by J. F. Gump
After warming up for a few minutes, he retrieved his suitcase from the car. Next, he explored the house. They had moved in only a few days before he had left for Thailand the last time. He had been gone before they had completely unpacked. It was a very nice house, but it didn’t feel like his home.
He found a note laying on the kitchen table. It was addressed to their son. ‘Josh - I went out with my friends from work. If the streets are bad later, I will probably stay at Marsha’s house. If I don’t come home tonight, I will be there in the morning. I am leaving this note in case you decide to come home tonight and wonder where I am. Love, Mom.’
He read the note twice. Who was Marsha and what did she mean in case Josh decided to come home? It sounded like maybe neither of them would be coming home. Oddly, he felt relieved he wouldn’t see either Susan or Josh tonight. He checked the fridge. No beer! Susan was a wino, so he wasn’t surprised. He would buy some later.
He went to the bedroom and stripped off his traveling clothes. He took a long shower, trying to wash off the smells of the last 26 hours he had spent in busy airports and overcrowded 747’s. Even after showering, shaving, and brushing his teeth, he could still smell and taste the trip. And he was cold. He pulled on a warm sweater and turned the thermostat up a few degrees. He looked outside, it was still snowing. He dumped his dirty clothes in the washer, put on his coat, then went out for beer and cigarettes.
Pennsylvania is not a very progressive state when it comes to alcohol. While most states sell beer in every store and gas station imaginable, Pennsylvania restricts their beer sales to distributors and bars. The distributors were closed this time of the night, so Mike was stuck going to a bar.
There were several neighborhood bars near the house, but, since no one was home, he decided to make the best of his last night of freedom. He went to a bar he remembered having a decent crowd and it’s fair share of good looking girls. More importantly, it was the only place where he knew the bartenders and they would charge his credit card $50 for a $10 tab and give him the rest of in cash. As long as he left a big tip, of course.
The crowd seemed smaller than he remembered for O’Shanes on a Saturday night. Probably the snow, he thought. He didn’t recognize the bartender. She was not the same night-time bartender who had been here the last time he was in town. If she was the same one, she had certainly gained a lot of weight. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a real American beer. It didn’t taste nearly as good as he remembered. He ordered another anyway.
Mike looked around the immediate bar area. A lot of yuppie types with their friends, wives, and lovers filled the seats. None of the women looked as good as he thought they should. Their faces were all wrong. They were pale and hard, quite unlike the tanned, fine features of the women he had just left. He had first noticed this phenomenon when he arrived in Detroit, and again when he had landed in Pittsburgh. At the time, he figured he was still half asleep and no woman would look good. Now he was wide awake and they still didn’t look too hot. He quit looking.
Mike motioned, without success, for the bartender to come over. After several waves of his hand and a few hard taps of his beer bottle on the counter, she finally noticed.
“Need another beer?” she asked blandly.
“Maybe,” he answered. “I was wondering where Teresa was.”
“Who is Teresa?”
“She used to work here in the evenings.”
“Then she must have quit a long time ago because I don’t know any Teresa and I have been here for over six months. Nice tan you’ve got. You been to Florida or California or something?”
“Yeah, or something,” he answered. “Teresa used to let me overpay my tab with my charge card and then she would give me change. I always left her a nice tip. Can you do the same?”
The bartender looked Mike over carefully. “Where are you from?”
“I live just down the road, in the River Bend subdivision.”
“Oooh, nice area,” she sounded impressed. “If you have an ID, I guess it would be okay.”
“Thanks,” he said, “you’re a sweetheart.”
“Where did you say you got that tan?”
“I didn’t,” he responded, without answering her question. The bartender stared at him for a moment, then walked away.
Mike wondered how he could have ever thought this was a neat place to go. It was clean and well decorated, but it was boring. He had been sitting at the bar for the better part of thirty minutes and he was bored stiff. This bar would never survive in Pattaya, he decided. He looked around the room. The women would never survive in Pattaya either.
He finished his second beer and ordered six to go. He paid his tab, received his change, left a nice tip, and went home. After just one beer, Mike fell asleep on the sofa.
Chapter 22
When Nuang awoke in the temple on the morning after Sawat had beat her, the first thing she did was look at her face in the mirror. She couldn’t believe how bad she looked. She found the toilet, washed herself, and then went directly back to her room. She didn’t come out the rest of the day, not even to eat.
She lay on her bed, listening to the sounds of people shuffling past her door and the occasional faint sound of the monks chanting their daily prayers. From time to time she would touch her face ever so lightly and feel the swollen soreness.
By nine o’clock that evening, the old monk Jum had become concerned about Nuang and went to her room. He knocked softly.
“Who is there?” Nuang asked, without opening the door.
“I am Jum,” the monk answered. “I saw you last night, when Math brought you here. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I am very ugly right now,” she said through the door, “but I am okay.”
“You did not eat today,” the monk persisted. “I will bring you some food, if you will eat it.”
She was taken aback. She knew that monks did not bring food to people; people brought food to the monks. She wondered at his offer but said nothing. “I will eat tomorrow,” she replied.
“Okay,” Jum said, “in the morning, then.” There was an urgency in his voice, as if he had more to say.
She listened for the monk to continue, but heard only his footsteps as he walked away. When she knew he was gone, she went to the toilet to relieve herself and wash up. Afterwards, she lay in bed and thought for a long time about the old monk’s offer to bring her food. She didn’t understand. In a while she fell asleep.
The next day, Nuang awoke as dim shades of red edged the early morning sky. She pushed herself up from the bed and went to the toilet. She was the only one there, so she took time to wash herself thoroughly.
Back in her room she looked at herself in the mirror again. The swelling had gone down some, but the bruises were still very evident. She applied more make-up than usual to cover them. In the dim light of the room, she thought she looked almost normal.
Nuang was hungry but didn’t know where everyone ate or what the routine was. She opened her door so she could see out. She decided she would ask the next person she saw. Her wait was short. The old monk came by less than a minute later.
“Sawasdee dee krup, good morning,” the monk spoke first.
“Sawasdee dee ka.” She presented him a wai of respect.
Jum smiled. “You have promised me you would eat today. But before you can eat, you must help with the cooking. Come with me and I will show you.”
She followed the monk to the temple kitchen area. Three other women were already there, busily preparing food.
“These nice women will show you what you must do,” he said, then left.
Nuang felt awkward, but the women were very nice. Soon everyone was talking as if they were old friends. No one asked why she was at the temple and no one mentioned the bruises on her face. She was grateful for their silence.
By the time the fir
st yellow rays of sunshine broke over the horizon, Nuang and the three women had finished cooking. The monks served themselves from the bowls the women had set on a table. They did not speak to the women, not even to say thank you. Only after the monks had finished their meal did the women eat.
By then, Nuang was famished. She thought she must look like a pig, the way she gobbled her food. She cared but didn’t care at the same time. The other women watched and smiled as she devoured her breakfast, but no one said anything.
By nine o’clock, the pots and pans, bowls and dishes had been washed and put back into their proper place. Nuang was informed there would be no lunch, but that she was expected back in the kitchen later to help with the afternoon meal. The rest of the day she could do whatever she wanted. One woman suggested that Nuang say a few prayers or attend one of the daily ceremonies. Nuang smiled and thanked them for everything, then she walked back to her room.
She had been there for a just few minutes, when there was a soft knock at the door. This time she opened the door, instead of talking through it like the night before. It was the old monk. She waited for him to speak.
“I have asked for a free day and it has been granted,” Jum said. “I would like very much for you to spend some time talking with me.”
She didn’t understand why the monk would want to talk with her, but she could not refuse. “Thank you,” she said presenting a wai. “It would be my honor to speak with you.”
“Please, come,” he said and walked away.
Nuang followed as he led her to a garden area just outside of the temple. The garden was small but exquisite. Brightly colored flowers, laid out in intricate patterns, were in bloom everywhere. Someone had taken a great deal of time nurturing the garden to near perfection.
“It is beautiful,” she said, honestly impressed.
“It is something the temple has allowed me to do. I am not allowed to be proud of it, but I am anyway. I think Buddha will forgive me for this one self-indulgence. After all, every rock, every flower, every blade of grass in this garden belongs to God. I am only helping to make them as beautiful as he intended.”
Nuang walked slowly, stopping here to touch a leaf and there to smell a flower. “I think God and Buddha are both proud of what you have done. Otherwise, they would not allow it to be so beautiful.” After a minute, she went back to the monk. “What is it you wanted to talk with me about?” She was sure she had done something wrong at breakfast, and that the old monk had been sent to reprimand her.
Jum sat cross-legged in the shade on a small area of grass. “Please, sit here,” he said, motioning at a spot in front of himself.
Nuang sat cross-legged like the monk.
“I have many things I want to tell to you. I am not sure I can even say them all, but I feel I must try.” Jum fidgeted nervously with the edge of his robe as he spoke. “My soul is being eaten away by secrets and I think Buddha is pushing me to cleanse myself before I die.” He paused and sighed.
Nuang waited expectantly, wondering what secrets he was about to tell her.
After what seemed like an eternity, he continued, “I have known your family for a very long time. I have known your mother since I was a boy. We used to play together, when we were children. That was so many years ago. When we became teenagers, I decided I was in love with your mother and I wanted her to be my wife. But my family had money and your mother’s family was very poor. My father was furious that I would even think about having a wife from a family of peasants. My love for your mother caused many problems in our house.”
Nuang was surprised at what she was hearing. Her mother had never mentioned loving any man except her father. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. She watched his face closely, as she listened to his words.
“When I was seventeen, my father sent me to school in Bangkok. It was my punishment for loving your mother. I didn’t stay long, but it was long enough. By the time I decided my father was wrong and I came back for your mother, she had married your father and she was pregnant with you. I was devastated. I had spent most of my time in Bangkok dreaming of the day Nui and I would be together, and now it would never happen.” The monk fell silent. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.
Nuang wondered if he was saying a prayer. In a moment he lifted his face toward her.
“Please don’t hate me for what I am about to tell you,” his eyes pleaded. “There was a time when I hated you for being Nui’s first baby. You were supposed to have been mine. My hate didn’t last long, only a month or so. Still, even today, it bothers me that I had those thoughts. Do you hate me for my feelings?”
“No,” she answered honestly, “That was a long time ago and for only a moment. I could never hate anyone for that.”
“Thank you,” Jum said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I think I was actually angry with your father for getting your mother pregnant. I hope you understand when I say I never liked your father much. I think it was partly my jealously, but mostly it was because I considered your father a brute and a drunk and I believed he would never make a proper husband.”
“I watched your family through the years and your father proved me right. What little money he made, he spent drinking and gambling. He used to beat your mother and sometimes he would even beat you and your brothers and sisters. Often, I truly hated your father. Once, I even thought about killing him for what he was and what he was doing. Of course I never did, but I thought about it. I have never understood why Nui stayed with him as long as she did. As much as I loved your mother, sometimes I think she was a fool.”
“You don’t understand,” Nuang snapped at the monk who was not talking so much like a monk. She felt obligated to defend her family. Even if he was right, he had no right to call her mother a fool and her father a drunk. “My mother’s family arranged her marriage to my father. She had no choice. And you don’t know what you are talking about, my father is not a drunk and he never beat any of us.” It was a lie and she knew it was a lie, but she said it anyway.
“Nuang,” the monk continued patiently, “your mother used to tell me everything; I know what happened in your house. Your father was a bully, and everyone paid the price when he drank. But that’s not important now. Your mother did have a choice about who she married. She could have just said no. I know that’s not easy for a traditional Thai lady like Nui, but sometimes traditions aren’t worth much.”
“When my father arranged a marriage for me, I refused. He disowned me for my refusal but I didn’t care. I am Thai and I respect tradition, but I knew I didn’t want to live with someone I did not love. In the end I never married anyone because I loved only your mother. Even when she was married to your father, I loved her. I never interfered with your family but there were many times when I wanted to. Instead, I kept my silence and went about my life and my work.”
“When the Americans came to our country during the war in Vietnam and Kampuchea, I made a lot of money supplying them with things they needed. Also, I made a lot of money from the soldiers at the bars I owned in Bangkok. Today, I am not proud of the bars, but at the time I wanted only to make money. I wanted to prove to my father that I didn’t need his help to be a success. He had already disinherited me and I had something to prove to him and to myself.”
Nuang listened wide-eyed. She could hardly believe this old monk had once owned bars in Bangkok. For some reason she found the thought funny, but she didn’t laugh. Also, she did not interrupt.
“When the Vietnam war ended and the Americans went home, my business died. I didn’t care. I had saved a lot of money and had more than enough to live. I opened a small store not far from your house and was satisfied with what I had. Your mother used to come to my store and shop. When she had no money, I sold her things on credit and never expected to be repaid. Sometimes she would come to my store just to talk. I know almost everything about you and your brothers and sisters.”
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br /> Jum paused. He spent a moment trying to read Nuang’s face. He saw only confusion. He sighed deeply and continued, “By the time I decided to become a monk, my brother was a successful lawyer. I took all of the money I had saved and gave it to him to take care of things. It was not for him to spend on himself and he knew that. It was for other things. Like when your sister had her first heart operation when she was twelve, and the second when she was nineteen. Do you think your father and his insurance paid for those operations? My brother made it look like that is what happened, but it was a lie. And when your sister went to college, do you believe the little money she made selling perfume, clothes, and jewelry to her friends covered all of her costs? The school took what she had and my brother paid the rest. Do you think the job she got in Bangkok was by luck or by accident? My brother arranged that too. I helped your sister every way I could.”
The old monk paused again. This time there were tears in his eyes. “I helped Math until the day all of the money was gone.” He stopped talking. A small shudder shook his body.
Nuang looked at the old monk, trying to understand everything he was telling her. She couldn’t. Something was wrong. Something was missing. “Jum,” she said, using his name, “There is more, isn’t there?”
The old monk nodded. His body shuddered again. A small, unmanly sob escaped his throat.
“Please tell me everything, Jum,” she urged gently.
After a moment, he recovered his composure and continued, “One night your mother came to my shop. Your father had come home very drunk. He had been hitting you and your mother and she had ran away. That night, your mother was afraid Supit would kill her. She wanted to be someplace safe and she wanted someone to talk to. I held her and comforted her for a very long time. I don’t know how or why it happened, but before that night was over, we made love. Please understand me Nuang, we did not just have sex, we made love. During all of the years I loved your mother, we had never done that. Somehow that night it felt so good and so right, so that is what we did.”