Bar Girl

by David Thompson

  *****

  Apple and Siswan spent a great time in the local shopping mall choosing a new outfit for Siswan. In the end she selected a cream and light blue blouse and a pair of casual, but well tailored, trousers. Apple had insisted on new shoes and a handbag to complete the outfit.

  All the girls enjoyed the visit to the spa the following Monday. They had the choice of herbal or aqua spa therapies. Most went for the aqua spa. It just seemed more fun. When they returned to their respective bars that evening, they all looked fresh, young and healthy.

  There were so many girls trying to find work with both bars now that Apple and Siswan were constantly inundated with requests. Siswan was horrified to learn that girls as young as fourteen were trying to apply.

  She had been the same age herself when she first approached a bar but, unlike her, most of the young girls that applied were willing to go with farangs. Some already had. They were willing to do anything in order to make money. Money to send home to their family. It made Siswan more determined than ever to concentrate on fulfilling her promise to Sood.

  Mirak had contacted her several times and each time she made an excuse not to see him. Her feelings for him were still the same. She wanted to be with him. Wanted to walk along the beach with him, listen to his stories, sit and drink coffee with him. She wanted all those things. The problem was that she knew he wanted more.

  She knew she would never be able to have that kind of relationship with him. Perhaps not with any man. She felt guilty that she, in some ways, had led him on. She hadn’t known she would react so badly to his embrace. Hadn’t known that she would feel revulsion when her body yearned for his touch. It was as though her own mind could not comprehend the cravings within herself.

  She wanted him. Wanted him to hold her, to touch her, to feel his caress and yet, at the same time, she could only feel disgust. Disgust at the thought of being touched, being held. Disgust at the thought of touching him, giving him pleasure.

  The only way she could handle the mixture of emotions was not to see him. To get him out of her head, out of her heart. She had to focus on work. Concentrate on the business in hand. She didn’t need him. She didn’t want him. She knew she could manage without seeing him. Knew that the feelings for him would diminish in time.

  She threw herself into her work secure in the knowledge that, over time, she would stop thinking about him. Stop wanting to call him. She knew all these things. She also knew that she was lying to herself.

  Her mind was in turmoil. One minute she would be able to shut him out of her thoughts, the next he would be the only thing she could think about. She had no idea what to do.

  It was Mike who finally broached the subject with her. They were sat in their normal position at the bar after a particularly busy night. The bars were doing well. Apple and the rest of the girls were doing well. Mike was doing well.

  Even Rican was having a good time. It was only Siswan who seemed to be spending most of her time in a perpetual daze.

  ‘Want to talk about it?’ Mike asked her, when they had finished going over the accounts.

  ‘Talk about what?’ she said, looking at him.

  He didn’t say anything. Just sat there and looked back at her. There was a look on his face. Not an unkind, or a I know it all look. Just a look of concern.

  ‘It’s Mirak,’ she sighed. ‘No, it’s not him, it’s me.’

  Again he didn’t say anything. Just waited to see if she wanted to explain or not. He was beginning to understand her a little.

  ‘I don’t know what I want,’ she said, quietly. ‘I want him, want to be with him, then I don’t. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.’

  ‘Sometimes relationships are very difficult,’ Mike said.

  ‘Why? Why do they have to be so difficult?’ she asked him. ‘You and I get on so well.’

  ‘We are friends, Siswan. More than friends, in fact,’ he told her.

  ‘Why can’t I have that with Mirak?’

  ‘Because he wants a relationship that includes sex?’ he asked her, guessing.

  ‘Why does it have to come down to that? We were having a good time.’

  ‘Sex is a part of the relationship between lovers, Siswan. Giving and receiving pleasure with someone you love is just about as good as it gets,’ Mike said, with a smile.

  ‘What if one partner hates it? Doesn’t need it?’ she asked him.

  ‘Then, unless you are both happy with just friendship, the relationship usually ends.’

  ‘Friendship is better, Mike. Don’t you think so?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact I do,’ he said, with a genuine laugh. ‘When I first saw you I thought about being thirty years younger. If I was, then I’d have tried it on with you.’

  ‘Really?’ She looked at him.

  ‘Yeah, really. You’re gorgeous. But you laid down the rules, and I’m not thirty years younger, so our relationship has developed along a different path,’ he said.

  ‘What about Rican?’ she asked him.

  ‘Ah, well that’s different. She didn’t lay down any rules and I could get away with being only ten, maybe fifteen, years younger,’ he said and laughed.

  ‘So, you have sex with her then?’ Siswan was curious.

  ‘Yes, of course. I may be old but I’m not past it yet, you know,’ Mike told her.

  ‘But does she enjoy it?’ Siswan wanted to know.

  ‘This is only between you and me, right? She’d kill me if she found out I’d spoken about our sex life.’ Mike looked at her.

  ‘Yes, of course. I’d never let you down,’ Siswan said.

  Mike looked at her again. No, he thought, I don’t think you would.

  ‘Well, there are times when I have to say I have a headache,’ he said, with a wink.

  ‘Why?’ she asked.

  ‘Bloody hell, Siswan. You don’t know much do you? Okay, sometimes she wants it more than I do. Sometimes I have to pretend to be sick, or have a headache, so that she’ll leave me alone,’ he told her in a whisper.

  ‘You mean she wants sex more often than you do?’ Siswan asked, in a normal tone of voice.

  ‘Yes!’ Mike whispered. ‘Keep your voice down!’

  ‘There’s only you and I here, Mike. You took Rican home three hours ago,’ she told him.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ he looked around, dramatically. ‘But walls have ears, you know.’

  ‘Walls have ears?’ Siswan looked at him strangely.

  ‘You never know who’s listening. That’s what I’m saying,’ Mike told her.

  ‘Yes, you do, Mike. I am. I’m the only one listening to you.’ Siswan started to laugh.

  ‘Oh yes. You say that now. But what if Rican finds out? Then what, eh?’

  ‘Then I guess you’re in serious trouble, Mike.’ Siswan laughed with him.

  ‘Yeah, and it’ll all be my fault, as well,’ he laughed. ‘The farang is always to blame out here.’

  Siswan felt much better. Talking and joking with Mike had put a different perspective on her problems. Suddenly she felt like hugging the old farang.

  ‘Hey, hey. What’s this then?’ Mike said, as she cuddled into him and lay her head on his shoulder. ‘Where’s my tough, ruthless bar girl gone?’

  Mike put his arm around her shoulders and held her close. Neither of them said anything for what seemed an age. They just held one another. Like father and daughter.

  ‘I love you, Papa,’ she told him, finally.

  ‘I know, Siswan,’ he said. ‘I love you, too.’

  Finally, she lifted her head from his shoulder and he slowly dropped his arm. She smiled at him. Her eyes glistened, wet with tears she wouldn’t allow to fall. She brushed at them with the back of her hand. Sniffed loudly.

  ‘I’d bes
t be going,’ she told him.

  ‘Me too. Rican will wonder what I’m up to,’ he laughed.

  They walked to the doors together. Switched off the lights and locked up. She turned to him before he could walk away. Gave him a long, respectful wai. He gave an even more respectful one in return.

  ‘Good night, Siswan,’ he said to her.

  ‘Good night, Mike. Thank you,’ she replied, and turned away.

  He watched as she strolled down to the motorbike taxis. She was a beautiful woman. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But, underneath, she was like a little girl. He smiled to himself, shook his head slowly, and wandered off in the opposite direction.

  When Siswan arrived back at her apartment block, Mirak was sat on the steps outside waiting for her.

  ‘I didn’t want to come to the bar,’ he told her. ‘That may have been too embarrassing for both of us.’

  His voice was slightly slurred. She could tell he’d been drinking. Maybe to summon up the courage to face her.

  ‘You kept making excuses not to see me,’ he said, standing.

  ‘I know. I’m sorry, Mirak,’ she told him.

  ‘I don’t understand any of this, Siswan.’

  ‘No. Neither do I,’ she said, honestly.

  A part of her wanted to rush into his arms. To help him. To be with him and feel his touch on her body. Another part of her felt nothing but revulsion at the idea.

  ‘Maybe we could talk about it? Try and find a solution?’ he suggested.

  She didn’t want to continue the conversation outside on the steps. Didn’t want to continue the conversation at all. She had to give him something. Some way of understanding. An explanation.

  ‘Let’s go inside,’ she said. ‘We can talk.’

  She led him up to the third floor and into her small room. She switched on the light and the overhead fan. Dropped her handbag on the bed.

  ‘Would you like a coffee?’ she asked him.

  ‘No. I could do with another drink, though,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t have any. Only water.’

  ‘Oh yes, I forgot. No alcohol for pretty Siswan.’ He laughed.

  ‘Do you want to talk, Mirak? Or just make insults?’ She turned to look at him.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He sat down heavily on the edge of her bed. ‘I just don’t understand, that’s all.’

  ‘Mirak,’ she said, kneeling down in front of him. ‘It’s not you. It’s me. I can’t let go. Don’t want to let go. It’s difficult to know how to tell you.’

  ‘I thought we were getting along well?’ he asked her.

  ‘Yes. We were,’ she agreed. ‘But I don’t want it to go any further. Can you understand that?’

  ‘No. I don’t get it. What went wrong?’ he asked.

  Siswan could easily discern the smell of whiskey on his breath. It wasn’t the raw alcohol her father used to drink, but it did enough to remind her.

  ‘Look, Mirak,’ she told him. ‘I would like us to be friends. Nothing more than that. If you can’t handle it, I’ll understand.’

  ‘You’ll understand what, exactly?’ He looked down into her face.

  ‘I’ll understand if you want to end our friendship,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t want it to end, Siswan!’ he suddenly shouted. ‘I want to take it further!’

  ‘But I don’t, Mirak,’ she told him, as she started to stand.

  He grabbed her by the wrists. Pulled her down again. In front of him. To her knees. He leaned forward to kiss her but she turned her head and he clumsily ended up kissing her hair.

  ‘Don’t, Mirak. Please don’t,’ she pleaded with him.

  ‘I want you, Siswan. I love you. You know that!’

  ‘If you really love me, Mirak. You’ll stop this now and leave. Like a gentleman,’ she told him, quietly.

  ‘No,’ he said, almost in tears. ‘We can sort this out. If you’ll just let me.’

  He stood, pulling her to her feet at the same time. Holding her wrists he turned and dropped her onto the bed.

  ‘We can get past this, right now,’ he said, and lay down on top of her.

  She tried to push him away. Tried to struggle out from beneath him. He was too strong. He pinned her down with his weight. With one hand he held her wrists whilst he ripped and pulled at her clothing with the other. He forced her legs apart with his knees. Kissed her again and again on her face, her neck.

  ‘Please, Siswan,’ he moaned.

  She shouted at him to stop. Tried to use her teeth to bite him. Tried to lift her knees against him. He forced her down with his weight. She felt an anger building within her. The same cold anger as before. She used it.

  ‘Okay, okay, Mirak,’ she said, as she stopped struggling. ‘We’ll do this properly.’

  She allowed her body to go limp. Relaxed against him. Allowed his hand to freely explore.

  He relaxed the hold on her wrists. Let them go. Started using both hands to undress her. To touch her. She let him. Allowed him to violate her body. Gave him hope that she was finally succumbing to his charms.

  ‘Oh, Siswan,’ he groaned into her shoulder. ‘You are so beautiful.’

  She felt his hands inside her blouse. Inside her bra. The smell of the whiskey. She stretched out an arm. Felt for her handbag. Caught the strap and pulled it towards her.

  ‘That’s it,’ he was saying. ‘We can do this, get over this problem. You’ll see.’

  She opened the handbag, felt inside for the knife. Found it. Her thumb traced down the length of the handle. Came to the button near the top. Pressed it. Felt the blade spring out.

  ‘What the?’

  Mirak felt the sudden pain slice into his arm. Looked and saw the blood flowing through his shirt. He stood up. The pain raced along his nerves.

  ‘What did you do?’ he yelled at her.

  ‘I cut you,’ she answered.

  He looked at her. Made to move toward her. His hand clenched into a fist.

  ‘And I’ll cut you again,’ she told him.

  He stopped and looked into her eyes. Dead. Emotionless. He didn’t recognise her. She no longer looked pretty, no longer looked beautiful. She just looked hard. Cold. He grabbed his arm with his other hand. The blood seeped through his fingers.

  ‘What have you done, Siswan?’ he asked her, wide eyed. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘I‘m sorry, Mirak,’ she said. ‘I wanted to explain, to talk. But you wouldn’t listen.’

  He didn’t say anything. Just looked at her for a few more seconds before turning and storming out of the room. The door rocked back on its hinges.

  Standing, Siswan pulled her blouse around her shoulders. Moved to the door. Closed and locked it. She went back to the bed. Dropped the knife. Sat down and cried into her hands. She sobbed. Tears streamed down her face. For the first time in years she allowed herself to really cry. When the tears finally stopped flowing and the sobs stopped wracking her body, she went to the bathroom and showered.

  She didn’t know what Mirak would do. She had offended him. Hurt him. She expected a reprisal of some sort but she didn’t know what it would be. Half way through her thoughts, half way through her shower, she heard the telephone in her handbag ring.

  Drying herself as she walked, she made her way to the bed. She expected it to be him. Expected to hear his voice when she said hello. It wasn’t him, wasn’t Mirak. She didn’t know whether to feel a sense of relief or regret at the sound of Ped’s voice.

  ‘Siswan?’ her cousin asked.

  ‘Yes. Yes, it’s me,’ Siswan had to swallow to speak.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Ped had heard the strain in her voice.

  ‘Yes. I’m fine. It’s late that’s all,’ she answered.

  ‘I k
now. I’m sorry.’

  ‘What is it, Ped?’ Now it was Siswan’s turn to detect the tone of her cousin’s voice.

  ‘Your father, Siswan. He died. In his sleep. About an hour ago,’ Ped told her.

  Siswan didn’t say anything for a moment. Her mind raced back in time. To a time when she had lost someone who meant more to her than her father. Someone she had loved, not hated.

  ‘Thank you, Ped,’ she said. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’

  She switched the telephone off. Sat on the bed. Her thoughts returned to her youth. To a time when the waves had seemed huge.

  Chapter 10

  Siswan was offered a job at the first bar she tried but she didn’t accept it. She applied late in the afternoon and asked for a day shift. The girl in charge took one look at her and offered her a job that evening.

  ‘You’d make a lot of money,’ she said, looking Siswan up and down. Siswan politely refused the offer. She wanted a job as a cashier, not a bar girl. Eventually she found just the sort of bar she wanted. Not too busy, a little off the beaten track. An open air bar with stools surrounding three sides of a square counter. She couldn’t work a day shift as the bar only opened in the evenings, but she was told she wouldn’t be expected to go with farangs.

  ‘Start at six, finish when the customers stop drinking,’ she was told by the woman in charge. ‘You will have to stay sober, make sure everyone pays.’

  ‘Does it get busy?’ she asked.

  ‘Not often. Sometimes,’ the woman told her.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Nong,’ she replied.

  ‘How much will I earn, Nong?’ Siswan wanted to know.

  ‘We give you a room to sleep in, four thousand a month and a percentage of any lady drinks you get,’ Nong told her.

  ‘Where’s the room?’ Siswan was very interested.

  If the job included a room, she wouldn’t need to rent one in the apartment block she had seen earlier. She’d be able to keep the money she had left over. She’d already spent some of it on a new outfit. Black skirt, white tee shirt and a pair of strappy sandals with heels. She looked good in it. Older.