Chapter 12

The car took Mai and Old Tu to a gym on the third floor of a small building, its front made of black glass, an air-conditioned cafe below. There was no loud sign, no pounding music like crowded gyms. Only a narrow elevator, a faint smell of essential oil, and a receptionist who bowed when she saw the card Hoang had given Mai.

“The private room is ready.”

Mai heard the words “private room” and paused a little.

Old Tu also looked around, his country face showing clearly. He wore new cloth shoes, a loose sports shirt, his two hands rubbing together. The eager look he had in the car sagged a little once they arrived, replaced by the awkwardness of a person stepping into a place too clean, too bright, too not belonging to him.

The room door opened.

Inside was just wide enough, with a black rubber floor, one side covered by a large wall mirror, the other side with treadmills, dumbbells, exercise balls, resistance bands, and a few simple workout chairs. The air conditioner was cool. The light was white, clean, and even, making everything show up too clearly. Mai saw herself in the mirror: new workout clothes, white leggings, hair tied high, her face still a little embarrassed. She suddenly felt as if she had put on someone else’s life by mistake.

There was already a girl standing in the room waiting.

“Hello, Sister Mai, hello, Uncle Tu. I’m Tieu My, your PT today.”

Tieu My was not tall, but her body was neat, firm, small-waisted, shoulders straight, upper arms showing a little muscle. Not soft and skinny like office girls, and not crudely muscular either. She wore workout clothes that fit close to her body, healthy skin, hair tied high, her smile bright and active. Her body gave off the smell of health: clean, warm, confident, like a piece of sunlight packed inside an air-conditioned room.

Old Tu looked once, then hurriedly turned his face away.

Mai saw that and almost laughed.

A few days earlier the old man had still been drooping like a wet sack under the hammock. Now he was placed in a private room, beside Mai, with a fiery PT like Tieu My standing there to guide them, and naturally his back straightened up clearly. The old sadness on his face was replaced by a clumsy, foolish happiness, almost like a child’s.

Tieu My was very professional. She did not overdo it, did not speak too sweetly, and did not show contempt for the country old man. She gave each of them a bottle of water, then said:

“Today we won’t train hard. Mainly get used to the body, warm up the joints, stretch, walk lightly, do a few balance exercises. Uncle Tu hasn’t moved much for a long time, so he has to go even slower. Don’t push.”

Old Tu nodded again and again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll listen to you.”

“You can just call me My.”

“Yeah ... My.”

After saying it, his face reddened.

Mai turned away, hiding her smile.

The first exercise was only rotating wrists, ankles, shoulders, and hips. Tieu My demonstrated first, Mai followed. Old Tu stood between them, arms and legs stiff as a pole. She told him to rotate his shoulders, and he bobbed his whole body. She told him to breathe in, and he breathed out. She told him to go slowly, and he hurried again, doing two counts before looking at Mai to see whether he had done it wrong.

“Don’t tense up, Uncle,” Mai said. “Just do it slowly.”

Old Tu softened when he heard Mai.

“Yeah, slowly.”

Tieu My stepped over and adjusted his shoulders.

“Relax your shoulders. Don’t brace. That’s right. Open your arms a little. Good. You can do it.”

Praised once, Old Tu was like a child given a good mark by the teacher. He smiled, a wrinkled smile but truly happy.

After that came the exercise of standing up and sitting down with a chair.

Tieu My placed a chair behind him.

“Imagine you’re sitting down, then standing up. No need to go deep. Don’t let your knees collapse inward. Sister Mai, do it with him.”

Mai stood beside him and demonstrated. She was not used to exercising either, but she was younger, more flexible, her movements softer. Old Tu watched her and copied. The first time, he dropped down onto the chair with a thud, almost tipping backward.

Tieu My caught him in time.

“It’s all right, it’s all right. Do it slower.”

Mai laughed:

“Uncle Tu, you do it like you’re sitting down to drink tea. Slowly.”

“Yeah, I ... ah, I’m used to sitting in a hammock.”

“Then now use the hammock less.”

Old Tu heard Mai say that and nodded very seriously:

“Yeah, use it less.”

Tieu My stood beside him and adjusted his posture. She spoke in an even, firm voice. Each time she touched his shoulder, back, or elbow to fix his form, it was quick, measured, not making anyone uncomfortable. Mai noticed Hoang had chosen carefully. Tieu My was not only pretty. She knew how to make a country old man less embarrassed, knew when to praise, knew when to stop, knew how to make the workout feel like a light game instead of a punishment.

They trained ten minutes, then rested five.

When resting, they sat and drank water, talking a few stray sentences. Tieu My asked what Old Tu had done before. He told her farming, day labor, carrying things, watching rental rooms. She nodded and said his strength base was not bad, only that he had not moved properly for a long time. Hearing that, the old man’s face lit up.

“I thought I was old already, all used up.”

Tieu My laughed:

“Not yet, Uncle. If you train regularly, you’ll get strong again fast.”

Mai sat beside him, looking at him.

His face brightened bit by bit. Not the brightness of liquor, of bar lights, of pretty girls stroking him with false sweetness. It was the brightness of a person pulled out of an old hammock and told that his body was not completely broken yet.

After the chair exercise, Tieu My had the two of them walk on treadmills. Mai went first, at a slow speed. Old Tu stepped onto the machine beside her, at first still gripping both handles, his legs stiff as if walking across a monkey bridge. As soon as the machine started, he cried out:

“Hey, this thing is pulling me along?”

Mai burst out laughing.

“Just step, Uncle. Don’t look down too much.”

“If I don’t look down, won’t I fall?”

Tieu My stood behind him, voice gentle:

“I’m here, Uncle. You won’t fall. This speed is very slow.”

After walking a few minutes, the old man gradually got used to it. His stiff shape softened. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. He breathed a little hard, but his eyes were happy. Sometimes he glanced at Mai. Seeing Mai also walking, he tried to step more evenly, as if not wanting to lose in front of her.

They trained a little, rested a little, talked a little like that, and almost two hours passed without anyone noticing.

Mai also sweated. Her shirt stuck lightly to her back. Her body felt hot, tired, but in her heart there was a sudden comfortable feeling. It had been a long time since her body was tired from moving, not from fear, from humiliation, from chasing money. This tiredness was cleaner. Had more reason.

When the workout ended, Tieu My gave towels to them both.

“Today that’s good enough. Uncle Tu shouldn’t overdo it on the first day. If you’re sore this afternoon, soak your feet in warm water.”

Old Tu wiped sweat and laughed heh-heh:

“I thought exercise was terrible. Didn’t expect it to be fun too.”

Mai said:

“Then will you still go tomorrow?”

The old man turned to her at once:

“Of course.”

He answered so fast that both Mai and Tieu My laughed.

Leaving the gym, Mai did not want to go home right away. Outside, it was still bright. The noon sun fell onto the road, but it was not too harsh. She looked at Old Tu, saw that although he was tired his spirit was rising, so she said:

“How about you walk around with me a little before going back?”

Old Tu looked as if he had been invited to a festival.

“Go. Of course.”

The two of them walked along the small road behind the building. There were low trees there, a clean tiled sidewalk, a few cafes and convenience stores. Old Tu walked slowly, Mai beside him. The air between them was still awkward at first, then gradually softened.

He told stories about home. Told about herding buffalo as a child and being dragged by a buffalo into a ditch. Told about working for hire at the wholesale market, one night sleeping on sacks, waking in the morning with rats having chewed through his pants. Told about the old hammock that had followed him for so many years, how wherever he went he wanted to hang it up and lie there because lying on a bed made his body uneasy.

Mai listened.

Sometimes she laughed. Sometimes she asked back. The more she asked, the more he talked. His words were clumsy, country, some sentences repeated two or three times, but they were true. Not like Hung’s words these past days, too sweet, too well-timed, like sugar cooked down to cover the burned smell underneath.

Near noon, Mai was about to call a car back when Tieu My messaged.

“Brother Hoang ordered a healthy lunch in the rest room here. You and Uncle should come back to eat before going home.”

Mai looked at the message, a little stunned.

Hoang again.

Everything was still prepared down to the bite of food.

She showed the phone to Old Tu.

The old man could read some words and not others, but hearing there was food, he nodded:

“Then eat and go back. I’m hungry after training too.”

The two returned.

In the small rest room beside the gym, food had already been laid out on the table: steamed sweet potatoes cut into chunks, green boiled vegetables, peeled boiled eggs in a bowl, pan-seared salmon, sliced steamed beef, a little brown rice, and two bottles of water. Beside it was also a glass of whey milk mixed for Mai, pale-colored, with a faint vanilla smell.

Tieu My explained:

“This meal is light on the stomach, enough protein. Uncle Tu, eat salmon and steamed beef, plus vegetables. Sister Mai can drink the whey too. It’s good for recovery after training.”

Old Tu looked at the plate of salmon like looking at a strange fish at the market.

“This fish is expensive, huh?”

Tieu My laughed:

“A little expensive, Uncle.”

“Then eat it all. Wasteful to leave it.”

After saying that, the old man picked up his chopsticks and took food very carefully.

Mai tried the whey milk. It was lightly sweet, a little fatty, strange in her mouth. She did not know whether she liked it, but the feeling of having something prepared especially for her made her both embarrassed and feel valued. How long had it been since anyone had prepared anything for her this carefully? A set of clothes, shoes, a private gym room, a private PT, a private lunch, even a glass of milk after training.

Mai had to admit it: Hoang was thoughtful to a frightening degree.

That was where the frightening part lay.

Not because he was crude. Not because he forced. But because everything he laid out fit exactly with another person’s need. Old Tu needed to be pulled out of his sadness. Mai needed work, needed money, needed the feeling that she was not useless. And Hoang gave exactly that, at exactly that time, with a smile that very rarely showed fully on his face.

Mai respected Hoang.

But inside she still felt a snag.

A small thorn. It did not hurt much, but it stayed there.

She looked over at Old Tu. He was eating sweet potato, eating while continuing to tell old stories of growing sweet potatoes back home. Tieu My sat across from him, listening attentively, sometimes laughing. The old man talked far more than on ordinary days, his face freshening, his body as if coming back to life. Seeing that, Mai told herself maybe she was thinking too much.

It was only helping an old man get healthy.

After eating, Tieu My also guided Old Tu through a few light stretches. Mai stood beside him and followed. After that they rested more, then walked another round around the neighborhood. Old Tu did not ask to go back. Mai was not in a hurry either. Just like that, a morning stretched into an afternoon. Training, resting, eating, walking, talking, drinking water, then sitting under the shade of trees watching cars pass.

Only near six in the evening did the car bring the two of them back to the rental block.

Hoang stood at the office door when the car stopped in the yard.

Mai got out first, hair a little messy, her face somewhat tired but bright. Old Tu got out after her, walking slowly, dried sweat on his collar, face red from moving. He was dead tired but happy. Happy like an old person who had just had a day when he was not forgotten.

“Tired, Uncle?” Hoang asked.

Old Tu waved his hand, trying to act strong.

“Nothing. Trained just a little.”

But as soon as he finished speaking, he let out a long breath.

Mai laughed:

“You did very well today, Uncle. Tomorrow we’ll go again.”

Old Tu heard the word “we” and his eyes brightened again.

“Yeah, tomorrow we go.”

Hoang looked at that gaze, then looked at his watch.

From morning to six in the evening.

One whole day, Old Tu had not rifled through papers, had not gone down to the warehouse to look at goods, had not asked about the books, had not stood behind the porters. He went out, moved, ate, talked, came back worn out.

Old Tu got to his room and had not even changed clothes before collapsing into the hammock. But today the hammock was no longer a pit of sadness. It was only a place for an old body to rest after spending all its strength. He lay there, eyes half closed, mouth still muttering:

“Exercise ... isn’t bad.”

A while later, he slept.

Slept so deeply that when a truck in the yard backed into the warehouse and honked twice, he did not bother opening his eyes.

Hoang stood outside the door and looked in.

Then he turned away, back to the office.

Under the white light, the pile of papers still lay quietly on the desk. The company still ran. Goods still came in. Money still moved through the lines of the ledgers.

And Old Tu slept like a child after his first day being led out of the house.

The next day, Mai went down to the yard again.

This time she was no longer embarrassed like the first day. Her workout clothes were simpler too: a gray T-shirt, long pants fitted just right, hair tied neatly behind her neck. No makeup, only a clean-washed face and a little pale lipstick so she looked less wan. She stood before the room door for a moment, breathed in once, then stepped down.