Thai Girl

by Andrew Hicks

  ‘You want massage,’ she asked sweetly.

  ‘Yes, of course I do.’

  ‘Okay Ben, see you later. You wait me please, usual place.’ Her hands continued plaiting at great speed.

  Ben was surprised and confused. He could not intrude, he could not stop and talk to Fon across the girl and the grizzled old farang, so he just had to keep walking.

  As he retreated, he tried to analyse what he had seen. The girl in the deckchair was one of the prettiest of Thai girls, young and fresh. At least in his sixties, the man was powerfully built with greying hair across his chest and back and was wearing tight lycra swimming shorts. It was beauty and the beast. And as he glanced back he saw that Fon was now sharing a joke with him, totally at ease, almost flirtatious, her bewitching smile and infectious laughter squandered on this disgusting old gargoyle.

  He walked back to Ao Sapporot, mulling it all over. But finding Fon had brought his appetite back so he went to the beach bar and ordered a plate of noodles which he ate greedily. He paid his bill and was overjoyed to spot Fon again soon after, this time sitting nearby under the trees at the top of the beach. She greeted him warmly and called him over.

  She and some of the other masseuses were gathered round a little old lady who was selling food from two big baskets. Ben felt suddenly self-conscious; he did not know these people, he could not speak their language, nor begin to fathom what they were thinking. They were all eyeing him in a girlie, giggly sort of way that embarrassed him.

  ‘No problem,’ said Fon seeing his diffidence. ‘Come Ben, sit.’

  Ben sat where he was told, but he found it impossible to squat as they were doing, their hands thrown forward as counterweights. Nor could he comfortably sit cross-legged as a lifetime of sitting on chairs meant he was not as flexible as they were. So he half sat and half squatted and felt thoroughly awkward.

  ‘We eat som tam,’ said Fon.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘Som tam Lao. Hot, hot, hot.’

  ‘What’s som tam Lao?’

  ‘This som tam.’ She pointed to a bowl of sliced green vegetable in a grey sauce, flecked with red chillis that one of the older women was already eating. ‘Made with green papaya, crab legs, chilli … and plaa raa.’

  ‘What’s plaa raa?’

  ‘Fish sauce. Not plain fish sauce but rotten fish sauce.’

  ‘Sounds terrible!’

  ‘But all farang have to try som tam Lao.’

  The little old lady was preparing each bowl of som tam individually to order; with or without palm sugar and peanuts, hot or very hot. She was swathed in clothes and under her broad-brimmed hat her face was a pattern of deep wrinkles, her teeth broken and red from the betel nut she was chewing. Out of this wreck of a face the liveliest eyes smiled and twinkled. As Ben watched the bony hands and wrists rhythmically pounding the ingredients in a heavy mortar, it crossed his mind that this frail old bird had walked all the way along the island from the ferry carrying her heavy load, while he had been too lazy even to go and swim with Maca and Chuck.

  She had now finished preparing a dish of som tam for Fon who thrust it in front of Ben.

  ‘Eat,’ said Fon. ‘Nit noy.’

  ‘What?’ he said as the smell hit him.

  ‘Nit noy … little bit,’ she said, grinning from ear to ear as she passed him a spoonful.

  Everyone was watching. Ben had never before been defeated by exotic foods and did not want to look feeble, so he took the spoon and tentatively put a little som tam into his mouth. First came the taste, the taste of fermented fish, and then the pain. It did not hit him immediately, but in seconds his mouth was a searing, exquisite agony of burning chilli. The fire brigade turned on the tear ducts, his nose streamed, he gasped for breath. Fon then began to demolish the rest of the bowl, placing each spoonful very deliberately into the pale pinkness of her dainty little mouth.

  ‘You not like?’ she enquired mischievously. ‘Som tam too hot?’

  Ben was hardly able to speak, blowing his nose and gulping air.

  ‘God, that was disgusting. I thought Thai food was supposed to be brilliant.’

  ‘Not Thai food,’ said Fon. ‘This special som tam … som tam Lao.’

  ‘Lao? But surely you’re Thai?’ said Ben.

  ‘Yes Thai … but Mama Lao, Papa Khmer from Cambodia. Family speak Lao and Khmer,’ said Fon.

  Gaeo, whose English was better than Fon’s tried to explain.

  ‘Some of Lao and Cambodia were part of Thailand before. Long time ago, France make trouble for Thailand … King Thailand give Lao and Cambodia to France. So Isaan people, Laos and Khmers are the same … same same but different.’

  Ben thought he understood; that the modern political borders so recently imposed by the European powers do not always reflect cultural and linguistic boundaries. As a result both Lao and Khmer culture are intermingled in northeastern Thailand and that was why they were now eating som tam Lao.

  ‘How you know all that, Gaeo?’ asked Fon.

  ‘Because I stay school longer than you,’ Gaeo replied.

  Fon fell silent for a moment, but not for long. There were other less serious things to talk and laugh about.

  Ben watched as she amused the little group of masseuses with an outrageous anecdote. She seemed unaware that Ben was watching her intently, enjoying every moment though not understanding a word. He listened to her rapid-fire talk as she rocked back and forth with the drama of her tale. Salacious perhaps, scurrilous certainly, she kept her audience rapt and entertained. Intoned in the musical flight of the Thai language, her voice resembled birdsong. It seemed inconceivable to him that such a torrent of sound could mean something, but much meaning it clearly had. Seeing him left out, she tried to explain. Yes, it was salacious; she had been retelling Gaeo’s confidences about her own married life.

  ‘Gaeo, she married long time, have children,’ she said. ‘Husband go Isaan, see family, but Gaeo think him have lady Cambodia. When him come back, have sex with her, no problem. Next morning wake up, she very sleepy but husband want sex again. She say, have sex last night. But husband have sex with her again, get up, dress, not speak, say nothing! Then go work!’

  Gaeo did not seem the least bit embarrassed and laughed along with all the others.

  While they were talking, a couple Ben had not seen before came along the beach and joined the party. Fon jumped up and greeted them, just as she had earlier greeted Ben. He did not take to the tarty-looking Thai woman and he thought her farang boyfriend with his silly moustache, his tight Speedo swimming trunks and sagging stomach, looked a complete prat. The man turned to Ben and gave him a limp handshake.

  ‘Hi, I’m Gunther,’ he said, sounding very Germanic.

  ‘I’m Ben. So you know Fon already, do you?’

  ‘Yes, every day I come massage with Fon. I like very much.’

  Ben fervently hoped he would drop dead or at least go away.

  The German’s Thai girlfriend had a weathered face with acne scars, her hair had once been permed and she wore a faded bikini top and sarong. They both seemed to know the masseuses well and Gunther was making it no secret that he fancied Fon like crazy.

  The two of them pulled up deckchairs and settled down on the edge of the group. The girlfriend pulled out a piece of embroidery and became engrossed while Gunther seemed determined to chat to Ben.

  ‘You like Koh Samet? First time in Thailand?’ Ben hardly bothered to reply, but Gunther was not easily put off. ‘Where do you stay? How much you pay for room?’

  To Ben’s relief Gunther then got up to buy drinks after first, disarmingly, offering him one, which Ben, being English, politely refused.

  ‘You sit here,’ Gunther said to his girlfriend. ‘I’ll get the drinks … you’re just paid to look pretty.’

  When he returned, she did not thank him for her Jack Daniels and coke, but held her towel to her nose and pulled a disgusted face.

  ‘Nagliat maak! Towel smell pussy!’ she shrieke
d.

  Delighted at his girlfriend’s wit, Gunther then held forth to Ben, while she quietly went back to her embroidery.

  ‘Yes, I first come Thailand thirteen years ago. Work VW factory, Wolfsburg … good money. Go holiday three times a year … holiday more important than money.’

  ‘So you’re a car worker? You like it?’

  ‘Ya, good, but I like holiday more. Every day same same, sit on beach with girlfriend, have massage with Fon.’ He stroked the hairy caterpillar on his upper lip which looked as if it was about to crawl into his mouth.

  By now the masseuses had eaten and talked enough and they and the little old lady wandered away down the beach, leaving Fon behind with Ben, Gunther and the girlfriend. Ben hoped his waiting might at last be over as Fon began to lay out her blue sheet on the sand, but he was to be disappointed.

  ‘Massage now, okay?’ she said to Gunther.

  ‘Yah, good,’ Gunther replied, leaving Ben sitting dejectedly with the girlfriend.

  ‘You like Jack Daniels?’ she asked him. ‘Gunther buy me Jack Daniels and cola … six, maybe ten glass every day. He very good to me, pay everything.’

  ‘He’s your boyfriend?’

  ‘Yes, special boyfriend. Have American before but him kee niew … stop sending money.’

  ‘So Gunther lives in Germany … and how about you?’

  ‘Stay Pattaya. You know Pattaya?’

  ‘I’ve heard about it,’ said Ben. ‘What do you do there?’

  ‘Work bar, cashier.’ She gave Ben a nervous smile.

  ‘And do you like it?’

  ‘Okay, fifty-fifty. Good money and better than ricefield Isaan. But I not tell my Papa.’

  ‘Not tell him what?’

  ‘Not tell him I work Pattaya. If him know, him angry. Mama know already but not tell Papa, not tell family.’ Her giggles flowed freely, released by the afternoon alcohol.

  Ben wondered at the generosity of Gunther to this very ordinary girl. Why would he choose her and why was she so keen on spending his money? One Jack Daniels must be almost a day’s wage in Isaan. And why waste a good quality bourbon by swamping it in cola. A tot of Mekhong, the local whisky would taste exactly the same with cola at a fraction of the price.

  He watched Gunther enjoying his massage and flirting openly, while Fon responded with smiles and laughter. He felt a biting jealousy which he could not suppress or justify; he wanted his massage and he wanted to be alone with Fon, but he knew he would just have to wait.

  He waited for what seemed an age until at last Gunther’s massage was over. As Gunther went off to buy another Jack Daniels for his girl, he sidled over to where Fon was packing up her things.

  ‘Can I have my massage, Fon?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, can, but later. Have booking four o’clock … maybe one hour, maybe two, not sure.’

  Ben looked at his watch; it was just before four. After a long day of waiting, he had no choice but to wait yet more. Fon gave him a warm smile, gathered up her plastic picnic box, and walked briskly away to her next appointment, leaving him feeling bereft and abandoned.

  12

  As Ben sat on his deckchair and waited for his massage, he could clearly see a small figure in blue top and baseball cap some way along the sand, crouched over one of the tourists who had booked a four o’clock massage.

  For something to do, he got up and walked the length of the beach, paddling knee deep in the water. When he got near to where Fon was working, he could see her chatting happily with her customer, a fit young western guy, but as he passed by she did not wave or acknowledge him.

  Time dragged heavily. He could not risk going back to his hut in case she finished work and disappeared while he was away, so all he could do was sit and wait. The sun was falling and the mosquitoes were active when at last he saw her coming back along the beach. She had been working all day and it crossed his mind that the only food she had eaten was that gut-wrenching som tam. Though she must be very tired and hungry by now, she looked cheerful enough as she came up to him.

  ‘Okay Ben, massage. You wait me longtime … same dog!’

  At the sound of her laughter his spirits revived.

  ‘You’re not too tired?’ he asked.

  ‘No problem. High season, have to work strong.’

  ‘We can leave it for today if you like.’

  ‘You wait longtime already, so lie down English dog.’

  Fon laid out her blue sheet under the trees in their usual place by the fallen tree trunk. Ben lay down on his front and she started to massage his feet and legs.

  ‘So what you do today? Swim, sleep in the sun, read book?’ she asked.

  ‘No, nothing … waiting for you all day, just wanting to see you again.’ He had to tell her exactly how it was, though lying face down he could not see her reaction.

  ‘Pak waan … sweet mouth,’ she said. ‘All men say like this to me.’

  ‘No Fon, I really mean it. I’m different.’ He twisted his head round for a glimpse of her smile, the smile she used to such effect on all her male customers.

  ‘No, you not different,’ she said. ‘All men same same.’

  ‘So you don’t trust me then?’

  ‘Better have woman friend, like Gaeo … can tell her everything.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s very special, the feelings between a man and a woman,’ said Ben.

  ‘Sometimes too strong … handsome man dangerous. Wrong man big trouble, but Gaeo always friend hundred percent.’

  ‘That’s great, though it’s not the same, is it? It’s not the same as being in love.’

  Fon was quiet for a moment, then asked the obvious question.

  ‘Your girlfriend yak-yak you? You and she boxing?’

  ‘Boxing?’

  ‘She boxing you?’

  ‘Oh, fighting … right. Well, suppose so, a bit.’

  ‘When she come back Koh Samet?’

  ‘She’s not coming back.’

  Ben had told Fon this before and did not want to elaborate, so he asked her a similar question.

  ‘How about your boyfriend? Where’s he now?’

  ‘I think he go Isaan … then come back Ban Phe. Always working.’

  ‘What’s the point of a boyfriend who’s never with you?’ he asked.

  ‘Boyfriend, girlfriend often apart. Husband, wife work different place, leave children with grandmama. But it’s okay, no problem.’

  ‘No, it’s terrible,’ Ben insisted. ‘Families shouldn’t be split up.’

  ‘Sometimes no possible to be together when you poor.’

  ‘But why be married if you can’t be with the person you love?’

  ‘Always you farang talk of love, marry for love. You make crazy for girl, same drug, same movie. No Ben, fall in love bring tears, break hearts. Thai woman want good man, marry for children, have money, feed family.’

  Ben felt Fon’s slender hands working deep into the muscles around his neck. He gave in to the sensation and was silent for a moment, thinking about what she had said. Then he remembered the peculiar couples he had seen earlier in the day, the ugly old man and the German with their Thai girls.

  ‘Who the hell was that old guy with the girl whose hair you were doing today? Where was he from?’ he asked her.

  ‘Don’t know, maybe Russia.’

  ‘And where did he meet the girl? You were chatting to her a lot.’

  ‘She from Pattaya, work bar.’

  ‘But how did she end up here with him?’

  Fon seemed surprised by the question.

  ‘Pay money of course,’ she said.

  ‘You mean she’s a sex worker?’

  ‘Yes, she bar girl. Sell sex.’

  Ben’s fears were confirmed.

  ‘But he’s hideous. How could she?’

  ‘Old man okay … have money. Young man make her work too hard!’ She shook with laughter.

  ‘So he picks her up in a bar in Pattaya and brings her here?’

  ‘Yes, bar la
dy like very much … get away from bar, have holiday. Paid every day, good money.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘One day, one thousand baht.’

  ‘But how can a pretty young kid go with a revolting old man?’

  ‘Don’t know. Fon not sell sex … sell sex I die!’ She clasped her hands around her throat and let out a fake shriek of anguish. ‘Better work strong, make small money.’

  ‘So why does she do it?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Girl not like school, want easy money, easy life. From Ubon, Isaan, she eighteen go Pattaya. She virgin … first night man pay 15,000 baht.’

  ‘That’s a bit over two hundred pounds. Blow me!’ said Ben.

  ‘So now she work bar … boom-boom with farang.’

  ‘And she ends up in bed with an old man. How old is he anyway?’

  ‘She say he sixty two and very kind, pay everything.’

  ‘But how can she ever enjoy sex again.’

  ‘She like Thai boys … sleep with boyfriend. But him not work, always take her money.’

  ‘Christ, so you mean she’s doubly screwed … by the old Russian and by a slob of a Thai who gets into her pocket as well as her pants. But she looked so nice.’

  ‘You like her?’ asked Fon pointedly.

  ‘Yes, she’s a stunner,’ said Ben.

  Fon went quiet and concentrated on her work.

  ‘Too many mosquitoes,’ she said, brushing one off Ben’s back. ‘Better we go down the beach.’

  They picked up the sheet and moved away from the trees into the relative cool of an evening breeze that was springing up nearer the sea.

  As the massage went on, Ben now wanted to ask about Gunther and his extravagant girlfriend.

  ‘So who’s the German with the Thai woman? You seem to know them.’

  ‘Yes, always come for massage. He want sex with me … massage in room. Girlfriend she say okay no problem.’

  ‘The bastard tells his girlfriend he wants sex with you?’ asked Ben aghast. ‘But he’s supposed to be her boyfriend, isn’t he?’

  ‘He come holiday with her many times. He good to her, give money.’