by J. F. Gump
“I finished with her tonight, Math.”
“Oh,” she said. “I am sorry. But, we are still only friends.”
“Yes, I know.” Sawat paused a long moment then asked, “Who is the farang?” He pointed at the picture sitting on Math’s nightstand.
She tensed. The way he said farang made her teeth itch. She bit back her immediate response, and kept her tone nonchalant. “Oh, him? Just someone I met in Pattaya.”
Sawat picked up the picture and stared at it for a long time. Finally, he gripped one edge with his thumb and forefinger of both hands, as if to rip it in half. “Just someone you met in Pattaya?” He tore the picture just a little.
Her heart leapt to her throat. “Give me that,” she demanded, reaching.
Sawat pulled away from her. He tore the picture a little more. “Just someone you met in Pattaya?”
“He is the man I love. Now give me the picture.”
Sawat shook his head. “I can’t believe you dumped me for this farang. He is ugly and he is old. Where is he now, Math?”
“He is in America, but he will be back soon,” she said positively.
“You know he is never coming back, don’t you Math? I think it’s time you forget about him.”
“Sawat, please, give me the picture.” She reached again.
Sawat held one hand in place and allowed the other to be pulled away by Math. He held tight with both hands and the picture ripped in half.
Math went into a rage. “Ee hia. You lizard,” she spat, “I will kill you.” Her fist hit him hard, high on his cheekbone. Her blow knocked him to the floor.
Immediately he was up, his fists pelting wildly at her. His assault forced her backwards. She covered her face with her arms, but his blows knocked them aside. She let her knees buckle to fall away from his onslaught. As she fell, she swung her fist upward into his crotch. That quick, it was over. Sawat fell gagging to the floor.
Math scrambled to her feet. Already, dark bruises were forming on her arms. She could only imagine what her face looked like. There was a taste of blood in her mouth. She grabbed Sawat by the hair of his head and dragged him out of her house. She knew she had to get away before he stopped hurting.
She hurried back inside the house and threw a change of clothes and a few essentials in her oversized purse. Then she locked her door and ran toward her motorcycle. As she passed Sawat, she kicked him savagely in the groin to make sure he did not get up any time soon. She drove to the bus station leaving Sawat moaning in the dirt.
Math washed the blood from her face in the ladies room at the bus station. She had cuts and bruises on both cheeks. An ugly knot protruded from her forehead. She covered everything as best as she could with make-up, and styled her hair so it hid the worst spots. Then she left the restroom and bought a one-way ticket to Chiang Mai. She stood near a security guard while she waited for her bus to leave. She was worried Sawat might show up, but he never did.
Chapter 29
When Math arrived in Chiang Mai the following morning, she called home and told her little brother where to find her motorcycle. Next, she hired a taxi to her sister’s house. Fifteen minutes later she knocked on her door.
“Oh,” Nuang said, surprised at Math’s unexpected arrival. “I didn’t expect you so quickly.” She stared at Math for a moment before asking, “What has happened to your face and your arms?”
“I think you know already,” she answered. “It was Sawat. I will be okay.”
Nuang nodded her understanding.
“Last night, when you called me, what was so important?” Math asked.
Yesterday, before calling with her urgent message, Nuang had been to visit with the old monk, Jum, as she did every two or three weeks. She was shocked to see how his health had deteriorated since her last visit. She thought he might not live until her next. She had known immediately that she had to bring Math to him as soon as possible. What had been only important before, was critical now.
“Math,” she answered, “there is someone you must see. You must do it now, before it’s too late.”
“I don’t understand, Nuang,” Math said back. “Who is so important?”
“Please, it’s not easy to explain. Just come with me now. I want you to see an old friend.” She took Math by the hand and led her from the house.
They took a taxi to the temple on top of the mountain. As they rode, Math caught an occasional glimpse of Chiang Mai in the valley below. It was a spectacular sight.
The taxi waited while Nuang led Math toward the temple.
“Why are we here?” Math asked. “Why have you brought me to this temple?”
“Gniap. Be quiet,” Nuang said sharply. “You are in a very sacred place. For once in your life, just be quiet.”
Nuang’s tone irritated her, but she held her silence and followed her sister. They stopped at a door.
“This is it,” Nuang announced.
“This is what?” Math asked. “Why are you being so mysterious?”
“Go inside. Someone, an old friend, is waiting to see you.”
Math pushed the door open. On the bed lay an old man, a monk. From the doorway and in the dim light she couldn’t see who it was. She took a few steps closer. Suddenly, she recognized her friend from Phitsanulok.
“Jum?” she said, without waiting to be spoken to. “Is that you?”
The old monk slowly turned his head to look at her. “My daughter,” his words were barely a whisper. “I am happy to see you. I knew you would come before I died.”
“You are not going to die, you foolish old monk,” she said softly.
Jum reached out and took Math by the hand. “Please sit down here beside of me,” he said. “I have many things to tell you.”
She sat carefully on the edge of the bed. She was surprised at the firmness of his grip. He did not let go of her hand, even after she sat down.
After a long silence Jum said, “Math, do you remember the first time I called you my daughter?”
She thought for a long moment. “I’m not sure. I think I remember you calling me daughter at the funeral for my brother-in-law and my nephew, but I am not sure.”
“You are right, Math,” Jum said, “that was the first time. Do you remember what you said?”
“Honestly, Jum, I do not,” she replied shaking her head. “I am sorry I don’t remember. Why do you ask?”
“You said, ‘I am fine today, and how is my father?’ Do you know how that made me feel?”
“Jum, I apologize if I said the wrong thing,” she replied, remembering what she had said. A feeling of guilt washed through her. “I didn’t mean to insult you or anything. I would never do that to a monk. Please forgive me.”
“Math, there is nothing for you to forgive.” The old monk paused; his eyes squeezed shut and his lips pursed.
For moment she thought he was going to cry. She wondered if he was in pain.
After a short minute, he took a deep breath and continued, “When you called me father, it made me the happiest man alive. I knew you were only joking when you said it, but your words filled me with a joy I have never known. For that, I thank you.”
She stared at the old monk on the bed. Her mind whirled. “I am sorry, Jum. I don’t understand any of this.”
“Look at my face, Math,” he ordered in a quiet but demanding tone. “Have you ever seen this face before?”
She looked at him, more confused than ever. “Jum, I have seen you many times. Since I was a little girl. You know that already. You remember all of the times we talked at the temple.”
“No, Math, look very close,” he continued. “Forget about the old man wrinkles and the sagging skin. Look at the shape of my face. Look at my nose and my eyes and my ears. Have you ever seen those before, besides on my own head?”
Then, as she looked at Jum, she knew s
he had seen them before. A cold chill shot down her back, as the shock of her own realization assaulted her mind. “I have seen them in my own mirror,” she said in whisper so low it was almost inaudible. “What is going on? What does this mean?”
“I am your father, Math,” Jum said, almost as quiet, “and you are my daughter.”
“Why are you lying to me?” she denied what she was hearing and seeing. “Why are you saying these things?” She tried to pull her hand away, but Jum held fast.
“It is not a lie, Math. Sometimes I wish it was just an old man’s fantasy, but it is not. Maybe I should keep my silence but I cannot. I have my own selfish reasons for confessing to you. Please, just stay here with me for a while and let me tell you everything. Consider it a wish from a dying man. Then, when I am finished, you can believe what you want, and you can do whatever you think is best. Will you please do that for me?”
She let her hand relax in his. “Yes, I will listen.”
Jum repeated the story he had told to Nuang just a few months before. He told Math about his love for her mother Nui, and the night she was conceived. He told her about his secret attempts to help her through her life. He told her everything.
Math listened without interruption. As his words spilled out, she knew they were true. As she heard each new revelation, her emotions ran the gamut from anger to love for the old monk, and from self-pity to a newfound understanding of herself. By the time Jum finished his story there were tears in his eyes. Long before he had stopped talking, she was crying openly.
Finally, the old monk ran out of words and sighed. “Daughter, I had to tell you this for two reasons. The first, but not the most important, is that I wanted you to know who had caused the curse on your tender life. I wanted you to understand what a horrible creature I am. As hard as I tried to fix everything I had caused, I could not. My feeble efforts only made me more vile and despicable. The second reason is that I need to know you can forgive me before I die. Buddha knows I do not deserve forgiveness. I deserve only to be spit upon, and to be made to live with snakes and lizards. Still, I am asking you to forgive me. No, Math, I am not asking your forgiveness, I am begging you for it.” He fell silent.
She leaned over and hugged the old man hard. Through heavy sobs, she said, “Jum, I told you once that you are the kindest person I know. Since I was a little girl, I have loved and respected you as my friend. Today, all of that has changed. Now I love and respect you as my father. Yes, father, I can forgive you for anything and everything. And now that I have found you, I cannot let you die. I will stay and take care of you. I will not let you die.”
Jum hugged her in return, “Thank you, Math. Thank you for your forgiveness. I feel like the sins of the world have been lifted from my heart. But you cannot stop me from dying. Only God can do that and I think he has made up his mind already. I would like it very much if you would come to see me once in a while.”
“Yes, father,” she savored the taste of the word on her tongue, “I will come to see you every day, even if it is forever.”
He smiled. “Daughter, you have better things to do with the rest of your life than to worry about an old monk, even if he is your father. Like that man you are in love with.”
She looked at him in surprise.
“Yes, I already know,” Jum continued, “Your sister has told me everything. He will come back for you, Math. I can feel it in my heart. Take care of him and he will take care of you. He will make you happy. But there is another thing I would like you to do for me. It will take some of your time, maybe more time than I have left, but it is something that is important to me. It will make me happy.”
“I will,” she said earnestly, “Tell me what it is I can do that will make you happy.”
“It is something you must see to understand,” he said. “Right now I am too tired to take you. But your sister, she knows already. Tell Nuang to show you what it is I want you to do.” He squeezed her hand tight. “Math, you should go now and let an old monk get his rest.”
“Okay, father, I will, but I will come back to see you again tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that too.” She hugged him one more time. “I love you, father,” she said.
“I love you too, Math. Today you have made your father very proud and very happy. Thank you.”
“Mai pen rai, ka,” she said, standing.
Jum allowed Math’s hand to slip from his grasp.
“Until tomorrow, father.” She wai’ed to Jum in a manner reserved only for those she loved and respected most. Then she turned and left the old monk’s room. Outside, she cried on her sister’s shoulder for many long minutes. Nuang held her but said nothing.
After Math had calmed, she said, “Nuang, my father said there was something he wanted me to do for him. He did not say what, but he said you know. Please tell me what it is.”
“Come with me,” Nuang said and led the way. They had walked just a short distance from the temple when Nuang stopped. She waved her hand in a sweeping motion. “This is it, Math,” she said. “This what your father wants you to do.”
She looked at Nuang’s face, wondering if she was playing some sort of joke on her. “This is what, Nuang? There is nothing here. Except for a few flowers someone has planted, there is nothing.”
“But someday there will be, sister,” Nuang stated, confident in her words. “When Jum was in Phitsanulok, he showed me a very beautiful garden about this size. It was filled with flowers and shrubs and rocks and neatly cut grass. He had done it himself. He said God and Buddha allowed him that one indulgence because he was helping them make the world more beautiful. He wanted to do the same thing here in Chiang Mai. He started his work on the garden but became very sick before it could be finished. He wants you to finish the garden for him, Math. That is what he wants.”
“I know the garden at the temple in Phitsanulok,” Math said. “I saw it the same day I got my new job. You are right, it is very beautiful. I’m not sure if I can make anything like it. I have never done such a thing. I have no flowers or anything. How can I make a garden without flowers? I want to do it for my father, but I want it to be perfect. What if I do it wrong?”
“You will do it perfect, Math,” Nuang said. “I will help you. I don’t know where we will get the flowers but we will, even if we have to steal them. Together, you and I, we will finish this garden for your father.”
After Jum was sure Math and Nuang had left, he got up from his bed and wrote a short note to his brother. “Isara. Today is the happiest day of my life. I have confessed everything to my daughter, and she has forgiven me. Now I can die in peace. I have two favors to ask of you.” Jum wrote down his requests then called to a fellow monk.
“Friend, I need to get this message to my brother in Phitsanulok, but I am too weak to go to a phone. Could you please call my brother and give him my message? It is very important and I would be most thankful.”
The other monk agreed. He took Jum’s note and left.
That afternoon, Math and Nuang went to a few greenhouses begging for flowers and shrubs. The responses they got were dismal. Depressed, they went back to Nuang’s house to decide what they would do. On the way, Nuang began plotting where she would steal the flowers.
A man was waiting for them when they arrived.
Nuang had never seen the man before. She wondered if there was some sort of trouble. Maybe someone, somehow, knew about her plans to steal flowers. “Who are you?” she asked.
“My boss told me to come here. You are to make a list of what you need, then I am to return to him.”
“What are you talking about? You must have the wrong house.”
“I don’t know. My boss only gave me this address and told me that you need flowers and things for a garden. Anything you need will be provided. I assumed you knew already.”
“We do need things for a garden, but I don’t understand h
ow your boss would know. Who is he anyway?”
The man named his boss and the nursery that he owned. Nuang knew the nursery; it was the largest in Chiang Mai. It was also the most expensive. Neither Nuang nor Math recognized the name of the owner.
“How much?” Nuang asked. This was too good to be true. She knew there had to be a catch.
“I don’t know,” the man answered. “My boss didn’t mention money. He only said for me to get your list and return it to him.”
“I still don’t understand,” Nuang said. “But we will take everything your boss will give.”
Math and Nuang looked at each other and giggled in their excitement. God and Buddha work in mysterious ways. They went inside Nuang’s house and made their list and a sketch of what they hoped the garden would look like. The man thanked them for their time and took their needs to his boss.
The next morning when Math and Nuang arrived at the temple, the man was there with a truckload of flowers and shrubs. He also had a note from his boss offering suggestions on building the garden. Math and Nuang began their work in earnest.
Each morning, more flowers and more suggestions awaited them. Every day they worked from sunrise to sunset. In the evening, before they went home, Math would visit with Jum no matter how tired or dirty from her labors.
Each time she saw him, he seemed a little weaker, and she would redouble her efforts in the garden, racing against a clock she could not stop. Finally, after two weeks, they planted the last flower and positioned the last rock in place. They were finished.
“We must show my father, now, today,” Math said.
Nuang nodded her agreement, and they went to Jum’s room. He was asleep.
Math hesitated for a moment, then shook him gently awake. “Father,” she said, “The garden is finished. I know you want to sleep, but I want you to see what I have done for you.”
“Soon, I will have more than enough time for sleep,” Jum said. “Today, I want to see your garden.” He tried to get out of the bed but couldn’t. “I think this old monk is too tired to walk by himself. Please help me, my two daughters. Please help me to walk to our garden.”