by J. F. Gump
As they rode toward Pattaya, Nuang shouted over her shoulder, “I have the pictures of Math in my purse. I think we should take them to your condo before we go to the beach.”
“Okay,” he shouted back. “That’s a good idea.”
In his room, Nuang found one excuse after another to not leave. First, she wanted to show him all of Math’s pictures, then she said it was too hot to go to the beach, then she had to use the toilet, then she wanted to talk.
Finally, he asked, “Are you okay, Nuang? I thought you wanted to go to the beach, and now you act like you don’t care if you go or not. You seem very nervous. What is wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” she said. “I guess I am a little nervous because I have something to tell you. There is something I promised to Math. But I am afraid of what you might think.”
“Unless you tell me what it is,” he responded, “you will never know what I might think. Now, go ahead and tell me what it is you want to say.”
She hesitated for a minute and then said, “When Math came to Chiang Mai and met her father, we talked for a very long time. Math was very afraid she would never see you again. She kept talking about dreams she was having.”
“You mean the monkey-man?” he interrupted.
“Yes.”
“I always laughed at her dreams about the monkey-man.”
“Me too,” Nuang said. “Maybe I should have listened. Math believed that her dreams were telling her someone would die. Sometimes Math thought you would die, and sometimes she thought she would die. Math was very sure something would happen and that she and you would never be together again.”
“I wish I hadn’t laughed at Math’s dreams,” Mike said, “because now I know the monkey-man was after her.”
“You should not think about it,” Nuang responded. “It’s not good for you to think like that.”
No one spoke for several minutes. Finally, Nuang took a deep breath and said, “Math asked me to do one thing for her, if she were to die first and if I ever saw you again.”
“What is that, Nuang?” he asked.
She blushed and lowered her eyes from Mike’s face.
“What?” he asked again. Gently, he put his finger under her chin and lifted her face until she was looking at him. Their eyes met. Her pupils were slightly dilated, a nervous smile played on her lips.
“I do not know the English words,” she answered in a low whisper. “I will have to show you.”
She took Mike by the hand and led him to the side of the bed. “Please lay with me for a while, Mike. Math wanted me to hold you like she used to do.”
“Are you sure, Nuang?” he asked.
“I have made a promise to my sister. I am sure.”
He lay down on the bed with Nuang beside him. Nervously, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “Now you should close your eyes and think only of Math.”
He lay there for a long time, shutting out everything around him. In a while, only thoughts of Math filled his mind. He could feel Nuang beside him. She began stroking his body sensually.
“What are you doing, Nuang?” he asked needlessly. He already knew. He did not open his eyes.
“I am doing the rest of what my sister asked,” she answered softly. “Today, I am Math and I love you. Today, I want to hold you and kiss you and make you feel the way we used to feel. Teeluk, I want to make love with you one last time before you go home.”
Her voice sounded just like Math’s. It was the first time he had noticed that. He kept his eyes closed and touched her face. She even felt like Math. He kissed her soft and gentle. He caressed her body and let himself believe it was Math beside him. They made love. For a few very long and precious minutes, he held Math in his arms again. When he was finished, he opened his eyes. Nuang was crying. He pulled her close and they cried together.
In a while, he got up from the bed and went to the bath. When he returned, Nuang was gone. On the bed was a note. It read, “My family loves you, Mike. We will never forget what you gave to Math before she died. Please, don’t ever forget us. Love, Nuang.”
Waves of conflicting emotions washed through him. He felt empty yet whole, happy yet sad, lonely but loved. He wished she had not left without saying goodbye.
He packed his suitcase and called the airlines to change his flight. He was ready to go home. He wasn’t sure what was there for him anymore, but he knew he was ready to go home. Maybe someday he would return to Thailand but, then again, maybe he wouldn’t. There were plenty of good memories for him here, but there were plenty of bad memories too. He didn’t know what his future might bring.
Just before the taxi arrived to take him to the airport, Mike called Anan’s phone and asked for Nuang.
“Thank you,” he said, when he heard her voice. “What you did today means more to me than anything in the world. I will never forget your thoughtfulness or your kindness.”
“Mai pen rai ka, never mind, Khun Mike,” Nuang said, meaning it with all her heart. “Mai pen rai.”
After leaving the condo, Mike directed the taxi driver to the Big C Shopping Center. Inside, he bought a wedding band and a single red rose. Minutes later, he asked the driver to stop again, this time on Sukhumvit Road, not far from Anan’s house. It was the place where Math had died. Mike got out of the taxi and stood for a long time, not moving. Finally, he slipped the ring over the stem of the rose then pressed them both between his hands. In Thai fashion, he wai’ed with deepest of love and respect to the last place where Math had been truly alive.
“Goodbye Math,” he cried, laying the rose and the ring in the grass at the edge of the road. “Goodbye teeluk, goodbye my wife. I will never forget you, and I will love you forever. Please wait for me teeluk. I will come to you in quickly time.”
About the Author
Late August, 1995
Thailand! Of all places in the world, I was being sent to Thailand. The last time I’d been to Southeast Asia was in the late sixties. That had been Vietnam and it had not been a pleasant experience. I didn’t expect this trip to be any different.
My arranged transportation never showed up at the airport that night, and I was left to fend for myself. I knew nothing of the country, its customs, or its language. My boss had told me my hotel was located off of Sukhumvit on Soi Saam Sip Saam. His words had made no sense to me, but I had remembered them.
Outside of the airport, the dank night-heat of Thailand reeked with the smells of jet fuel and exhaust fumes. An irritating layer of sticky dampness collected on my skin. I was barely moving, yet sweat was oozing. This trip was going to suck. A thin Thai man approached. “Taxi, sir?” he asked in heavily accented English.
By reflex I reached for my M16 - the weapon I had carried in Vietnam. I blushed at my reaction, though it was too dark for the man to notice. “Sukhumvit, Soi Saam Sip Saam,” I parroted my boss’s words.
“Novotel Lotus?” he asked.
I nodded in return.
Minutes later we were tearing down a freeway toward the smog clouded skyscrapers of Bangkok. If there were any rules to the road, they escaped my western ideas of good driving. Thus started my adventures in Thailand.
I spent the next three years living a working in Thailand. Long before my work assignment was finished, I had fallen in love with the country.
Like most visitors to a foreign land, I tried hard to learn about the people and their culture. When they talked, I listened. When they told me stories about themselves, I asked questions and shared stories of my own life. I am sure I heard many lies and fantasies, but I know I heard many true stories as well. Some were happy stories and some were sad. All were interesting.
This novel began as a short story in the summer of 1997. At the time, I was living in a comfortable condo on Pattaya’s Second Road, not far from the Big C Shopping Center. It was a quiet place, yet only scant meters fro
m the bustling nightlife. I could not party every night and writing was a great way to pass the evenings. Of course I wrote about Thailand and the stories I had heard from Thais and farangs (foreigners).
In November of 1997, I decided to turn the short story into a full-length novel. “Even Thai Girls Cry” is the result. It’s a powerful story. I think you will like it. Thank you for reading.
J. F. Gump
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