The Tangled Garden

A voice came from behind her, “Now you can fly.”

She jerked around, searching with her eyes.

The voice gave instructions, “Just flap your wings and use your feet to propel up. Trust that the wind will lift you.”

She saw a coconut bobbing out from behind the rose bush. “Wh…? What? Who are you?” she asked.

“The Coconut Boy.”

“The Coconut Boy? From the story?” Vi instantly recalled the character of her favourite folktale, a boy with no limbs, just a round body like a coconut, who overcame his limits to triumph over many obstacles. Vi teetered onto her feet and steadied herself.

Seeing her arms thrashing about, the Coconut Boy said: “Cross your arms tightly in front of your chest. Hold on to your shoulders with opposite hands.” Vi followed the instructions. “Now lift your heels, flap your wings and give a little push with your toes.”

Vi did exactly that, and she was airborne!

She aimed for the crab apple tree, almost crashing into its trunk, but luckily, she managed to grab a branch with both hands, hoisting herself up. A robin let out a loud whinny call and flew away, but a few chickadees came to inspect her, weaving around and chattering curiously. Coconut Boy hopped across the pebble path, jumped up, and sat on a branch next to her.

“See? Now you have the knack of it,” he said.

“How did you come here? Who brought you here?” Vi asked.

Coconut Boy stayed silent for a long minute. Then tilting his body to look at her, he said, “I knew that one day you would come.”

Vi knew the Coconut Boy well; he was one of her favourite characters from the folktales she told Hà and Phong when they were kids. But every time she would retell his story, Vi would make up a new adventure, transporting them into his spectacular world.

The jumping cardinals brought Vi back to the garden from her reveries. She turned to the Coconut Boy to ask a question when she lost her balance again and fell to the ground. A running red squirrel knocked her over, baring his teeth. She squeezed her eyes shut.

***

When she opened her eyes, Vi found herself again in front of MacDonald’s painting. She shook her head, blinked, and searched for the Coconut Boy—but she was alone in the cool, dark room at the back of the National Gallery. A security guard looked on. Nothing amiss.

On her ride home, Vi replayed her meeting with the Coconut Boy in her mind again and again. He had appeared when she needed someone to talk to and he had even taught her to fly. He brought back bitter sweet memories; how she missed her childhood friend Hà, who had died too young and left her alone in this world. Now her recent argument with Phong was niggling at her. She remembered the day she bumped into him at the Vietnamese New Year Festival in Montreal, when she was still living with her Canadian sponsors.