My Ride, I Love You

by Patrick Rangsimant

  For two people to stick together, it depends on so many factors.

  And you need to go through a lot together.

  …………

  I can recall a specific occasion I talked with my uncle.

  “But for you and Fern, it’s different.”

  He said this to me a few weeks after I broke up with Fern.

  “How different, Loong?”

  “I can’t read it. I couldn’t see.”

  “Couldn’t see what? You shortened it too much, how can I understand?”

  “I couldn’t see the companionship that would see you two grow old together. Frankly, I didn’t see how you guys could become partners for life. I knew I didn’t see it since the first time you introduced her to me and Ar. I had even mentioned to him that you guys would break up someday.”

  I silently listened to the viewpoint he was sharing with me from the perspective of an adult.

  “For a couple to stay and grow old together, they need more than just love and compassion. I heard a song that my workers were listening to and it said lovers need to be compassionate to each other. Like, aargh! I wanted to pitch a spark plug against their radio. I’ve been with your Ar for over ten year, if the only things we had were love and compassion, we would have gone separate ways a long time ago.”

  “And what else do we need?”

  Honestly, back then I didn’t want to know. The question happened to automatically slip from my mouth.

  “I can’t tell, either. I only know it requires more factors, not just love and compassion.”

  Ever since, I’ve been bearing it in my mind.

  To stick together through thick and thin, just love and compassion won’t be enough.

  …………

  My mom doesn’t talk about this.

  I mean, about Loong and Ar.

  Well, actually, my mom spoke about them a little, while her parents acted as if their eldest son were already gone. They neither talked nor asked about him. They almost never even laid their eyes on him when he went back home for a visit.

  When I was young, my mom told me they were friends who shared a home in Bangkok. I didn’t know what it meant back then. I thought it was so cool that grown-ups could choose to share a home with their friends. I was like “Ohhh, that’s super! I’m jelly you guys can stay in the same house!”

  Do you get what I mean? When we were kids, we wanted to play with our friends all the time, right? But when school was over in the evening, we had to come home and stay with our parents and the siblings, whom, in some cases, we often quarrelled with. The idea of the adults being able to choose their own friends to share a house with really appealed to me and I thought Loong and Are were freaking cool.

  In front of grandpa and grandma, mom wouldn’t mention uncle. Evidently, during Songkran holidays, when Loong and Ar often visited their hometown and relatives, both of them had to stay over at Ar’s place instead of staying at my grandparents’ house (which was also mine). And during his visit, he always spent his time with my mom and me, but never with my grandparents.

  The young me saw it, but never questioned about it. Perhaps it was because of a child’s innocence that we often failed to notice the elephant in the room. More importantly, we didn’t even feel that it should have been an issue. Sometimes I wished I could bring back my childhood perspective as well.

  As I was growing up, I eventually learned that their relationship wasn’t exactly a simple friendship.

  It wasn’t entirely incorrect. They were still friends. But there was also something else between them, a status that needn’t be explained. And I automatically acknowledged and understood it.

  Therefore, the same sex partnership between my two uncles has been a part of my growing up. I feel towards Ar like one of my own blood, an elder relative. Sometimes I even forgot that they were actually spouses and that Ar wasn’t related to me by blood in any way.

  Since it’s been so naturally to me I am no longer conscious of it, it took me by surprise to notice that passenger and his guy.

  …………

  In the evening at the motorcycle taxi station, I have spare time and seek out P'Fueang, who has just lost in a game of chess and is made to sit out while the other guys play against each other. I immediately bring up what’s still nagging me.

  “Hey, P'Fueang.”

  “Yo, what’s up, Mork. Yer gonna play this shit against me?”

  “Nah, bro. I have a question.”

  I lower my voice although it’s not necessary because everyone else is focused on watching the new chess match. No one cares about my conversation with P'Fueang.

  “Well… What is Miss Ai…uh, what is she to you?”

  “Huhhhh? Da hell. She’s ma girlfriend, or ya can say she’s ma wife, just without the marriage certificate. What’s with ya and yer weird questions? Huh, Mork?”

  “Um, well, Miss Ai is a…”

  I involuntarily lower my gaze. I feel a little ashamed to say the word in front of P'Fueang because he’s her boyfriend, even though it is factual. So I omit it and let my sentence fill itself with the unspoken word that belongs at the end.

  “She’s a transgender. Ya can just friggin' say it. It’s a fact. I won’t be offended.”

  He states in a matter-of-fact manner, like it doesn’t have any emotional significance to him. I don’t know how he actually feels, but when I look at him again, he appears unaffected. He has a neutral expression and tone of voice.

  Maybe I’m not the only one who has asked or commented about his girlfriend and her being a transgender.

  Maybe he has been through it a lot already.

  “Though she’s a transgender, you still love her?”

  “Da hell? That’s silly, weirdo. If I dun love her, why’d I call her ma wife and why’d I pick her up and drop her off at the language school everyday? Ya better ask if she loves me. Y’know, that kind of person and I, who’s just a motorcycle taxi driver.”

  “Bahhhh, who the heck needs to ask that? It’s obvious, she’s head over heels about you.”

  “Then, I’m the luckiest man on earth, because the person I love loves me so much!”

  He says and, grinning from ear to ear, walks to the station’s shared cooler and grabs two cans of coffee before tossing me one. He then takes a sip from his own can. “Here, take one! On me.”

  “Thanks, bro.” I catch it and give him a Thai salute. “That’s your type? I mean, transgenders.”

  P'Fueang stops drinking his coffee and furrows his brows at me.

  “Bruh, why yer so weird today? Why even ask? Ya seen me going out with Ai for a long time.”

  What long time? It’s only been a month or two, hasn’t it? Uh, I’m not arguing that out loud, because his canned coffee is still in my hands and I feel obligated to repay his kindness by keeping my smartmouth a little more in check.

  “Well… I’m just curious. I wonder if the love between two guys can really be long-lasting.”

  “What… Just look at yer two uncles. They been together for decades. Why da hell yer asking me? Go ask them.”

  “It’s different, bro! That’s an old story, but yours is new. I think the couples from the old days aren’t the same as the couples in modern days. They can’t be measured by the same standards. That’s why I’m asking you.”

  “As I see it… It’s not a love between two guys, it’s a love between two persons.”

  P'Fueang takes the last gulp of coffee from his can and tosses it right into the trash bin with uncanny accuracy.

  “Miss Ai is just a person. I am, too. We’re two people who love each other, not two men. And frankly, to me, Ai is a woman.”

  “It’s because her appearance is a woman.” I argue.

  “Yea, right. I dunno if I’d still fall in love with her if she weren’t dressing like a woman. I can’t say that soap-opera-sappy shit like I’ll love her no matter what she looks like.”

  He looks at the time… It’s almost five in the evening.

>   “I’mma go pick her up.”

  I smile and nod.

  “I think, even if Miss Ai doesn’t dress like a woman, you’ll still fall in love with her someday.”

  He nods before putting on his safety helmet.

  “Gender is an illusion, Mork. They may differ on the outside, but deep inside, they’re warm all the same.”

  “Shoooot, bro! You perverted!”

  “I meant the heart, H-E-A-R-T. You friggin' ape!!! Yer the perverted one. Gone without any woman for too long and feeling pent-up, aren’t ya? Over there, papaya salad stall-keeper who been hitting on ya, be nice and give her some.”

  I shake my head in a hurry.

  “Nahhhhh, bro. I don’t want an obligation.”

  He shrugs.

  “I’m not talking about a wife. I meant just get laid with her a few times. No need to love or commit.”

  He’s about to start his engine when I recall the last question I got.

  “Hey, hey, hey, bro. Let me ask one last thing.”

  “Dude, Mork, now what? Ask quickly before I go pick up my wife.”

  “When you’re doing it, you can get into the mood, right? Well, I mean like, you, uh...”

  Uh… You know what I mean, right?

  The unspoken words in my question.

  “When it’s time, yea, of course. I’d say sex is fluid. When yer at it, yer up for anything.”

  “So you mean, when I’m doing it, maybe I’ll be okay with a man too?”

  “Things like this, ya gotta try it yerself. Can’t speak for ya, dude.”

  And off he goes, leaving me behind to look for the answer to it alone…

  Oh, wait… It is only 5 p.m. but our queue has to run until 9 p.m. Besides, today it’s his turn to stay overtime until 10 p.m. But he already left to pick up his wife, which means…

  “Shoooot! P'Fueang! Freaking come back! Don’t ditch your work on me like thissssss! No wayyyy!”

  …………

  21:50

  Just ten minutes until quitting time.

  I start getting ready to go home, folding and putting my uniform vest inside my bag and emptying the melted ice from the cooler. Then, I prepare to lock up for the night, because there shouldn’t be any passengers during the last ten minutes of the shift.

  “Um… You’re not closed yet, I hope?”

  Before I can even finish my thought, a passenger interrupts it. I need to stop predicting things and jinxing myself. It never goes the way I want.

  “We’re closed, but I can drop you off. I’m just about to leave.”

  I turn to reply… Oh? It’s the curious physics freak with wobbly helmet. (That’s the nickname I have given him.)

  “Oh, it’s you…”

  “Yep, it’s me again. To Baan Klang Soi Condo, please.”

  “Yes, sir, misterrr.”

  I hand him the helmet.

  “One hand on the bar, the other hand around my shoulder like last time.”

  “I know.”

  I wait until he gets on the backseat and fastens his arm around mine before starting the engine.

  “You come home late tonight.” I observe.

  “I left work late. Busy day.”

  I nod. “I see. Such is the life of a doctor.”

  “Eh… How did you know I’m a doctor?” He asks.

  “Because of the short white coat you’re wearing.”

  “Ahh… It’s called a short gown.”

  “Yah, that. Your gown.”

  I take off slowly. It’s almost 10 p.m. now. And since the buildings around the beginning of this soi are mostly office buildings, while the ones deeper in are residential, at this hour of the day there’s almost no traffic at all. And tonight, there are only two of us on my motorcycle. So I take my time driving at low speed and conversing with him.

  “What type of doctor are you?”

  “Internal Medicine.”

  His answer throws me off and I don’t know what to ask next. I know only the terms like surgeon, eye doctor, and autopsy examiner.

  “We mainly deal with illnesses that require medicine. Things like diabetes, heart diseases, and kidney diseases.”

  He explains to me, perhaps because he noticed that I became silent.

  “Ohh… I thought heart diseases are purely cured surgically.”

  “Nope, many of them are cured or relieved medically.”

  “Oh, I forgot. I’m a Win-motorcycle.”[23]

  “Hahaha! Riiight. I know that. You’re cracking a joke, aren’t you?”

  “If you’re laughing, then yeah, I’m cracking a joke, doc.”

  We arrive in front of his boyfriend’s condo, so I park my motorcycle. As usual, he waits until I turn off the engine before leaving his seat. He returns the helmet to me while paying with 2 twenty-baht bills.

  I fumble around my pockets looking for a ten-baht coin for him.

  He shakes his head. “Keep the change.”

  “Thank you, doc. Sweet dreams tonight.”

  I smile at him but he scrunches up his nose at me.

  “First time hearing a Win-driver tell a passenger to have sweet dreams.”

  He comments.

  “Oh well… It’s because you’re my last passenger for the night. It’s already 10 p.m. Consider it a premium service, doc, dropping you off in front of the condo and wishing you some sweet dreams. Normally I don’t get a passenger this late at night. The business usually dies after half past nine.”

  “Then…you better try to get used to it. We’ll run into each other late at night a lot.”

  “Yessss, sir, doc. I’ll try to get used to it.”

  When I smile at him again, his scrunched up nose comes down and his knitted brows start to unfurl. Then his lips start to curl on the corners into a smile for me.

  “Very well, have sweet dreams too, Mr. Win-motorcy.”

  Chapter 5: Tawan

  “Fortune Cookie?”

  I try to double check, hoping I might have misheard it.

  “Yeah, right. Fortune Cookie, BNK48’s song.”

  Nadia says it again, deliberately emphasizing every syllable. Alright, I’m sure I hear it correctly this time. I try to keep a straight face while slowly turning to make eye contact with P'Nok who’s sitting beside me, expecting to perhaps find her sharing the same emotion.

  Surprisingly, she is attentively listening to Nadia’s suggestion.

  “Uh… Is there any other plan? This is the first option, right?”

  I try to reject the idea by asking for alternatives. Stay optimistic. Maybe Nadia prepared ten plans and this is just one of many.

  “Why? Don’t you like these cutie BNK girls?”

  Nadia tilts his head curiously.

  “I like BNK girls. But liking them and cover-dancing a song from them are completely different. Especially when it means to perform in the hundred days’ party, dressing up like them, on top of that. I told you to help me create a show for Internal Medicine, not create a disaster!”

  Correct… The stage show for the Internal Medicine Department that Nadia previously promised to help me produce turns out to be a dance cover for the song “Fortune Cookie” from BNK48. Nadia told me he needed some time to research and then disappeared for three days, so I expected him to come up with something more sensible.

  “There’s a reason for this, Tawan.”

  Nadia insists. But I frown. Can there be a reason that explains why I must dance to Fortune Cookie song?

  “What the crap is that reason? Tell me.”

  “Okay, look. A show needs to have a theme. It needs something that’s a selling point.”

  Meanwhile, he whips out his cellphone and launches the Keynote application, showing me a set of presentation slides he had so elaborately prepared. The title says “Why You Should Dance to Fortune Cookie.”

  … Now I know, he disappeared for three days to prepare this presentation. Oh my Nadiaaaa!

  Uh, he already made the slides, so I might as well look at th
em. I want to know if there’s really a valid reason why I and my peers from the Internal Medicine Department need to present a Fortune Cookie dance cover in the resident contest during the hundred days’ party. I turn and look at P'Nok. She’s still listening intently.

  “A selling point should be unique, because if you’re not unique, it means you have a rival.”

  Nadia starts with the first slide, showing ten blots of colors in ten different colors.

  “This image has ten dots in ten colors. Pick one that you like. P'Nok, too, please choose one.”

  Nadia nods to both of us.

  “Uh… I choose the sky blue.” I make a choice.

  “I pick the pink one.” P'Nok chooses another blot.

  “Why did you pick the sky blue dot, Tawan?” Nadia asks.