by Dina Silver
Mrs. Knight brought in a tray of tea.
“Thank you so much,” I said as she filled our cups. “You have such a lovely yard. I see you’ve started some tomato plants out back. Do you garden?”
She looked out the window behind her husband. “Not so much anymore,” she said.
“I used to grow vegetables at home, so I’d be happy to help if you like.”
Mrs. Knight smiled at me. “I would like that very much.”
Her husband took a sip. “So what made you decide to leave your job in . . . where did you say?”
I laughed. “Wolcottville. I was let go. I was one of the younger teachers on staff, and they had to make some budget cuts. My principal was actually the person who gave me the idea of teaching abroad. He’d done it himself many years ago.” I smiled when I recalled the conversation. Nothing had ever given me such clarity as talking with him about uprooting my entire existence to teach kids on the other side of the world. “Anyway, the schools in Phuket, as I’m sure you know, were so profoundly affected by the tsunami that this is one of the areas that still needs the most help. Even after all these years.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re doing.”
“Perhaps you’d like to see your room. You must be tired,” Mrs. Knight added.
I sighed gratefully. “Thank you. I would love to unpack and lie down.”
My room was toward the back of the house, just behind the kitchen. The walls were painted a pale coral color, and there was a woven pink and green throw rug in the center of the wood floor. There was no closet, only a removable bookshelf-like feature and chest of drawers. It was simple yet cheerful.
“There’s a red Schwinn out back that is yours to use as long as you’re here. We don’t allow our guests to use the washer and dryer in the house, but there is a coin laundry up the road, and you may borrow the car once a week to go there. I would, however, be happy to wash your shirt for you if you’d like.”
I looked down. “That’s very nice of you but not necessary. I’ve sort of accepted defeat on this one.”
“When you’re ready, I’ll show you the space in the refrigerator and pantry that you may use. We ask that you be respectful of our things and our space and use only what is yours. You are expected to buy your own food and household items.”
“Yes, ma’am, of course. Thank you.”
She smiled, and we stared at each other for a moment.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Jessica. We always enjoy having company,” she said, and closed the door behind her.
Once I was alone, I opened my computer and found the Knights’ Wi-Fi signal. I made a mental note to set up password protection for them, and then sent a quick e-mail to Caroline as promised:
Caroline,
I made it! The plane ride was not as bad as I thought it would be, but I was awake for most of it. Thank you for the snacks. They were a lifesaver. My hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Knight, seem like wonderful people and made me feel very welcome. I have my own little room in the back of the house, and it overlooks a beautiful garden.
I have so much to do and will admit to being a little nervous about finding my way around here, but I’m mostly excited. Once I get some rest, I’ll have a better handle on things.
Lastly, I’m sorry about how we left things. You don’t have to come to terms with anything. I’ve come to realize that despite your years of best efforts, there was never anything you could’ve done to make Mom proud of me. We never had anything in common and never would. But you are the kindest, most selfless person in our family, and we’d all be lost without you. My whole life you were my biggest cheerleader and support system, and it’s because of you that I was able to find the courage to leave. Maybe one day you’ll understand why I needed to get out of Indiana, and maybe you won’t. Either way, I love you more than anything, and I know you love me too.
I’ll write again soon.
Jess
I could hardly grasp my own reality. There I was, lying on the floor with my head on a duffel bag miles from where I grew up, in a country where I couldn’t speak the language or hang an article of clothing, but I was home.
This was my home now.
I couldn’t help but wonder whether I’d made the right decision. Even with weeks of planning and anticipation, nothing could prepare me for closing the door to that coral room and lying there alone. A wave of fear rippled through me, like the one you experience when you step onto a roller coaster for the first time—or an airplane. Your heart beats a little faster, and your head is spinning from trying to calculate the safest amount of risk. I closed my eyes, but my nerves had gotten the best of me. I was afraid, yes, but in the best possible way. Afraid of what my life would’ve become had I not taken a leap of faith.
Thanks to the time difference, I awoke, wide-eyed and full of energy, at three o’clock in the morning. I was hesitant to traipse around the house at that hour, so I turned the light on and unpacked some of my things. At the crack of dawn, I opened my door and walked out. The house was quiet, and the streets were empty and calm. I tiptoed outside to the backyard and surveyed the neglected garden. While the veggies were not so impressive, the flowers were spectacular. I was unfamiliar with the different types, but they were everywhere, showing off their vibrant colors, almost daring me not to marvel at them.
There was a small shed near a rear fence, where I found some hand tools. Mrs. Knight had done a decent job of getting the tomato plants to where they needed to be in the ground, but I could tell they were too crowded and not planted deep enough. An hour later I’d replanted them, drenched them with water, and swept the back patio.
After a quick shower, I rummaged through my backpack, looking for the letters. Before I left, I’d asked some of my old students back in Indiana to write notes to the kids in Phuket and promised to start a pen pal program. I sat on the floor of my room and read through some of them. Their desire to share their favorite foods and colors and video games and questions like “Do you have McDonald’s in Tie Land?” made me miss them more than I already did.
“Is everything all right, dear?”
I heard Mrs. Knight’s voice from the door to my bedroom. I looked up at her and hadn’t even realized I was crying.
Chapter 3
Monday afternoon I rode the bicycle to Tall Trees Academy and introduced myself to the director. Her name was Skylar Brown, and she was from London. Skylar was tall and slim and wore little silk scarves around her neck almost every day, like a stewardess. She’d been at the school three years and was the woman I’d been e-mailing with when I was arranging my plans back in Indiana.
“We have two classrooms.” She pointed left and right. “Two morning classes and two afternoon classes. As I mentioned in my correspondence, the children are anywhere from six to ten years old, and most are on the same level as far as their English is concerned. They are mostly local children. Some have families that are financially better off than others, but for the most part they come from the lower-income spectrum in Phuket. I expect you to be here by seven thirty, ready to go when the children arrive at eight, and you’ll need to sweep the floors every morning. There’s always so much sand.”
She was all business. I nodded.
Once we were through with the short tour, I went to familiarize myself with what would be my classroom.
“Hello, darling,” I heard behind me. “I’m Sophie. I teach the afternoon class. It’s bloody wonderful to finally see you. I’ve been doing double shifts for two weeks now,” she said in a similar accent to Skylar’s. “Where you from, mate?”
“I’m Jessica, from the States. Indiana, actually. How about you?”
“Born in Sydney, raised in London. Skylar’s me aunt. I’ve been here a year already. Good to have ya ’round.” She began to undress. “Don’t mind me. Just changing for work. Me other work.” She changed into footless fishnet tights, a denim skirt, a black halter-top, and flip-flops. “No more kids where I’m going,” she said.
“I can’t believe some of the prices at the market. I was thinking I might need another job myself. Grocery shopping yesterday already dented my budget for the month.”
“You ever waitress before?”
“Back in college I did.”
“We’re looking for another girl at the bar. It’s The Islander Bar & Grill, at the marina. Come by over the weekend, and I’ll introduce you to Niran.” She looked me over. “He will love you.”
My face lit up. “Niran?”
She nodded. “Yeah, he’s the owner. Everybody knows Niran.”
My first day of teaching I arrived on time, eager to meet my students. I was given a list of their names, ages, and any pertinent characteristics. Things like “shy,” “can’t read very well,” “troublemaker,” “class clown.” Not much different than kids in any other elementary school around the world.
I placed my backpack next to the teacher’s desk and stood by the window as the bus pulled up. They were all in uniform—white T-shirts and khaki shorts—except for one little boy, who was wearing red slacks three inches too short for him.
Skylar walked in with them and instructed the kids to take their seats. Some had backpacks, some didn’t, but the ones that did hung them on the coat hooks near the door.
“Good morning, class,” she greeted them.
About a third of the kids mumbled a response.
“Alak, where is your uniform?” she asked, and all heads turned to the little boy in the red pants.
He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.
“Please have your proper clothes tomorrow.”
He nodded.
“I would like to introduce you to Miss Jessica. She is from the United States and will be joining us here at Tall Trees. Can we all give her a nice warm welcome?” she asked, and started applauding.
The same third that greeted her quietly clapped their hands.
I waved and smiled. “Thank you so much. It’s wonderful to be here. I’m really looking forward to getting to know all of you.”
Skylar patted me on the shoulder and walked out.
Alak came to school the next day with red pants.
I took him aside as he was walking into the room, and he just shrugged when I asked him about his uniform. I decided to let it slide . . . for the next four days.
My first week was a success. The kids were enthusiastic and sweet as could be, and I looked forward to being there every day. Each one of them grinned and laughed and reveled in being at school. The contrast between how little they had versus how big their smiles were was a beautiful thing. I couldn’t wait to get to know them better and give them the letters from their American counterparts. Being there was a dream, but it was also a gift. To think that I, Jessica Gregory, from Wolcottville, Indiana, could leave a mark on this world and these kids was not something I took in stride. And this was just the beginning.
I’d arranged with Sophie to come by The Islander on Saturday night to meet Niran and apply for a part-time position. He kept me waiting an hour, so I sat with her as she tended bar and waited tables.
His arrival was nothing short of celebratory. It was like Peyton Manning walking into a sports bar back home in Indiana. Sophie let the dust settle and then brought him over to me. I smiled when I saw him. He was wearing a black linen dress shirt paired with white linen slacks, accented by a glistening assortment of gold rings and chains. On his head was a black knit beanie.
“First time!” he said, recognizing me.
“That’s me, first timer. It’s so nice to see you again.”
“You know me now.”
I nodded. “And I couldn’t be happier about it. I feel as though I’ve passed the Phuket initiation.”
He smiled at Sophie, not sure what I meant. “You need job?”
“Yes, in fact Sophie has told me all about The Islander. She and I work together at Tall Trees during the week, but I would love—”
“You hire! You start now, First Time.”
I glanced at Sophie, and she laughed. “Told you.”
Niran handed me an apron and started to rattle off instructions at lightning speed.
Sophie patted him atop the head to interrupt. “I’ve got her, darling. You go and do your thing. And her name is Jessica.”
He waved her off, gave me a hug, and disappeared.
“Thank you, Sophie, I really appreciate it. Hope you don’t get sick of me.”
“Never. Glad to have the help. You’re good to stay on tonight, eh?”
“Good as gold.”
I trailed Sophie for a few hours, clearing tables and running food and drink orders back and forth from the bar. Once I was done, she let me go, and I walked down the hill to the marina entrance and strolled along the docks. It was a beautiful, contemporary harbor. There was a bulletin board against the wall next to the marina office, where boaters had posted various flyers. Some were trying to sell things; others were looking for temporary crew members or boat maintenance. One person was giving away kittens. After I’d walked up and down the piers, marveling at the many different yachts, I headed home, well past one o’clock in the morning.
Sleep was the one thing giving me the most trouble. So when I woke up wide-eyed after only a few hours of rest, I decided to get up and head to the twenty-four-hour coin laundry. It was only 6 a.m., and I wasn’t about to wake Mrs. Knight to borrow the car, so I filled my backpack with underwear, pajamas, shorts, and T-shirts. The sun was just coming up, but the heat was already ever present. Beads of perspiration decorated my forehead before I even hopped on the bike, but the morning ride was magnificent.
Without the traffic, the warm breeze carried the scent of tropical flowers through the air at every turn, leaving me grateful and bewildered at the same time. That morning I went out of my way so that I could ride past the ocean. There was a small cliff where I pulled over and could see for miles. The water was the loudest thing in that moment. Waves thrashing against the rocks beneath were like an aquatic symphony—and like nothing I’d ever heard before.
As I turned the corner onto Krabi Road, I saw something that brought my bike to a halt. Gravel crackled beneath my feet as I placed them on the ground and watched a young boy in a white shirt and red pants cross the street alone, balancing three brown grocery bags in his arms.
Sunday morning at the crack of dawn, and Alak was still wearing his improper uniform.
Chapter 4
Skylar, do you have a second?” I asked her the next morning.
She looked up from her desk in the office. “I’m leaving for an appointment in a moment,” she said, and took a rushed sip of her coffee as she stood.
I walked toward her and lowered my voice. “I saw one of my students, Alak, over the weekend, and he was wearing his uniform. Well, he was wearing his makeshift uniform with the red pants.”
“And?”
“And—well, it was very early Sunday morning. It made me think he might not have anything else to wear.”
“He probably doesn’t.”
I just stared at her until she read my face and sighed. “Look, some of these children come from unfortunate situations and have very little. It’s quite sad I know, but our job is to see to them when they’re here at school. They get our undivided attention, snack and lunch, and that is all we can afford to give them. If you become too attached to any one of the children and their life outside of school, it will consume you.” She paused. “Trust me.”
I nodded. “You’re right. I understand. But we can’t very well ask him to wear his uniform if he doesn’t have one.”
“He has one. He just likes the color red,” she said, grabbing her purse. “It was his mum’s favorite color. Poor thing lost his entire family in the tsunami when he was two. He lives with an aunt and uncle. I’ve tried reaching out to them in the past to no avail. There’s only so much we can do.”
She shrugged and walked out.
I went to my classroom and began sweeping the floor with a heavy heart.
Perhaps he wore red in homage to his mother. I could certainly understand a child wanting to hold on to what little memory he had of her. I completely understood what it was like to be robbed of that critical motherly bond. I went through the same thing, yet my mother passed away when I was twenty-eight. I couldn’t even recall if she had had a favorite color. Or maybe Alak was just being purposefully defiant. If so, then I liked him even more.
I would heed Skylar’s advice and not get too attached, but the least I could do was find out more about him and see if there was any way I could help. If nothing else, just to get his uniform squared away.
“Alak.” I pulled him aside after class. “Can I ask you about your uniform?”
He looked at the floor.
“I know Miss Skylar mentioned last week that you need to have your khaki shorts. Have you lost them?”
He shook his head, and I knelt beside him.
“Do you know where they are?”
He shrugged.
I gently reached for his wrist. “I want you to know that you’re not in trouble and I just want to help you, because the rules are that you need to have your uniform. Will you let me help you find your uniform?”
He nodded.
“Okay, great. So you haven’t lost them, but you don’t know where they are. Is that correct?”
He nodded again.
“Does your aunt know where they are?”
“No.”
“Can you try to think back to the last time you had them?”
“I know the last time I had them.”
“Great. When was that?” I clasped my hands together and waited.
“They were taken from the Laundromat,” he said quietly.
I glanced downward and thought that must’ve been where he was coming from when I saw him at sunrise the other day, carrying three bags of clean clothes. I looked into his big brown eyes.