By Pham Van Anh

1. "Luong, it’s your turn now" – said Mr Canh, the guard on duty, his voice echoing from downstairs.

Still combing her hair, Luong quickly twisted it into a bun and fumbled along the rail. Mr Canh was waiting for her right at the end of the stairs.

"Bed number 13. A man. Do it properly, you know."

Luong was walking step by step in silence into the massage room. Bed number 13 was already occupied by a man whose breath seemed very laborious. He emitted a soft groan when she touched his back. It seemed that he was in a lot of pain. Having sprinkled some talcum powder on his back, she felt his muscles. His groans became softer and longer. He was thin and injured. His shoulder and back muscles were swollen and inflamed.

She did not dare massage him firmly. Her customer was gripping a pillow and breathing through his mouth. His breathe hissed through his teeth. She knew life outside was difficult and risky, but she had never touched anybody who was in so much pain as this man. Her regular customers were usually officials or female traders. They brought a lot of stories with them into the massage parlour. They opened their hearts to her, because they knew that people like her did not harm anybody. Standing there the whole day, she and the other masseurs couldn’t recognise customers’ faces, they only know them through their voices....

This man was a stranger. He just lay down and didn’t ask for anything. He wasn’t like any of the other customers. He was in great pain, so when Luong’s fingers caressed his bony chest, she knew not to touch the sore parts. She was afraid her fingers could hurt him more.

***

His mother had given him a plain name: Lua (Rice). He had worked with mafia in the harbour, but thanks to his skills in martial arts, he had ruled the roost there with his underlings. When he grew older, he got work as a security guard for Xanh (Blue) dance hall where he fought in the ring once a month to entertain young guys from unrefined rich families.

He wasn’t bad at fighting. Those young fighters were strong and pretentious, but still green. He had what they lacked. He was resistant and muscular, and most importantly, he could bear the opponents’ punches, so often won. But this time he had been beaten by some brat, who wanted to show off in front of his girlfriend.

The fight had hit him hard. He was dizzy and his head was foggy. No relatives, no wife and children. He had stood the fight for half of his life, and he had beaten not a few people. But as for this fight, he had volunteered and everything had been arranged by somebody else. After the fight, his body was shaky. It was still early when he look at the clock, so he asked a taxi motorbike driver to take him to the Massage Centre of the Blind Association.

For two years now, before each fight, he had gone to this centre. But he rarely came back there after the fight. It was the first time he met Luong. Usually he had male masseurs. He did not like women to touch his body very much, particularly when he lay on the bed wearing only a pair of shorts.

So upon hearing that a girl would give him the massage, he intended to drive her out of the room, but he stopped short. He lay on his stomach and pressed his face into the pillow. After a while, he realised her fingers were helping relieve the pain in his back.

***

She was 29 years old. This did not mean anything. There were hundreds of girls like her in the Blind Associations in the city, districts and other localities. They all lived a lonely life in darkness. Darkness was the witness that said good-bye and dug the grave for her youthful aspirations. She knew that she was no exception.

Her ears had helped her get to know the life of the community outside, a world overflowing with changes and worries, joys and sadness. For years now, she was only a shadow on the roadside of life. She had indirectly received the multi-dimensional sounds life had unintentionally echoed to her.

The injured man returned after a week. He was usually masseur Phuong’s regular customer and today he had come thinking that Phuong was on duty. Luong was walking along the corridor and accidently bumped into him, losing her balance, so she seized his wrist. But she suddenly trembled, vaguely recognising a long scar on his arm. He tried to keep her from falling down in silence. She released her grip from his hand, mumbled an apology and fumbled along her way, her heart thumping....

***

After his defeat in the ring, he had lived in silence in the basement, except for the days when he was on duty. In the eyes of the manager, he was an old wolf, so was as hard to please as a wild animal.

At times, Lua earnestly wished to have the humble happiness of the blind men he had met. They laughed with delight. Anytime he came, he only heard them talking about their own families, about their wives and children; and he liked to hear those things very much. Only because he wanted to know more about what happiness meant, even it was the happiness of blind people. He lay there on that single bed, so that the fingers of these blind men could give him some relaxing massages. Their ten fingers seemed to sing and share their joy with him while they were telling him about their own families.

The Massage Centre of the Blinds’ Association had only three girl masseuses. After some meetings with these girls, he found that they looked almost alike. The girl who had given him the massage on the day he had been defeated was no different. Her hair was done up in a straight plait. She wore a white shirt. Her face was thin and pale; she probably didn’t go out much. Her hands were small with short, round fingers. That day, he had been severely injured after nearly forty years of living a wanderer’s life. He bitterly recognised that he had been given a fat sum of ten million dong only to play the role of a fool! It seemed that the girl had known he had painful injuries and had worked her ten fingers so as not to hurt him anymore. This had moved him.

The money in his trouser pocket hung at the end of the bed. He had tried to bear the punches and injuries only to get the money. But the girl. She had stood there for an hour by his bed, trying to sooth his pains for money a thousand times less. But her face was so calm and untroubled!

***

The injured man often come to the centre on Friday afternoons. After the massage, Phuong always followed the man to the door with his thanks, saying he should not give so much money next time. Luong often heard the man speaking to Phuong, insisting that Phuong should use the money to buy milk for his baby at home. Luong thought the man must be a good man, but wondered why he was so badly injured. All of a sudden, she wanted to see his face. We can judge a man by his looks, as her mother used to say. But everything for her was seen in shadow, his thin body, his dry face, his short hair and so on.

It was a Saturday night and Nga had asked to get the night off. She hurried upstairs to have a bath. She was very happy, because her boyfriend was coming to take her out. The clock struck eight. Nga stood up, thinking he was coming. When she got downstairs to the reception room, she strained her ears to hear the sound of her boyfriend putting his bicycle against the wall and then walking slowly into the room. The fact that he had a limp made her happy, because she thought that a healthy man would never love a blind girl like her. Then she said good-bye to Luong and the guard Canh.

It was midnight and Nga had still not come home. Luong was worried. She was wondering if her friend’s boyfriend was indeed a good man. She heaved a deep sigh and felt a great pity for Nga. For so many years, the blind girls had wished to live an honest life, but she thought the future held nothing for them.

***

For several months now, the fighter had felt very tired, so he asked the director for permission to leave the ring for a month. Phuong’s wife gave birth to a child. After each massage, the man often gave Phuong some money just to help him out. Phuong was so grateful and kept him informed of his son’s health. He listened in silence and visualised in his mind what Phuong’s son was like. Looking at the blind men at the centre, he felt so ashamed, thinking that these men were working hard for their families, for their loved ones, while he had fought in the ring for money and for other people’s entertainment.

The girl often sat in the reception room. She seemed to be waiting for somebody. She was not so beautiful, but looked gentle and a bit young. He had many times ventured to ask Phuong about the girl, but he dared not. A blind man had to suffer many losses and disvantages, but a blind girl had to suffer more. He wished in silence that she would be happy.

Nga asked her mother’s permission to stay overnight at the centre more often. Sometimes she went back when it was already morning. Her voice and laughter were very different. The centre knew that she was in love and teased her about it.

"No, please, don’t say that. If my mother knew it, I would be punished. My mother often tells me that I have to live with my parents and if my parents die, I should live with my sibblings. No. I don’t want to live that way, I don’t want to rely on other people. Can’t we have a family of our own?" – she turned to ask Luong.

Luong could not give an answer. Maybe. Nga could have a family of her own, even if that boy could not convince his family, she could even have a child of her own. If that happened, Luong and the people at the centre would help Nga. And you never know, the fighter might help her too. So Luong had a glimmer of hope.

Nga was with child. After a hard fight with his family, the boy and Nga had a modest wedding ceremony with guests from the centre and their nearest and dearest. After the wedding, Nga stopped working at the centre and stayed home to help her husband with a bread baking oven.

***

Lua came to the centre when everyone had gone out and only Luong and the old guard remained. He told the guard he couldn’t wait, and asked if Luong could massage him. He turned to wait for the girl’s answer.

Luong did not say a word. She only fumbled her way to the man’s room. It was the second time she had given the scarred man a massage. He was not so badly injured this time, so her fingers moved more freely over his body. His muscles became gradually softer. When the bell rang, she asked:

"Do you want to have a facial massage?"

"Oh, thank you, but time’s up."

"I can do it for free" – she said, feeling afraid that her customer could leave. Having heard it, he lay down again with a lot of questions in his head.

Luong touched the man’s face, his forehead first, then his bushy eyebrows, hollow eyes, his nose and bony cheeks.... Suddenly her customer seized her hand:

"Eh, girl, why do you want to touch my face? Speak the truth!" his angry voice frightened her.

"Oh, no!... I.... I just want you to feel more relaxed, I don’t want to harm you!"

"Ugh! Speak now, or you’ll be in trouble."

The girl looked very scared.

"Why? Don’t you want to show off your talents, you blind girls?"

"I only want to feel your face. Living in darkness, all is an illusion. I hope I can recognise who is bad and who is good through their face."

"What do you think about my face?"

"My hands tell me that you’re a good man."

He released her arm from his tight grip and left the room. She could tell because the smell of his sweat was gradually disappearing from the room. All of a sudden, Luong touched her face.

***

From then on, Luong had no chance to meet the man, even though she intended to wait for him. Phuong also said that he wanted to see him just to tell him that his son could now say "dad", "mum" and "uncle Lua". That was how she learned his name, and that he worked as a guard for a dance hall. Was he ill?

Nga gave a birth to a son and went to live with her mother. Luong went to see Nga and the old guard Canh gave her some money to give to Nga as a congratulation present. Luong said good-bye to the old man and groped her way along the pavement.

She found a motorcycle taxi. When bargaining for the fare, she recognised the voice but doubted herself. When the machine turned a bend, he had to brake quickly and her face hit his back, which was soaked with sweat. It was very familiar sweat, and she blurted out:

"Are you Mr Lua?"

The driver was a bit startled, but he kept driving through the drizzling rain. After a moment of hesitation, she boldly touched his left hand and found a long scar there. The man was silent and she was also silent in the crowded street. Who he was, what he had done and why he was injured, none of this was important to her anymore. Her fingers had told her that he was a good man and always a good man!

She strongly believed it!

Translated by Manh Chuong