by Jay J Carr
7.
He doesn’t remember switching the television on, but it is on and he is staring at the screen.
It is his picture once again; he can see himself on the screen. Why is he on the screen?
And in breaking news, it is now confirmed that Barry Cunningham has fled to Singapore and is holed up in a hotel there. He has not made an attempt to leave it since he arrived. Eyewitnesses on the ground have confirmed that the hotel has been closed to the public and only checked in guests, showing their room keys have current access.
It is the place he has been living in that he sees; it is the place where he is now.
A story now confirming Cunningham’s use of male prostitutes in Singapore possibly explains the reasons why he is there.
Why do they keep on talking? Why?
We will keep our viewers updated on any movements in the story. And now in other news …
He has to see for himself, he has to open the curtain a little bit and see for himself. This is an elevator, and he is going down, he is falling down, and then the doors open. Where are the curtains? He desperately needs to see the curtains. There is a door in front of him the door can be opened. He peers outside – it is the street but there are no curtains. He walks down the alleyway but where is the community park? Where are the people? Where are his curtains - all he can think about is the curtains?
If he walks a little bit he might be able to find them. Walking around the corner he know something is terribly wrong. Terror, there is terror as he sees them, the demons, but there are no curtains to protect him. He turns back to the alleyway, he turns back and runs, he is running and there are doors, and he is confused because where is the passageway, they mustn’t see his silhouette through the door. They mustn’t.
There is a passageway but it looks different. There are too many doors, which door should he open. He tries one after the other but the doors will not open. He must open a door; he needs to open a door.
He can see the elevator on the other side of the passageway, when did they get an elevator. He must get in the elevator and open the door. The curtains have disappeared and cannot protect himself anymore. The elevator is his last hope.
Slowly he walks towards the elevator, they mustn't see his silhouette against the glass.
Singapore-
8.
The interview aired the following morning and he knew that Myrtle had managed the entire thing - the story has been sold to the network, the angle accepted and when he watched the insert that was eventually constructed he was impressed.
The focus had already shifted to the hotel in Singapore now flooded by the media. This had resulted in a restriction of access to it and only registered guests were allowed in. In true media style, rooms were booked so that they would have access inside, a clever strategy on the side of some networks. They were not allowed to broadcast or shoot scenes anywhere inside otherwise they would be removed. Live feeds from inside hotel rooms were being broadcast and the hotel was unable to pinpoint exactly where these were coming from.
Some of the media had camped outside the hotel and Myrtle has assured him that they didn’t need to go through this charade; she could get them inside and had a way of doing it.
"So, you have heard I am sure that there are more press surrounding the hotel than for the winner of Singapore's Got Talent," she joked.
"Well I guess there is a story to be told and people can smell the blood."
She showed the way with her hand as they walked down one of the streets, "It's humid here."
"That it is," he said, and wiped a bead of sweat from his face.
"Not far, don't worry.” She surveyed the street so that they could cross it. “Just thought it would be better to arrive together and look like tourists."
"I am in your hands, oh great magician of the town."
She laughed and continued to walk. In front of them they spotted the crowd of media people that had congregated on the side of the street, next to the hotel entrance.
“I need to quickly check something.” She peered carefully over the crowd. “There she is.”
“The person who is going to help us in?”
“No the freelancer,” she doted. “Really good work she is doing too.”
Tod had seen some of the live feeds and she was doing a good job indeed.
"We are going in the back way so that no one will notice us," she said.
He was amazed as they walked into a shopping mall and disappeared up and down some escalators and pushed through a door, which took them directly into the hotel lobby. The hotel had taken no risks and even in this odd entrance there was a security guard that requested the room access cards to prove that they were guests.
Myrtle smiled at the man and said, "We have a booking for tea at 10-30 under the name of Myrtle Chang." He didn't let them through but smiled and asked them to wait. With a two-way radio he confirmed that there was in fact a booking for Mrs Chang and only once he had done this did he let them past. Myrtle continued to smile throughout the wait and when they were out of earshot said with a naughty look on her face, "We are in mwaaahhahahahah."
“I thought only registered guests were allowed?”
“Unless you come here every opportunity you can to have tea! Well at least that’s what I told them.”
He laughed and looked around for the first time. The hotel was an interesting one with a huge internal atrium. If they had come in from the main entrance they would have had to come by elevator to the lobby which was suspended in the middle. The lobby housed a restaurant but also had restaurants leading off it, and this was where they were heading. What took Tod by surprise was that the doors of all of the rooms faced the internal atrium and somewhere within spitting distance Cunningham was hiding out. Myrtle made her way to the hostess in the lobby and they were shown to a table for tea with a reserved sign. Many of the tables were empty and he guessed that not many people had thought about this option.
Once they had sat down, ordered their traditional English tea and were out of earshot she started to explain. "This is a five star hotel and it has the biggest internal atrium in Singapore, famous for its architectural accomplishment. Looking around, security is definitely looking out for people wanting to 'disturb the peace'. I don’t see those ‘guests’ that have checked in and are broadcasting from their rooms being allowed to roam around freely. The hotel can't stop business from happening, so they are going to have to ease this at some point. I wonder how long he will remain here? Or the inevitable, when they will ask him to leave."
"That is a good question." He looked at her, "Something I am sure someone named Myrtle Chang would be able to find out."
"Well, lets say I am working on it but it’s not proving to be easy."
"Somewhere in this space is the person we want to talk with, to interview someone who everyone wants to dissect and humiliate.” Tod murmured.
While he was talking Myrtle had been scanning the atrium and said, "I thought we would see more security on a specific floor, even outside a specific room but I can't see any abnormal activity. I have now looked as much as I can from my vantage point. I am also trying not to arouse too much suspicion but I don't see security except for the entrance points."
"Myrtle Chang," he said, "you missed your calling as a CSI."
She laughed at him and their tea arrived with all the trimmings. Here in the colonies life could be good.
Like Myrtle, he scanned the atrium looking for any anomaly but he could not see anything and continued to do this at varying intervals. Myrtle checked her smart phone regularly but after they had their tea and had spent enough time there, he knew that this visit had at least got them inside but that would be it for now.
That Place-
9.
How do you fall out of love with someone? How do you surrender your feelings if the person is only paid to please you?
He stares deep into the eyes of the ‘boy’, the ‘boy’ who has spoken to him about his life,
unlike any other ‘boy’ he has met. It is filled with meaning and carefully chosen words.
The ‘boy’ simply says, “My name is Oh.” It is a familiar name he has heard many times before. Maybe he had even met an Oh before.
“Hi, I am B,” he responds.
“Nice to meet you B.” The automated response.
And then he starts to ask the odd question, thinking it will go as it normally does with the ‘boy’ not being able to answer, which would then lead to them going back to the hotel.
However, this is different, every question has an answer. He is able to draw out information, a story and is jubilant.
He wants to ask every question he can. Before he blurts out what he wants to ask, he realises he needs to pace himself, or the ‘boy’ might clam up and not share anymore.
“Why did you decide to do this work?”
The ‘boy’ did not answer the question immediately and instead looked ahead. He realized that he had gone too far.
“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, okay …”
He felt really guilty and didn’t want to carry on. But then the ‘boy’ spoke.
“I come to study. I come to try study at the university but cannot. Stay with friend who study. He is very clever. But I not. I cannot stay because too stupid. Then don’t go back to friend as not feel good. You know Lumpini Park?”
He does and says, “Yes.”
I sleep Lumpini Park two week under …” he struggles to find the word, “bench.”
He looks at him as he says this and can’t imagine anyone doing that.
“I have very little money. I buy food every day only one time. I walk every day around here. I see many bar and many ‘boy’ working there. One day I ask ‘boy’ what he do working there. ‘Boy’ say he is ‘money boy’. I ask what is ‘money boy’. He say ‘boy’ who go with ‘farang’ and have sex. I not understand. ‘Boy’ get angry with me. I ask another ‘boy’, and ‘boy’ explain one more time. I don’t think men do this. Then I see ‘boy’ have nice clothes, have nice phone. I come back and ask another ‘boy’ how do I work there. He is kind ‘boy’ and he take me to bar. Mama-san not want to take me, say I not good body and not good face, too thin. I beg Mama-san and say I have no work, no home, no food. Mama-san kind and then say will give me food and when I can, I can work there. I eat food and soon I okay and Mama-san say I can work as ‘boy’. I start and then I work here from that time.”
After hearing this story, he is in love. He looks dreamily at the ‘boy’. He can’t take him back to the hotel only for sex. He wants to hold him, touch him and look after him.
He comes every night to ensure that no one else takes him. Even going as far as withdrawing money he has saved into a savings account to ensure that he can do this. Each night they talk about something different. He hears about the ‘boys’ hometown, his family, being gay and how it is really seen by his family. Living as a ‘money boy’. Every conversation makes him fall deeper and deeper into the vacuum of love.
Then reality strikes. He knows he has to go back, back to his world, back to work, back to a loveless partnership - all of this awaits him outside of this Soi, outside of this place that feels like home.
He looks at the ‘boy’ and is aware that they have never had sex in all the time he has visited. They have only ever touched each other’s arms, legs and shoulders. He realises something different in himself. This is a new phase for him. He doesn’t have to move about looking for sex here anymore, he is content.
He touches his arm, slowly making a circle with the movements of his finger. Then he moves his nails up and down the arm gently.
Too quickly, he is on the way to the airport, he is checked in, security then passport and then he knows it is over.
He feels the plane take off, he feels the engines thrust and soon they are in the air way above this world. The flight is the vessel taking him back to his hell; back to return to the world of mortals, to be someone who has responsibilities. The plane begins its descent into New Jersey, he doesn’t want to look out of the window, he doesn’t want to accept this fate. The wheels connect with the runway and once more the sound of the break and then he hears, “Ladies and gentlemen welcome to New Jersey, the local time …”
Singapore-
10.
“I just need to pop off to the toilet,” he said to Myrtle.
“I will get a glass of water.”
“That’s a good idea,” Tod said.
He doesn’t feel that they would get the scoop they had hoped for. Cunningham was not going to show himself, he knew they were all there, some inside, some outside.
Tod looked around for the toilet, he was always amazed at how much money hotels spent on the place where people peed and shat. This one looked like a marbled shrine to a deity. There were gold and mirrors and it smelt of lime in strong contrast to the streets of Bangkok, where there was none of this, where people survived on so little.
He found the cubicle and did his business while whistling a song that he had heard. After he had washed his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror. He stared at the face of a man, a weather beaten face, wrinkled around the eyes and stubble that was going grey. Bloody hell, he was getting old.
The cold water on his face felt good and he dabbed his face with one of the hand towels. He dried his hands using the electronic dryer and then leant over the basin to collect his thoughts. He was tired.
As he made his way back to Myrtle, he noticed a man was walking towards him. This guy was really old as he was walking very slowly. He didn’t know why he did this but he never made eye contact with someone walking towards him until they were really close, then he would smile or says hello.
As he got closer, he made eye contact for the first time. What he saw will forever haunt him - it was Barry Cunningham - or to put it more correctly, what was left of him. He was now a somnambulist but one that muttered as they walked. All that was missing were his outstretched arms. What would Myrtle say when he got this scoop. He reached into his pocket to get his phone; he was going to record this. Then he looked again.
This man, this person, deserved what he had always wanted from others - dignity. He didn’t know what to do? He smiled at him and said, “Good afternoon.”
Barry looked at him for the first time, “Good afternoon, yes … good afternoon.” His eyes peered at him with caution and were glazed. “You are not one of them. You are not one of them.” He gently rocked from side to side as he said this. Then he carried on walking past, it was a slow shuffle, but it was a walk.
He waited and watched him make his way down the passageway and towards the elevator. He got into it but did not push a button. He simply stood in the elevator waiting for nothing.
Tod walked to the elevator and asked, “Where are you going?”
“I am going home.” He pointed all the way up.
Tod pushed the button for the top floor, assuming this was where he stayed and stepped out of the elevator.
As the doors closed he said, “Enjoy your trip home.”
“Thank you.” It was the response, which was heard as the elevator carried him away.
That Place-
11.
He finds himself balancing on the balustrade of the balcony. It is difficult to keep balance on it. He doesn’t need to look at this world anymore. His eyes are closed and he sees a film playing onto his eyelids.
He is standing holding a man, he is standing with his arms wrapped around a man, he is so handsome, he gently squeezes his back, and he is whispering into his ear … It is soothing, it is musical, he feels content, he knows he is loved. He releases the man and standing facing each other, they look into each other’s eyes. His eyes are filled with possibility. And then the words he has been longing for - I love you.
He melts, he dissolves into himself, he disappears within him.
He is.
They are.
He is back on t
he ledge. There is a slight breeze; even though it is hot the wind punctuates the air. He does not open his eyes. He does not want to.
“I am not who you think I am …” he whispers quietly.
He is walking down the Soi, he is smiling and people are smiling back. Some greet him, others simply look. That doesn’t matter, he is home. The smells, sounds, tastes and the touch of skin on skin.
He is coming home.
He jumps off the balustrade and into the light below.
He is going home.
He is descending into the light; he is falling into the arms that will catch him, the hands which will gently touch him.
He is going home.
0.
Press Release: For immediate release
Statement from the Peace Prize Committee:
It is with regret that we hear about the untimely death of Dr Barry Cunningham. The Committee extends its condolences to Dr Cunningham’s family, friends and colleagues.
Let us remember the words of Dr Cunningham-
Dignity is a choice, but it is a choice which can change your life.
To have dignity and to be able to give dignity,
is what humanity is about.
For it is in giving that we set ourselves and each other free.
As a result of this death prior to the official awards ceremony, the rules of the committee have to be considered, which note that only a living person may be awarded the prize.
Although the prize was awarded during Dr Cunningham’s life, the formal ceremony has not taken place.
Therefore, in honor of his life, the Committee has decided not to award the Peace Prize to anyone else this year.
About the Author
Jay J. Carr is a writer, director and social activist. As a gay writer he is interested in issues of sexuality, the body and performativity of gender. He is a storyteller that travels the world in search of the next inspirational tale. He lives in New York.
www.jcarrwriting.com