A rose-shaped candle

by Tran Thuy Mai

For the past year Ngan had been hurrying home right after work, refusing the invitations
of some of her younger colleagues up for a night on the town.

"Ngan’s single isn’t she? So how come she’s always as busy as a young mother with a
newborn?" her department head remarked one day. Hearing this, Ngan smiled to herself.
At 36, se was no longer interested in night life and besides, if she didn’t come home in
the afternoons, Stephen, her on-line boyfriend would wonder where she was.

She’d met him by chance one day after work when she found her dog Tutu lying dead in
the doorway.

"He probably ate something poisonous on his morning walk" Ngan said to herself. She
fell into a foul mood and while surfing the net that night, wandered into a world of
websites with names like "Single and Looking", full of tempting invitations: "Click here
and don’t waste time! No more lonely Sundays"

She was no fool. She knew that such websites weren’t ideal for finding true love. But
still...

After a few minutes in the chatrooms, she was crudely propositioned by three different
men and logged off in disgust.

"I’ll try to look for a Tutu-substitute on a dog site," she told herself. But how could she
find a dog who’d cuddle her and wag its tail when she came home like Tutu used to.

"Maybe I’ll keep a virtual dog on my PC that can beg for food and drink. I can bathe him
and he’ll cuddle me in gratitude," Ngan changed her mind. Virtual pets were in vogue for
millions around the world but is it possible for electronic signals in a machine, however
pretty their avatars might be, to truly love?

She began to surf again and barely clicked the mouse when she met Stephen. It was
Christmas Day. Though the tropics were hot, being home alone on such a holiday was a
cold feeling. Ngan empathised when he said, "It seems to me that everything has turned
into ice. Let’s chat for a while to warm ourselves up, my new friend."

Ngan intended not to answer but then the man wrote again, "I’m looking for a friend to
raise a glass of brandy with for Christmas; if you’re free, let’s meet," he suggested.

"Sounds great! But where are you?" she asked.

"Reykjavik. The capital of Iceland. And you? You live near here?"

1
She sighed, unsure where Iceland was. Finally, she replied, "Fairly near I think, I live in
Viet Nam." On the small screen, a yellow smiley face laughed at her.

"Not that near! We’re separated by one ocean and two continents," he explained.

Ashamed, she was about to log off rather than ask him where exactly his country was
when he continued.

"Never mind! I’ll be right over. But first, have you got any wine at home?" he asked.

"Yes, I’ll offer you some of Da Lat wine," she replied, enjoying the game he was
initiating.

"Knock Knock. Open the door, please... Wow, your house is really warm!"

Her flat was actually fairly cosy and she began describing it.

"In my room there’s a vase full of withered flowers, a faded purple curtain, and one
window facing a wide expanse without a soul in sight."

"Wonderful! Where I come from, we see no moon and stars in this season. The nights are
very long. The sun rises and sets within three hours at most," he complained. Ngan
couldn’t imagine such a land; it seemed like something out of a fairy tale.

"Really?" she asked.

"Truly," he answered. "But it’s Christmas, which means electric lights shine round the
clock, especially in the city centre."

"Over here, the days are long and the sun smiles bright. On Christmas Eve though, there
are blackouts all over the city," she told him, marvelling at his upside-down world.

"Never mind. We’ll burn candles instead for warmth and ambience. I’ve got a beautiful
rose-shaped candle here. It was given to me a long time ago by a friend on the condition
that I only burn it on my first blissful night," he said.

"You’ve led an unhappy life, haven’t you?" she asked. "Has fortune never smiled upon
you?"

"Not really. What can you do? Easy come, easy go, no?" On the screen, another smiley
face appeared. "I’ll bring it to you some day. When we burn it, it will send off the
fragrance of a rose."

"Are we worthy of such a precious candle?"

"Why not?"

2
That night Ngan sat by his side in the virtual world and told him of her hard times,
especially Tutu and spinsterhood.

Stephen spoke of his life at forty-five, eking out a living by writing plays for a small
theatre. In fact, they were little more than soap operas. This Christmas, he’d had to finish
the tale of Esther and Dan which is why he sat every night in McDonald’s, munching on
Big Macs, searching for an ending to the play: to marry or not to marry. Lost in a
quandary, he hadn’t completed the play on time and another comedy had replaced the
play.

"A playwright? Is our meeting tonight a farce too?" Ngan asked him.

"Ha!" he laughed, "A true modernite, full of scepticism and doubt." The round-faced
figure mocked her.

***

Stephen became Ngan’s virtual friend and gradually took up all her free time. With
imaginary wings they strolled the banks of the Saigon River and skied on the slopes of
Iceland.

"But Stephen, I can’t ski," she confessed.

"Don’t worry! I’ll help you," he replied softly.

On Sunday mornings, they usually got up late and drank coffee together by her window.
When the rose season started, he deluged her in red flora.

For a while, she was too busy working in the countryside to chat with him for quite a
while. On the way home one day, discovering an internet cafe, she dropped in for a drink
and read his message: "I’ve think of you night and day. I miss you more than I can say.
Warm me up please."

"He’s crossed a line," she said to herself, wondering if she wished to cross it with him.

"Stephen, do you realise that our world is getting narrower and narrower? I’m bored
without you," she answered. From then on, the tone of their private chatroom changed
keys.

"My dear Stephen, do you know why this message of mine is in purple? In my way,
purple indicates nostalgia for somebody."

"Honey, I’ve been working on Esther and Dan. I now understand why I couldn’t finish it:
I was waiting for you to be my muse. What ending would you suggest?" he asked her.

3
Over time, Stephen became something akin to a jealous husband and whenever she came
home late, he reproached her.

At twenty-five, Ngan had had a boyfriend but left him when he turned out to be a control
freak. Since then she’d been allergic to marriage, for it meant nothing but male
domination. She told Stephen this and his reply surprised her.

"Really? Where I come from, no man controls his woman. Here children come first; next
come women; third, pets and men rank last. However, you can imagine what I feel when I
log on and find no news from you."

Ngan was deeply moved. She found this new bond comforting in comparison with what
she had endured ten years prior. So, Ngan tried her best to take care of him… on line.

"Today you better eat a lot; you’ve been working too hard!" Or, "Tomorrow night you’d
better go to the theatre. At home I’ll wash your dirty clothes for you," and so on and so
forth.

The next day, she’d read his lovey-dovey replies. They were both improbably happy.

But as the old saying goes, "What’s done by day appears by night."

***

One day, while at work Ngan logged on to read Stephen’s latest love-letter but forgot to
close it before leaving the office. Her section head saw it by chance and came to the
conclusion that Ngan was inviting great disaster.

"Ngan, are you mad?" she asked her the next morning. "In Western countries only the
good-for-nothing, the jobless or lady-killers spend their time in chat rooms," she warned
Ngan.

To this authoritarian woman, all the girls under her were merely children subjected to her
custody. She decided to ‘help’ Ngan by appointing her to the inventory team who had to
stay in the office round the clock for a whole week for the mid-year inventory.

"But I’ve got lots of things to do at home, sister. I need my annual leave," Ngan
complained.

"That foreigner of yours is going to Ha Noi, isn’t he? Listen, at your age, you should be
looking look for a nice man to marry, not indulging in false romance," she advised.

Ngan kept silent, for she knew there was no point arguing. That evening Ngan packed her
clothes so she might spend the week at the office. Before heading out, she logged on and
read Stephen’s latest.

4
"I’ll be in Ha Noi in a few days. I’m staying at the Gia Bao hotel. If you’re not too far,
please come see me," he wrote.

"Why didn’t he ask for my address," she wondered.

"Dear Stephen, how can I recognise you when we meet?" she asked. "Send me a photo or
let me see you through the webcam."

"I hate those things. They distort the truth," he replied. Her spirits fell as she wondered
what he was trying to hide.

After six days at work in front of her PC, she was desperately worried. Her on-line love
story had become the talk of the office.

"Poor you! It’s easy to fall in love on-line but meeting face to face is almost always a
disappointment," one of Ngan’s colleagues advised her.

Ngan nodded her head sadly and spent six days in despair. On the seventh day, she put
aside the files, suddenly understanding what she needed to do.

"I must be going now," Ngan told her colleagues.

"What? Where? We’ll be done in a day. You can’t ignore the boss’ orders," one said.

"I don’t care. Only a fool gives up the chance for love."

"Stop her!" the boss cried. "She’s gone mad!" Ngan snatched her bag from her boss’
hands.

"Goodbye. I can always get another job; is the same true for happiness?" Ngan retorted,
rushing out of the office and into the nearest flight agent.

***

She got off the plane at Noi Bai Airport, feeling a bit dizzy and went straight to the
second floor. Stephen had left her a message saying that in the afternoon he would leave
Ha Noi for Bangkok before returning home; he could not wait any longer as his money
had run out and could only afford to travel once a year.

The gates were packed with holiday-makers and she still had no idea what he looked like.
All she knew was he had brown hair. She searched the seething mass of faces frantically
and unbeknownst to her, he was doing the same.

Then all praise to the deus ex machina, she recognised him when he held his hands aloft
clenching a rose-shaped candle.

5
Standing in front of the glass doors, he hugged her passionately and planted burning
kisses on her willing mouth. Feeling too shy among the crowd to say a word, she just
stood motionless, tears dancing in her eyes.

"Don’t burn the candle before I return," he whispered. "Wait for me."

Then he smiled and said, "I found an ending to my play. It’s cheesy but Dan and Esther
get married."

Ngan went to the domestic booking-office. In an hour, she’s be back in Sai Gon. Looking
up at the blue sky through her transparent glass window, she watched the plane carry her
love away.

She remembered his promise to return in spring and wondered if he meant Icelandic or
Vietnamese spring.

She asked herself, "Where the hell is Iceland anyway?"