The Nightly Montage

🧭 Tienne 🧭

Two birds flew out the nest. Then the third one flapped his stubby wings and jumped out, and away he went, leaving his little sister behind.

The parents hadn't returned for an hour. The poor chick chirped and chirped outside my window. Tai would have plucked some worms and given the baby food if he was here. My brother felt the distress of animals like it was his own.

A Post-It note slipped from my calendar. I caught it before it hit the floor, and without looking I knew the task: Work tomorrow, 4-10pm. Remember to smile and speak clearly. Dropping everything for someone else was partly my passion, partly as a way to let the world slow down when my mind raced too fast. Unlike mental health or anxiety, no one questioned the health complications that came with age. The seniors at the facility enjoyed my presence, anyway.

Then I realized that "tomorrow" wasn't tomorrow, it was today. The clock read 3:50pm.

I nearly forgot the keys rushing out of my dorm room.

--

Ms. Fung was as strict and sharp as a whittling knife—a tiger grandmother, if I'd ever met one. After refusal and refusal, she finally allowed me to assist her in the washroom.

Holding her cane, I waited while she blow-dried her hands, and twisted with veins like vines. Her face was inscrutable. She never seemed happy when her family visited. Instead, she would complain of headaches during the nights if her nephew hadn't visited her for a long duration.

I handed Ms. Fung the cane. "I need to use the washroom. You can start walking down the hallway; I won't be long."

In the stall, I pretended to clean the toilet seat. My lips trembled. My shaking hands couldn't do anything. Teardrops soaked through the cheap toilet paper, and once Ms. Fung's shoes had disappeared from view, I allowed myself to whimper and cry.

I had no idea what triggered the anxiety attack this time. Tai wasn't the same as Ms. Fung's nephew. I knew that. But I didn't think Tai realized how important he was to me, beyond his own low self-esteem. 

Ms. Fung was waiting for me. In case she was greeted by an empty foyer instead of her nephew, I had to pull myself together.

--

On bad days, Ms. Fung speculated out loud to me without expecting a response: "Where could he have gone? That American boss keeps him so busy! You think his plane is late again?" Then she'd chuckle and demand to return to her room, mumbling Chinese curses that could scorch any passerby.

Today, she grinned and pinched my cheek. Her wedding ring dug into my skin. I managed a smile.

Her lips dropped into a frown. Did I show too much teeth? I pressed my lips together.

"So rosy, Tienne! Usually you are so pale."

I laughed weakly; hopefully she didn't see my red eyes. I spotted her nephew's silhouette through the foyer's front windows.

My voice rose and swelled like an eagle, and I didn't have to fake my happiness for Ms. Fung. "He's here."

They reunited. The rest of the day, I rushed to fulfill Ms. Fung's many requests to make everything just perfect. Happiness was infectious, and though most of the Chinese and Vietnamese residents here didn't show it, it sang in their hearts and mine too. I only wished I felt the same as I once did with my brother. 

I realize the sudden switching scenes may be jarring, but I think it's the best way to capture the atmosphere and Tienne's way of storytelling.