Lek and her sister are very keen on Trevor. They say he looks ‘smart’, he’s polite, and his ears stick out just like Prince Charlie’s. Not only that, but he’s blond and almost rich. And this is not evento mention his refined British accent, though Meow says trying to understand him is worse than trying to understand a Chinese speaking Thai. They’ve sworn to help him find a nice girl when he comes back in eight months time on another foray.
Trevor came around again the day before he left for Kuwait, bearing yet another bottle of the bubbly. Meow, for one, was developing quite a taste for the stuff. All’s well that ends well, Trevor allowed, and he thought he’d come out of it in better shape than he might have. In fact, he said, he felt somewhat beholden to us all, and felt there were rich lessons in life to be salvaged from the whole experience. Meow smiled at him fondly, though I’d give you ten to one she’d really understood no more than the word ‘rich’.
“Good luck! Auk! Wow! Ha, ha.”
“Shut up, Nixon,” Eddie said. “I´ve got a headache. I should never drink champagne in the morning.”
I had a funny feeling, nevertheless, that there would be further occasion for champagne breakfasts at the Cheritone. Meow was just smiling and smiling.
LEARY’S LAW
“Now, gosh,” Leary roared. “Just what is this darned slop you have put on my plate, here?” Leary always roared, mind you, so nobody took much notice.
A few of us had come over for Sunday brunch and to have a look at Leary’s new house. Deep in a lane , a soi off Sukhumvit Road, with a big jungley garden and fish ponds, the place was intelligently designed, combining some of the best features of traditional Thai architecture with the option of air-conditioning. We were in the spacious dining nook, looking out through glass doors flanked by cast iron temple lions into an enormous stand of bamboo and yellow-green crotons.
Nancy, Leary’s long-time girlfriend, and the maid had gone to a lot of trouble, laying on a lavish spread of both Western and Thai foods. Nancy was Singaporean Chinese, but she loved Thai food.
I’m something of a picky eater, myself, and, having already had two bowls of jok, a delicious savory rice porridge with garlic and pork and stuff; sausages, eggs, and home-fries; toast and peanut butter; croissants and jam; as well as a phat-thai, or Thai-style noodles, that my lady-friend couldn’t eat, I was quite full. I was really only picking at a plate of pineapple, papaya, watermelon, and rambutans, just to be polite. Eddie Alder, who on the other hand was a bit of a trencherman, was still on the second helping of his sausage-and-egg phase.
But Leary had found something strange on his plate, and he wanted us to believe he wasn’t pleased. He always made it clear he wasn’t one to eat this crazy foreign food, never mind he had lived in Thailand on and off for quite a few years, not to mention Indonesia, Singapore, Korea, and probably some other places as well.
“Okay, Nance, now I know man ain’t nothin’ but a device for turning food into fertilizer. Gosh, you know. Darn. That’s common knowledge. But here you’ve gone and made Mankind redundant! Do you hear? That’s right. Redundant Gosh.”
Nancy simply smiled and took away the offending plate. Eddie’s Lek also smiled, and she asked Leary if he’d like more coffee. When he said sure, gosh darn it, she smiled some more and managed to miss his cup and pour a wee dollop of the steaming brew right into his lap. Accidentally, of course, although you had to notice she didn’t leave off smiling.
“Gosh,” said Leary. “Darn it!” I don’t believe that coffee was very hot, however, or he would’ve said more than that.
Nancy, for her part, never paid much attention to Leary’s little ways. I guess she couldn’t have lived with him for the past five years, if she’d been bothered.
Leary habitually seasoned his conversation with ‘gosh’ and ‘darn’. Gosh was salt, and darn was pepper, you could say. Sometimes, if a communication required a bit of mustard, he might go so far as to say ‘frigging’. That’s how I knew the coffee wasn’t too hot, otherwise he would’ve almost certainly described it as ‘friggin’ hot’, and maybe even asked Lek if she wasn’t a friggin’ spastic, as well, taking care to direct an apologetic ‘gosh’ towards Eddie at the same time.
I had it on good advice — no less an authority than Eddie’s Lek — Leary’s language used to be rather more pungent still; in fact, he reportedly could use linguistic condiments so exotic even his associates on the oil rigs had been known to blush as brightly as young maidens at a pantie-raid. Lek had told me it was Nancy who was responsible for Leary’s retreat to this blander salt-and-pepper vocabulary, with occasional lashings of mustard. But of course that couldn’tbe so, because Leary always said that a woman’s place was two meters behind her man, preferably with an armload of groceries and a sock in her mouth. You knew that Leary wasn’t ever going to take any guff from any broad, no sir. That’s right. Gosh.
Leary was an expert on women. You only had to ask him. What he didn’t know about the ladies was probably wrong and you wouldn’t want to know it anyway. So when he heard of young Ernest’s problem, that Sunday morning, he stepped in with both feet to set the wounded swain straight.
“Is that all? Haw! Let me tell you this: if you lose a fiancee and seventy-five cents, then you’ve lost six bits, and that’s just about nothing, these days. Gosh!” Leary bellowed. Then he laughed, and the doors to the garden rattled in their frames. “Darn!” he added.
Ernest hadn’t been saying much of anything; he had merely been circling the breakfast buffet like an ailing shark—puzzled and a little hurt that he couldn’t bring to this feast the gusto it deserved. It had taken Nancy and Lek about two minutes to determine the problem and to pump him for the details.
Ernest and his fiancee, the lovely Noi, were no longer affianced, as of the previous evening. It seemed Ernest had suddenly gotten the sneaky feeling that Noi was more in love with his robust bank account than she was with his also robust person independently of its bank account Or so Ernest told the ladies, at least in words to that effect
In just the past month, Ernest had become acquainted with a sick uncle from upcountry who would probably live, but only if certain expensive medical measures were taken without much delay. Then there was Noi’s sister, who had been struggling to survive her eighth term at Ramkhamhaeng, the open university, and who had been living on bananas because they were the cheapest fruit on the street right then and they fill you up. Joy at these opportunities to contribute to the common welfare had been mixed with some unease. Then Ernest, already annoyed to find that certain astrological advice was going to delay the marriage for some time, discovered another complication — there was to be an unanticipated expense, unanticipated, at least, on his part. He was going to have to reimburse Noi’s parents for the cost of bringing her up such a lovely and gracious young thing. The amount of this lump payment could be negotiated, but there would be considerable loss of face all ‘round if he made any real fuss.
One thing together with the other, and being in a bad mood anyway, he had made some ill-considered remarks about this kind of love being cheaper on the street and did she think he was made of money, or what, and was that the only reason she enjoyed his company?
For her part, Noi called him kee niaow, stingy, burst into tears and stormed off, clearly believing herself to be the injured party.
Ernest, basically a conventional sort of chap, went straight away to a bar and drank more than was his wont, and was now pretty happy not to find kippers at the breakfast banquet, keeping his stomach down where it belonged already being something of a problem. Looking at him, it was hard to tell where heartbreak left off and hangover began.
Bearing the lad’s condition in mind, Leary went on with even greater delicacy than usual. “Ernie, my boy, you’re a darned lucky man. Gosh, you just count your blessings. Do you realize you almost got married? At your friggin’ age you were about to have your nose fitted for a ring and a meter put on your enjoyment of the finer things.
“Now
, I know you don’t feel so good right now, but that’s mostly hangover. Darn it, we’ve all got to fall in love, just like we’ve all got to drink beer, but you don’t want the hangover to stay with you all your life, gosh-darn it, and that’s what happens when you get married.
“That’s life, Ernie my boy: friggin’ love and taxes. And death. No getting away from ‘em. But marriage, that’s another thing. That’s up to you.”
None of this was making any discernible impression on Ernest, other than the obvious pain caused by the sheer volume of Leary’ s remarks, but the ladies present were evidently inspired, and would no doubt have had something to say about matters soon.
Eddie, however, headed Lek off, saying to Leary “Okay, Leary, but you know there’s a saying: ‘Next to no wife, a good wife is best’” He smiled fondly at his wife, the way a husband does under the circumstances.
“That’s right” agreed Leary. “Haw! ‘Next to no wife at all, a good wife is best’; and a good wife is a friggin’ orphan, for starters. And you can call that a gosh-darn rule to live by. A kind of law of nature.”
I did; I called it ‘Leary’s Law’, and I’d heard him expound it before. I glanced over at Nancy, a bit nervously, but she was still positively serene. My girlfriend had earlier remarked how good Nancy was looking — she practically glowed, in fact. Maybe she was pregnant, my companion suggested.
“No, you came out of this one smelling of roses, Ernie,” Leary bellowed. “You just go ahead and have a plateful of those scrambled eggs, and put some of those onions and potatoes and nice spicy sausages on the side. Nance, here, can make you some fresh toast. You’ll feel better before you know it, and tomorrow you won’t even remember her name, or her uncle’s or her sister’s names either, come to that. Or how much her folks figured her upbringing set them back. Now you go on and eat up, gosh-dam it.”
Ernest winced, and his pallor took on a greenish cast.
Eddie told him, for maybe the third time, that he should go ahead and have a beer or two. For her money, my lady friend said, this was one brunch Ernest could’ve missed, and maybe he’d have been better off lying in bed with the Sunday comics waiting for Noi to phone.
“You see, Ernie, things are done a little bit differently out here in Asia; the family’s still the thing, you know, and it isn’t simply ‘Well, I’m eighteen now, folks; so long now, and maybe I’ll see you around sometime.’ No, sir. These families stick together, and if you marry into one of them you marry the whole shebang. Now, you might think the girl is trying to shake you down, and all her kin are maybe scrambling to get on the gravy-train, as well, but that’s just not so. No, by gosh, it ain’t.”
After all Leary’s very good advice and obvious concern, it was only now that Ernest began to show any interest. “What are you saying, Leary?” he asked.
”It’s responsibility, my boy. In this part of the world, everyone is responsible for everyone else in the family, and that means if someone needs money and you’ve got it, you give it, and that’s the end of the matter. If you fall on hard times, then by gosh you get the same treatment, no questions asked. Now, you have some kind of brain seizure or such-like and you marry into one of these situations, you’ve gotta understand you’ re responsible for the lot. And if you’ ve got more money than the others, then you can expect to play the banker more often. It’s as simple as that, dam it. Haw! And that’s why I say, if you really think you have to get married, for some reason, you either marry an orphan or you’re just a gosh-darned fool.”
The ladies had come to be standing shoulder to shoulder, establishing a visible solidarity, and they were not casting kindly glances Leary’s way. A lesser man might’ve felt distinctly uncomfortable.
Ernest, meanwhile, was looking happier than he had all morning, and Leary was clearly pleased his advice was having such good effect.
“And what about the money for her folks?” Ernest asked.
“The bride price? That’s nothing. It’s the custom, and it’s the least of the headaches you got to expect in dealing with the in-laws.”
“But, that’s... wonderful!”
“That’s no lie; you almost stepped right into it.”
“So this is just the way things are. Noi’s not really after my money; she’s looking after her family, and now I’m part of the family...”
It was Leary’s turn to show consternation: “Now you hang on there a friggin’ minute, Ernie. Didn’t you listen to any of what I’ve been telling you?” Leary was spluttering.
“Why don’t you phone her, Ernest?” Nancy interrupted. “There’s another telephone upstairs in the big bedroom. Go ahead.”
The resilience of youth. Ernest came bounding down the stairs a bit later and announced: “I’m going to meet her at home. Thanks, Nancy. Thanks for the breakfast. And thank you, Leary. I needed to hear some good sense; I’ve apologized to Noi, and explained how I simply hadn’t understood.”
“You haven’t had any breakfast, Ernest,” said Nancy. “Why don’t you eat something before you go?”
Ernest’s spirits and his appetite had picked up together, and it almost make me sick to see the way he went at the cold remains of the feast. “No, no, Nancy; don’t bother to heat it up. Thanks, but I’ve got to hurry.”
Possibly out of respect for Leary’s sensibilities, Nancy waited till after Ernest had gone before telling the rest of us there had been another reason for this little celebration, something beyond the new house. She and Leary were getting marriedl She beamed with pride and happiness, while Leary shuffled around saying “Aw shucks, nothing’s friggin’ changed” as we all congratulated him. Lek poured fresh coffee all ‘round, and she didn’t even put any in Leary’s lap.
“Leary,” I said, “I am happy for you and Nancy’ s one of the finest women it’s been my pleasure ever to meet, but what’s happened to Leary’s Law?”
“Listen to this and remember it,” he told me. “There is one, like, supervening law, and that is this: ‘You’re never too old to learn some new way of screwing up.’ You can chisel that one in granite. But what the heck. I guess that’s what keeps life interesting.”
I didn’t even mention to Leary that Lek had told me there was yet one more reason for Nancy’s happiness. Her brother had only the week before gotten his degree in Electrical Engineering, but she hadn’t wanted to make Leary lose face by thanking him in front of one and all. That was Nancy for you — a fine lady in every way.
SID’S WAKE
“That’s one thing,” his mates from the Middle East had said. “Now old Sid doesn’t have to go back to play in the Sandbox.”
Indeed, they looked downright envious as they finished their drinks and prepared to enter the departure lounge. Stack and I had met them at Sid’s funeral, and we’d met again at the airport to wish them bon voyage. Looking at their faces as they trooped off, you really might have believed they would rather have been lying dead under Big Toy.
Amazing. No one was pointing guns at their heads. But you’ve got to sock that money away, by Jingo, and you’d better do it quick. None of us is getting any younger, and when you get to feeling you’re middle-aged, you get to thinking there isn’t a lot of time left
And there they were, headed back to the Sandbox, leaving one casualty behind. Stack and I, on the other hand, headed back into town poor, but pretty happy to be alive and right in the mood for another drink.
So Sid was dead. Sid ‘Siddiqi’ Davis. It was hard to believe. He’d only been thirty-six years old.
“It sure makes you think,” said my friend Stack Jackson, staring into his beer-glass. “Geez.”
”But what a way to go,” I said.
“Yeah.” He brightened momentarily, and chuckled. “S till, it really makes you think. Why, it could’ ve been any one of us. Gone — just like that. Is this what middle age is all about?”
Middle age! Even allowing for all the beer Stack had put away, I had to call this malarkey.
“That’s malarkey,” I sai
d. “In the first place, you’re only thirty-five years old. Nobody’s going to tell you that’s middle-aged, unless maybe you ask a teeny-bopper. Good grief. And Sid was only thirty-six.
“Anyway, it’s not as though he died a standard kind of death; it was unorthodox, was old Sid’s grand finale. Colorful, you might even say.
“Middle age? Middle age is mortgages and Milo before bed. Middle age is the late-movie-as-birth-control-device. Middle age is holidays from the Middle East spent in Surrey.” I raised my glass: “No, I give you Sid Davis, young Quantity Surveyor rampant, who came to Bangkok from the Persian Gulf on a vacation and died — reasonably happy, one hopes—beneath a woman called Big Toy.”
“What an epitaph,’ said Stack. “Heroic.”
“That’s right,” I replied. “Middle-aged, my eye. This was a young man cut down in full bloom. Tragic, it was. Sort of.”
“Admirable, in any case,” agreed Stack. “And so okay, we ‘re not middle-aged, and we’re not one foot in the grave, maybe. But if a guy can’t get maudlin at a wake,where can he get maudlin?”
There were just the two of us, by then, but we were drinking beer and mourning the dead, so I guess it was a wake, at that.
“I reckon there’s a lesson in it all somewhere,” said Stack. He looked thoughtful and then continued. “You know, Sid was quite a worrier. For example, I do believe he started worrying about middle age around the same time he first heard the expression.”
“And he was worried about going bald from the first time I met him,” I added. “He once told me he’d begun losing his hair when he was in his early twenties. If that’s the case, he must’ve been quite the hairy bugger back then, because fifteen years later he was still ‘going bald’ and, as far as I could see, he had a long way to go yet.”
”Yeah, and not only that, he was always getting fat. I knew him for six years, and he always looked the same to me. But he’d go on about heart attacks and strokes and diets and things.”
Bangkok Knights Page 2