A campaign of jealousy

Ihave been a bicycle fixer on this street corner. It is normal to get in contact with people of every class in society. For the most part, no one is too idle to spend their time at such a messy place like this, strewn with spanners, screwdrivers… and greasy cloths. People are just busy with their business. They come here to have their bikes fixed or their tyres filled.

That afternoon, I had finished reading an eight-page newspaper without finding any customers until that woman came. A woman past forty, in casual clothes, with her hair falling behind and pinned. I looked up when her bike pulled up.

I asked, “Want your bike fixed?”

She answered, “No, I’ve come here for some fresh air”

She propped her bike and crouched on the cemented floor looking out on the street.

I returned to my newspaper. She said, addressing no one, “How strange! He must be appearing this moment!”

I stayed silent. She asked me, “Why not yet?”

Being unmarketable, I was irritated, “Not yet… what?”

“My husband’s not appeared yet? A cyclodriver was hired to follow him.

He has to walk on this street at this time.

He has a concubine, abandoning me and my two children, for a long time”.

“That’s it, a jealousy campaign. My place will become a battle field”, I talked to myself. Then I said in irritation, “One cannot be alone in a jealousy campaign.

You bring along a glass of acid?”

“There he is!” cried the woman.

On the other sidewalk, a man and a woman were walking side by side, very closely. I suddenly turned to look at the woman waiting for her husband. She was looking at the scene with her open mouth, her bright eyes, very carefully. The couple went away, farther and farther.

The woman stood up, took her bicycle along. She said, “Thank you, man. I’m happy to see him and to see him well”.

- Khuê Việt Trường