And then, we should be able to help each other figure out what to do next.
I turn off the lights and prepare to go to bed.
My cellphone beeps once, notifying me of a message…
I pick it up and look.
Instinctively, I expect it to be from Mork, telling me that he arrived home safely. But...nope.
It’s a Facebook message from an unknown user, whose profile picture is left blank, and also no other details.
The message is so shocking my heart uncontrollably pounds harder and faster.
“Hello Nong, I’ll just get straight to the point. You’re being used as a substitute right now.
Por and I are always like this. We drift apart when problems arises. Sometimes for many months. But we never break up for real. We only stay away from each other. And every time, Por gets a new young lover, just like you. He tends to tell them he’s single. He gets lonely easily, so when I’m away, he needs someone else to keep his bed warm.
But let me tell you, when we reconcile sooner or later, his new lover is always dumped.
This isn’t the first time it happened. It happened a lot, and always ended the same. He and I get back together, and the new lover is left broken, saddened, and then out of the picture.
Usually, I don’t give two cents about those young lovers. I let Por deal with every one of them on his own. But you’re an adorable one. Good-looking, good-profile. I feel sorry for you for not knowing that you’re just his temporary secret lover. I’ve never reached out to any of them before. But you’re so endearing in my eyes, I want to help. You might think I’m being sarcastic, but I have nothing to gain or lose in this.
My advice, step away from P'Por. It’s better for you to leave him. Don’t wait until he dumps you. This repeated scene of the play never ended well with any of his other flings. Por doesn’t know how to end a relationship. He can’t nicely ask for a breakup without deepening your wounds.
I meant well.”
…What is this batshit message...
P'Por…and his boyfriend… What?
What is this message? What temporary lover?
I am just a substitute, aren’t I?
…………
“Hello… Tawan, wow, this late at night. Are you alright?”
P'Aim answers the call after the first ring. Originally, I planned to immediately hang up when it rang three times because that would mean he’s asleep. Fortunately for me, he’s still awake.
“Hi, P'Aim. How are you? Still awake?”
I start with standard greetings, beating around the bush.
“Hey, Tawan, just tell me what’s bothering you. Your voice betrays your feelings. I’m here for you, and I’m not going to bed yet.”
Ever the mentoring senior and the psychiatrist. That’s why I admire him. Since we were still medical students, whenever us younger students had any trouble, the first one we thought of was P'Aim. There were times when I didn’t consult my family like P'Saengtai or my parents, but turned to P'Aim instead.
So, I start telling him everything. And by everything, I mean all of it, all about P'Por and I, Mork, and the message from the mysterious person which gives me a sleepless night, making me bother P'Aim on the phone at almost 1 a.m.
In the beginning, I don’t know how to start, but once the first sentence comes out, it all flows as if my mouth were a broken dam. While recounting my story, I start to realize that there are actually many complicated issues on my mind, a lot more than I was aware of. I wouldn’t have discovered this if not for my venting to him.
“Tough day for you, it seems.”
Although I am hearing just his voice from the other end of the line, I can sense his faint smile and soft exhalation. If we were sitting face-to-face, he would be looking at me with such gentleness from a big brother.
“Um… Quite tough, I guess, P'Aim.” I reply. “What should I do? I’m totally baffled right now.”
“Tawan, do you know why you’re baffled?”
He replies with a question, a trademark of a psychiatrist.
“I don’t know… Maybe it’s because...there are many problems, I guess?”
“Right, Tawan. Simply put, a short strand of rope can only tangle into a few knots. But once you bundle up four or five long strands and throw them haphazardly into your pocket, when you take them out again they can be jumbled up into like ten million knots, hahaha!” P'Aim gives me a crystal clear analogy.
“Your confusion is overwhelming because you’re encountering several problems, well, they aren’t exactly problems, let’s say issues. A problem sounds like we need to find its solution, so we better call it an issue. There are so many issues surrounding you now, and to deal with them, you must treat them like untangling the ropes.”
“Meaning I must untangle them one by one?”
I try to surmise.
He chuckles.
“No, Tawan. Untangling will be the next step.”
“Eh… Then, what’s the first step?”
I’m puzzled. What else do we need to do before untangling the ropes if we want to untangle them?
“You have to examine and see how many strands there are in the jumble. Establish how many colors, how many strands for each color, and whether there are two or more strands with the same color. Can you imagine? Sometimes there are many strands of the same color, and you might mistake and mismatch one end and another end from a different strand. And you will end up failing to untangle that one, because although they look the same in color, they belong to different knots.
You have to analyze...how many strands there are.
You have to analyze...how many issues there are.
Sort out the issues and see what kind of end result they require. You have to label them, which issue needs an answer, which one needs a decision, which one needs acceptance, which one needs forgiveness, and finally, which issues you will just let go because they have nothing to do with you.”
...It feels like someone illuminates the dark room I’m sitting in...
Some issues need answers.
Some issues need decisions.
Some issues need forgiveness.
And some issues are beyond our control.
“I can’t give you an answer, Tawan, it’s not my own life.”
The warmth of his compassion pours over me along with the voice from the other end of the phone, I can feel that my mentoring senior is caring towards me.
“But I can give you a guideline that says everything is up to you. If you’re going to make a choice, ask yourself if you love yourself enough when you make that decision. If you can’t answer that question, you should reevaluate the path you’re choosing. Every problem in this world can be solved by loving yourself.”
“Why is that so, P'Aim?”
I feel like I understand it, but can’t quite grasp the whole concept yet.
“Because if you love yourself enough, you won’t put yourself in a spot where you will pity yourself. Trust me, I’ve been there. The worst feeling is when you have to pity yourself.”
“Right.”
It seems like he knows I need to hear that.
“Forget about loving someone else for now. Focus on loving yourself first. Sometimes that alone suffices to solve all the issues, Tawan. And if you need more help from me, you’re welcome to call again. Right now I think you should go to sleep. It’s almost half past one.”
“I’m sorry for bothering you late at night, P'Aim.”
“It’s alright. If you’re troubled and yet refuse to seek me out, I’d be angry.”
He laughs softly but I have a hunch that he’s yawning.
“Sweet dreams, P'Aim. Thanks so much.”
“Remember, love yourself, Tawan. Sweet dreams.”
Alright, then…
Figure out how many strands are in the jumble.
After that, I will simply untangle them one at a time.
More importantly, I must remember what he told me.
“
Am I loving myself enough?”
…………
“Hi, doctor. You went to bed late last night?”
The patient on the first bed in Observation Ward comments to me.
“Oh hi, you look well today. It’s about time to go home already, I guess.”
Ignoring his comment, I read his patient file in the folder. He was admitted into the hospital due to alcohol withdrawal delirium. I approach and check his reflexes to reassess his nervous system. Everything seems to be back to normal. He can answer all of the questions properly.
“Alright, then, I’ll let you go home. And as you managed to quit drinking, keep up the good work and make it a permanent quit.”
In his case, the medical history says he’s been in and out of the hospital several times for alcohol withdrawal and seizures from alcohol intoxication.
“That’s easy, doctor. I’m a pro at quitting. I’ve quit drinking many times. No sweat.”
“Uh, you aren’t learning from your mistakes, are you? You’ve been admitted into the hospital too many times already.”
“Awww, doctor, yes I did learn. But sometimes I just couldn’t resist.”
I put down his chart. “You’ve come here a lot and haven’t behaved yet. Maybe you need to visit ICU before you finally learn your lessons and start behaving, hahaha.”
“I guess so too, doctor. But come to think of it… I think this time is really my last. Why should I wait until I’m in the ICU before I learn?”
“Awesomeness! Stick to your words.” I pick up the chart for the next bed while thinking about what he said just now. Why would we wait until it’s so severe we are sent to the ICU, when we better quit before it happens?
What about P'Por and I, then? Should we end it now, or should I wait until it gets to the ICU level of pain first before I end it? … Or should I do as that message advised? Withdraw and gradually get away from him.
Frankly… I don’t even know if that’s the truth. It could be from someone who had bad intentions towards me. Or even if it’s really from P'Por’s ex-boyfriend, how can I trust him? Why should I trust a stranger more than my own boyfriend?
Last night I kept thinking about it over and over, trying to “analyze the strands” and see how many there are in how many colors, like P'Aim advised. It is a big mess, but at least I’ve now figured out which issue to tackle first. I need to know whether this is true or not.
Then, it will be the origin of other decisions and answers between me, P'Por, and that mysterious person. As for the matter about Mork and I, as well as the feelings between us, it is still a tangle. It’s also important, but with lower priority. I should deal with the issues from top priority first, one by one.
“The cases in this pile are for discharge, please.”
I hand back the patient charts to the nurse at the counter. They’re arranged into two piles, one for those who get to go home and one for those who need to stay for further treatments.
“Tawannnnnn! Lend me your shoulder. I can’t take it anymorrrrrre!”
I turn and look, there’s Nadia coming in through the ward door, his voice preceding him. He looks completely frazzled like he hasn’t slept a wink… Which is highly likely the case, as expected of NICU duty. Before hanging up the phone last night he said there was a Meconium Aspiration case, which I guess had him busy until morning.
“Good timing. Just finished the round. And you?”
I greet him and he dashes into me and rests his head on my shoulder. Our heights don’t quite agree. He's towering above me like a telegraph pole, while I’m as short as a milestone.
“Finished too. Incubators full, beds full. I feel sorry for those on duty today. No incubators and no beds available for new cases now.”
I clap a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Let them manage.” Turning, I tell the nurse. “P', I’m leaving now, see you.”
Then, we walk to the coffee shop together.
“Hey, Nadia… I’m sorry.”
I begin while we’re on the way from the ward to the coffee shop.
“Did you just say sorry to me? What on earth is that for?”
“For neglecting you. I forgot about you and the barista, Mr. Mayom. I only cared about myself.”
Nadia let out a big loud sigh. “Ehhh! It’s nothing. Silly you. He and I are separate individuals. I’m just feeling weird because he disappeared. There’s nothing more in it, really.”
His tone and his epic sigh actually tell me otherwise. This means there is something. It’s not “nothing” like Nadia is claiming. Seeing him like this makes me feel even more guilty for not caring about my friend’s love problem.
“Really? But whenever you talk about him, your facial expression and tone of voice become different.” I argue.
He goes quiet and ignores the question. Possibly because he feels like if he answers, his voice will “let on” something like I said earlier.
“You’re into him, aren’t you? Nadia.” I shot a direct one.
“And are you into Mork?” Nadia doesn’t answer, but counters me with the same question.
“Wait, what? That has nothing to do with this!”
I object, noticing the change in my own tone as well.
“But it has! You might think they are separate matters, but to me it is the same issue.”
“How? How are they the same issue? Explain.”
“You have to answer me first, do you like Mork?”
“I should not like Mork.” I know that doesn’t answer his question, yet it is the best response I can give right now.
Right, I’ve been sure about it since I came home from his house yesterday. But it’s still one of the tangled strands among the big jumble of mess. As long as the first issue isn’t yet resolved, I will never say it out loud. (Although I already said it last night while talking with P'Aim.)
Nadia shrugs.
“Then, me too. I shouldn’t like Mayom.”
“That’s irrelevant, Nadia. I shouldn’t like Mork because I already have P'Por. What’s your reason for saying you shouldn’t like the barista?” Oh, wait… Or is there something about Nadia that I haven’t been told?
“Because...he reminds me of an ex.”
He replies, staring at me with dejected eyes.
“Your ex…” I try to recall.
“Wait, what? He doesn’t look a tiny bit like your ex. That’s batshit confusing. How come he’s reminding you of your ex?”
“He’s been ambiguous since we started talking. And then he suddenly fell off the earth like this. We didn’t know what kind of relationship we had. We chatted, became close, more intimate than friends. We went to places together and we dated. Then he just up and disappeared, saying nothing. When he resurfaced, his Facebook had photos of him and someone else, saying they went to Phaeng Ma[63] together and were all lovey-dovey… Leaving me to ask myself, if they love each other, then what am I?”
Ah… Now I remember. Nadia once wrote on his Facebook status, “They love each other, then what am I?” It was when we were still second year interns. But back then, I was very busy. I recall Nadia being downhearted, but a week later he recovered and became lively as usual, so I have forgotten about it.
“I’m fine with being hated. But I want clarity. Love or hate, serious relationship or just messing around, be clear about it. When someone is ambiguous, it’s like using an inkless pen to write on paper, you know? No one can read the words he’s writing. But the paper retains the invisible imprints… I don’t want to be a piece of paper with imprints. I want clarity.”
We arrive at the coffee shop.
Upon entering, the bell on the door greets us with its usual jingles.
“Hello, Dr. Tawan, Dr. Nadia. Would you like your usual drinks?”
Eh… The same barista has come back.
Nadia’s face tenses up as soon as he sees Mayom. He whips his head to look away and silently struts to a table before sitting down.
Oh, wow, what a faaaabulous pouty
queenie scene. I, on the other hand, approach the coffee counter to talk to the barista.
“Usual drinks, please. And… Well, go talk with Nadia a bit… He’s sulking because of you.”
He nods.
“I know, doctor. And would you please do me a favor, Dr. Tawan? Please?”
“Uh-huh, as long as you’re not borrowing my money.” I laugh.
“Bawww, not that, doc. I’ll hurry up and make you the drinks. And then…may I have some private time with Dr. Nadia just for a while?”
Meaning he wants me to sit out while they talk face-to-face. Yep. Understandable.
I nod.
“Sure. But do me a favor as well, okay?”
“What is it, doc?” He asks.
I lower my voice into a whisper although it’s not necessary, as Nadia doesn’t seem to show much interest in listening. “Make it clear. Whether or not you love him. I won’t blame you, but please be clear about it. I don’t want my friend to hurt from an ambiguous relationship.”
My Ride, I Love You Page 27