always leave an empty seat next to you."
He did not speak.
"That empty space, I've been waiting for you for four years. Now I don't have to wait anymore. You can go wherever you want. I've cleared that position."