It took a moment of squinting at the directions printed on the card before she got a connecting tone. After dialing carefully, she waited. The phone only rang once before Mom’s voice said: “Hello.”
“Hi, Mama, it’s me.” She used the familiar endearment without realizing it.
“Sweetie! You’re there already?”
“Uh huh. Just got here a couple hours ago.”
Her mother laughed. “Well, I’m sure the time went by faster for us than for you. But just like that, you’re already in Bangkok.”
“Yep. I’m standing at a pay phone right by my new luxury apartment.” She managed a laugh. “And I’m kidding about the ‘luxury.’”
“What? It’s not very good?”
“Oh, it’s fine. Just kind of small.”
After a brief chat and a solemn promise to email home with all the details of the flight, she slowly replaced the receiver, a warm glow filling her. Bangkok was such a faraway kingdom, and yet Mom’s voice was just eight cents away.
Rachel Marie was about to go back upstairs and climb in bed when a familiar sign caught her attention. Are you kidding? There’s a Dunkin Donuts right here on the corner? Hardly believing her eyes, she crossed the street, dodging a couple of teenage boys on bikes.
A young woman about her age stood at the counter, wordlessly eyeing her as she entered the empty little shop. Rachel Marie scanned the rows of familiar pastries and spotted what she wanted. Making sure the clerk noticed, she gestured to the jelly-filled donut. “May I have one of these?”
The girl nodded, picking it up with a sheet of tissue paper. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” Rachel Marie gulped. How much are they? Scanning the wall, she finally spotted the price. “Sixteen baht?” Oops, I have no idea how much that is. She consoled herself with the reality that a set price printed on a menu probably wasn’t designed to gouge the local public.
The clerk set the donut on the counter and waited. Fishing in the envelope John had given her, Rachel Marie spotted a red bill with a 100 emblazed in the corner. She handed it over, and accepted a small mound of bills and coins. “Thank you.”
A nod.
Waiting until she got back to her secure third-story cocoon, Rachel Marie put away the cash and the phone card and plopped down on her couch. I’ll just eat this and then crawl in bed. She toyed with the idea of popping a couple of nightly Tylenol PM tablets until her body adjusted to its new faraway address. Better not. Just let nature take its course.
She fiddled with the TV remote as she nibbled on the delicious gooey treat. To her amazement, the cable system had a kind of HBO channel, and Tom Hanks was halfway to his romantic goal of winning Meg Ryan. Hey, it’s Seattle, she mused as microscopic Thai subtitles lurched across the bottom of the small screen. If I look real hard, maybe I’ll see my folks’ house.
She fell asleep on the couch with the love story still unfolding.
CHAPTER FIVE
“ . . . And I just got to Bangkok last night, and . . . I’m really, really, really jet-lagged like you wouldn’t believe, and . . .” A burst of spontaneous laughter greeted Rachel Marie’s red-faced introduction. The large teaching staff of Bangkok Christian School was sitting in close knots of three and four, beaming and quietly gossiping, as John Garvey introduced the new recruits. “But I definitely think God sent me here for this school year, and I’m super excited about working with all you guys.”
There was a buzz of amen’s and applause as she sat down next to Marilyn, who reached over and patted her hand. “You did good!”
John and Khemkaeng had concocted a cute PowerPoint show, replete with comedic Thai pop tunes, to highlight the school’s vision for the coming school year. More interaction with the local community. Increased opportunities for parents to attend programs and seminars graciously highlighting Christian ideas for better living. Improved academics, especially in the high school’s math curriculum. A week-long badminton tournament to draw interest from Bangkok’s TV industry.
“And, of course,” John added, switching off the projector, “our strongest desire is that we let these kids know what a friend they have in Jesus.”
Khemkaeng, his face impassive at the last remark, accepted the microphone and outlined the elementary schedule, with slightly longer daily classes. “But we compensate now by dismissing the school at noon each Friday,” he explained, as teachers rumbled their assent.
“Pattaya, here we come!” an instructor with a thick London accent boomed out from the back.
“In the Matthayom level, we have Christian assembly each Friday for forty-five minutes,” Khemkaeng went on. “At nine. Upper elementary will follow them at ten, with our smaller children coming for their program at eleven. So when they are concluded, they return to home rooms only to pick up materials.” He paused. “And if teachers wish to have a prayer of closing with them.”
Rachel Marie raised an eyebrow at the odd phrasing. Also, it seemed Khemkaeng was deliberately more buttoned-down and cautious when mentioning the faith-based aspects of the school curriculum. During the next break, she asked Marilyn why.
“Oh, he’s not a believer,” she responded casually. “Wonderful man, and John admires him to death. But he’s very much steeped in the Thai way of things.”
“Wow.” The news was a thunderbolt. It seemed incongruous that a Christian school would actively embrace a secular person to be its second in command.
Marilyn, noticing, shook her head and laughed. “You know, when I first met him I wondered about that too. But he’s just so very nice, and completely professional. He has a master’s degree from the University of Michigan, if you can imagine that. Poor guy must have frozen to death. But his parents live up in northern Thailand somewhere, came into a lot of money in a business they started, and they sent him to the States to get an education. That’s why his English is so flawless.”
“Huh.” Rachel Marie peeked over to where Khemkaeng was patiently explaining some policy to one of the school’s other new employees, smiling and pointing to an entry in the printed handbook. “Does he just not think Christianity is true? Or what?”
“It’s not that. Khemkaeng has some familiarity with Christian beliefs; like I said, he was in Michigan for something like two years. He even dropped by a Lutheran church there, out of curiosity, he told John once. But for many people here, it just doesn’t seem important. It’s ‘do your thing, fine, but I’m okay over here the way things are.’ Plus, when your whole family is completely steeped in Buddhism–both as a religion and as a national culture–it’s pretty hard to break away from those bonds.”
“I guess.”
Marilyn peeked to make sure no one was listening. “And you know, in a culture where respecting your parents is such a powerful thing . . . well, to go off and become a Christian might be very intimidating.”
The staff gossiped and feasted on a catered lunch of fried rice and a salad festooned with cashews. “This is delicious,” she told John, who was boisterously teasing Ellen, a new recruit who had joined the teaching staff from Manila.
“I’m glad you like it. And wait till you see what our kitchen folks have come up with for dessert.”
A Thai woman, wearing the traditional sarong wrapped about her waist, brought a tray filled with small bowls. She handed one to Rachel Marie, who took a cautious bite of the whitish mixture. “Whooh, that’s good too,” she enthused. “What is this?”
The server said in careful English: “We call it one: sangkha-yaa-ma-phrao.”
John gave her a thank-you wave, then explained, “It’s a kind of custard they make here.”
“But what’s the flavoring? It’s so good.”
“It’s coconut. That’s a big thing here in Bangkok, so I’m glad you like it.”
Rachel Marie grinned. “I could have one of these every day for a long, long time.”
Khemkaeng happened to be walking by. “The kitchen can make all you want, Miss Stone.”
“Rachel Marie.” She gave her
new boss a look of mock hurt as she finished off the delicacy.
“Yes. Sorry.” He beamed. “Would you like some more? I believe there is extra.”
“I better not. I’m sure it’s a zillion calories.”
The crew of teachers chatted leisurely over tall glasses of chah dam yen, iced tea with a sprinkling of sugar. No one seemed eager to get back to work, but Rachel Marie was determined to spend at least a couple hours in her new classroom before the weekend.
Carefully following the map that showed her classroom marked with a hastily drawn red circle, she climbed the steps to the second floor of the building adjacent to the cafeteria and chapel. There was already a brass sign on the door. Miss Rachel Marie Stone. Form 6C. She found it unlocked and pushed her way in.
Fourteen tables, each with two chairs, were in precise rows facing a whiteboard spanning the entire front of the room. A teacher’s desk, its top bare, was against the left-hand wall. Posters along both side walls, all in English, had the usual: alphabet charts, handwriting samples, the solar system. A pull-down screen and video projector mounted from the ceiling. In the rear of the room was a large Thai flag jutting out from a wall mount. A framed photo showed two adorable children, both clad in the maroon-and-white uniforms mandated by Bangkok Christian School. They were holding a small kitten and mugging for the camera. A photo-shopped caption read: We can do all things through Christ! Phil. 4:13.
A large stack of teacher-edition books on top of the bookcase seemed to cover the gamut of familiar topics: science, reading, English, spelling, math, Bible. Hmmm. Everything seemed to be from America, although she noted that the reading book bore the imprint of an Australian publisher. She leafed through a couple, savoring the cool hum of the air conditioning but fighting off waves of drowsiness. Most of the photos and artwork were fairly representative of kids around the world, she was grateful to notice, and Asian populations were well represented. Still, she resolved to find ways to make her teaching as “Thai” as possible.
I’ll have to take lots of pictures. Back in Glendale, she had delighted her students by snapping casual shots of them here and there, then surreptitiously dropping them into various teaching lessons. Kids always brayed with approval when a math problem or a pop spelling quiz featured candid surprise digital images of them imported into her PowerPoint.
“May I come in?”
With a start she realized she had actually dozed for a moment. “Oops,” she managed, her face reddening. “You caught me taking a little snooze. I guess naps belong more in the kindergarten room.”
Khemkaeng laughed cheerfully. Even on a casual Friday, he was still wearing a suit, nicely tailored, and with a necktie that was a delightful splash of colors. Like all Thai men, it seemed, his hair was perfectly black and straight, but his somehow had a bit of extra fluff and body. He wore rimless glasses that did nothing to hide his keen, cheerful eyes and the laugh lines that creased around them. Great eyebrows, she thought idly to herself.
“I brought a computer list of your students,” he explained. “Twenty-seven, but it is possible that one more girl may join your group.” He glanced around the room, doing a mental count. “So then you will be very full.”
“Sounds good.” Her pulse fluttered at the reality that she’d soon be facing twenty-eight strange faces, filled with curiosity about their new and very in-over-her-head American teacher.
“So you are ready to be an SRO performer?” he teased. “In America, I went once to a rock-and-roll show. In Detroit. So I learned there about ‘standing room only.’”
Rachel Marie accepted the list from him and scanned it. “Whoa! Are you kidding?”
“What?”
“Look at these names!” She gaped at the printout. “They’re all so long. How do I even say this? ‘Chai Vitiamyalaksana.’”
“Very good,” he affirmed. “Except that in Thailand, a ‘v’ is usually said as a ‘w.’”
“So that would be ‘Chai Witiam . . .’ whatever?”
“Yes. Excellent. But you will learn the names very quickly.” He reached out and peeked at the list again himself. “Yes, these are easy.”
He explained that many children in Bangkok were more commonly known by pet names, or nicknames, which could often be very short. “A child may be called ‘Lek,’ by his friends. Which means ‘small.’”
“Yuck! I wouldn’t think a kid would like that much.”
“No, it is very common. In USA, you would say, an endearment.”
“Oh.” It was still mystifying to hear such impeccable English coming from a person who appeared very rooted in a distant and foreign culture.
She asked him about the room’s computer system and how to record daily grades. Khemkaeng patiently walked her through the grading software, and also clicked on the Internet so that she could see how to get and send email.
“You are still having supper with the Garveys?” he casually asked as she switched the computer off.
Rachel Marie gaped. “Oh, dear! I totally forgot.”
Khemkaeng was amused, and tried not to show it. “Of course. You have had so much to think about.” He hesitated. “They asked me to come as well. If you like, I can come over to the apartment and show you how to get to their home.”
“Oh.” Intrigued, she decided to ask. “I would think after all this work–and airport runs–you’d have to go home and be with your family.”
He shook his head. “My family is all in Chiang Mai.”
“Where’s that?” She was embarrassed, then suddenly remembered that Bucky’s mission trip had involved a train ride to a medium-size city in the northern part of the kingdom. “Kind of north of here, right?”
“Yes. About seven hundred kilometers.”
“So it’s just you and your folks? Any brothers and sisters?”
“Two. Both sisters. They are much younger and still live with my mother and father.”
“But you’re not married or anything?”
His face was the epitome of Asian inscrutability. “No. Not yet.”
“Hey, you guys!”
Rachel Marie recognized the sparkly Filipino girl. “Uh . . . Ellen, right?”
“Yes!” Ellen had the most dazzling smile she’d ever seen. Her hair was long and flowing, reaching almost to her waist. Rachel Marie felt a sudden jealous impulse. She’s gorgeous.
“I’m just heading over to the apartments,” the shorter girl explained. “Same as where you live. If you’re done here, we can ride the bus together and I’ll show you where the stop is and everything.”
“That’d be perfect.” She quickly gathered up the textbooks, along with Khemkaeng’s computer roster, and piled everything up into a precarious stack.
“You can’t go on the bus like that,” Ellen scolded. “Here. I’ve got a bunch of room in my tote. I’ll bet we can get all your stuff in.” Her English bore absolutely no trace of a foreign accent.
Waving goodbye to the administrator, the two young teachers made their way out to the front entrance of the school and down the block. Ellen chattered animatedly, wheeling her bulging tote behind her. “I can show you where to get one of these too,” she boasted. “I got mine for five hundred baht. At the night market.”
Rachel Marie shook her head, overwhelmed. “You have to tell me again how the baht and the dollar stack up. I’m going nuts here thinking everything is either too expensive or practically free.” She told Ellen about the doughnut the previous evening.
A burst of laughter. “Sure, that’s about right. It’s pretty much a stable currency–maybe thirty-five baht to the American dollar. So sixteen baht would be around, oh, forty-five cents.”
“And a tote bag like yours, five hundred baht, would run . . . what, maybe fifteen bucks?”
“Something like that.” Ellen motioned toward a white bus heading their way. “This is us. See? Number Five.” Both girls jumped on and plopped into the nearest seat. “Now, we go just one stop,” she added, “so eight baht is a little bit of a rip-o
ff. But it beats walking nine blocks in this muggy weather.” The discount bus had no air conditioning, but small ceiling fans every few rows spun around, futilely trying to at least stir up the fetid air. Ellen waved her new friend off and handed the conductor a green twenty-baht bill, accepting a few coins in change. “Next time’s on you.”
“How come your English is so perfect?”
She shrugged. “I grew up mostly in Miami. My parents went back and forth a lot doing evangelism and medical missionary work, and I did spend two years, elementary school, at a big Christian outfit in Cebu City. But I pretty much had my childhood years in Florida.” She giggled, showing that stunning smile again. “So this humidity isn’t really that big a deal for me. No worse than a July afternoon at Disney World.”
After a quick tour of Ellen’s small flat on the second floor, Rachel Marie plopped down on her own bed, exhausted. Four o’clock here was two in the morning back in Temple City, and her body longed for a solid night of sleep. She fished her American cell phone out and set the alarm to ring ninety minutes later.
Khemkaeng’s knock at six sharp was gentle, almost apologetic, as if he knew he was intruding into her recovery time. “Are you a bit rested?”
“Uh huh.” It wasn’t exactly true; she still felt groggy. But she had splashed cold water on her face and changed into a pretty skirt and light pink blouse that complemented her brown hair. She noticed that he had switched to a simple polo shirt the faintest possible shade of blue, and a comfortable pair of loafers. He wore an expensive wristwatch, which he seemed to twirl around his wrist whenever explaining something to an underling.
“So how far away do the Garveys live?”
“Not far.” They went down the stairs, and he tentatively took her arm as they crossed the street.
“Are we going on the bus?” She realized, suddenly, that she hadn’t brought any cash with her.
He laughed cheerfully. “I think if you are to be a successful teacher in Thailand, you must quickly master the art of riding a tuk tuk.”
Love In a Distant Land: Rachel Marie Series Book One Page 7