When We Met Again

[dhmt3]

Co^ Bamboo, here's my homework.


It was a fine day. The afternoon sun was still hanging on the pine trees. The air was cool. The wind was breezing. And there was an Asian girl standing on the walkway, looking into an ice cream shop near the town center of Los Gatos. Without a doubt, I knew it was she. I walked toward her from across the park, while admiring at the sunlight reflecting off her hair. There she was. Her gesture, her lonely figure, and her wondering eyes, reflecting through the glass window, have never changed after years apart.

When I reached her, she slowly turned around. There were no surprises on her face as if she has seen me a thousand times. There was no searching for familiarity, or even a tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows. Her eyes were still shining, and her half smile has never before been so beautiful. We looked at each other quietly for what seems to be ages. Then she moved closer to me while slightly turning her head to the side. Her body leaned against mine. I squeezed her tightly in my arms. My heart beat like it never did before, and I could hear hers, beating loudly as though the whole world was swirling quietly in a slow motion, while cars on the street were noiselessly passing by…

When the swirling slowed down and the surrounding noises started to return, she said softly through her breath, “I miss you.” I smiled, thinking in my head, “I miss you.”

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[dhmt3]

Co^ Bamboo, here's another one.


That’s it. I’m all messed up. I don’t know what to do now. My mom said that in a relationship, the girl usually suffered. I didn’t believe her. “Why should I?” I thought. I was a mature young woman. College was few years ago, and I didn’t even fall for the temptations by then. Beside, I am pretty … OK, cute, then. I am no Scarlet in Gone With the Wind, but I was told a thousand times that I was the cutest little thing. But now, gosh, how messy I’ve become! Things started when I agreed to meet him. “Just for a coffee,” he said. All right, it was a harmless coffee. What could he do? Pour coffee on me? Hah. “There is a Starbuck inside Barnes & Nobles,” I told him, “shall we meet at 11?” “It’s closed by then,” he said. “In the morning, you silly you,” I snickered.

So, coffee it was. We met at the bookstore, among thousands other people. I felt as safe as one could feel. I’ve never met him before. Did I tell you that? OK, I didn’t. It started when I knew him as DHMT3, and I was PMF. Not much happened then. It was just “Hey you”, “haha” or “hihi”. After a while, it seemed that he got my jokes, and I got his, so we communicated a bit more to each other. Then came PM, added audio, shared pictures … and so on for few months. Last week, he suggested that we should meet. “Too far,” I said. “Nah, it’s only couple hours of driving,” he brushed it off. He even volunteered to drive all the way to my town instead of meeting half way. So there we were, at Barnes and Nobles. Can you imagine that?

Coffee wasn’t too bad, actually. We talked a lot. He smiled a lot. “Cute guy,” I thought, and I also thought that I really liked him. “How about getting some air?” he suggested. So we went to the Riverside Park. How romantic, he and I. We sat on a bench, under a big Oak tree, eating hot dog, and watching riverboats passing by. And we talked again. It seemed like we would never run out of things to tell each other, despite all those hours that we spent on Paltalk chatting before.

The sun was slowly coming down behind us. Our shadows were getting longer and longer, then disappeared when the sun started to hide behind the trees. The park lights were on one by one. And then it happened.

I told him that it was dark, and it would be really late when he'd get home. So we started walking through the park toward his car. I didn’t remember what happened then, but when I came to my sense, we were kissing. I wanted to push him out, but I couldn’t. I just hugged him tighter. When we broke the kiss, oh man, I was out of breath. My face was so hot. I bet it was redder than the sun set on a river. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t dare to look at him. So he held my hand, and we walked back to the car. We didn’t talk anymore for the rest of the drive back to Barnes and Nobles. We just held hand. We kept holding hand when he walked me to my car. I squeezed his hand and ducked in quickly. “Bye,” I said. “See you on Paltalk,” he said, showing off his cutest smile. I turned on the engine, smiled, gave a little wave, and drove off into the night.

[dhmt3]

Cô Bamboo, this is not a real comparative essay, but ...

--- o0o ---

“To be or not to be,” Shakespeare may have asked himself such question, but the question I was asking myself was not exactly the same. It might go like, “To Bún Bò Huế An Nam, or to Phở Hà.”

“Mountain View - Tuesday,” I noted in my diary, “On the way to the parking lot from my office, I kept wondering what I should have for supper. Though the sun was still shining, the time was quite late. And I hated to go to a restaurant all by myself. I’ve been doing that for years, with a few exceptions, and I was doing it now. There has always been a conflict in my head of where I should go for supper. I dreaded the task of having to make the decision. I was highly confused.”

Driving south on highway 101, my head was busting with choices. Bún bò sounds good. I couldn’t wait to squeeze the lemon juice into the soup. I could add some mints, bean sprout, sliced banana blossom, and a bit more hot sauce, then stir up the hot red bowl of noodle soup while smelling the mixture of mints, lemon grass and hot peppers. Ooh, how I loved the heavenly aroma with a faint scent of sweet taste of the best bún bò Huế in San Jose.

But Phở – Yes, the all time favorite Vietnamese specialty. Phở – How could one say no to Phở? Oh, lovely Phở – The name that exists in every Vietnamese heart from all over the world. And the smell of Phở. Yes, the aroma. The aroma of mints, onions, and star seeds, along with the indescribable mysterious aroma that could drive me into insanity. I couldn’t think of anything that could beat the tasty bowl of Phở. Added a bit of hot sauce in the soup, Phở becomes the dream and the hope of every lonely Vietnamese who lives in small towns in The United State of America.

I got to the Story Road exit. What to do? Which one to go to? I was passing the first traffic light … then the second traffic light. I was leading a parade of cars in my lane at five miles per hour on a busy 4 lane road. My head was exploding. What to do? I was then passing the third traffic light … then the fourth. To go or not to go? Decisions … Decisions. I couldn’t stand any further. I turned quickly to my left into a parking lot, parked my car, and walked to Bún Bò Huế An Nam.

It was Tuesday night. An Nam was closed.

Wow. I let my breath go free for the first time in the last 30 minutes. It was such a stressful decision, but my destiny had been destined. I went back to my car; pulled out of the parking lot; and returned to the traffic light number 2. Phở Hà, here I come.

[dhmt3]

It was a fine and foggy Sunday morning. The drive was pleasant. The sun was hanging half way in the sky. And the fog was still floating, patches by patches down in the wood along the highway. Soft music was in the background, mixing with the humming sound of the convertible PT cruiser. He wasn’t over concentrating on the driving, nor was he day-dreaming or thinking of anything in particular. He was living his dream. He was where he has been imagining for years, and it has always been a beautiful dream …

The road became curvy as he got off the Interstate 280. It went up, and down, and around the mountains. Then it did it again. Over and over, until it ended up at Half-Moon Bay …

The fog still covered the ocean. There was the continuous sound of waves hitting the beach below. They shattered into millions of little twinkle white bubbles, reaching far into the sand then pulling out, only to be pushed back by another.

The grass was damp. The air was cool. Her eyes were bright, and her face was beautiful.

“I came here sometimes,” she said quietly, “I’ve always wanted to show you where I’ve been when I thought of you…”

“It’s nice.” he agreed.

“Well …most of the time …” she said thoughtfully, “sometimes it was nice and warm. Sometimes it rained. Sometimes, the fog just … covered everything. I felt the beauty, but I couldn’t see them. Sometimes, it felt so … lonely, and I wished you were here”

“I was,” he smiled, “… hiding under the fog.”

“I knew you were.” she smiled.

…

It’s the story of a girl and a boy. They met. They liked each other. They thought they were in love. They thought they weren’t in love. They drifted apart. They grew older, then much older. They realized they were in love, but then … memory was all they could have. They talked on the phone. She told him about her kids. He told her about his work, his dream, and his ambition. They talked about the movies they liked, and they liked the same movies. They talked about the songs they love, and they loved the same songs. They talked about the weather, the scenery, the city, the world, the … everything, except one thing, other than, “Oh, he took the kids to grandma today,” or “Well, I’m still flirting around.” They have their own world and their private life together in a parallel universe. But for some reasons, they never did say the magic four-letter L-word to each other. They just ... “Miss you,” or “Thought about you,” even though they knew deep down inside, they have always been each other’s “good old buddy” plus the L thingy …

…

“I know,” she said, pulling him out of the flash back.

“You do?”

“Stop pretending,” she playfully joked, “have you forgotten how long we’ve been together … mentally?”

“You caught me.” he smiled, looking at the pretty middle-age lady standing in front of him… somehow, he really wished he had said “I love you” years ago …

The waves were still hitting the beach below. They shattered into millions of little twinkle white bubbles, reaching far into the sand then pulling out, only to be pushed back to each other …

[dhmt3]

Hello Miss Bamboo, here's for your assignment on October 22.

--- o0o ---

It was so nice. October has always been my favorite month of the year - the month of falling leaves. The afternoon sun put another layer of color on the colorful Poplar trees. Their long shadows lay along the street, creating a row of evenly spaced bright-and-dark blocks, which make it look like a row of piano keys. Leaves were rattling as the wind breeze through. It was just enough to create a softly whistling melody around me. Once in a while, a car passed by. It stirred up hundreds of leaves, which slowly settled down and waited for another car …

“See ya at four,” she had said earlier. “Well, another ten minutes to kill,” I thought to myself. I had a book. The coffee was free-refill. The weather was nice and cool, and I had on a wind block jacket. There was soft music playing inside the coffee shop. There was a soothing sound of the leaves rattling in the wind, and cars are slowly passing by. I was entertained. I was happy. Life was good.

“Would you like more coffee?” the waitress said softly. I looked up at her face. A young, beautiful smiling-face was looking back at me. “Yes, please,” I responded. She carefully poured the coffee while biting her lower lip, gave me another smile, and walked back inside. I looked at my watch. “Hmm, it’s a couple of minutes past four. Where is she … Well, may be it’s the traffic.” I added creamer to the coffee, stirred it up a little, took a sip, and looked back down to my book…

Another car passed by. I looked at my watch. It was ten after! “That’s weird,” I mumbled. I checked my cell phone - it was off. “No wonder,” I smiled and turned it back on, just to realize that the battery has already been dead. “Oh well, give her a few minutes,” I said to myself and turned to the book again. But I couldn’t concentrate.

“Well … the traffic doesn’t seem that bad, may be she has to stop over for gas.” “Probably there is an accident somewhere on El Camino Real, and she gets stuck. It happens every day…” “Oh well, she’ll be here in just a couple of minutes…”

“More coffee?” said the smiling face. “Yes, please,” I said and kept on looking as far down the street as I could. Still, there was no sign of her cute little white Toyota Prius.

Four fifteen. I fold the book. The sun seemed to go down a bit quicker. The wind blew a bit stronger. On the other side of the street, a blond middle-age lady, hugging a little white dog, thought I was looking at her. She smiled. I smiled back and nod a little. She kept walking.

“Where is she?” I exhaled. “May be something’s happening to her” “Is it possible that she gets a flat tire?” I hated my cell phone. The dumb battery has never been able to hold the charge long enough. It was such a useless piece of … junk.

Four twenty. Another ten or fifteen cars have passed by, but none of which was a Prius. The leaves still flew up as the car was passing by. After being driven on so many times, the leaves were no longer in their original shapes. Pieces of them scattered everywhere. They flew up when a car drove by and created a dusty looking scene.

I paid for the coffee, and ordered one to go. With the book in my pocket and a Styrofoam cup of coffee in my hand, I strolled back and forth in front of the coffee shop. Once in a while, I leaned against a wall, took a sip of my coffee, and looked down the street expecting her to come by anytime.

Four forty. I went into the shop and asked to use a phone. I called her cell phone, but got no answer. “Well, may be she’s not coming after all.” I thought and started strolling again.

Four forty five. A white Prius slowly turned the corner. “There she is,” I smiled but then I realized that wasn’t she behind the wheel. I exhaled softly as I walked past the coffee shop and kept walking. Wind breezed cold air on my neck. With both hands in my pockets, I took a deep breath, exhaled quickly, and walked slowly toward my car.

[dhmt3]

Hi Co^ Bamboo, here's another story.

“Hi there, how’s going? ” I type, adding a big smilling face icon to the text.
“Peachy. Just got home. What’s up with you? Sort of upbeat, huh?”
“Oh, not that great. Got a tough day at work. ‘been having meetings and conference calls all day.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, a client wasn’t too convinced with the design we sent them last week, and it happened to be my team’s design”
“Elaborate, please?”
“Audio?”
“OK”
I click on audio request and wait for the permission.
“Hi again,” she says.
“Hey,” I say, and get straight to the topic, “There are two possibilities, 1, the design ain’t working, but that’s impossible because I drafted the design, and 2, too sophisticated for them to understand.”
“But I thought you always bragged about yourself as a simple guy with a simple mind.”
“I know …” I hesitate, “but my simple mind may not be too simple for SOME people,” and try to defend myself, “OK, the third possibility, too simple for them complicated heads to think that it would work.”
“All right, all right, my genius,” she brushes off, “so, what’s with the upbeat mood?”
“Well … I was about to send a chipmunk up there to explain to them, but since they’re paying us well, I thought I should go there myself.” I try to be secretive about the destination to arouse her curiosity, but
“Oh?” she simply hints a question.
I give up and blurt out excitedly. “The place happens to be near Philadelphia, exactly where my good old buddy is living.”
“Oh” she say, quietly and not showing any excitement. I can sense that her brain is working at the speed of a Quad-Core Xeon chip.
“Oh?” I'm sort of disappointed. What’s a bummer! I've been waiting for this moment forever, but “oh” is all I've got.

We’ve been pals for quite sometimes. Pals on Paltalk, that is. We are sort of conservative in a public room, but in PM, we talk each other’s ears off. On weekend, we sometimes fell asleep while the headphone was still on, and got up around 4 or 5 in the morning to tell each other to go to bed. It’s a weird relationship, though. We've talked on Paltalk, but never on a phone. We've sent pictures, but have never turned on our webcam. We've told each other about things that happen at work, but not the work specifically. We've talked about life, about what we like and what we don't. Sometimes, when the mood is right, we've talked about our “other” relationships. However, we've never asked for more details, other than the information that has already been volunteered. We've hinted a little, but quickly dropped the topic if it's not elaborated. And we are fine with that. We satisfy with what we have. We love the time we’ve spent with each other. We both have our past, we have each other at the moment through the Internet, but we haven’t discussed about the future. Is it love? We don’t know. Is it pure friendship? We have no idea. We know we like each other. We can feel each other’s feeling and most of each other’s thinking. We are true pals – the Internet pals.

“So, what do you think, BV? Shall we meet?”
“I don’t know” she hesitates again, “I’m sort of nervous.”
“Me too”

Really, I am. Am I risking our relationship by pressing to see her? Is it the right time? Are we in love or are we good friends? As it has been, I'd feel sad when she is sad. She'd feel happy when I'm happy. I'd talk when she's in the mood to cry. She'd sing when I feel lonely. Will all that change after we meet in real life? I should have thought it through before I told her about the trip, but I haven’t … until her quiet “oh” that pulled me back to reality.

“OK, BV,” I say after a quiet moment, “it’s a bit sudden. Let’s see how things go,” I suggest, “I’ll fly up there late Wednesday. We’ll talk after work on Thursday.”
“OK,” she still sounds distracted.

I feel it. My good old pal is worried, or may be confused. There is something that she doesn't want to say, or doesn't know how to say it. “I should have kept my mouth shut and treated it like any other trips,” I'm cursing myself.

I've always wanted to see her, but now I'm … worried. I’ve dreamt of being with her. I've yearned for the moment to hold her hand, to look into her eyes and tell her how beautiful they are. I've wanted to have coffee with her, to have dinner with her, to walk with her on the golf course behind her house, and under the moonlight that she told me about. Now, the reality is about to hit, and I feel insecure. I'm scared, and I imagine that she is, too.

Thursday morning. I jump off the hotel bed early and get ready to give my speech, explaining to them people how things should work. I put on a killer suit with a simple-pattern blue tie to humble my unintentionally self-assertive attitude. BV's temporarily being put in the back of my head. I walk to the lobby, have few cups of coffee and a bagel, then off I go. The traffic is light. I get to the plant with few minutes to spare. An admin assistant meets me at the entrance with a friendly smile. After having me sign few papers, she takes me to a fancy-looking conference room, knocks on the door, and politely tells me, “Mr. Cruise will take you in.”

“Hi Tom,” I say when the door opens and a happy face of a middle age man shows up. He takes me to my seat at the end of a conference table, “The target seat,” I note, and the introduction begins. It's casual and normal until we get to the other end of the table. “Hello Mr. Bear,” she says. The room turns quiet. I can see few wrinkles between eyebrows of almost everyone, but no one dares to correct the big boss. They are all wondering. I'm dumbstruck. “Sorry, an inside joke,” she smiles apologetically to everyone, “We are good old pals.”

[dhmt3]

Hi cô Bamboo, here's my homework for 10/29.


“Come on, Vy, try it”
“Cái con quỷ này, I am doing just fine, thank you very much,” I snap.

That’s my nosy Ty. She has been bugging me about dating for weeks now. What’s up with that? OK, I admit it. I’m sort of lonely sometimes, but, hey, I’m fine. I'm used to it. Between work and school, I can barely have time for anything else, not even dating. Well, it was like this: because I had no date, I decided to go to school at night, and because I am going to school while working full-time, I don't have time for dates. It's as simple as that.

Ty and I have been friends for years. We were inseparable since the time we were running naked under the rain in VN. The term TyVy came early, and it stayed with us until now. We also came to the US almost the same time. Ty’s family came through ODP, and mine through the HO program. We were apart at first, but we ended up getting jobs in the same city after college. Ty is a jolly girl. She laughs a lot, and she talks even more. Me? I'm sort of quiet in public. Ty told me that I was too shy, but I would prefer to call myself conservative. I also speak English with a heavy Vietnamese accent, so I don't talk much. After a while, I have a habit of listening and smiling instead of talking.

Ty married to her college sweetheart, produced a couple of cute little youngsters, and have been in love forever. Me, I have no sweetheart - in the past, the present, and may be the future. I used to have some sort of "boy friend" in VN that could be characterized as a … virtual sweetheart, or “người yêu trong mộng mơ”. It wasn’t much to dwell on. I didn’t even mention him to my best friend. It was sort of a… “hiên nhà” relationship because that was where we met and talked. We didn’t even hold hand. It was the old style stuff that kids nowadays would have never believed existed.

Once we got to the US, a tough life at the beginning had kept me away from all that distractions. I worked part-time and studied full-time. I was tired, stressed, and always worried. What kept me going was the prospect of not having a job after college, which haunted me every time I tempted to give up. I've never taken any break long enough to realize that the youth was leaving me. Now, a bit over 30, I still come home every day to my empty nest. No dogs, no kids, no hubby.

“Vy, earth to Vy,” Ty yells through the phone.
“What? I’m still here, and you are killing my ears.”
“Come on, Vy. I’m gonna ask him, OK?” Ty insists.
“No”
“Chicken”
“Not interested.”
“OK, then. Come over and cook bún bò with me this afternoon. OK, sweety?” Ty settles.
I usually have nothing else to do on Friday night, so, “Sure, I’ll be there after work. Bye.”

Ty knows this guy from work. He’s just got transferred over. One day, she happened to see him patrolling the hallway, looking for his office. Being nice and friendly, and the fact that him being cute and handsome would also help, she stroke a conversation while walking him to his office. “Vy, listen, girl, I saw no picture of girlfriends on his desk. Neither pictures of kids nor wife,” Ty told me while driving home that night. She started to investigate him further. The marriage ring on her finger gave her the right to strike any conversation with guys without being misunderstood. So, she found out that the guy was still single. Too much work has kept him from having any current girlfriend. He came to the US a little over a year after us. He went to college and got a master degree in engineering. Now he’s a manager of an engineering department at her plant. “He looks young, but I guess he’s couple years older than us. You don’t have to worry about being called a cradle-robber,” Ty said. She wanted to set us up. I wanted her to leave me alone.

Bún bò was good. Her kids ran for the TV right after dinner. The hubby was off doing some “honey do” stuffs. Ty and I stayed in the kitchen to clean up and talked. We talked about the old time, the present time, the shoes, and the dresses… I successfully forbade her to talk about “that guy”. As a rule, Saturday is the “TyVy day”, so we discuss our hanging-out plan for tomorrow. Ty suggested that we would do exercise at the Mall, which includes walking into every shoes, jewelry, and clothing store. It’s always been a good exercise. We usually started with empty hand then added more weights as we walked. The task also improved our decision-making skill and the assertiveness skill through choosing, praising, or criticizing each other’s selections.

Saturday morning. After spending an hour at Panera Break, talking about life and drinking coffee, we show up at the Mall exactly at the opening time. We stop by our usual first stop near the Mall's entrance - Mama’s Cookies. This time, I have milk and a fat, nice, yummy chocolate-chunk cookie. We pull out the chairs and sit at a small table to rest our feet after such a long walk from the parking lot – a 50-yard trip in high-heel shoes! We begin to discuss our exercise strategy for the rest of the day …

From the reflection of a glass door, I notice a lost soul, walking in from the Mall’s entrance. The guy, probably an Asian, looks left and right, up and down, and around himself, then walks toward Mama’s Cookies. I see that Ty is smiling, but not at me. She is looking over my shoulder and toward the entrance. I sense a traitor in her.

“Hi Anh Vu,” she says while standing up.
“Hello Cô Ty. I hope you didn't have to wait too long,” comes the response.
I look up through a corner of my eyes. Ah, that lost soul. I realize right away that I've been tricked by my best and trusted friend. Ty had set a trap, and I walked right into it.
“Anh Vu, this is my friend Vy,” Ty quickly introduces us, “Vy, Vu from engineering at work”
“Oh that’s neat,” she suddenly busts out laughing, “I didn’t notice before. You guys’ names, Vy Vu. How cool is that!”

Now, that sounds familiar. Kids around my house in VN used to sing “vi vu cây liểu bên thềm” to tease me. My heart jumps. I feel a chill going through my body. “No way,” I'm telling myself. I hold my breath, stand up, and turn around to look at the guy. In front of me, there is a shocked-looking face of my “người yêu trong mộng mơ” from years ago, looking back at me…

[Handsome Bear]

From “The Surprise”, I wonder who Vu is. “Other than him being cute and handsome” we know little about him. That triggered my curiosity. I want to know him.
In addition, “The Surprise” is about an old style Vietnamese high school sweetheart, and … I can’t have enough of it. I want more. I want to know the beginning, the feeling, the separation, the getting back together, the whole nine yards. With one exception, though. I don’t want to expand the end because there won’t be one. I want to leave it alone so we all can imagine our own ending. Sad stories depress me. If I could change the world, I would make it happier. With the same token, if I imagine a story about love, I want love to last forever.
I guess the most I can do is to make up a story on him, from his perspective. After all, dreams are free …
------------

Ty is a nice lady. She’s lively. She’s friendly. She talks a lot, but she’s not gossiping or being critical. I hardly hear her criticizing much of anything during those weeks that I’ve known her. She is nice and positive, and I like her because of that. Had she not been nosy, she would have been perfect. Sadly though, she’s a bit nosy. I felt like being interrogated by her sometimes, but it’s OK, I guess. I still like her. I couldn’t figure out why she kept wondering about my private life until one day, out of the blue, she told me about her best friend. Ah ha, she’s playing matchmaker.

I’m not used to that, though. I told her that I could take care of myself, which included finding a date, but she insisted. “Just to know each other,” she said, “so y’all can go out with me and my hubby sometimes.” Finally, I gave in. She wanted to meet at the Mall on Saturday to talk about it. I guess I’d give it a try.

I have not been doing very well in the dating department. At first, my mom was worried that my biological system got confused because I had never brought home any girl to our family unions. One day, she declared that I was skinny and needed to be fed. She moved south to stay with me for few months to cook for her út cưng. She left satisfying that I was not confused, but she wasn’t too impressed with all my ba trợn American lady friends. “Instead of saying, ‘dạ thưa bác,' they just waved hand and said ‘hi’,” mom complained to my sisters.

Getting a girlfriend is difficult enough. Getting a Vietnamese girlfriend is not any easier. I’ve changed jobs a few times, but I’ve always had to go to xứ khỉ ho cò gáy, as my mom used to call, where the number of Vietnamese families can be counted on my fingers. My mom was getting antsy as her baby was passing 30. She started checking with her friends in California for a daughter-in-law. She even planned to have me escort her back to Vietnam to visit relatives someday.

But my problem, which no one would ever know, is about a girl I used to know. She took my innocence away when she first walked through the door of my classroom at Lê Hồng Phong high school. We were in 10th grade. Sitting behind her, I was distracted by her wavy hair falling on her back. During hot days, she rolled her hair up, and the back of her neck was killing me.

Days after days, I was playing the scene "Em tan trường về, anh theo ngọ về" without her noticing. My perspective of life wandered around her. So many times, I couldn’t help but noticed that my personality had changed:

Áo nàng vàng tôi về yêu hoa cúc...
Áo nàng xanh tôi mến lá sân trường
Sợ thư tình không đủ nghĩa yêu đương
Tôi thay mực cho vừa màu áo tím...

Well, thư tình I had written many but had never delivered any. I imagined being thất tình about her. But that was just my imagination because I had never had her tình to thất!

Life went on until one quiet afternoon toward the end of my 11th grade, I met her leaning against a balcony at school, watching blooming Phượng vĩ. A short bốn mắt nhìn nhau happened. A little smile and a brief “hi” and “hello” were exchanged. We started talking after few “happen to pass by” incidents through my planned coincidences.

Since then, we spent hours talking under the veranda of her house in hot summer days. One day in September, she told me that she was leaving for America. My heart broke. I felt lost. School started again but without her. Lá sân trường is no longer green, and the balcony was forever empty. I used to ride my bicycle around town, remembering poems that were probably written for me,

Người đi một nữa hồn tôi mất
Một nữa hồn tôi bỗng dại khờ …
…
A year later, I also left Viet Nam for America. Life in America has been hard but promising. I grew up. I studied hard. I played hard. I worked even harder. Then I studied some more. I had the satisfaction in life through promotions at work. I’ve gone through few relationships with American girls, but chickened out before saying “I do”. In public eyes, I appeared to be ambitious, friendly, happy, and full of life. Through my reflection, I felt withdrawn, empty, and lonely. I felt missing something when listening to my old Vietnamese cassette: “Em, cho anh nói một lời dường như đã cũ, rằng anh yêu em, nhưng thì thầm bằng tiếng Việt Nam.”
...
Saturday morning. I thought Ty was crazy wanting to meet me so early. She told me to “meet us at the Mall around 10, near Mama’s Cookies.” I was relieved. I felt much better when she said “meet us”, which means she wouldn’t be alone. It wouldn’t look good for a single guy to meet a pretty but married lady at a Mall. I assumed her husband would be there with her.

Walking into the Mall, I’m looking for an Asian couple, but can’t find any. I finally see Ty sitting in front of Mama’s Cookies. She is not with her husband. She is sitting with a long hair figure who’s wearing high heels with her back facing me. I realize that I’ve got sandbagged. There won’t be any “talking about it” today. Ty is going to introduce me to “the girl” instead. No pictures. No preparation. Nothing.

From the back, the girl looks all right. Through the reflection off a glass door, I see a blurry figure of a fair-skin Asian lady, holding a huge cookie. I like her gestures. She sat with a straight back. Her elbows are off the table. Her feet cross on the floor, in what seems to be one-and-one-half inch high-heel shoes. I like girls with disciplined gestures. I pretend not to see Ty so I have more time to assess the girl while walking toward Mama’s Cookies. I’m wondering if this is “the girl” that Ty was talking about. When I get close, Ty meets me with a big smile.

“Hi Anh Vu,” she says while standing up.
“Hello Cô Ty, I hope I wasn’t too late,” I reply.
“Anh Vu, this is my friend Vy,” Ty quickly introduces us, “Vy, Vu from work”
“Oh that’s neat,” she suddenly busts out laughing, “I haven't noticed before. You guys’ names, Vy Vu. How cool is that!”

I smile. Ty is xí xọn sometimes. Just then, I realize the name she’s just introduced. Vy? Hmm, Vy ...

The girl puts down her cookie and stands up slowly while turning to face me. The earth seems to stop moving. Holy smoke, that’s Vy. My Vy. What should I do? Should I shake her hand? Should I give her a hug like I’ve always wanted to? What should I say? “Yo”? “Hi”? “Howdi”? I feel like a dummy. Facing me, Vy seems to be as shocked as I am. Her brown eyes open wide. Her lips are slightly apart as if she was about to say something. The image of the first time we faced each other on the balcony at the old school is flashing back. But it’s different now. Or at least, I feel different. I feel as if I’ve known her forever. I feel the familiarity. I feel the chemistry. I feel love.

“Vy,” I blurt out.
“Anh Vu,” she says.

I have a strange urge to hug her even though I have never touched her before. I open my arms, and she falls right into me. “I've finally found you,” I said under my breath. “I’ve thought of you too,” she whispers, leaning her head against my shoulder. I hold her tight in my arms.

I close my eye to prolong my beautiful dream. I wouldn't want to wake up. I can’t take another chance of losing her. I don’t want to repeat the story of long ago, when I

Buông tay đánh mất thiên đàng
Giật mình tỉnh giấc bàng hoàng mộng mơ

But then, I realize that I’m no longer dreaming. It’s Vy. It’s really she. I open my eyes.

The Mall is still quiet, but Ty has disappeared. There are only Vy, me, her soft breath on my shoulder, her silky hair covering my arms, and her wonderful perfume…

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[Handsome Bear]

Miss Jeedy’s question about dating an ex of a close friend has triggered some memories … I’m going tell you a story …

--- o0o ---

We have been friends since college. As the only two Vietnamese students at the university, we have been the closest of the close friends. We had a lot in common. Though we didn’t know each other then, we both came to the same refugee camp in Malaysia and started to study English there. We came to the US within 6 months of each other. Now, we studied at the same school, stayed in the same dorm, ate at the same cafeteria, and pursued the same degree and major. We even graduated at the same time. Tuấn, however, got a job in Pennsylvania, and I, in Indiana.

The commencement ceremony was a memorable one. I would never forget the image of the two young Vietnamese men, faking a smile to hide droplets of tears in their eyes, giving high-five and telling to each other that, “We’ve made it, man.” Neither one of us had any family members at the graduation day. They were all in Vietnam. The next morning, at the exit to highway I40, we parked our cars, got out, gave each other a hug, then shook hands to say good bye. He headed east. I went west.

We talked on the phone once in a while. Tuấn told me about the exciting life that he had been living, and all the different Vietnamese girlfriends whom he had gone out with. I told him a little about my boring life in Indiana since there weren’t many Vietnamese around. Beside, I had also decided to take classes at a local university at night. Between work and graduate courses, I didn’t have much of anything else to brag about.

One day, Tuấn told me, “Hey buddy, I’ll be down there to see you next week.” His company had just decided to open a new plant near where I lived. Tuấn was to oversight the construction, and may be, the start-up of the plant.

Arriving with Tuấn was a nice looking Vietnamese girl. I couldn’t keep track with how many girlfriends he had gone out with, but Liên, her name, was the latest, the greatest, and also the most steady one. They had been seeing each other for the last 2 years. Her dad was about to ride shotgun to Tuấn’s house, so I guessed Tuấn was happy with the recent promotion to Indiana.

They bought a house in an upper class community, about 45 minutes from mine. Tuấn and I were close buddies again. Just like the old time, we met once a week to talk, play cờ tướng, go hiking or canoeing, or take Liên out for grocery shopping. Liên joined us in every event. She was a good sport and also a good chess player.

The two young engineers had grown up so much in the last few years and became more than what they had hoped for in college, especially Tuấn. Being nice, bright, and clever, he had found his way into the management circle of the company and got promoted faster than a kite in strong wind. Me, I hadn’t yet mastered the skill that Tuấn naturally possessed, but good luck had gotten me up faster than I had planned.

Liên was 2 years younger than Tuấn. He swept her off her feet when she was pursuing her MBA degree at the University of Pennsylvania. With a degree from such prestige college, Liên had no problem getting a job with a pharmaceutical company in Indiana. I was fond of Liên. There were times when I secretly wished that there were two Liêns in Indiana. I was also happy to see my good old buddy having such a beautiful and capable bride-to-be. At the beginning, I wondered why they hadn’t got married. Tuấn’s only answer was that it wasn’t the right time yet. I didn't asked Liên why.

Time went on for a couple of years. Tuấn became the Plant Manager of the one he had built. Liên got promoted to a sale management position. They still hadn’t got married. Me, I was still stuck in the technical field at work. Bored with TV and music, I turned my interest into different subjects. Since the local school didn't have any degree higher than an MS for engineering, I learned about finance, contracting, accounting, budgeting, and anything else they would teach an MBA student. I started to analyze public companies’ balance sheets and financial reports just for the fun of it. A passion for the financial world and the wonder of the Internet had turned me into a part-time daytrader – a new term that referred to amateur stock traders, who flipped the trade over the Internet faster than flipping hamburgers.

Meanwhile, Liên had been busy looking for a Vietnamese girlfriend for me. She either invited her out-of-state friends over during holidays and long weekends, or made me come with them when Tuấn took her home to visit her parents. Tuấn really appreciated me coming with them because the prospect of facing her parents alone scared the … heaven out of him. I didn't mind coming along because college girls in Philadelphia were really good looking. Besides, Vietnamese food is good there.

It was fun at the beginning. Hadn’t been around much with Vietnamese girls since leaving the refugee camp years ago, I was intrigued. They were so much different from the American girls whom I had gone out with. They reflected the same belief, tradition, and custom that I had and yearned for more, but could not share with the American friends. We could listen to the same music or read the same poem, and our interpretation of the feeling was much closer than I could ever translate into English. We could talk in either Vietnamese, English, or “half and half”, depending on the jokes that we were on, and understand each other perfectly. I, then, began to understand why Tuấn had made such a big deal about going out with Vietnamese girls when he was in Pennsylvania. Having Vietnamese lady friends is like a drug that once I had tasted, I got hooked.

But the love affairs didn’t go anywhere. Tuấn called me pig head. Liên called me picky. I didn’t know what I would call myself. However, deep down inside, I thought I knew why.

<I don’t know how to put the rest into words yet, so … may be someday, but … don’t y'all get any wrong idea! This is a fiction>

[gdpt-]

Ahhhhhhh... I feel like I'm reading Harry Potter again (with the complete opposite theme), eagerly awaiting for the next publication.

A good writer keeps his readers ancitipating for more. You're definitely one of them...

When you started off describing about two Vietnamese students, I pictured a Vietnamese male... and the other being a Vietnamese female. I was in astonishment when you mentioned the name "Tuan."