Thai Girl

by Andrew Hicks

  ‘Come, Ben, sit. You want som tam?’ teased Fon.

  ‘Like a hole in the head.’

  ‘Too much bia Chang last night?’

  Ben was now feeling much more at ease with Fon’s friends as they chatted noisily around him. Fon explained to Ben what they were laughing about.

  ‘Gop and Pornpun want to throw their husband, marry old farang … as old as possible.’

  ‘Why old?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Old farang soon die … get his money quick! Everyone want to marry farang. Everyone except me!’

  As they were talking, a middle-aged Thai lady, neatly dressed in a blouse and long skirt as if for town, came up to them in an unhurried way, greeted them and sat down on the edge of Fon’s blue sheet. There was a long conversation in Thai, none of which Ben understood. She then took out a set of Tarot cards and put them down in a pile while they gathered round her in a circle. After they had all contributed twenty baht, she began her Tarot routine. Ben had not seen this done before and could not follow what was going on.

  Placing the cards one by one face up on the sheet, she scribbled elaborate mathematical calculations on a notepad and slowly and deliberately read each of their palms. When it came to Fon’s turn, Fon solemnly sat and waited. There was a definite stir in the group when the Tarot lady made her pronouncements, Ben sensing sidelong glances in his direction. After the last palm had been read, she gathered her cards together and slowly departed.

  ‘What did she say about you, Fon?’ asked Ben expectantly.

  ‘She say there’s a man from far away who loves me. Soon I go long journey … go Europe.’ This time there was no laughter and Ben was not quite sure how to respond.

  ‘How did she know?’ he asked.

  ‘She not blind, Ben … you follow me like dog!’ she said. ‘Would you like to come to England then?’

  ‘Yes, I like. Everyone go aeroplane, have holiday. But England cold and no som tam … so Thailand better.’

  Ben too knew that taking her to England was an improbable dream so he would have to seize the day right here on Koh Samet.

  ‘Okay, can I have a massage then?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, can, but later … evening, when farang go inside, okay?’

  Not okay, thought Ben, but at least the certainty of an hour with Fon later in the day was something to look forward to. So once again he sat lethargically waiting while Fon trawled the beach for work in her quest to make ends meet and feed her family.

  The one ripple to hit the beach that day was the arrival of a group of Russian tourists. The men were powerfully built mafia types and from their arrogant behaviour they seemed to be wealthy and used to having their own way. Their women were young and good-looking, sunning themselves in skimpy bikinis. The boys were tearing up and down the beach on noisy 250cc trail bikes and screaming around on jet skis, coming dangerously close to the swimmers.

  Ben was sitting on the beach near the Russians and could hear their high-pitched voices as they argued loudly with their Thai tour guide who was in floods of tears. Standing by was a Thai policeman who quietly listened and tried to mediate. The Thai restaurant workers watched the confrontation, disgusted at how these foreigners could so disturb the proper harmony of personal relations.

  Soon afterwards Ben saw a softly spoken Thai man offering a bamboo flute for sale to one of the mafiosi. After trying the flute, the Russian bluntly offered less than half the asking price. There then began a tough bargaining session, the Russian showing off to his friends who had all gathered round. They were laughing and joking noisily as the Russian aggressively beat the price down until the seller reluctantly accepted. Ben was incensed. Here was this bastard foreigner who probably had illegal millions stashed away, screwing a decent man into the ground just to impress his friends. For the Russian the money was nothing, the display of bullying everything. He felt angry that any farang with a little money in his pocket could buy Thailand on the cheap and vowed he would never again bargain too hard.

  That afternoon Fon was finding plenty of customers on the beach. As Ben’s massage was pushed back later into the evening he began to wonder if he was going to miss out altogether, until at last he saw her coming towards him.

  ‘Okay Ben, you next,’ she called, and so belatedly his massage began, the sun now falling into the sea on the other side of the island. Again they talked and talked, revisiting many of the same themes, of life and love, of money, marriage and commercial sex. Fon told Ben that farang men often brought girls with them from Pattaya because there were very few women selling sex on the island, though there were some.

  ‘You saw that girl yesterday selling coconuts on the beach?’ she said. ‘She sell more than coconuts.’ Ben hooted with laughter.

  ‘Does she sell bananas too?’ Fon did not seem to see the joke.

  ‘Once I go Meridian dancing with girlfriends,’ she said. ‘I sit at table with Thai lady and she say, “You not have farang yet tonight?” She sell sex … think I sell sex too.’

  ‘Why the hell …? The last thing you look like’s a tart.’

  ‘Because Thai girl in bar sell sex, that’s why.’

  ‘Is that really what people think?’

  ‘Same same when they see Thai girl with farang,’ she said gravely.

  ‘So they see us together and think you’re in it for the money?’

  ‘Yes. You know that, Ben.’

  ‘No Fon, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.’ He shrank from this awful truth.

  Perhaps a Thai woman shouldn’t go into a bar alone, but a presumption that any Thai girl seen with a foreigner must be a whore appalled him. It demeaned her and every other Thai woman, making genuine relationships between the races so much more difficult.

  By the time the massage was finished it was almost dark and Ben was wondering what would happen next. The mood was good and he did not want the day to end so soon, but as he slipped Fon her two hundred baht, she resolved things very simply.

  ‘Ben, Joy waiting me. I eat with her tonight.’ She packed up her box and they walked slowly to the place where she always went off to her hut. ‘See you,’ she said, and Ben’s day was over. As always she did not look back.

  The next few days went by in much the same way, Ben keeping his eye out for Fon, always in orbit around her. He sat and chatted with her in her quiet moments and with Gop and Pornpun who were often there. The two older masseuses were pleasant company, accepting him as the young farang in ardent pursuit of Fon.

  He was now uncomfortably aware that the twenty fifth of the month was getting closer when he was to go to Bangkok to meet Emma. He wanted to see how Fon would take it when he told her he was leaving, so he chose a time during a massage when he was lying on his back and could watch her reaction.

  ‘Fon, I have to go to Bangkok … in two days,’ he said to her without warning.

  ‘You go? Okay you go,’ Fon replied impassively. She said nothing for a few moments, then asked the inevitable question.

  ‘When you come Koh Samet again, Ben?’

  ‘Maybe come back … don’t really know when.’

  ‘Up to you, up to you,’ she said calmly, keeping up a steady rhythm with her hands.

  Ben was devastated. Was she totally cold? Did she not care a damn? Now it was he who was in turmoil.

  Fon serenely concentrated on her work, until a second question slipped out.

  ‘You go Bangkok, see girlfriend?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ lied Ben shamelessly. ‘But I do know I’m really going to miss you.’

  ‘Sweet mouth,’ she said, this time conceding a smile.

  ‘Fon, the night before I go, let’s eat together,’ he said. ‘We can walk to another beach, just you and me.’

  ‘Maybe, if I got time.’

  He desperately hoped this was her way of saying yes.

  On the evening of the twenty fourth, Ben was waiting in the darkness at the end of the beach where Fon had told him to meet her. It was to be their first time alone, their
last evening together. Fon was late so he sat scrutinising the figures that came towards him along the beach, back-lit by the lights from the bars. At last in the distance he saw an almost child-like figure in a close-fitting skirt or shorts. He flushed with pleasure when he heard her voice.

  ‘English dog still waiting? Okay, let’s go.’

  They climbed the low headland he had crossed the day Emma told him to bugger off and get out of her life, and came to the first small beach where there was a pretty waterside restaurant.

  ‘How’s this Fon? I really like this place,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, nice … but no, we go next one.’

  She steered him along the path where a few days earlier Ben, lying on the sand, had watched the tiny bird in the flowering tree. They went on past several more bars and restaurants before she finally chose one to her liking. It was just a thatched roof with a sandy floor, the bar area decorated with snake skins, a stuffed anteater and a buffalo skull.

  Ben sat down opposite Fon at a heavy wooden table, leaning forward on his elbows, eye to eye with her. For the first time he could take in how she looked that night. She was at her best, glowing like a fresh-faced teenager with no make up or jewellery and in a tight top which flattered her arms and tiny bust. And she was wearing a very short skirt, her bare thighs spread provocatively apart on the bench.

  Ben was now much in need of a beer. Fon asked for a bottle of Spy, a sticky red alcopop and chose some pricey seafood, ordering in Thai from the boy. They both ate hungrily, the rich food adding to the warmth of the alcohol. When Ben slipped off his sandals and found his feet meeting hers under the table, she did not move them away. He wanted to hold her hand across the table but so early in the evening he did not dare.

  ‘I little bit drunk already,’ said Fon with a giggle, gazing at Ben across the table.

  ‘Good … me too. And alone with you at last.’ He paused, carefully timing his first move. ‘Fon, I really love being with you,’ he said.

  She shyly averted her eyes.

  ‘Same me, Ben,’ she said quietly, looking up again with a smile he would kill for.

  ‘But it’s much more than that … I’m falling for you in a big way.’

  ‘Ben?’

  ‘Fon, I think I’m in love with you,’ he said solemnly.

  ‘No Ben, please. Cannot … not possible,’ said Fon, shifting backwards on the bench, the smile fading from her face.

  ‘Why? What’s impossible?’ he said in alarm.

  ‘Have too many problems, Ben. Cannot be with you … cannot marry you.’

  Ben was disconcerted; whoever had said anything about marriage?

  ‘Well, can’t we just spend some time together and get to know each other better?’

  ‘You not understand yet? Farang, rich … better find rich girl. You go university already, I not go school … no good for you.’

  ‘Fon, that doesn’t make any difference … I like you for what you are. I’m crazy about you … think about you all the time.’

  ‘But you have English girlfriend … can still think about me!’

  ‘That’s not fair, Fon,’ he complained.

  ‘Why you choose me, Ben? I not understand.’

  ‘I didn’t choose you … it just happened. You talked to me and I liked you and I admire everything you do. You see, I’m always happy when I’m with you, so I want to be happy all the time.’

  ‘Impossible, Ben,’ she said, her eyes now flashing angrily.

  ‘But tell me, Fon, do you love me at all? Even a bit? You just haven’t said.’

  ‘What you want me say? If girl love boy, he know … she not have to say.’

  ‘But I’ve said lots to you …’ Ben gripped his beer bottle tightly in both hands.

  ‘You say too much … try catch me with sweet words, like fly in honey.’

  ‘No, Fon, it’s not that at all.’

  Seeing his hang-dog look she relented a little.

  ‘Okay Ben, I like you … you have good heart.’ She showed him the top joint of her tiniest finger. ‘And I like you little bit more each time.’

  ‘Or is it that you just can’t say it out loud?’ he persisted.

  ‘Ben, love is same beautiful bird … put it in cage, it die,’ she said. ‘Yes, but if you don’t catch it, the beautiful bird flies away.’

  They sat and smiled at each other until Fon’s face clouded again.

  ‘Anyway Ben, what you mean … love? Like in movie?’ She paused. ‘In movie boy always get girl, no problem. But Fon cannot follow heart … have too many problems.’

  ‘Problems? Like what?’

  ‘Ben, I poor, no time play being in love. Have to work like buffalo, make money for Joy.’ Her face was tragic. ‘Papa die young. In Bangkok I suffer many bad things … not forget. Now I have Joy, but family not together, far from home. I want people to love me but I not always trust … only person can trust is me.’

  Ben was taking it all in, but there was something important still troubling him.

  ‘Fon, I don’t understand about your boyfriend.’

  ‘Boyfriend? Why you ask about boyfriend? Thai men want one thing, then go. Only come back if girl get money.’

  ‘But Fon, I’m not like that. I think of you every moment. Even when I wake up at night, I can’t get you out of my head.’

  ‘Why you say this, Ben?’ she demanded. ‘Why you look at me all the time like mad dog? What you want me say?’ She held up her hands in mock despair.

  ‘I just want to know how you feel,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Okay, Ben, I tell you little bit more.’ She spoke very deliberately. ‘I want you here, Samet. When I see you on beach and go work, I feel strong. When you not there I think, where Ben? Then I miss you.’

  ‘Thanks, that’s nice.’ It was a touching little tribute.

  ‘But keep cool heart, Ben. You say too much, too quick. How you so sure? You not know me yet.’ Her eyes were anxious.

  ‘It’s the way I am,’ said Ben. ‘I just get carried away and can’t shut up.’

  ‘But for me, fall in love take long time. Give my heart dangerous.’

  ‘It’s wonderful too, falling in love,’ he said eagerly.

  ‘Yes Ben, but Fon only say when my heart same rock.’

  ‘You mean when your love’s as steady as a rock? Then you can bring yourself to say it?’

  ‘Yes, I ‘fraid my heart … have to be sure. Can only tell you when my heart same rock.’

  Ben was elated but exhausted; it had been an amazing evening. He felt he now understood Fon a little more and that they had drawn closer together. Then Fon said it was time for them to go back. As they followed the path in the darkness, she turned to him and said, ‘Come Ben … big big moon tonight.’ She took him by the hand over the sand to the rocks where they could look out along the restless, silvery lane of sea that led up to the moon.

  Ben was not quite sure who made the first move. As he pulled her up onto the rocks, her body brushed against his, the brief contact like an electric discharge. Somehow their arms became entwined around each other, her slim body fitting tightly against his.

  ‘Ben, you big, you so big,’ she laughed.

  ‘And Fon, you’re so very very small.’

  There was no kissing, just a savour of scented skin, a nuzzling of cheeks, the sensation of soft abundant hair. Ben’s arm was firmly around her waist, holding her hard to him, while the other hand wandered far enough to discover that she was not wearing a skirt; it was in fact a pair of shorts with a panel across the front, only pretending to be a skirt. Then, as suddenly, she was pulling away from him again, tossing her head and escaping his hold.

  ‘Enough Ben … too dangerous. We go home.’

  They were comfortable with silence as they walked along the shore and over the headland back to Ao Sapporot, until Fon asked Ben which boat he would be taking the next day for his return to Bangkok.

  ‘The nine thirty boat, so I can catch the ten thirty bus,’ he said.
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br />   ‘Okay, I come early morning, say goodbye. See you eight o’clock, maybe seven.’ Then she turned to him with a look of excitement. ‘Ben, what your room number?’

  ‘Hut 107, up the back there. Why?’ There was a wicked twinkle in her eye.

  ‘Please Ben, please you not lock door. Maybe I come to you in the night.’ With a shriek of laughter, she broke away and ran up the beach and into the trees, leaving Ben in a state of high agitation.

  16

  Ben went to bed in a ferment of excitement, leaving the door of his hut unlocked. After an alcoholic evening it was perfectly possible that Fon would come to him in the night. Even a nice girl’s ‘no’ is not always what it seems and in every relationship there has to be a first time. He lay and imagined the sound of the door swinging open, of her bare feet on the wooden floor cautiously approaching the bed, her hand held out towards him in the darkness. But as he tossed and turned for hours on end, the fantasy became more and more improbable and he knew he was going to be disappointed.

  He had only a few hours sleep before his alarm clock woke him at seven. After taking a shower, he attempted to pack his rucksack, but for some reason his things were obstinately refusing to go back into it. His clothes were sandy, damp and smelly and he longed for the Regal in Bangkok, for hot water and a little luxury.

  He made it to the beach bar well before eight, sat down at a table, ordered a coffee and fruit and waited. Thinking back over the events of the previous night, he decided he was going to have to overlook Fon’s tease about the unlocked door; if he dared challenge her she would only accuse him of being a sex-crazed foreigner. Despite his irritation, the glow of the evening was still with him, but it began to fade as he waited and waited and still she did not come.

  By half past eight, he was in turmoil. Where the hell was she and what was she up to this time? Why promise so sweetly to see him off and then not turn up. By nine o’clock he was beside himself.

  Ben was becoming resigned to the wrecking of his send-off when suddenly Fon was standing there next to him. She looked a little concerned but still managed a disarming smile. His anger quickly ebbed away and he felt more like putting his arms around her and bursting into tears than tearing a strip off her.