Short story: The most beautiful moon season

The town had just been submerged in a heavy rain this afternoon. Would the moon rise tonight? Nguyet didn't care. She was still engrossed in making fragrant mooncakes in the small kitchen. She was used to making everything by herself anyway. Eating mooncakes and enjoying tea alone on the Mid-Autumn Festival night wasn't a big deal. Whether there was a moon or not wasn't a big deal, even if it wasn't complete. People wouldn't die of loneliness. They only lost the desire to live when life had lost its meaning. How could Nguyet die? There were so many people out there who needed her, at least the children. Children she didn't give birth to, but they needed her so much, just like when she was little she needed her grandmother, needed her like breathing. When you still need someone, you can live many other lives. Like this lovely mooncake, even if you split it into several pieces, when put together it would still be whole and delicious.
Nguyet opened the door. The yard was still wet from the rain. She set up a small table on the porch. On the table, a pot of black Pu-erh tea gave off a gentle aroma. Nguyet loved drinking afternoon tea, even though there were nights when she couldn’t sleep because she didn’t want to. In the end, all the joys and sorrows were just the dregs of tea at the bottom of the cup. Her job was to live each day to the fullest.
“Stay and enjoy your dream of bringing the smell of baked goods, if you like!” - Huy said, when she expressed her wish to spend the rest of her life here. He walked out of her life, disappearing as quickly as he came. Nguyet’s sadness had not yet cleared when his shadow had already turned into nothingness. Sometimes she wondered if that was love? No one could answer her question. This life is strange. Rare joy is as fragile as dew, just waiting for the sun to appear and then disappear without a trace. Sadness, on the contrary, after a few rains, it turns green with moss.
The job of a marketing manager seemed to occupy Nguyet’s entire mind. She immersed herself in projects like a moth to a flame. She was used to doing everything alone, whether Huy was with her or not. Sometimes, she felt like a wet towel that had been wrung dry and frayed. Many times, she wondered what would happen to her if she stopped.
She wanted to stop, even just for a moment - to leisurely knead the dough, press the mold, and wait for the fragrant smell of baked goods to waft from the old oven exposed on the kitchen counter. The kitchen in the house was filled with the smell of old wood that occasionally returned in her memories. The fire had long since gone out in that kitchen. The smell of food was gone. Only the smell of moss and mold lingered. Life in the city made her forget many times that she still had a small, peaceful place to return to.

***

The August moon season. Wet eyes at the orphanage. Signs of mild depression and endless longing for her grandmother were the reasons for Nguyet to boldly ask for long leave. The first batch of cakes took shape. The apron was covered with flour. Flour covered the long curly hair that fell lightly on her shoulders. Nguyet did not have time to prepare the sugar syrup for the moon cakes half a year in advance, following the recipe her grandmother had left behind. She bought it temporarily at a store specializing in moon cake ingredients in Cho Lon. Nguyet's trip back during the moon season was always heavier because of that thick, shimmering can of brown sugar syrup. In the past, her grandmother also struggled to catch the bus from this town to the city, buying cake flour, grapefruit flower water, Chinese sausage, mai que lo wine... Once a year, her grandmother would go on a long trip. Sometimes Nguyet was allowed to go along to see the streets. Her eyes just wanted to dart out the dusty car window. There were too many strange things outside the window. Childish excitement was about to jump out of her eyes. Grandma stroked her head and smiled gently:
- Just get used to it. From now on, you will have many trips like this every year.
- Does it have to be that much, grandma?
- Your life is very special. Much more special than my life. Don't you want it to be like that?
- But why only one trip?
- Well then…
Grandma never answered that question. Even when she had become a white cloud. In this life, there were countless questions that forced Nguyet to find the answers herself.

***

That day, Phong asked her after the fateful meeting: "Why did you appear in my life?". Nguyet has not found a satisfactory answer, nor has she found a way to escape her feelings for Phong.
Nguyet still has a big question in her life: Why did her mother leave her in this life and disappear as if she never existed. Who is her mother?
Grandma said:
- Your mother must have been a beautiful woman to give birth to you, a daughter as beautiful as the full moon!
Nguyet remembers her grandmother's sigh.
- You are so foolish! If only he had stayed, I would have raised him!
Grandma raised a child who had no connection to her, and even wanted to take care of its mother. Aren't you afraid of what people will say? Aren't you afraid of hardship? Nguyet asked, sobbing. Grandma laughed lightly, like the sound of the wind blowing through the bamboo blinds on the empty porch.
- The world does not feed your mouth, why are you afraid, child?
Nguyet could not remember how many times her grandmother’s old hands wiped away her tears. Her grandmother had sold all her property to raise her – an orphan abandoned in a banana grove by the roadside. In her last days, her grandmother lay quietly on a wooden bed, her eyes always looking out the porch.
- Get married, Nguyet!
Nguyet thought of Huy and felt pain again. Why think when someone is so heartless? A cup of tea that is weak must be poured away.

***

The August moon is so beautiful! The light always enchants people and reminds them of the peaceful days of the past. Phong slowly drank half a cup of tea. The scent of Pu-erh mixed with the scent of baked cakes, strangely fragrant. This afternoon, he was still angry at the heavy rain that blocked his way back to the city, after his recent volunteer trip to an orphanage. Now, when he could sit and enjoy tea, watch the moon, and experience the familiar taste of baked cakes that had been his childhood desire, that groundless anger disappeared. And, especially when he stole a glance at Nguyet's face. She was beautiful. Her elegant beauty was enough to overshadow everything else around him.
- The cake is delicious! You are so skillful!
- You flatter me! The cake is probably delicious because I followed my grandmother's recipe.
Nguyet made cakes from the wooden mold her grandmother left her. Pressing cakes with a wooden mold was more laborious than a plastic mold. Every Mid-Autumn Festival, her grandmother pressed out hundreds of beautiful cakes like that. When she followed her grandmother to bring cakes to the orphanage, seeing the eager eyes of the orphans, she trembled with joy. There were children about Nguyet's age, some were tiny, some were taller and skinny. A tiny boy, often hiding in the corner of the room, was always the one patiently waiting to receive the last piece of cake. Grandma held him in her arms, stroking his sun-burnt, sparse hair. The two of them always had whispering conversations that Nguyet could never hear.
“In this life, if there is no sun, there is still the moon to light your way. Just live calmly, don’t be afraid! Knowing how to live is good enough, Nguyet!” The old people’s faith endures over time. Grandma follows the smoke to heaven, Nguyet follows the long-distance buses to the city. Being busy makes Nguyet less lonely but does not erase the sadness of missing her grandmother.

***

Every Mid-Autumn Festival, Nguyet would sit quietly on the porch waiting for the moon to rise after giving away several batches of fragrant moon cakes to the children in the orphanage. A ritual. A way for her to be close to her grandmother. This year, Phong and his father were her random guests, unexpected.
- You… have been like this for how long? Making cakes alone. Giving cakes to the children alone. Eating moon cakes alone?
- Since my grandmother passed away.
- You know, your grandmother promised that somehow, she would bring me back, to meet the right person I needed to meet.
And then, by some miracle, Phong groped his way back to this warm home, to remember that for many years, someone had always lingered and given him a warm hug. Was it because of the smell of her baked goods?
How could Nguyet know the beautiful fairy tales she told the boy with sunburnt hair. But she did not tell why the children in that orphanage were always wandering around, growing up without anyone to call them mother or father. The children suddenly appeared, without any background, without papers… just like in some magical story, that a stork carried a child and flew to give it to the adults, and then the child called those adults father or mother. Those children were always luckier than the boy.

***

Phong hesitated, looking at her as the full moon shone brightly in the sky, caressing the wind.
- If you are shy, I will send the child…
- No, an orphan's life is painful enough!
Outside, the moon was rising. The little girl held the fragrant mooncake in her hand. Suddenly, she cupped the cake to her face and said softly:
- Can I call you mom?
Nguyet's eyes stung. The little girl was like her, bewildered in life without a mother. She held her in her arms, looking up at the moon. Grandma would be happy that she had lived the life she always wanted. The moon might be lonely, but it could not let anyone be lonely.
- I have a small bakery in the city. It will be more special with your baked goods. No, more special with you!
The moon that night was shining brightly in Nguyet's sleep.