The Farang Affair

by J. F. Gump

  With nothing left to do in Phitsanulok, Surat drove back to Chiang Mai. His boss was going to be pissed; he hoped he wasn’t going to lose his job.

  Chapter 8

  In the days following her arrival at the temple, Nuang's body was ravaged by a massive infection. Her intensely high fever triggered horrifying hallucinations. Everything became so surrealistic she didn't know what was real and what was a dream.

  Vague images of her surroundings mixed with terrifying nightmares. She thought she heard a baby crying and people talking. She felt hands touching and cold sharp needles pushed against her skin. It all seemed less real than the monkey-man who filled the empty voids of her delirious mind. Surely it was the same creature that had haunted her sister Math to her death.

  Finally, the infection succumbed to penicillin and Nuang's feverish nightmares ended. She wasn't sure where she was or what time it was when she awoke. She didn't even know whether it was day or night. The room was not familiar. It had no windows. A single lamp glowed in the otherwise dim room.

  She touched her stomach. Flat. Yes, now she remembered. She'd had a baby. The thought caused her eyes to dart frantically about the room. Where was her baby? For that matter, where was she?

  Nuang stood from the bed and started toward the door. In three steps her legs buckled and she fell hard against the cold marble floor. A small cry passed her lips. Immediately a man was at her side. She looked up. It was a monk. He looked familiar but she couldn't place him. He lifted her from the floor and carried her back to the bed. It was only then that she realized she was undressed. As fast as she could, she pulled the blankets over her body.

  "You saw me naked," she said, looking away from his stare.

  "Yes, I did. Don't worry; it’s not the first time."

  Even in her confused state Nuang felt her cheeks burning. "What do you mean, it's not the first time? Where is my baby?"

  The monk sat at the foot of the bed, well away from Nuang. "Your baby is fine. I'll bring her here later, after I am sure you are well. You have been a very sick young lady. You developed a severe infection from giving birth. You could have died. It has been my duty to care of you."

  Nuang pointed toward her womanhood. "You mean I had an infection here?"

  The monk nodded.

  "And you looked at me there?"

  He nodded again.

  "I would rather die than have a monk look at me there."

  "I am a doctor."

  "You are a monk."

  "Yes, but first I am a doctor."

  There was a long period of silence. Nuang's mind raced to recall everything. Piece by piece it came back. This was the same monk who had greeted her when she arrived at the temple. He had brought her to this room. She remembered him being very polite. Finally, she spoke, "You are a doctor?"

  The monk breathed a short sigh of relief. "Yes, I am a doctor. I am here only because my uncle was once a monk at this temple. He died while I was going to medical school in America. I promised I would devote six months of my life to Buddha in memory of him when I returned to Thailand. In two months my promise will be fulfilled. After I leave the temple, I will open my own medical practice. I’m honored for you and your daughter to be among my first patients." He smiled an impish grin, put his hands together in front of his face, bowed forward slightly, and presented her with a wai.

  It was neither customary nor expected for monks to wai anyone except their superiors. Certainly, they would never wai to a woman. Nuang was shocked by his gesture. Even more she was flattered. "Thank you," she said, returning the wai. "May I see my daughter now?"

  "Yes, I will have the woman bring her to you. She is a beautiful little girl."

  Minutes later a young woman came into the room carrying an infant.

  "My name is Somjit," the woman said, her discomfort obvious. "I have been caring for your baby. Without me your baby might have died."

  Somjit knew her pronouncement was unnecessary, but she said it anyway. She didn't care. Secretly, she had been hoping this woman, the baby's birth mother, would die. She wanted the baby to be hers. Her heart beat with jealousy as she handed the newborn to Nuang.

  Nuang noticed Somjit's swollen breasts through her thin silk blouse. "You have been nursing my baby?" she ventured quietly, non-threatening.

  Somjit looked away from Nuang's steady gaze. "Yes," she whispered. Her single word carried tones of pride and pain. An embarrassed silence followed.

  After a minute Nuang said, "Khop khun mahk, ka. Then you must have a baby of your own?"

  Somjit didn't answer. She wanted to pick up the baby and run away, but she couldn't. "Mai pen rai," she tried to say; it came out as an unintelligible moan. She turned and rushed from the room.

  Nuang heard gut-wrenching sobs filter in from the hallway. Then a male voice speaking low. In a minute, the sobbing stopped.

  Nuang pondered the woman's reaction. She wondered what she had said that upset the woman so much. She wasn't angry or bitter, though she did feel a small twinge of jealousy. But more than that, she felt a deep sense of gratitude. Certainly she hadn't meant to upset the woman.

  She stared at her baby for a long time. There was no doubt the child was hers. Her nose, ears, mouth and chin could have come from no one except herself. Her skin was still red but less than she remembered from before.

  She wondered what she would do after she and the baby left the temple. Going back to her husband was not an option. Surat would never accept a half-farang baby as his own, and he would never forgive her infidelity, no matter how or why it had happened. For an instant she hated herself and the baby. It was a fleeting feeling that was quickly replaced by depression.

  At the age of thirty-six, Nuang was trapped by one long-past minute of unthinking passion in the bed of her sister's boyfriend. The idea that she could contact the baby's true father crossed her mind. Maybe he would send her money if he knew. A second later, she decided that was a stupid thought. What had happened was her own fault, and there was no sense ruining another life because of it. Still, the idea lingered.

  She put her daughter's mouth against her breast. By reflex the baby engulfed a nipple and began sucking. At once, Nuang pulled the baby away. She had been sick and she had been taking medication. What if her milk was no good? She might make her own daughter sick.

  The baby cried at the interruption of its meal. Nuang cooed and sang a soft Thai lullaby, but the crying continued. In the hallway, Somjit's sobbing resumed. It was a woeful sound of emotional torment. Nuang's mind retreated from the screaming baby and the wailing woman. The room spun crazily. She wavered from sharp awareness to eerie confusion.

  "Kill the baby," a voice inside her head demanded. The demons from Chiang Mai had found her. "Kill the baby before it kills you."

  "No!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  The young monk ran into the room. Nuang's eyes shone wild. He snatched the baby from her arms and carried it from the room. He returned a second later. Nuang was standing naked by the bed screaming no no no over and over.

  He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her body. "Shut up and lie down."

  Immediately, her cries ceased. "What happened?"

  "I don't know." He eased her toward the bed. "Maybe you can tell me."

  "Where is my baby?" she asked, her disorientation obvious. "Is my baby safe? The spirit voices said to kill my baby."

  The monk stared at her. He had read about patients hearing spirit voices and doing odd things, but he had never had contact with them during his medical training.

  "Your baby is fine. What voices are you talking about?"

  "Didn't you hear them?" Nuang pleaded. "They were right here in this room. They told me to kill my baby. Please say you heard them."

  The monk took her hand in his, "Don't worry. Everything is okay now. I will protect you and your baby from the voices. When did you first hear them?"

  Nuang was surprised. She had expected the monk to react like her husband had when she
told him about the demons and their voices. Surat had laughed at her and teased her about being crazy, but this monk wasn't laughing. To the contrary, he seemed sincerely concerned.

  "The demons came in my sixth month of pregnancy. Sometimes they talk to me."

  The monk nodded as he studied her face. Dark shadows highlighted the hollows beneath her eyes. She was just now recovering from an infection that had savaged her entire being. In the five days she had been here, she had drank little and eaten even less. Mostly, it had been clear broth they forced down her during the periodic, semi-lucid, moments. He knew she was weak and confused from the lack of food and water.

  "Don’t worry. The demons won’t hurt you or your baby while you are in the temple. Tonight, you must get some rest. Tomorrow, after you eat, you will feel better."

  He sat on the edge of the bed until Nuang fell into a fitful, exhausted sleep.

  Chapter 9

  When Nuang awoke the following morning, the young monk was standing beside her bed. She regarded him briefly then said, "I smell awful, and I am tired of lying here. Please bring my clothes so I can go to the bath."

  The young monk smiled, pleased that she was feeling better. He nodded and stepped from the room. A moment later a woman entered carrying clothes. She laid them on the bed and left.

  Nuang slipped into the clothes, the same she had worn the night she arrived at the temple, except now they were clean. She walked quietly to the door and peeked out. The woman who had brought her clothes stood waiting in the hallway.

  "I will show you to the bath," the woman said, smiling.

  By reflex, Nuang smiled in return. As she followed the woman, she began remembering things about this part of the temple. She had been here nearly two years ago and it hadn't been a social visit. Her sister’s ex-fiancé had beat Math so severely she had been brought here for safety and healing.

  By the time they reached the toilets Nuang had regained her bearings and knew where she was. She took a very long bath. It felt wonderful to be clean.

  The young monk was waiting when she arrived back to her room.

  "Sawasdee ka," she said, presenting him with a polite wai.

  "Sawasdee krup," he smiled, without returning her wai. "You slept through breakfast, so I asked one of the women to save you some food. If you are strong enough, we can go to the kitchen. If not, I will have someone bring the food here. Either way, I insist that you eat."

  His insistence was for nothing. Nuang was starving. "Thank you. Can we go to the kitchen now? I am so hungry I could eat an elephant."

  "Sorry," the monk laughed. "We have no elephants on the menu today. Only rice and fish, but we have plenty of both. Come, I will take you to the kitchen. I want to talk with you for a while."

  Nuang remembered where the kitchen was and didn't need anyone to show her the way, but she didn't say anything. She didn't want him to know she had been here before.

  As they walked, she hoped she wouldn't see anyone else who might recognize her face and expose her past. The idea that the monk already knew who she was crossed her mind. Her heart skipped at the notion.

  In the kitchen Nuang was given a glass of juice and bowl with rice and fish. The bowl was small and didn't hold much; certainly not enough to satisfy her appetite. She hoped the monk intended to feed her more than this. She ate as slowly and politely as her hunger allowed. Within minutes the food was gone. She looked up. "I am embarrassed to ask you this, but do you have more?"

  "It’s best if you don't eat too much at once," he said. "Let’s talk for a while, and then if you’re still hungry you can eat more."

  Nuang nodded. "What do you want to talk about?" She hoped he wouldn't ask her too many questions so she wouldn't have to tell too many lies.

  "I want to apologize for what is happening."

  His statement caught her off guard. She had expected him to ask about her baby and its non-Thai appearance, or maybe even announce that he knew who she was and where she was from. She hadn't expected an apology of any sort. "I don't understand."

  "When you arrived, you were very sick and couldn't take care of your baby. Another woman came here just a few days before you. Her baby was…." He hesitated briefly, as if finding the right words. "Her baby was born dead."

  Nuang pulled her hand to her mouth, "Oh dear, that is terrible. She must be very sad. I feel so much pity for her."

  It was true; she did feel sorry for the woman. At the same time she felt envy. How less complicated her life would be now if her own baby had been born dead. Immediately, she regretted having such a thought. She pushed it aside. "But she is still young, someday she can have another."

  The monk looked away. With the brutal beating Somjit had suffered at the hands and feet of her husband, it was questionable if she could ever get pregnant again. His face flushed at the lie he was about to tell.

  "Yes," he said, eyes avoiding hers. "Someday she can have another. But right now she is very upset. She wanted to take care of your baby until you were well. I let her do that and it was a mistake."

  "What do you mean it was a mistake? I think she did a very unselfish thing."

  "It was a mistake," the monk whispered low, "because Somjit has adopted your baby as her own. When you leave the temple with your baby, she will be devastated all over again."

  "I never thought about that." Nuang, in turn, avoided his eyes. How twisted the world was, she thought. One woman, who so desperately needs a child, has none; while another, who wished she had never gotten pregnant, has a baby she doesn’t want. It was a cruel joke that fate sometimes played on people. "I think everything will be okay in the end," she said hopefully.

  "I will pray that you're right."

  They sat in silence, each contemplating what had been said. In a minute a soft chant floated to them on the mid-morning air.

  The monk spoke first, "After you have finished eating, I will take you to a doctor, a family friend. I want him to do some tests to be sure you have recovered from your infection."

  He was concerned about the infection, but he was just as concerned about the voices the woman heard in her head. He suspected it was some odd effect from her pregnancy but he wanted confirmation. "It will not cost any money," he added as an afterthought.

  Nuang couldn't think of a good reason to say no. "Okay, I will go, but only if you let me have more food."

  The young monk smiled and nodded his agreement, "Go ahead, but not too much. I don't want you to get sick while we're in the taxi."

  After an examination and a series of tests, the doctor confirmed her infection was in full remission. He found no immediate cause for the voices. The doctor suggested they might have been caused by her pregnancy and would likely go away as her body returned to normal. He gave her a mild anti-psychotic medication but suggested she not take it unless the voices returned. Overall he concluded that Nuang was in fine health except for being too thin. He made her promise to eat better and sent her on her way.

  Later that day, at the midday meal, Nuang kept her promise to the doctor.

  Chapter 10

  Somjit had spent most of that same day in her room with the baby. She was embarrassed at the way she had broken down the night before. She had tried very hard to keep her composure, and she might have succeeded if the woman hadn't asked about her own baby. Her baby was dead and nothing could change that.

  During the few days she had cared for the sick woman’s baby, she had developed an incredibly strong attachment. She knew it wasn't her baby and that someday she would have to give it up, but that didn't make her pain any less. Now that the woman had healed, she knew what was coming next. She cried from time to time, but in small shudders, quite unlike the massive wails of the night before. She missed the midday meal because she didn't want to see anyone. Just before sunset, Somjit came to terms with herself and her decision. She picked up the baby and walked purposefully to Nuang's room. The door was open and Nuang was lying on the bed. For a moment Somjit thought Nuang was asleep, but th
en saw that her eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. She stepped into the room. "Please excuse me for not knocking. My manners are very bad."

  Nuang sat up. "Never mind." She noticed that Somjit was carrying the baby. "Please come in."

  Nuang had spent the last few hours thinking. Her thoughts were clearer now than they had been for weeks. For a while she had thought about her husband, Surat. He would be worried about her, but she had no intentions of going back to him. It would never work. Later, she had thought about Somjit and her dead baby; it was depressing. She had spent a lot of time practicing what she would say to Somjit when she saw her again. Now that the girl was there, her prepared speech evaporated. "I am happy to see you. Your name is Somjit, isn't it?"

  "Yes," the girl answered, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Now that you are well again, I am returning your baby. I think you must miss her very much."

  Nuang’s eyes watered. After talking with the young monk earlier, she knew how much this must be hurting the girl.

  "My name is Nuang. Please come and talk for a while. I want to know the woman who will share my baby with me."

  Somjit started at the words. What did this woman mean by share my baby? A glimmer of hope nudged her. Her heart fluttered. "I don't understand."

  Nuang smiled despite her own emotions. "Neither do I. Maybe it’s not important for us to understand. Please, tell me about yourself."

  Somjit hesitated for a moment and then talked. She was surprised at how easily her past flowed. She told about her young life and the death of her parents. She talked about her great aunt and her marriage to Nong. But she didn't mention the beating that had killed her baby.

  When Somjit fell quiet, Nuang told of her own life. She talked about her brother in Pattaya, and her sister, Math, who had died just one year ago. Briefly, she spoke about her husband, but she didn't elaborate. She mentioned neither her family in Phitsanulok nor the true father of her baby. In a while Nuang fell silent. Neither spoke for a long time.