by J. F. Gump
Finally Nuang broke the silence. "May I hold the baby for a minute before you go?"
"Yes." Somjit's face twisted with inner turmoil. She handed the baby to Nuang.
Nuang swayed back and forth, rocking the baby in her arms. She watched Somjit, wondering at the thoughts that must be tearing through the girl's head. "Somjit," she said. "Do you love this baby?"
Somjit looked up. "I don't know what to say. What do you want me to say?"
"Only the truth, Somjit."
"Yes, I love your baby very much. She is the most beautiful baby I have ever seen."
"Have you wondered at the color of her eyes and her skin and her hair. Have you ever noticed the baby isn't Thai?"
Somjit paused. She prayed it wasn't a trick question and that a wrong answer wouldn't dash the small flicker of hope building inside her. Yes, she had noticed the baby didn't look Thai, but the color of the baby's hair, eyes, and skin didn't bother her. In fact, she thought it made the baby even more beautiful. Most Thai women would die for skin as white as the baby's. How was she to answer? Nuang had said she only wanted the truth.
"I guessed the father was farang, but it isn't important. What matters is that the baby is healthy and her white skin makes her very beautiful. She will be the envy of all Thai women when she is grown. You must be very proud to have a baby like this."
Guilt cut through Nuang's heart like flashing swords. She had never considered her baby as anything other than an embarrassment. She dropped her eyes and looked from a new perspective. "Her father was from America. He died the same month I became pregnant." It was a lie but Nuang said it to stop further questions. "I don't know what I will do now. I have no money or job. I don't know how I can take care of everything. It scares me to think about it."
For the first time Somjit saw Nuang as more than a woman with a baby. Now she saw a woman with feelings and fears, a woman caught in a situation with no easy solutions. "I am sorry," she said.
Nuang sighed and looked away. "Never mind, it's not your fault. But now I have a baby and no husband. I need someone's help." She hesitated, considering her next words carefully, "Will you help me raise our daughter, Somjit? I would like that very much."
Somjit couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Yes!" she wanted to shout loud enough for all of Thailand to hear. She held her composure. "It would be my honor."
Nuang smiled and handed the baby back to Somjit. "I am very tired. I think I am not completely recovered. You can help me today by taking the baby to sleep with you for tonight. Maybe I will feel stronger tomorrow."
Somjit was speechless. She tried to answer but couldn't. Instead she nodded, her face glowed with unbridled gratitude.
Nuang couldn't remember ever seeing such a happy woman.
As Somjit reached the doorway, she stopped. "I don't know your baby's name." Her face flushed. "I am so embarrassed."
Nuang was caught unawares. She didn't know either. She had never given her own child a name. With hardly a pause she said, "Her name is Tippawan. I named her in honor of my deceased sister."
"It's a beautiful name," Somjit said.
Nuang blushed. "Thank you."
Somjit returned to her room with baby Tippawan in her arms. That night she cried at the giddy emotions which overwhelmed her.
That night, Nuang cried too. She cried for her fears of the future.
As the days passed into weeks, Nuang and Somjit shared the duties of caring for the little Tippawan. Together, they learned to be mothers for the first time in their lives. More than that, Nuang and Somjit became friends. Before long, their trust in each other was explicit.
The young monk seemed ever present. He watched as the baby healed Somjit's emotional scars and Nuang accepted her half-Thai baby.
The voices returned to Nuang only twice, and the last time they had been less than a whisper. During the past three weeks, she had forgotten they ever existed. She stopped taking her medication after the first week.
Chapter 11
The young monk Laht lay on his small cot thinking about his life at the temple. The last six months had been completely different from everything that had come before.
He had grown up rich and was used to having everything he needed or wanted. Through his life he had never been deprived of anything reasonable. His father, Isara, had seen to that. But here, in his service to the Lord Buddha, he had learned to exist without the material trappings of the affluent.
Laht was the third generation of the modern Horungruang family. His grandfather had proven his business acumen and was now one of the most prominent movers and shakers in Thailand. The old man hadn't gone beyond the sixth grade in school, but he had been smart and aggressive—sometimes ruthless—in his pursuit for money and power. He had succeeded.
Laht's grandfather had sired two sons. One was his father Isara, and the other was his Uncle Jum, dead for over a year now.
For as long as Laht could remember, his Uncle Jum had been a monk at this temple. His father recently told him that Jum had been a monk for nearly twenty-five years. Laht was twenty-nine now, which would have made him less than five years old when Jum entered monkhood. In any event, Laht didn't remember his uncle ever being anything except a monk.
Laht's father, Isara, had talked often and well about his older brother. According to him, Uncle Jum had once lived an exciting life. That, of course, was before he became a monk. After being disinherited by his father at the age of twenty-two, Jum had been forced to survive on his own without any help from his family. Through sheer determination, he had succeeded. He had operated several bars in Bangkok and supplied goods to the U.S. Army during the Vietnam war, and later owned a thriving shop in Phitsanulok. Then, at the age of thirty-six, Jum had decided to devote his life to the Lord Buddha. No one in the family knew the true reason why Jum had become a monk. No one, that is, except Isara, and he had never told anyone.
As Laht was growing up, he and his father went to the temple to visit Jum every week or two. Although it had seemed odd that his uncle was a monk, Jum had never acted like a monk around him and Laht rarely thought about it. He had always enjoyed his visits to the temple.
With Uncle Jum out of the family picture, Laht's father Isara had become the favorite son. Old man Horungruang had accumulated money, and he liked to spend it. Isara had been sent to the best schools money could buy. He had concentrated his studies on law and business, eventually gaining a double degree. With a little help from his father, Isara had opened for business with a ready made clientele. As an attorney with an MBA, his clients had faith in him and he never disappointed them. His business thrived when Thailand went through an unprecedented economic boom. It soared when the boom went bust and the rebuilding process began. His investments in the stock markets had been near perfect. To say Isara was wealthy would be a gross understatement.
Laht was in his final year of medical school in America when his Uncle Jum died. He hadn't come home for the ceremonies but he had vowed to spend six months at the temple in honor of his uncle before pursuing his medical career in Thailand. It was his way of paying respect to a man he loved and admired. It was a small thing, but he knew Uncle Jum would understand and be proud.
In less than two weeks, his service to the Lord Buddha would end. Laht's time at the temple had been more than a religious devotion to honor his uncle, it had been an education. The abbot had assigned him to work at the shelter for the abused and desperate women who came to the temple for asylum. It had been the perfect choice. Many of the women who came to the temple arrived with youngsters in tow. Laht got plenty of practice tending to those children. He was the first doctor some of them had ever seen. He met first-hand the same people wanted to help most.
The night he brought Somjit to the temple had been a turning point in his life. He spent endless hours healing Somjit's physical wounds and emotional scars. More time than he had ever spent with any woman except his own mother.
As the days had passed, the girl dominated most
of his daytime thoughts and all of his nighttime dreams. He couldn't get her off his mind. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he felt responsible after saving her from her husband's unimaginable assault; or maybe it was because she seemed so helpless; or maybe it was because he found her so overwhelmingly attractive. Whatever the reason, being near her made him feel good. Now that he was nearing the end of his time at the temple, he knew that leaving Somjit behind would be one of the hardest things he might ever do.
He lay in bed and thought. He wanted to ask her to go with him when he went to Chiang Mai to begin his work. He wanted it so much that it hurt, but what if she said no? What if his father became angry? What if his attraction to Somjit was nothing but a case of infatuation? He had always made decisions so easily but now he had no idea what was right or wrong.
He got out of bed and walked toward the women’s quarters. He knew he had no business being in there this late at night. Even with his special privileges, it just wasn't proper. He wasn't doing anything wrong. he told himself, but he needed to check on Somjit and the baby. It was his duty. He looked for any excuse to justify being with her.
He folded his fingers into a loose fist to knock at the closed door. His heart fluttered and his chest tightened as he pushed his knuckles forward. At the last instant he stopped. He turned and moved away from Somjit's room. Without hesitation, he went to Nuang's door and tapped lightly.
"Sawasdee ka," Nuang said when she saw the young monk. She noticed his flushed face. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine." His words came out clipped. He softened his tone. "I have come to make sure you are well."
His voice and movements spoke of lies, but she let it pass. "Thank you for your concern. I am well. Would you like to come in?"
"Yes. I mean, no." His blush deepened. "I mean, can we talk?"
In the weeks that Nuang had known the young monk, she had never seen him like this. He had always been so calm and so sure of himself. Now he looked a man falling apart. "Yes, come in. I think we should talk."
He stopped just inside her doorway. To go farther into her room without good reason would not be proper for a monk, even a temporary one. He searched for something to say, but nothing came.
"What do you want to talk about?" Nuang asked after a short silence. "Is my baby okay?"
"Yes, your baby is fine." He shuffled his feet, looking more like a schoolboy than a monk. "I, ah… I want to ask you about Somjit. You have spent time with her. What kind of a person is she?"
Nuang studied his face. It didn't take special intuition to see that the young monk was smitten with Somjit. She had noticed it before when she watched the two of them together. She wasn't sure if what she saw was love or lust, but she knew how embarrassed he must be to admit it might be either. She considered Somjit's situation before answering, "She is a good woman who has had a hard life."
Laht fumbled with the edge of his saffron robe, "Yes, I think she's a good woman, too." He turned to leave.
"Wait," Nuang said.
Laht paused, his eyebrows lifted in question.
"Are you in love with Somjit?"
"I don't know."
He left Nuang's room and pulled the door closed behind him.
Laht stood in the hallway for a moment before he realized Somjit was standing one door down. He turned toward her. "I love you," he wanted to say, but his words came out, "Are you okay?"
"Why were you in her room?"
"I wanted to talk, but we said nothing."
Somjit stared at him for a long second before speaking. "Would you like to come to my room and say nothing?" She was surprised by her own words. She had wanted to say goodnight and that was all. To talk like that to a monk was contemptible. She thought she must sound like a whore.
Laht's face burned. Yes, he wanted to go to her room and talk and touch and hold and more. He wanted to walk to her now and take her in his arms. An image of him making love with her entered his mind. Hormones rushed through him in tidal waves and his manhood grew in response. He hoped it didn't show through the saffron robes.
"No, it's late,” he answered. “I must go now." For an instant he hated the robes he wore. "We’ll talk tomorrow."
He turned and hurried away.
Back in the safety of his own bed, he held and stroked at his maleness for a full minute before forcing himself to stop. In a while the hormones waned and his urges faded. He was amazed at the way he felt. He had never wanted any woman the way he wanted Somjit.
That night Laht didn't sleep. Instead he planned how he would tell his father that he had fallen in love with a peasant girl and failed his promise to his uncle at the same time. Laht was sure his uncle's spirit would be more understanding than his father.
Chapter 12
The next morning, ten days short of his six month promise, Laht slipped into jeans, tee-shirt and tennis shoes, and walked away from the temple. He didn't say goodbye to anyone. He just left.
By ten o'clock he was at his father's law firm waiting for a minute of his time. Even as he waited, he hadn't decided exactly what he would say. It was almost noon before the receptionist escorted him inside. By then his nerves were worn raw.
Isara's office wasn't just plush, it was grandiose. Intricately carved teak furniture sat on colorful Persian carpets, which in turn sat on real marble floors. Isara sat in a black-leather executive chair, his lean body dwarfed by the oversized desk. On the wall behind him hung a larger than life portrait of the King of Thailand. To the left and right of the King stood bookshelves filled with legal tomes. The remaining walls were lined with an impressive collection of paintings depicting modern Thai life, Karen and Esaan handicrafts, and a silk tapestry woven with surrealistic scenes of ancient Siam. On either side of the desk, large wooden elephants supported tabletops where someone had arranged ornamental vases of fresh orchids, roses and other flowers. A humidor filled with Cuban cigars sat on one corner of the desk and a small statue of Buddha sat on the other. Between lay a short pile of neatly stacked papers. Isara's upper body filled the space directly behind the center of the massive desk.
In a moment Isara stood, raised one hand, and casually motioned for Laht to come in. A polite smile brightened his face.
Laht wai'ed respectfully and tried to look calm. "Sawasdee krup, father. I'm happy to see you. I hope you are well."
"Sawasdee krup," Isara returned the greeting but not the wai. "Phom sabai dee, khop khun krup.” I am well, thank you. “I'm happy to see you again, too." He looked at his watch. "You are early."
Laht stared at his father, confused. "Early? I don't understand. What do you mean, I'm early. You didn't know I was coming, and it's past noon already. How can I be either early or late?"
"Laht, Laht, Laht," Isara replied. "I spent all of that money sending you to those expensive schools, and they didn't even teach you how to read a calendar. According to my memory, you were supposed to be at the temple for another ten days. I think that makes you a little bit early."
"Oh, that." Laht felt his face flushing. The lame speech he had prepared disintegrated into jumble of fragmented thoughts. "I guess I need to explain."
Isara pointed to a chair at the front of his desk. "Have a seat. For you, I have all day to listen."
Isara sat down, leaned back, and waited.
Laht sat but he didn't relax. His hips rested along the front edge of the chair, his back held straight, his hands folded into his lap. "It's no longer possible for me to live at the temple. If I stay, something terrible will happen."
Isara pondered his son's statement for a minute. "Let me be sure I understand what you just said. After nearly 180 days of devoting your life to the Lord Buddha, you can't stay another ten? If you do, something terrible will happen? Is that what you're telling me?"
Their conversation wasn't going anywhere near to what Laht had planned. He wanted to blurt out the exact truth but couldn't. Somjit wafted through his thoughts like fine silk threads. He wanted to talk about her, but in his w
hole life he had never talked about girls with his father. The very idea of doing so now made his face flush deeper. "Yes. It's very complicated."
Isara studied his son closely. He had never seen Laht so nervous, so unsure of himself. He searched for clues that might reveal what was being said beneath the words. Isara had always been good at sensing unspoken secrets about people. It was like a gift from the Lord Buddha and it had helped him tremendously in his business negotiations. In a moment he asked, "What is her name?"
The expression on his son's face told him his hunch was correct.
Laht's chest tightened with unaccustomed anxiety. He gulped a breath and failed to speak.
"Her name is Somjit," he managed on his second try.
Isara relaxed. To him, Laht's confession was a relief. As far as he knew, Laht had never had a girlfriend. For that matter, Laht had never even shown any real interest in women. Over the years, Isara had started to worry about Laht's sexual preferences. Hearing that his son had fallen for a woman eased his doubts.
"Are you a virgin?"
The question flustered Laht further. "What do you mean?"
"Surely you know what a virgin is. I mean have you ever had sex with a woman?"
Laht looked down at the tops of his American tennis shoes. "I don't mean to be impolite, but that is none of your business."
Isara smiled. He knew the answer was yes. He wasn't sure how the temple fit into this scenario, but he knew there was something. He was certain the truth would come later. For now, he wanted to know more about the girl who had captured Laht's fancy.
"Yes, you are right," Isara responded. "I am sorry for my question. It was bad taste. Please, tell me about this woman named Somjit."
Laht took a deep breath and talked. He described her beauty, grace, and charm with adjectives known only to those enmeshed in the throes of passion and lovesickness. If any detail of her eyes or her mouth or her face was omitted, it was a detail not worth recalling. But Laht didn't tell his father everything. He didn't mention how he had met Somjit, nor did he say that she had a husband. In a while he stopped talking.