by John Shors
Circumventing or hopping over puddles from the recent rain, the siblings hurried toward the village, eager to hand out their flyers. Niran had asked if they could hang one in their room. He liked the way that Patch had drawn the scene, which was vibrant and warm. The bungalows looked new, and the fish that Niran had suggested seemed to speed through the sea.
“I think we should go after women,” Suchin said as they started to pass vendors and shops. “The women will be sweeter.”
“You think?”
“It’s too early for the men. They’ll be tired and cranky. The women will listen to us. And they get more massages. They like to feel good. Men just want to drink beer and play sports.”
“That’s not true.”
Suchin studied the people ahead, knowing that she didn’t have many flyers and wanting to make the most of them. “You’re unusual, Niran. You’re a good thinker. Almost my equal. But most boys aren’t like you. They’d rather throw a ball than read a book, or chase pretty girls than learn anything useful. I just hope you stay the way you are. We need more boys like you. If we had more boys like you, us girls wouldn’t have to be so perfect.”
“Perfect?” Niran repeated, leaping over a puddle. “If you’re so perfect, how come you’re afraid of bees? How come you don’t like math?”
“Have you sat on a bee? If you’d been stung on your bony little bottom, you’d be afraid of them too.”
Niran laughed, recalling how Suchin had jumped up from her chair. “That’s the fastest you’ve ever moved.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Yes, you do.”
She scowled at him, then pointed to a foursome of foreign women. “You see them? Let’s give them a flyer. They look nice. Let’s make them laugh and they’ll want to come stay with us.”
“How should we make them laugh?”
“Just do what I do,” she replied, and headed toward the women. As Suchin walked, she started thinking in English, forcing Thai thoughts and phrases out of her mind. When she was a few feet away from the women, they looked down at her. “Good morning,” she said in English, handing them a flyer. “My brother and I would like to invite you to our parents’ beautiful Rainbow Resort. At Rainbow Resort, you will find soft beds, the most delicious banana pancakes in the world, and a very good massage. And all of this is so cheap that it’s almost free.”
One of the women thanked her but said that they already had accommodations.
Suchin smiled. “But does your bungalow have an ocean view?”
“Yes.”
“Does your restaurant have food that makes your belly laugh?”
“Well . . .”
“You see? My mother is the best cook on the island. Everyone who comes to her restaurant leaves with a laughing belly. And if you’ve never had a laughing belly, you should definitely experience it. Look at my brother. See his silly smile? Where do you think he ate breakfast?”
The woman shrugged, grinning. “Your mother’s restaurant?”
“That’s right. You’re as smart as you are beautiful. But your belly seems sad. Don’t you want to make it happy? I tell you, if you come to my mother’s restaurant, you’ll understand what I’m talking about. And you’ll thank me so many times.”
“And your mother . . . does she give massages too?”
“Of course. Right on the beach. The best beach in all of Ko Phi Phi. After lunch, you can lie there, with your laughing belly, and she’ll rub your back until you feel like Rainbow Resort surely must be in heaven.”
The foreigner studied the flyer. “It looks nice, but we leave tomorrow.”
“Then please come today. Please. If you return to London or Amsterdam or wherever, and you didn’t taste our mother’s cooking or get one of her massages, you’ll feel so empty inside. Your stomach will be sad and your back will hurt. Don’t you want to leave with a happy stomach and back?”
“Is it far from here?”
“No, not at all. Just down the trail.”
“Where?”
Suchin glanced from her distant school toward her home. She wanted to lead the women to her mother but didn’t like to be late for school. After hesitating for a few seconds, she took the woman’s hand. “Come, I’ll show you. You haven’t had breakfast yet, I can tell. So you should definitely try my mother’s pancakes.”
The woman turned to her friends, spoke in a language that Suchin didn’t understand, and then nodded. “We will follow you.”
Suchin switched to Thai and told Niran to go on to school. But he shook his head and said that he wanted to tell the women something. Rolling her eyes at him, aware that they would get into trouble for being late, Suchin led the women toward her home, chatting with them along the way, advising them about what they might want to do after breakfast and a massage. They didn’t know about the hike to the lookout point and were pleased to hear that it was near Rainbow Resort.
When they reached the beach, Suchin turned to Niran. “My little brother,” she said, “wants to tell you something. I don’t know what he’ll say—probably something about his fish tank, which you’ll see in our restaurant.”
Niran looked up at the tall women. Their faces seemed kind, he thought. Faces to trust. He hoped to tell them so many things—to please compliment his mother, to give her a tip, if possible. But he didn’t have Suchin’s confidence when it came to being bold with foreigners, and so he simply smiled and introduced himself. He saw that one of the foreigners carried a camera. Wanting them to remember Rainbow Resort, he asked politely whether he could take their picture. The woman agreed, handed him the camera, and moved closer to her friends.
Proceeding carefully, Niran studied the viewfinder, lining up Rainbow Resort so that it was to the right of the four women. He counted backward from five to zero, then gently pushed the button when everything was perfect. The picture materialized in the viewfinder and he grinned. The women looked happy, and Rainbow Resort appeared just as it did in Patch’s drawing—beautiful and perfect.
Niran glanced at his sister and realized that she was impatient to get moving. He wondered whether he should hurry to school without her, but decided that if she was going to get into trouble with their teacher, then so should he.
“You were good,” he said in Thai, taking her hand.
“Too good, I think. We’re going to be late.”
“Could you tell them to compliment her, if they like her massage? She likes compliments.”
Suchin shrugged. “Can’t you tell them?”
“No. Not like you can.”
She nodded, knowing he was right, though tired of speaking English and eager to get to school. Still, she did as Niran asked, changing his words into hers, getting the women to laugh and smile and agree to tell her mother how wonderful she was.
Shortly thereafter, their mother appeared, stepping from the restaurant, welcoming her guests. As the women settled next to a beachside table, Sarai turned to Suchin and Niran, reaching for the remaining flyers. “I love you,” she said in Thai. “Now hurry to school. And stay late. Sweep the floor and make your teacher happy.”
Suchin and Niran nodded, waved good-bye to the foreigners, and ran down the beach, their footprints deep and intermingled. They ran like two parts of the same body, weaving beside each other, racing as they had a thousand times before.
Sarai watched her children. She smiled, her eyes following their movements, her ears straining to hear their laughter. Only when they turned away from the sea and headed toward the village did she again remember her customers, hurrying back to them, determined to ensure that the efforts of Suchin and Niran weren’t wasted.
IT HADN’T TAKEN LONG TO get Brooke situated in her new lodgings. Ryan had carried her suitcase to the seaside bungalow and made certain that she was secure and content. To his surprise, she’d seemed eager to have her own place and had managed to forget about her nightmare. She hadn’t dwelled on it as she had in the past. Instead, she had opened up the curtains and windows of her room
, smiling at the caress of the breeze.
Ryan had left her alone, and, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from him, he ran up and down the beach for an hour, pushing himself, enjoying the flight of his feet and the music that thundered from his earphones. He did a hundred push-ups before cooling off in the sea. After showering, he went into the village and emailed his contact at the American embassy, proposing a meeting between himself and the policeman whom Patch had injured. Ryan knew that Patch’s greatest fear was that this man would exact revenge during Patch’s incarceration. If Ryan could meet him and convey Patch’s remorse and willingness to turn himself in, it would be possible to gauge the man’s capacity for forgiveness. And if forgiveness was offered, Ryan was certain that he could convince Patch to surrender himself.
Pleased with his plan, believing that it could be the answer to their problems, Ryan headed toward Dao’s massage parlor. His spirits sank when an older woman answered his knock. He asked whether Dao was working, but the woman shook her head.
“You Mr. King Kong?” she asked, wearing a pink outfit identical to what Dao worked in.
“I’m sorry?”
“Dao, she tell me about Mr. King Kong. You him?”
“Yes . . . that’s what she calls me.”
The woman smiled, revealing a silver tooth. “She not working today. She home.”
“Oh. Is . . . is her home near here?”
Surprise flashed across the woman’s face. “You want to see her home?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. I show you. For one hundred baht. If I leave work, I must pay one hundred baht every hour to owner.”
Ryan reached into his pocket and handed her two hundred baht. “For your time.”
“Kob kun ka,” she said, rubbing the bills together for good luck. She then shut the door and walked down the steps. “Follow me.”
So far, Ryan had seen only the main village and both bays of Ko Phi Phi, which were flanked with beachside resorts. He was surprised when the woman led him from the village into the jungle. They followed a well-worn trail for about five minutes before coming to a large clearing. Within this open space ran rows of dilapidated one-story wood-and-tin homes. Many of the homes shared a common wall. Others were separated but seemed as if they might fall to one side or the other. Laundry hung from old ropes strung between tree branches. Roosters and cats strutted about. Babies sat in the dirt and played with rocks while their mothers mended fishing nets or washed clothes in steel tubs. A fire smoldered in a corner of the clearing, fueled by wood, corncobs, fish remains, and split-open crab legs.
Ryan watched a naked toddler try to climb atop a battered bicycle that was much too big for her. The child’s mother appeared and pulled her from the bike, prompting instantaneous cries of protest. The pair disappeared into a home made from old, sun-bleached boards.
“You follow me,” the masseuse said, motioning Ryan forward.
He did as she suggested, cracking his knuckles as his gaze swept up and down the clearing. A hundred feet away, Dao sat, head down, on what appeared to be a plastic chair. She wore a sleeveless white shirt and a blue sarong. Her fingers were busy with a needle and thread, and a blanket was draped across her knees. After quietly thanking the woman, Ryan stood still, wondering whether he should leave. He felt out of place, and though children smiled and waved at him, he wasn’t sure whether the adults appreciated his presence.
Dao’s long hair fell on her shoulders and back as if it were a black shawl that mimicked her movements. She called out to someone Ryan couldn’t see, laughing as she sewed. Then she looked up, saw him, and lowered her needle. His heart thumping with increasing vigor, he waved and walked forward, trying to appear confident. After setting her work aside, Dao stood up and stepped in his direction. The distance between them disappeared, though she did not offer her hand or make any attempt to initiate physical contact.
“Hello, Mr. Ryan,” she said, a trace of a smile gracing her face.
“Hello.”
“You want massage?”
“Yes . . . well, no, actually. I just wanted to say hi.”
A middle-aged woman appeared in a nearby doorway. “That my mother,” Dao said, grinning. “She cannot speak English. Since you come here, to our home, she must think you want to marry me.”
“What?”
“We Thais very traditional in some ways. If a man visits a woman’s house, sure, sure he is going to ask to marry her.”
“I . . . I didn’t know—”
“It okay. You farang. That make it okay.”
“I didn’t have any idea.”
Dao walked toward her mother, speaking in Thai. At first her mother’s face was blank and her body still, but as Dao continued to talk, the older woman nodded and then went back inside. Dao returned to Ryan’s side. “Yes, I was right,” she said, smiling. “She think that maybe you want to marry me.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“Only that you my number one customer. That you want another massage. Come, follow me. I show you something.”
They left the clearing, walking back toward the village. Watching Dao as she led him forward, Ryan realized for the first time how little she was. The top of her head might have risen to his collarbone. Yet she had the curves of a woman, and he couldn’t help but watch her hips as she stepped over roots and fallen branches.
“Sure, sure, my mother will have many questions for me tonight,” she said, turning to glance at him. “And my father . . . oh, King Kong, how surprised he will be!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“That okay. Do not worry your brain. It muscle too. It will get tired. But I cannot massage it. So sorry.”
He listened to her laugh, wondering where she was taking him. Soon they were in the main part of the village, passing shops and pubs and clusters of tourists. Dao said hello in Thai to many of the locals she passed, sharing a few words or a smile. Ryan noticed that everyone seemed to light up when they saw her.
She proceeded past the start of the pier, followed a trail toward the nearby beach, and stopped at a vendor, speaking again in Thai. Ryan watched as an old woman dropped a spoonful of butter on what looked like a giant saucepan. As the butter heated up, the woman patted and shaped two balls of dough. After flattening the dough until it was no thicker than a few sheets of paper, she set it on the saucepan, then added half of a banana, sliced down its length, on each of what were soon two crepes. The woman sprinkled cane sugar on her creations before holding a can of chocolate syrup above each crepe, dripping chocolate strategically. Once the crepes were flipped, the vendor used her steel spatula to set them on a paper plate. She handed the plate and several napkins to Dao, who gave her some money and waved good-bye.
Dao walked to the beach and sat down on the sand near the water’s edge. More than a dozen longboats were moored here, sterns tied to anchored buoys and bows secured by ropes to nearby palm trees. The longboats swayed back and forth in the breeze like horses awaiting their riders. In the distance, a passenger ferry approached—a rectangle of blue and white dwarfed by the island’s massive cliffs.
“This good treat for you,” Dao said, handing Ryan the plate. “Give you more muscle to chase pretty girls.”
Ryan thanked her and bit into one of the crepes. The combination of butter, chocolate, and cooked bananas made him smile. “I can see why you like this. It’s just about perfect.”
“Of course it perfect. Like me, right?”
He laughed, handing her the plate. “That’s right. Like you.”
She ate the crepe in a well-practiced manner, rolling it tighter, then biting one end. Ryan watched her eat, aware of how her full lips glistened from the butter. After finishing the treat, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and set the plate down. “I so surprised today when you come to my house. Nothing ever give me bigger surprise. I ask myself if I am dreaming, if King Kong really come out of jungle, like in the movie.”
Ryan raised his sunglasses so that
they were perched atop his head. “Are you always home on your days off?”
“One day. One day off every week. And yes, on that day I home.”
“What do you do?”
“Help parents. My father, he not see so well. My mother have . . . how you say . . . arthritis? So, I help them. Washing clothes, making the dinner, sweeping the floor.”
“Just you? Do you have brothers or sisters who help?”
“Yes, I have three brothers and one sister. But they all younger. Still in school. So, as oldest child, I have to take care of parents.”
“What about you? Do you ever do anything for yourself? Buy something nice for yourself?”
Her brow furrowed. “For me? No. Never. My money, it go to my parents. They use some for food, for clothes. They save some to use if my little brothers or sister want to go to university on mainland. My mother and father, they want one child to go to university. No one in our family ever go before.”
The ferry neared, approaching the pier, which was filled with Thais. “But what about you?” Ryan asked. “It’s your money. Do you want to go to a university?”
She looked away from him, her smile fading. “It not matter what I want. I cannot go. I have to make money.”
“That’s not fair. It’s your—”
“It fair. It what we do. Then one day, if my brother go to university and later get good job, maybe he can help me, help my children. That how it work.”
“Would you . . . if you could . . . would you go to a university?”
“Of course.”
“How old are you?”
Her smile returned. “A smart woman never answer that question. And a polite man, he never ask.”
“Tell me.”
“Nineteen. But why you ask?”