Chapter 3: The Last Drop
My shift ends.
It is almost eleven at night.
I get on the last train back to the dorm.
It is not crowded.
Most of them are people who have just finished a day of work.
Someone is dozing off.
Someone is still staring into a phone screen.
Someone is quietly looking out the window.
Everyone has somewhere to go back to.
I stand by the door.
The train slowly pulls away.
At one station.
A mother steps on holding the hand of a boy about six years old.
He is carrying a school bag almost half his size.
Probably just out of an extra class.
He tugs at his mother's hand.
"Mom."
"Hm?"
"When I grow up, will I have to go to work?"
The mother smiles.
"Of course."
"Everyone has to work when they grow up."
"You work, and then you earn money."
"You earn money, and then you buy a house."
"You get married."
"You have children."
"You raise them."
"And then you grow old."
"It is the same for everyone's child."
The boy is quiet for a few seconds.
"And after having children, then what, Mom?"
The mother strokes his head.
"Then your child grows up too."
"That is what life is."
He nods.
"So I have to study hard, right?"
"Right."
"If you do not study hard, life will be very hard."
"Okay."
The conversation ends.
The mother was not wrong.
Not in a single sentence.
Perhaps…
That is exactly what frightens me most.
I get off the train.
It is still raining.
Taipei at night is beautiful.
Street lights reflected on the wet ground.
Cars still lined up one after another.
People are still living.
The world is still running.
Just like yesterday.
And it will be the same tomorrow.
I suddenly think back over my own life.
I had a very beautiful childhood.
A small stretch of countryside in Vietnam.
We played đá gà.
Not with roosters.
One boy carries another on his back and they charge at each other.
Whoever falls first loses.
I was small.
So a friend always carried me.
He never once let me fall.
We played ô ăn quan.
But the rules where I lived were different.
Each square was a piece of land.
Whoever stood inside a square could not cross the line.
To catch the other side, you had to run very fast.
Some days we ran until it was pitch dark.
Got scolded at home.
And played again the next day.
When we had nothing to do, we fought the class next door.
After the fight.
The next day we played football together.
Nobody remembered what yesterday's fight was even about.
All we knew was that it was fun.
We never thought about consequences.
I am the youngest child.
Whatever was best.
My parents always saved it for me.
Only after I grew up.
Did I understand.
It was not because my family had a lot.
It was because they always took the smaller share.
I have been betrayed before.
A group of friends asked me to invest.
It was every bit of money I had saved over many years.
I believed them.
Then they disappeared.
Afterwards.
My boss just looked at me and laughed.
"Even you got scammed?"
Yeah.
I did not see it coming either.
Someone who always thought he was clear-headed enough.
Losing because he trusted.
But life has never treated me unfairly either.
I once won a few hundred yuan.
A stranger once paid for my meal.
Someone once gave me a gift on a completely ordinary day.
There are good people.
They have always been there.
If there really is such a thing as karma.
Or as in Muôn Kiếp Nhân Sinh.
Every person has already lived through countless lives.
Then…
Perhaps I too have been many people.
Kind before.
Selfish before.
I have helped others.
I have also cursed at people.
Fought.
Wanted to win at any cost.
A person is never only one side.
Neither am I.
Looking back over more than twenty years.
I do not see myself as unfortunate.
I had a childhood worth remembering.
A family that loved me.
Good friends.
People who betrayed me.
Luck.
Loss.
If I had to score it.
My life is probably a seven or an eight out of ten.
Not bad.
Honestly, not bad at all.
Back in my room.
I open my laptop.
My CV is still there on the screen.
The grades are not bad.
Some part-time work experience.
Vietnamese.
English.
Chinese.
If I keep going.
I will probably find a decent job.
Then in a few years.
The pay will be higher.
Buy a small apartment.
Get married.
Have a child.
Take the child to school.
And one day.
My child will ask me too.
"Dad."
"When I grow up, will I have to go to work?"
I will smile.
And answer exactly like the mother on the train tonight.
"Yes."
"Everyone ends up that way."
And then it hits me.
What wears me out has never been being poor.
Not being betrayed.
Not being alone.
It is that…
I have already seen the end point of my own life.
And I no longer look forward to anything on the road that leads there.
People always say.
You have to keep living.
To repay your parents.
To build a family.
To have children.
To contribute.
To be happy.
But…
If all of it is only a loop.
Then has anyone ever stopped and asked.
Why do we have to keep going?
That night.
I called home.
My mother picked up very quickly.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"Yes, I have."
"Is school tiring these days?"
"About the same as always."
"Are you short on money?"
"No."
"Take care of your health, alright."
"Okay."
The call ended.
Everything was normal.
Nobody cried.
Nobody argued.
There was no goodbye.
It was just a call like hundreds of calls before it.
Perhaps…
My mother did not know either.
That it was the last time she would hear her son's voice.
I put the phone down.
And looked out at the rain beyond the window.
For the first time in many years.
I did not think about tomorrow.
I only thought.
Perhaps…
It is time for me to rest.