Chen Yixi II

One evening, Dasha knocked on Chen's door. At this point, Chen could recognize his arrival by the distinct pattern of his knock, placed low and tapped on weakly. He opened the door and saw a flash of red and white. He paled.

"Dasha…?" 

A bottle. He had not seen this since home; since he was in that tiny little dot of nothingness everyone proudly called a kampung. He hated it.

He hated it, he hated it, he hated it, hehatedithehatedit—

"It's a gift. My mom and dad got it from a friend but they didn't like it."

Of course they didn't. Drinking was stupid. A Western obsession. As teenagers, okay, sure, it was okay to get a whiff or two but now…

But now his life was its end.

"Thank you."

Chen appreciated the gesture, took the gift, and closed the door. He drank himself to sleep that night.

Waking up, he was sitting at his desk and found his journal open and written with something. A scribble that he did not recall seeing. 

I want to be free.

Chen didn't remember writing it but it had to be him. After all, it was his handwriting; and somewhere deep inside, he agreed.

Chen Yixi wanted to be free. 

***

"Do you have any idea how much money you cost this company, Yixi?" Nguyên's voice was sharp, each word a dagger. "That shipment was late because of you!"

Chen's fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms until he felt the skin break. He could feel the warm trickle of blood, but it was nothing compared to the burning shame in his chest. He wanted to shout, to defend himself, to tell Nguyên how the roads were impossible to navigate because of the storm, but he knew it would do no good. 

"You're old. Washed-up. Do you think you're indispensable or something? You're a dime a dozen. There are plenty of people who would kill for your job. People who wouldn't screw up like you do."

Chen bit his tongue, the taste of copper filling his mouth. The truth was, he needed this job. It was all he had left. But every insult and word and appraisal from Nguyên felt like another chain around his neck.

"The only reason I'm keeping you is because you and I have been together for a long time. That's it. Production? Speed? Everything about you is damn short ended. You're damn near retirement too! You're lucky to even be here and you better start acting like it, or you'll be out. Understand?"

They were both immigrants. Both worked till their bones rattled. The one whose walls were adorned with certificates and accolades was not Chen, however. It was Nguyên. 

The hatred he felt for Nguyên was like a poison, eating away at his insides. He hated how powerless he was, how trapped he felt in this cycle of degradation and hopelessness.

Chen didn't want to nod.

"Answer me!" Nguyên barked.

But he did. 

Nguyên leaned back in his chair, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Good. Now get out of my office and do your damn job. And remember, you're on thin ice. One more mistake, and you're done."

Chen turned and walked out of the office. He unclenched his fists and stared at the blood smeared across his palms.

***

Playing four-squares but not having enough players meant Chen and Dasha were playing against each other. Chen was fine purposely losing. The ball lightly bounced at a bad angle. Surprisingly, Dasha caught it. For a seven or eight year old, he was nimble. 

"Can I ask something, sir?"

Always calling him sir. 'Such a polite kid.' 

Chen smiled. "Go ahead." 

"Freedom…what exactly is freedom?"

The ball was tossed back to Chen. He caught it with a bit more force than he wanted. "Freedom…freedom…" he repeated in a low mutter. "Freedom…is to be able to love without being restricted."

"Love without being restricted," Dasha echoed. "Do you feel restricted, Mr. Chen?"

"I'm an old man. My bones are restricting me," he joked.

"Oh. That's too bad."

"It is the way it is. Being my age means that you can't fight for freedom. You stay as you are and just watch."

"But you're playing with me."

Chen laughed and tossed the ball. One bounce and Dasha caught it.

"Haha, I don't mean it literally."

"So what can't you do?"

He thought about it. "Going to school for example, I can't do that. I can't keep getting my driver's license. At some point, I'll be too old to do it."

"Oh. So it's like being told that you're too young."

Dasha's throw had a bit of a curve. Chen actually had to pivot to catch it. A bigger smile appeared. "Something like that. You catch on quick."

"You should try to be free," Dasha suggested. "Even if you don't feel like it, you should try. I always see kids at school breaking the law."

"Those boys, my boy, are just plain bad," Chen said with a bitter laugh. "Please don't try to be like them."

"Okay, I won't."

He was a good boy. Of course he wouldn't.

***

Their backyard were connected and Dasha could climb the fence like a chimpanzee. Hanging out even when his parents were home wasn't a jiffy. Lying on the grass, they stared at the evening sky. The stars were going to come into view in a couple hours. Dasha had a telescope ready in the backyard.

"Sir, why don't you have a girlfriend?"

"Why? Hrm, why do you ask?"

"My mother says everyone should get married."

"It is what is expected of us." Chen's smile weakened. "But like I mentioned the other day, not everyone can love and do as we please. We're restricted."

"So not everyone marries?"

"Not everyone," Chen concurred.

"Okay."

He didn't press further. Chen appreciated that. 

"But some types of love never stop," Dasha suddenly said. "Don't you think so, sir?"

Yes, Chen wanted to say. There were certain loves that went on forever and ever.

"I think everyone should be in love and love," said Dasha. "Especially you, sir."

"Me? Haha, I'm too old."

"Love isn't old or young; it just is."

"Such wise words for such a little guy, haha!"

"You should go out and meet people. I do the same at the playground. I'm not good at it but I try."

"That makes you braver than most, kid."