by J. F. Gump
The next dream started very nice. She was at her mother’s house and her father was there. If Math had been awake, this would have seemed strange. Her mother and father had been separated for several years and were together only for weddings and funerals. But, in her dream, it all seemed normal. Her younger brother and her sister from Phitsanulok were there, too. It was Sunday and her mother was cooking.
Suddenly, the door of the house burst open and a monkey-man, straight from Thai legends, bolted in. He was dressed in bright yellows, reds, and greens. His gruesome, half-human / half-monkey face stared out from the elaborate gold helmet on his head. He walked bent-kneed and slightly stooped over. A tail snaked out from the back of his warrior attire. He slashed the air wildly with a razor sharp sword. Whistling sounds echoed through the room. Suddenly he stopped, and looked directly at Math. A torrent of words sprang from his monkey-human mouth. She didn’t understand anything he said and it terrified her. The monkey-man repeated himself. This time she recognized one word, and the word was “Dead”. Panic and dread clutched her entire body. “Who is dead?” she screamed, loudly, shrilly. “Who is dead?”
The monkey-man pushed his ugly face within inches of her own; his sour breath assaulted her nose. “You know already,” he spat out the words, as if they were bitter poison. Then he laughed.
“Who is dead?” she screamed again, louder, shriller.
Her scream woke her. She glanced around the bus, but no one was looking at her. Her heart pounded like a jackhammer. Pounding and fluttering like the heart of the little chick she had tried to save when she was ten years old. Math slid back into a restless sleep.
It was such a tiny chick. Its mother had been run over by a truck and Math decided it needed help. Even though it was hot outside, she was sure the chick must be cold without its mother to huddle under. She had felt its little heart quivering wildly as she grabbed it up. She wrapped the chick in a towel and sat beside it in the sun.
Presently, her brother came by and asked her to play badminton. Math was very tired but wanted to play, so she went with him. She left the chick wrapped in the towel and sitting in the broiling Thailand heat. When she came back an hour or so later, the chick was not moving. It was dead. She knew it was her own selfishness and not the sun that had killed the chick. She cried over the dead chick for a long time.
Her memories of the chick faded and the monkey-man with his warning of “dead” returned. As the bus traveled through the dark night, the dream of the monkey-man came back over and over. Finally, she could not face the dream again and forced herself to stay awake.
What did it mean? She wondered. The monkey-man dream seemed so real, so terrifying. Was it an omen of some sort? Was someone really going die or was there some other hidden meaning? Why did the monkey-man say she already knew who was going to die? How could she possibly know? Maybe it was herself. Maybe her bus was going to crash or something. She shuddered at the thought.
She was glad when the bus entered the outskirts of Bangkok. Here, the streetlights and nighttime activity distracted her thoughts away from the bizarre dream. By the time they reached the bus station, her nightmares had faded into vague memories.
It was a long wait for an empty seat to Pattaya. She tried to sleep in the terminal but could not. After what seemed like an eternity, her bus was announced. As the bus moved south out of Bangkok, Math drifted off to sleep. This time she did not dream.
She was still asleep when the bus arrived at the station on North Pattaya Road. The man sitting beside her shook her awake. Math was still groggy from sleep, but managed a polite thank you. She sat on the bus for a minute to let her head clear. Shortly, she left the bus and collected her suitcase. She glanced at her watch. It was six-fifty in the morning.
The city of Pattaya was already alive with people going about their morning routines. Motorcycles, cars, and taxis moved up and down the streets toward scattered destinations. She had not taken the time to consider where she would go after she arrived in Pattaya. She had only been concerned about getting away from Phitsanulok and Sawat. She knew it would be best if she went to her brother’s house, but the thought of going to Mike’s condo, and surprising him with the good news about the police, held a stronger appeal. It was Saturday and Mike would have to work, but, if she hurried, she could get to his condo before he left. Maybe he wouldn’t go to work if she was there.
Math flagged down a baht-bus going in the direction of Mike’s condo. In less than two blocks the traffic stopped. She leaned her head out the side of the baht-bus and looked down the street. She couldn’t see anything but assumed there must be an accident. Damn the luck, she muttered to herself. She looked at her watch. Mike would be leaving for work soon. But, if the traffic started moving, she could still make it.
Her patience ebbed as the seconds ticked past. She was just about to forget the baht-bus and walk, when the traffic inched forward. At the next intersection the baht-bus turned right. It was the wrong direction. “You are going in the wrong way,” she shouted at the driver.
The driver pointed toward the middle of the intersection. There stood a policeman directing traffic to turn right, detouring them around a closed stretch of road. As the baht-bus completed its turn, she saw what had caused the traffic to jam.
It was an accident. From what she could see, it involved a truck and two motorcycles. The scene was gruesome. Bloody bodies and twisted motorcycles lay bent and broken on the blacktop.
She looked away. After the dreams she had had the night before, she did not want to see more. She was afraid it might be someone she knew.
The detour took longer than she hoped. By the time the baht bus reached Mike’s condo, it was seven-fifteen. She paid the driver, grabbed her suitcase, and ran inside the condo lobby. “Is Khun Mike here?” she asked hopefully of the boy at the front desk.
“He left already,” the boy answered.
Bad luck lady, Math thought. The boy had seen her with Mike a couple of times, when she came down to see him off to work. She hoped he remembered her. “You already know I am Mike’s girlfriend and that we live together,” she stretched the truth confidently. “Give me the room key so I can leave my suitcase. I will only be a minute, then I am going to my brother’s house.”
After a barely noticeable pause, the boy handed her the key.
In the room, Math unpacked her clothes. She put the clean ones onto hangers and into drawers, while the dirty ones went into the laundry basket for the maids to collect and wash. She pushed her suitcase atop the closet, out of sight and out of the way. She took a quick shower, dressed, and shoved a change of clothes into her oversized handbag. She started to write Mike a note, but changed her mind. She really did want to surprise him.
Downstairs, she returned the key to the boy. “Please don’t tell khun Mike I was here,” she said. “I want to surprise him.”
“Okay,” the boy smiled.
She left the condo and caught a motorcycle-taxi to her brother’s house. She felt a shiver of anxiety, as they drove past the place where she had seen the accident. There was still blood on the pavement, but the truck, motorcycles, and bodies were gone. She wondered how many people had died.
Chapter 13
As they often did on Saturdays, Mike, Randy, and the rest of their crew decided to leave work early and go to the Tahitian Queen, the TQ, for afternoon happy hour. At lunch they voted for a two o’clock departure. Randy made arrangements with the driver.
Everyone had cleared their desks and was waiting when the van came to pick them up. There wasn’t much traffic and their ride home was faster than usual. Mike was anxious to go with his friends to the bar. He had finally admitted to himself that he was depressed because he missed Math. He hoped that going out with his friends would help him forget about her for a while. He arrived at his condo at two thirty-five.
The boy at the front desk smiled when Mike asked for his key. Mike s
miled back but said nothing. Neither did the boy.
Mike was in his room just long enough to drop off his computer, wash his face, and put on fresh deodorant. He didn’t shower or change clothes; he would do that later. He hurried downstairs, left his key with the smiling boy, and then caught a baht-bus to the Tahitian Queen. He was the last one to arrive.
The TQ was Mike’s favorite go-go bar in Pattaya. They didn’t play that thumping, re-mix dance music so loved by the other go-go bars. Here they played good old rock and roll classics. The music was good, the beer was cold, and the dancers were hot.
The afternoon slid past filled with jokes and laughter and half-naked ladies. The refrain of “just one more beer” lasted until the evening, when happy hour started. By then, everyone was in the middle stages of drunkenness, so their decision to drink through the second happy hour was an easy one. At eight o’clock, the dancer’s changed shifts and, of course, everyone had to stay for that. At eight thirty, Mike announced that he was going home while he could still find it. Randy decided to leave with him. They shared a baht-bus home.
Randy thought Mike seemed more relaxed and happier than he had been for the last couple of days. It had probably helped just getting him out of his condo and away from Soi 2. The six or more beers that Mike had consumed probably didn’t hurt too much either. Why stop now? Randy felt obligated to keep his friend occupied for the evening so he wouldn’t have time to think about that girl.
“Got any plans for the night?” he asked.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Maybe I’ll just go somewhere and get drunk,” Mike answered.
“I’ve got news for you, Mike - you’re drunk already.”
Mike laughed. “No, I mean really, seriously, drunk. Falling down, shit-faced, puking drunk. Want to come along?”
“Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing,” Randy said. “I have a new girlfriend on Soi 8. Her name is Tana.”
“Another girlfriend?” Mike asked, without expecting an answer. “No wonder the girls call you a butterfly. What is that, the third one this month?”
Randy ignored Mike’s comments. “I’m going to see her later. You’re welcome to come along if you want. I’d like for you to meet her. She is really hot. I think she might be a keeper.”
“Bet that will go over real big with your wife,” Mike needled.
“Fuck you, Mike,” Randy retorted. “You’re not exactly a saint, either.”
“What time are you supposed to meet her?”
“About ten o’clock or so.”
“Okay, I’ll go.” Mike said. “Guess I should meet this hot little home-wrecker. I just need enough time to shower and change clothes. Where do you want to meet?”
“Soi 2?” Randy suggested. Over the months, Toy’s bar had become the regular meeting place for most of the guys from work.
Mike sighed. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. My welcome there seems to have worn a little thin. Why don’t you meet me at the Music Lover Bar? You know, the bar in front of my condo.” He pulled a ten baht coin from his pocket and handed it to Randy. “For the baht-bus fare to the Music Lover,” he said.
“You got it,” Randy agreed.
Mike buzzed the driver as they neared his condo. He looked at his watch; it was nine o’clock. “See you in forty-five minutes or so. He stepped from the baht-bus, paid his fare, and headed home.
Chapter 14
Math had spent that same Saturday morning telling her brother, Anan, about her trip to Phitsanulok, and Sawat’s decision not to press charges against her. She spent the afternoon watching TV and thinking how surprised and happy Mike would be when she told him everything that had happened. At four thirty she showered, changed clothes, and put on new make-up. Mike would probably be home when she got to his condo, and she wanted to smell clean and look beautiful when he opened the door. By five o’clock, she was on her way to Pattaya.
At her request, Anan had left his motorcycle for her to use. She would never admit it, but his motorcycle was a little big for her. It was too heavy and her feet barely reached the ground. But it was better than catching taxis everywhere, and it gave her a sense of freedom and independence.
Sukhumvit Road was busy with afternoon traffic. Math took no chances and yielded the right of way to everything larger than her motorcycle. She arrived at the condo at five thirty-five.
The boy who had been working at the desk in the morning was gone and had been replaced by the girl who worked evenings. Her name was Jahl. Jahl had seen her with Mike many times. She had always gone out of her way to be polite and friendly with Jahl.
“Sawasdee ka, good evening,” Math said, in her most polite tone. “Is Khun Mike in his room?”
The girl checked for Mike’s key. It was there. “He must not be home from work yet,” Jahl said, holding up the key.
“Oh, good,” Math said. “I just returned from Phitsanulok and I want to surprise him. I will take the key just long enough to unlock the door, and then I will bring it right back. When Mike comes home, he will not know I am here. When he walks in, I will be waiting for him. He will be very surprised.”
The girl handed over the key without question. Math went upstairs, unlocked the room, and then returned the key to the front desk.
Back in the condo, she slipped into a short sexy nightgown. She combed her hair and double-checked her make-up. Mike would be home any minute. Her excitement rose at the thought. She noticed his computer beside the desk. She hadn’t noticed it earlier, but thought nothing of it. He didn’t always take it to work with him anyway.
By six thirty, her initial excitement had worn off and she had turned on the TV. She flipped through the channels but couldn’t get interested in any of the shows. Finally, she left it on MTV. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring stupidly at the music videos without really seeing or hearing them. Mike must have had to work late, she thought.
By seven thirty she began to feel stupid sitting around it the short nightgown. She dressed in her street clothes and put her nightgown back into the drawer. Maybe Mike had stopped for a beer with his friends.
By eight thirty she was hungry and irritated. She had wanted to surprise Mike, but she was the one being surprised.
At eight forty-five she turned off the air, the TV, and the lights. She left the condo. Jahl, at the front desk, smiled as she walked past. She didn’t return the receptionist’s smile.
Math knew Mike used to like hanging around with that witch, Lek, at Toy’s bar. Maybe, after she had gone to Phitsanulok, he had started going there again. The thought made her blood boil. There was only one way to know for sure. She would go and look.
Outside, she could not get the motorcycle started. After five minutes of trying, her leg hurt and she was sweating.
The security guard, who had been watching her efforts, finally came over and offered his help. As if to add insult to injury, he got the motorcycle running on his second kick. She blushed with embarrassment and thanked the man for his help. He only nodded and smiled. Math put on her helmet and drove away from the condo toward Soi 2. It was eight fifty-five.
Mike walked into the condo parking area at nine o’clock. The guard, who didn’t speak any English, waved for Mike to stop. Mike looked at him. The guard pointed at the parked motorcycles and made riding motions and girlie shapes with his hands.
What in the hell was he trying to say? Mike wondered to himself. Finally, he decided the guard was wondering if he was going to ride a motorcycle and pick up women tonight. Mike just laughed and shook his head. “Mai, pom maow mak mak. No, I am drunk,” he said to the guard.
They looked at each other for a long moment. Mike in bewilderment, and the guard in frustration. Finally, Mike shrugged his shoulders and walked into the lobby. The night girl, Jahl, was not there, but the manager was. “Jahl bai nai, krup, where is Jahl?” he asked politely.
; The manager smiled at Mike’s heavily accented, badly spoken Thai. “I have relieved her so she can eat dinner,” she answered in near perfect English. “She will be back later.” She handed Mike his key.
“Okay, see you later,” he said and went to his room. He didn’t have much time. Randy would be at the Music Lover’s Bar before long. He rushed through his shower and put on fresh clothes. The shower helped sober him a little and he felt better. He left the room without noticing the female clothes in the closet or Math’s suitcase on top of it.
He nodded good evening to the manager, who was still tending the front desk. In the parking lot, the guard again went through his hand motions. Mike smiled and made walking motions with his fingers. The guard shook his head and smiled back.
At the Music Lover Bar, he was given his usual warm welcome. He was a good customer, one who never caused problems and always paid his bill. Wan, the bar’s mama-san, sat across from him and asked him many questions about his new girl.
He answered most of them before telling Wan that Math had gone back to Phitsanulok and probably wouldn’t return. On hearing that, Wan introduced him to a new girl at the bar and suggested he take her home. He only smiled and shook his head. Wan knew better. He never took girls from the bar.
By ten o’clock, Randy still had not arrived. Mike ordered another beer. At ten fifteen Randy was still absent, so he ordered one more. Where in bloody hell is Randy? he wondered to himself. Maybe Randy had received a call from his home or from the office. Not likely on a Saturday night but certainly possible.
By ten thirty Mike had finished his third beer and had ordered the fourth. His soberness from the shower had faded away and the numbing cloud of alcohol had returned. At ten forty-five Randy arrived and he didn’t look happy.
“Who pissed you off?” Mike asked, as Randy took a seat at the bar.
Randy didn’t answer. Instead, he ordered a beer for both of them. After the beers arrived and Randy had had a healthy swallow, he turned to Mike, “When did your friend, Math, go to Phitsanulok?”