Chapter 4 — Three Years Waiting for a Call

Tri Nghien suddenly bent down, as if he was pressed by something and couldn't breathe. At this time, the doorbell rang. Lam Van Dao stood outside the door, carrying breakfast in his hand. She saw Tri Nghien's pale face and was stunned for a moment. "Tri Nghien, what's wrong with you?" "Where is An Ninh?" Tri Nghien didn't say anything. Lam Van Dao walked in and saw the divorce agreement on the dining table, his face changed slightly. She quickly softened her voice and said: "Tieu Ninh is just angry." "She loves you so much, she won't really go anywhere." This sentence fell, Tri Nghien finally raised his head to look at her. His voice was very hoarse. "Last night Tieu Ninh almost had an accident." Lam Van Dao was stunned. Tri Nghien looked at her, the bottom of her eyes turning a little red. "She sent me a text message asking for help." "But I thought she was lying." Lam Van Dao opened her lips, as if wanting to explain. "I don't know if it's true." "I just thought..." Tri Nghien suddenly interrupted her. "Lam Van Dao." "Don't come again in the future." Lam Van Dao's face turned white. "Do you blame me?" "Tri Nghien, it's not you forcing me to pretend to be mute." "It's you." I don't want to talk to her." "It's also me who is willing to tell you everything." Tri Nghien's whole body stiffened. It was like he was finally nailed to the spot by this sentence. That's right. No one forced him. Lam Van Dao's eye sockets also turned red. "But she naturally talks a lot." "Every day she says those small things, don't you also feel annoyed?" "Now that she's gone, who do you regret showing?" Tri Nghien didn't look at her anymore. Just said in a low voice: "Get lost." Lam Van Dao stiffened for a long time, then finally turned and left. After the door closed, the house was quiet once again. Tri Nghien returned to the office. The trash bag is still placed there. He squatted down, picked up each pronunciation card, each sign book, and each practice notebook. At the bottom is a very thick rehabilitation diary. The cover is old and worn. The first page reads: "Today Tri Nghien made a very soft sound for the first time." "Even though it's not words, it's already very good." The second page reads: "Tri Nghien seems a bit tired today." "Am I too hasty?" "Tomorrow practice less than ten minutes." Flip later. Every page is me. My words, my patience, my expectations. "Teach him to read An Ninh today." "He didn't make a sound, but looked at me for a long time." "If one day Tri Nghien learns to speak, I hope the first sentence he calls my name." Tri Nghien looked at that line, tears suddenly falling. He continued to flip backwards. The last page is newly written. The handwriting was much lighter than before, as if the writer no longer had any strength. "What a pity." "The person he called was Van Dao." Tri Nghien stared at those two lines of text, and finally couldn't control it anymore, kneeling among the pronunciation cards all over the ground. He called my name over and over again. The voice became more and more hoarse. But no one in the house responded to him anymore. Before, I spent three years waiting for him to talk. Now he finally opened his mouth. But no one wanted to listen anymore. 7I went to a coastal city in the South. There is no one here who knows Tri Nghien. No one knows, I was married to a husband who couldn't speak. Then I found a job at a nearby flower shop. Every day, change the water for flowers, prune branches and leaves, and occasionally help guests wrap a bouquet of flowers. One afternoon, I held a bunch of auspicious flowers and stood in front of the store. The afternoon sun falls on the beach, dyeing half the street orange. The shop owner smiled and asked me: "Is it beautiful?" I looked at the horizon and suddenly said softly: "Very beautiful." "Like carbonated orange juice." After saying that, I was also a little stunned. In the past, I always wanted to say these words to Tri

Listen first. But now, when I say it out loud, I realize that these words do not have to be said to anyone. Tell it to the evening wind. Tell yourself. Also very good. I began to slowly get used to my new life. In the morning, go to the beach to buy a cup of hot coffee. Lunch at the flower shop drying in the sun. Evening alone walking along the beach. Occasionally when I meet familiar neighbors, they will smile and greet me. "Tieu Ninh, what new flowers do you have in the flower shop today?" I will answer: "Auspicious." "There is also a bouquet of small white roses." A few days later, I just came out of the flower shop and saw Tri Nghien at the corner of the street. He lost a lot of weight. The black jacket was blown a bit messy by the sea breeze. There was a green beard on his chin, and his eyes were full of red blood. The moment he saw me, he seemed to finally come back to life. "Tieu Ninh." His voice was hoarse and trembling. I stopped walking and looked at him. This was the voice I had been waiting for for three years. At that time I thought many times. If one day he actually opens his mouth to call my name, I will definitely cry until I lose face. Will tell him that I can finally wait. But now, I really hear it. Inside I was very calm. It's like hearing a stranger on the side of the road call the wrong person.