The wall in the middle of the house was strange, because it was not like the dividing walls that people were used to seeing everywhere. It was a curtain sewn together, hung like a stage curtain. The wall represented the separation of the private world of the couple, who had now become two strangers.
The house had nothing valuable, only an old TV on her side, and on his side was a bed that must have been there for a long time and a table and chairs facing the window, looking out onto a path that crossed the village overgrown with grass and trees. The house stood precariously among the houses nestled along the fields during the cassava or corn harvest season, with few people passing by, like a hasty drawing by some artist.
Like every breakup, when the two sides cannot be completely separated, the house is divided in two. It is a brick house that has gone through the years, sad like this small neighborhood. The house is located in the middle of grass and trees, occasionally there are a few wild flowers blooming.
He and she had the same family situation - no money, single and earning a living by labor, not dreaming of luxuries in life. He worked as a security guard for orchards, which meant that people hired him to hang hammocks in the orchards during harvest season at night to watch out for thieves. She worked as a kitchen assistant for a mobile catering service, which meant they cooked and delivered food to customers' homes or places they ordered. This job was sometimes good, sometimes not, sometimes no one ordered a party for a whole month, so she switched to getting bread, cycling around the alleys every morning, with a loudspeaker ready to call out: "Who wants hot and crispy bread?".
The garden guard, when he was free, would sit on the bench for people to rest, often buying bread to eat, then they got to know each other and became husband and wife. Husband and wife are truly living together in the same house to warm each other's hearts. He was 40 years old and she was 39. At that age, meeting each other was not a formality and she did not hesitate when she returned to the brick house left by his parents, old and sad like the water spinach patches on the riverbank, emerging with the water, secretly blooming purple flowers.
Now the house has a partition. They separated not because one of them has another person, but because their married life is too boring. It's the corrugated iron roof that keeps getting water in during the rainy season, she told him several times but he still leaves it there. It's the green grass in front of the house that keeps growing, she asked him to help her arrange it, he just mumbled. He didn't do anything to change the current situation. It's still the bicycle whose paint color is no longer recognizable, his only means of transportation. After marrying her, with her urging, in his free time he also went to the garden to plant this and that on the small plot of land his parents left him. But in the end he chose to plant cassava and sweet potatoes to save on care. Each harvest season, he didn't make much money selling them.
She did not fall in love with anyone else, she just wanted a husband who was diligent and hardworking so that life would be easier. She only dreamed of having a small child, taking the child to school in the morning, and the whole family gathering around a vegetable meal in the afternoon. But those meals were rare. And on rainy days, the house leaked everywhere, she had to use any object that could catch water and put it everywhere, and no matter how many times she reminded him, he still refused to climb up on the roof to cover the leaking spots.
He didn't have an affair. But he didn't ask if she came home late. He didn't care if they had enough money to buy rice. Because in his life before marrying her, he didn't worry about those things. He lived alone, and when he was hungry, the owner of the garden would call him into the house and give him a bowl of rice. He never understood why after they got married, she was disappointed in him, when she knew from the beginning that he had that kind of lifestyle. So in the vastness of this life, they lived together without any sound of arguing. There were only pent-up disappointments.
They were separated, but she had no other home to leave and he could not bear to let her rent an expensive place outside. The curtains that divided the house were like curtains for a play, because inside the house, the walls made of old cloth could not block out the sounds and smells of life. She cooked rice and stir-fried food, sending aromas through. On the days he came home early, she could smell the faint scent of instant noodles coming from him. After all, she was staying in the house his parents left behind, so she took some food on a tray and pushed it through the curtain to him. He must have been offended, so he did not touch anything she passed over.
It's the rainy season now. The rains make the surrounding space become dull, as if to hold lonely souls closer together. He finally bought an old motorbike, in his free time he rides to the intersection to pick up bus passengers, although sometimes he has some, sometimes he doesn't, but he still has some income, he feels more cheerful. As for her, she still works as a kitchen assistant, but in the rainy season, no one holds parties, she has no job. She has been through many rainy seasons like that and knows how to manage, riding her motorbike into alleys, boarding houses, where there are many students selling spring rolls, snacks with hot and crispy bread.
The storm came suddenly. The rain and wind poured down, soaking the house with curtains separating the couple. Strangely, just the curtains divided the house into two separate worlds, two vast distances. The rain and wind swayed the grass and trees on the path leading to the house, while the two people nestled in their own worlds, on either side.
Yesterday, when the rain stopped, he suddenly found a ladder to climb up to the roof and used plastic to cover the holes in the corrugated iron roof. She suddenly went to buy a chicken and thought of chicken curry, his favorite dish. He once said that no one could beat her at making curry.
The wind was still blowing fiercely. Finally, she finished cooking the curry and set it on the table. She looked at the curtain that separated them. It was dark on the other side, and he didn't turn on the light. He must have been home during the stormy days.
She pulled the curtain aside, the sudden force of the pull caused the curtain to tear, then it fell down as if she was sulking. He had been standing close to the curtain for a while. She said: "Come over here to celebrate the storm, we'll go back to work."
It had been a long time since they had eaten together. A warm meal in the stormy season.
Source: https://baocantho.com.vn/buc-tuong-cua-hai-nguoi-a185134.html
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