by J. F. Gump
“I will be very busy in the morning making sure everything is arranged,” Anan said. “Nuang will come for you at ten o’clock.”
“I will be waiting for you,” Mike said, smiling politely at Nuang.
Nuang smiled back shyly, then lowered her eyes, as if embarrassed.
Anan glanced at his watch. “We must go now. I have many things I must do today.”
“I understand,” Mike said. “I will see you tomorrow.”
Mike had two more Carlsbergs before returning to his room. The beer had taken its toll and he was still tired from the trip. He lay on the bed and fell asleep.
He didn’t wake up until nine o’clock that evening. He was starving. He washed, shaved, and then went out for something to eat.
He stopped at the Music Lover Bar in front of the condo for a quick beer. Most of the girls who had worked there before had moved on with their lives. Wan, the mama-san, was still there.
“How are you, Mike?” Wan smiled. “I am very surprised and very happy to see you again.”
“Hello, Wan,” he replied. “I am happy to see you again too. I have missed all of my friends in Thailand.”
“When did you come back to Pattaya?” she asked. “How long will you stay here?”
“I came just last night. I don’t know how long I will stay. My plane leaves in ten days. Maybe I will stay longer or maybe I will leave sooner. Right now, I don’t know.”
“Where is your friend, Math? When will she be joining you?”
“I guess you don’t know,” he answered. “Math is dead.”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” she said, a look of shock on her face. “I saw her just a few weeks ago. She came here to tell me hello. She said you would be coming for her soon, but she wasn’t sure when. Are you sure she is dead?”
“I am sure, Wan,” he answered. “I am sure 100%.”
Tears welled in her eyes. After a long moment she said, “I am very sorry for you and for Math. She was a very nice person. She was so young and so beautiful. I feel much pity for her. She was my friend. I will miss her.”
“Me too,” he said, a hoarseness in his voice. “Tomorrow, I am having a ceremony to say goodbye to her forever.”
Wan wiped at her eyes and stared at Mike as if not sure what to say. Finally, she said, “Your beer is free. I want to buy it.”
“You don’t have to do that for me,” he said back.
“I am not doing it for you, Mike,” she replied. She picked up the small wooden cup that held his bill and walked away leaving him to drink his beer alone.
Wan said something in Thai to the other girls at the bar. Everyone looked at him, but no one smiled and no one came to talk to him. He finished his beer and left.
He bought a sandwich at the KFC by Big C Shopping Center. When he finished eating, he crossed Second Road and went to Toy’s Beer Bar. A few of the girls he knew still worked there and they came over to talk. He bought them drinks just like old times and passed the time with idle conversation. He was thankful no one asked about Math. He was paying his bar bill to leave when Lek arrived.
When Lek first saw Mike, she stared at him dumbfounded, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. After a second, she ran to where he was sitting and threw her arms around him. She was crying.
“I am so happy to see you,” she said, smiling through her tears. “I knew you would come back for me, I just knew it.”
“I am happy to see you, Lek,” he said, meaning it. “You look as beautiful as ever.”
“Are you working in Thailand again?” she asked hopefully.
“No, Lek,” he answered. “I wish I was, but I am not.”
“Then you are here on holiday. That means you won’t be here long. When do you leave?”
“I am not here on holiday, either,” he answered. “I am here to say goodbye to someone I love very much.”
She gave him a questioning look. “I don’t understand, Mike. What do you mean you came here to say goodbye to someone you love? Do you mean me?”
He shook his head. “Do you remember the girl who stayed with me before? The girl named Math?”
“Yes,” Lek said sourly. “I do not like her. I am not happy you will see her, but I am glad you are saying goodbye to her.”
“She died six weeks ago. My friend was killed in a motorcycle accident. I have come to tell her goodbye. Do you understand what I am saying?”
There was a long silence before Lek answered, “I understand. I am sorry.”
“Never mind,” he said more softly. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know,” she replied just as soft. “I am very sorry you have lost someone you love. I really mean that, Mike. It is never easy to lose someone who is special to you.”
“Thank you for your sympathy, Lek. I didn’t think you would be so kind.”
“Mai pen rai ka.” She kept her tone quiet and reserved. “I can feel your sorrow. I would like to buy you a beer.”
“No, not now, but thank you anyway,” he said. “It is getting late, and tomorrow I must get up very early. In the morning I will have a ceremony to tell Math goodbye.”
“I understand.” She toyed briefly with the hem of her skirt then said. “I know this might not be the right time, but I would like to go home with you. I think you need some company tonight. You know, someone to talk to.”
He hesitated for a long moment. “No, Lek, not tonight. Tonight I want to sleep alone. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Okay, tomorrow,” she agreed. There was nothing else she could say. “I will wait for you until tomorrow.”
As he walked back to the condo, he realized it had been exactly one year ago tonight since he had met Math. One year since she had invited herself to go with him to South Pattaya. One year since she had helped him to his condo because he was too drunk to walk, and because she had no place to stay. So much had happened in just one year that it might have been ten.
He wondered if he would have done anything differently, had he known what the past year would bring. It was a question he could not answer. That night he lay in bed alone and cried himself to sleep. That night he did not dream.
Chapter 34
When Mike awoke, it was barely dawn. He showered, dressed, and went out for breakfast. He went to the same restaurant where he had taken Math on that first morning after they had met. It seemed like the right thing to do.
He ordered an American-style breakfast. Then, on impulse, he also ordered Thai rice soup with pork. It was what Math had ordered that day. The waiter gave him a strange look, but said nothing. He felt a little foolish, but didn’t change his mind.
As he sat there, he had the overwhelming sensation that Math was very close to him, as if she was sitting at the very same table. He shut his eyes and let the warmth of her presence surround him. In his mind, he heard her say, “I have never been to a restaurant with a farang before. I think everyone is looking at me like I am a bar-girl.”
“Screw them, if that is what they think,” he said aloud, surprising himself. He opened his eyes and looked around to see if anyone was staring at him. No one was.
In a moment his food arrived, but he had lost his appetite. He ate the rice soup but left the American breakfast untouched. He paid his bill and left.
Nuang arrived promptly at ten o’clock. She was riding a motorcycle much like the one Math had borrowed from her brother so very long ago. For a moment Mike thought it was the same one, but, as he walked nearer, he knew it was not. He straddled the seat behind Nuang and patted her on the shoulder, indicating he was ready to go. She reached back, took Mike’s hands and pulled them around her waist. “For safety,” she said.
A little over halfway to Anan’s house, Nuang coasted the motorcycle to the side of the road.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Nuang took off he
r helmet and shook her head. “No, nothing is wrong. This is where Math died. This is where the car hit her and killed her. I thought you would want to know.” She put her helmet back on and drove away.
Anan’s house was small. It was the fourth unit in a long row of one-story, townhouse-type buildings. There was no air conditioning and it was hot. Two oscillating fans in the living room offered only minor relief from the heat. Mike wished they had held the ceremony earlier, before the sun had had time to turn the house into an oven.
There was no furniture in the living room except chairs with backs and seats but no legs. There were nine of these odd chairs. Mike assumed they were for the monks. In one corner, near the front door, stood a small shrine similar to the spirit houses he had seen all over Thailand. Next to the spirit house, on a small wooden table, sat a picture of Math dressed in a traditional Thai silk gown. He had never seen that picture before. God, she looked beautiful.
Nuang noticed Mike staring at the picture. “She had that photo and some others taken just before she died. She said they were for you. I have them now. I will give them to you before you go. She would want you to have them.”
A thin Thai man wearing glasses came into the room.
“This is the man who will help you know what to do in the ceremony,” Nuang said. She excused herself and left the room.
In halting but acceptable English, the thin man explained everything Mike should expect during the ceremony. It seemed more complicated than a Catholic mass.
When the thin man had finished, Mike said, “I will not remember all of that.”
The man smiled, “Just watch me and do what I do. God and Buddha do not care if you make little mistakes. It will be okay.”
Mike nodded and smiled.
The monks arrived a few minutes later. They paraded into the room and took their seats on the legless chairs. Nuang and Anan came into the room and sat cross-legged on the floor. The thin man said something in Thai to the eldest monk, then sat on the floor directly in front of him. Mike sat down next to the thin man.
After a moment, the eldest monk said something to the thin man. The man rose but motioned for Mike to stay seated. He took a ball of white string and looped one end around the picture of Math. Then, unraveling the ball of string as he went, the he offered each of the nine monks a portion of the string to hold. Finished, he returned to his place in front of the eldest monk.
The eldest monk chanted for a few seconds, then stopped. Again, he spoke to the thin man. The thin man took the candles and incense from the table where Math’s picture sat and handed them to Mike. Mike lit them and handed them back. All but one candle and one piece of incense were placed in front of the small shrine. The final candle and last piece of incense were placed in front of Math’s picture. The thin man returned to his place and the monks began their chanting in earnest.
As the monks chanted, Mike sat and remembered all of the time he had spent with Math. He remembered the good times and the bad. The happy and the sad. The pleasure and the pain. He remembered it all. Several times his eyes filled with tears, but he would not allow himself to cry. Someone had said it was bad luck for the deceased, if you cried at a ceremony for them. He held his composure. After about forty-five minutes, the chanting stopped.
“The monks will eat now,” the thin man said softly in Mike’s ear. “But they will not just take the food. You and I, we must give it to them. When the women bring the food into the room, you will take it from them and give it to me, then I will give it to the monks. The women are not allowed to give food to the monks by themselves.”
Mike nodded his understanding. The women brought bowls of fish, chicken, pork, and rice and handed them to Mike one by one. In turn, Mike passed the bowls to the thin man and the monks were given food.
While the monks ate, the man explained that there would be one final prayer. This prayer was to be from Mike. He would be given a small container of water and an empty bowl. He was to pour the water very slowly from the container into the bowl while the monks sang another chant. As he poured the water, he was to say a prayer for Math and ask that she receive all of the love and everything they were giving to her. He was to wish her peace and happiness in her new life. After that, he would give the monks a “thank you” gift from him, and then the monks would go home. Mike understood.
The monks ate very slowly but within half an hour they were finished. They returned to their seats. Mike, Anan, Nuang, and the thin man also returned to their places.
Mike was brought the container of water and the empty bowl. The monks started their chant, and the thin man motioned that he should start pouring the water.
Mike had never been a very religious man, but as he poured the water into the bowl he prayed very hard for Math. He prayed with all of his heart and soul. As the last drop of water fell into the bowl, a single tear slid down his cheek. He looked up at the eldest monk. The monk smiled at him and nodded his understanding.
In a moment, the chanting stopped. Anan handed Mike a large bucket filled with canned food, snacks, and candy. A paper sign on the bucket said in both Thai and English, ‘Thank you for the ceremony for Math, from Mr. Mike’. He presented the bucket to the eldest monk.
As the monk received the bucket, he took Mike’s hand and squeezed it gently. The ceremony was ended.
The monks rose from their seats and left the room. Mike followed them outside and watched as they disappeared up the street.
Anan came to Mike and said, “Now we will eat.”
Mike and Anan and the thin man ate in the now deserted living room. Nuang ate in the kitchen area with some other women. While they ate, a constant parade of neighbors passed through the living room into the kitchen and then out again, carrying plates of food. Mike figured the food he bought was feeding the whole neighborhood. He hoped it was enough.
Mike got his share of attention from the neighbors. Wide-eyed stares from the younger children, giggling glances from the older girls, and kind smiles from the adults. Anan’s house was several kilometers from Pattaya and farangs were rarely, if ever, seen in the neighborhood. Mike politely smiled and nodded to everyone.
When they finished eating, Nuang came to Mike and said, “I must help the women clean the dishes. When we are finished, I will take you back to Pattaya.” He nodded his agreement.
While the women cleaned, Mike sat on Anan’s front step smoking cigarettes and talking with the thin man. “Your English is very good,” he said. “Where did you learn it?”
“When I was in college,” the man answered. “Also, when I played music in a nightclub in Bangkok. When I was younger, I was what you Americans call a hippie. I used to play a guitar and sing American songs. My favorites were John Denver and Bobby Goldsboro. Do you know their music?”
“Yes,” Mike answered, “They were very popular many years ago. John Denver is dead now.”
“I know,” the man said. “It’s too bad, I liked his music.” He fell silent.
“You seem to know the ceremony as good as the monks do,” Mike said. “How do you know everything so well? Did you study the ceremonies in school?”
The thin man smiled. “After I stopped being a hippie, I joined the monastery. I shaved my head and put on the saffron robes. For five years I was a monk. I know all of the ceremonies.”
“You are a most interesting man,” Mike said.
Nuang came outside, interrupting their conversation. The thin man excused himself and went inside the house.
Nuang stood nervously beside Mike and said, “Mike, have you ever seen these clothes before?”
He inspected Nuang briefly and said, “I think I have seen Math wearing them before. Is that right?”
She blushed. “Yes, they are Math’s clothes. I thought you would like it, if I wore her clothes. Are you pleased, Mike?”
“I am very pleased, Nuang. You look very nice in Math’s c
lothes. I feel like she is with me again.” The smile on her face told him he had said the right thing.
“Mike, do you know it has been exactly forty days since Math died?”
He looked at her questioningly. “I never thought about it. Does it mean something special?”
“Some people believe that a person’s spirit is reborn forty days after they have died.”
“Do you believe that too, Nuang?”
“I don’t know; it’s just what some people say. If it’s true, I hope my sister is born into peace and happiness.”
“I hope so too,” Mike said. “After the hard life she just left, it is the least God could do for her.”
They stood next to each other in silence, both hoping their wishes for Math would come true. Finally, Nuang spoke, “Mike, I have never been to the beach before. When I take you back to Pattaya, will you take me to walk on the beach?”
“You have never been to the beach?” he asked in amazement.
Nuang shook her head.
“Then I would be very happy to be the person to take you for your first walk in the sands of Pattaya Beach.”
“Thank you, Khun Mike,” she said, excited. “I will tell Anan that I will not be coming right back after I take you home. I will tell him I will be late returning.” She darted off into the house and returned a few minutes later with Anan.
“I want to tell you,” Anan began, “the ceremony today was much better than the one we had for Math at her funeral in Phitsanulok. I could feel Math all around me. I know she received our love and our prayers. Now my sister is at peace. Thank you for doing this. You are a good man.”
“Thank you, Anan. Without you and Nuang it would have not been possible. We must go now, I promised to take Nuang to the beach.”
“I know,” Anan said. “Please take care of Nuang. My sisters are very special to me now.”
“I will,” Mike replied. “She is very special to me too.”