The Farang Affair

by J. F. Gump

  Isara could have been blind and still seen the obsession in his son's face. Laht's words left little doubt about his attraction to the girl. Yet, something didn't seem right; something was not being said.

  "I can tell you have a very strong need for this girl. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Every man feels like that at least once in his life. She sounds like a wonderful young lady. You should be running toward her instead of away from her. That makes me wonder, Laht, why are you running away?"

  Laht squirmed in his seat. "There is one other thing I want to tell you. Somjit comes from a very poor family. She has no education except what a few people have taught her, and what she has learned on her own, but she isn't stupid either. In fact, she is one of the smartest people I have ever met. But Somjit is from a lower class and I don't want to embarrass our family by marrying a peasant girl. I am not running away from her, father, I am walking away before it's too late. I think you can understand that."

  Isara pulled his face into a hard frown. Old memories of his brother Jum floated through his thoughts. Jum had once fallen in love with a woman of a lower class and their father could not accept it. Back then, Isara had watched as his older brother rebelled against his father's stern demands and questionable Thai traditions. After a short tangle of wills, Jum had been disowned by his own father. The end of their relationship hadn't come immediately, but the bitterness had driven a wedge between them that would never be removed. Eventually, their father had simply stopped all contact with Jum—physically, financially, and emotionally.

  By the time the battle between his father and brother had ended, Isara had decided he would never judge a person by their lot in life, he would judge them by their actions.

  "No, I do not understand that and I don't understand you either," Isara said. "When you first came home from school in America, you told me you wanted to be the best doctor in Thailand. Not just for the rich, but for everyone. You don't know how proud that made me. Now you're shunning the very people you said you wanted to help. No, I don't understand you at all."

  Laht blinked at his father's response. His voice eluded him.

  Isara leaned forward and softened his tone. "True love goes much deeper than a rich man's pockets. It transcends all boundaries of caste and education. Someday I might be embarrassed by whomever you marry, but not because God gave her to a working class family. I am embarrassed right now because you think so low of me."

  Laht wasn't prepared for what he had just heard. He had expected fatherly praise for his mature decision to abandon personal emotions for family purity. Instead, his father had scolded him. Strangely, he felt elated by his father's short outburst. "Are you angry?"

  Isara sighed. "Only if you keep acting like a stupid water buffalo. I don't know what this girl has to do with you wanting to leave the temple, but I want you to stay until you have fulfilled your promise to my brother. However strong your reasons are for leaving, I believe there are stronger reasons for staying. When you come home in ten days, we'll have a party to celebrate. Then we can talk more about this woman, Somjit."

  Isara picked up his pen and turned his attention to the stack of papers.

  Laht sat for a few minutes while his father ignored his presence. He wondered just how strong he could be with his desire for Somjit burning from every pore. How embarrassed would his mother and father be if their son, the monk, was caught having sex with one of the women he had been charged to help and protect. An image of his humping bare ass sticking out of saffron robes etched his mind. How embarrassed would Somjit be if that were to happen! The thought of shaming Somjit quelled his raging passion.

  He watched Isara work for another minute and then stood, "Father, I must go now. I have promises to keep. I'll see you when my debt to Uncle Jum is paid."

  Isara didn't look up from his work. Laht turned and walked to the door.

  Just before Laht left the room, Isara spoke, "Laht, I love you and I am very proud of you no matter what you do. If I have been hard on you today, I apologize. Sometimes a man has nothing except his word, his beliefs, and his pride. I wanted to make sure you didn't lose any of those today because of some foolish idea that family is everything. Someday your mother and I will be dead. We don't want to die knowing we might have denied you some happiness through our own selfishness."

  Suddenly, his father's desk seemed much smaller and the man behind it much larger. Laht wai'ed to his father. Then, without speaking, he stepped outside and pulled the door closed.

  After his son was gone, Isara called his best staff investigator into his office. Her name was Pajeeka Wasiwat.

  "My son has fallen in love with someone named Somjit," he explained. "I want to know everything about her."

  Pajeeka nodded. No further information was given or expected. She left the building to do what she did best.

  Chapter 13

  Laht returned to the temple, put on his robes, and isolated himself for two days. He couldn't avoid seeing others at the temple, but he didn't interact with them beyond silent acknowledgements of their presence. He went through his religious duties as expected, but completely ignored his other assigned duties. It was an intentional act; he didn't want anyone or anything to interfere with his final decisions.

  During the first day he recalled his entire life, examining every turning point, every decision, and every event which had led him to this temple. His grandfather being rich, his father successful, his uncle a monk, his determination to study abroad, his resolve to put education ahead of female companionship, Uncle Jum dying while he was in America, and his decision to honor his uncle by giving six months of his life to the Lord Buddha – it was all too coincidental. It was as if some higher power was playing a role in this opera of his life. And Somjit, surely that power had toyed with her life as well.

  By the end of his first day of silence, Laht had convinced himself that their meeting was no mere accident, it was destiny. By morning, he had decided his previous night's conclusions were pretty stupid. Despite his Buddhist upbringing, he didn't believe in fate. He believed that a man created and controlled his own destiny. Still, he couldn't push aside the feeling that everything was as it was meant to be.

  During the second day, he shut out the past and considered what was to come. In a few days he would be away from everything he had known for the last six months: the temple, the safe house, the kids, the monks, the ceremonies, and Somjit—especially Somjit.

  His two days of avoiding her had only intensified his yearnings. He knew she had some feelings for him, else she would not have been so bold just two nights ago. Still, his fear of her rejection made him weak. It took until mid afternoon to convince himself that all he had to do was ask and she would do anything for him, and go anywhere with him. By sunset, Laht had built enough courage to do what he feared most—he would ask Somjit to love him.

  At seven o'clock that evening, Laht bathed. At seven-fifteen he bathed again. At seven-thirty he walked to Somjit's door and tapped softly. This time there was no hesitation, no fluttering heart, no tight chest, no nothing; he was in control. There was no answer. He knocked again, harder this time. Still, there was no answer.

  A woman one room down peeked out at him but he didn't recognize her face. Suddenly, he felt foolish standing there knocking on Somjit's door. "Sawasdee krup," he said, embarrassed. "Do you know if Somjit is here?"

  The woman didn't answer. She pulled back from the hallway and closed her door.

  Laht could feel his face burning. He turned and started back to his room. "What a fucked up night," he mumbled to himself in English.

  "Kaw thort ka, excuse me," a soft voice, female, came from behind him.

  He looked back to see Nuang standing in the hallway.

  "Please come here for one minute," she whispered urgently. "I need your help."

  He stiffened involuntarily. The last time he had gone to Nuang's room, Somjit had seen him and seemed very jealous. "It's late and I shouldn't be here," he whispered in ret
urn. "I must go now."

  "No, wait. It's very important, really."

  He sighed heavily and walked to where Nuang stood waiting. He kept his voice low. "What is it?"

  "I need to use the toilet."

  "You don't need me for that," Laht managed after a flustered moment. "I think you are old enough to go by yourself."

  Nuang almost laughed at the look on his face. "Let me explain. Somjit came to my room earlier and wanted to talk. She was very upset. She even cried some. Then she fell asleep. The baby is sleeping, too. I need to use the toilet very much, but I don't want to leave the baby alone and I don't want to wake either of them. Please, it will take only a minute. All you have to do is stand inside my room and watch Somjit and my baby until I return. Only a couple of minutes, I promise."

  Laht's heart did mini flip-flops. Now he knew why Somjit hadn't answered her door. She had been asleep in Nuang's room. He forced a resigned expression, "Okay, but please hurry." He wondered if his excitement showed through his weak facade.

  "Khop khun ka," she wai'ed gratefully.

  She waited until he went into her room before heading toward the toilets. She was giddy at the idea of playing matchmaker. She knew it was the right thing to do for Somjit. She suppressed a girlish giggle. She would take her time in the toilet.

  Laht stepped inside Nuang's room and pushed the door shut. He resisted the temptation to bolt it closed. He turned and looked at the bed where Somjit and the baby lay sleeping. Butterflies filled his chest. He walked to the edge of the bed and stared down. Everything he had told his father was true. Somjit was very beautiful. In another century, she would have been a goddess. He wanted very much to lie down beside her and hold her close, but he didn't. Here and now was neither the time nor place. Instead, he knelt at her bedside and spoke so low it was not even a whisper. "Phom lak tuh.” I love you.

  He stood and returned to the door. On impulse he pulled it ajar. Through the crack he saw the same woman he had seen in the hallway just minutes ago. She was staring at him. "May I help you?" he asked by reflex.

  "I think I have the wrong room," she answered. She took one more penetrating look before moving out of sight.

  For some reason the woman's unexpected appearance unnerved him. He didn't recognize her but that didn't mean anything; she could be a new guest he hadn't met. For the last two days he had been so self-absorbed that anyone, even the Lord Buddha himself, could have come and gone and he wouldn't have noticed.

  He turned his attention back to Somjit but it was the woman in the hallway who dominated his thoughts. Tomorrow, he would make it a point to meet her. She was probably a very nice person who ended up here already pushed to the limit. That notion didn't stop his feelings of apprehension. He wondered if the woman would tell anyone she had seen him in Nuang's room, with Somjit lying on the bed. The thought pushed his discomfort to near panic.

  He and Somjit hadn't done anything; they hadn't even talked. But that wouldn't keep people from believing what they wanted, and they would want to believe the worst. No doubt tongues would be wagging tomorrow, it was human nature. He hoped Nuang wouldn't be gone long. His nervous tension grew as the seconds ticked past. A line of sweat formed across his upper lip. Finally, he heard footsteps nearing the door. He stepped into the hallway.

  Nuang noticed the expression on his face. Just minutes ago she had been elated at getting the young monk and Somjit together. Now, she wasn't so sure.

  "You don't look well," she said. "Is everything okay?"

  He forced a smile. Even without a mirror he knew it looked strained. He wiped at his lip with the back of his hand.

  "I think so. I am not sure. A few minutes ago there was a woman standing outside of your door. She was staring at me. I didn't recognize her. I guess I let it bother me more than I should have."

  Nuang studied him for a second. "It was probably the same woman who came to the bath while I was there. She's new here; she came just last night. She spent most of today by herself. I think she's very shy or very frightened."

  "Yes, I am sure you are right." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He felt better at her explanation. "Earlier, you said Somjit had been crying. I don't mean to pry, but why was she upset?"

  Nuang could tell him everything she knew, but she wouldn't. Some things were better left unsaid. She would tell him only what he needed to know.

  "Everyone noticed you haven't come around for two days. Then today the rumors started. Someone said you were staying away because of Somjit. It upset her. She wanted to talk so she came to my room. That's all I know."

  He sensed she wasn't telling the whole truth but he let it pass. "Thank you. I was afraid her depression had come back," he lied in return. "I’ll check on her tomorrow anyway."

  "Yes, that would be a good idea."

  "I must go now."

  The door to Nuang's room opened and Somjit stepped out. Her eyes darted from Laht to Nuang and then back to Laht. "Sawasdee ka," she said very quietly. "Why are you two standing in the hallway like this?"

  At her appearance, Laht's whole expression changed. He glanced at Somjit then looked away, smiling shyly.

  When he didn't answer, Nuang interjected, "We were talking about the new woman who came last night. He wants to meet her tomorrow." This was half correct. "He was just leaving."

  Laht found his voice, "Yes, I have things to do." His eyes darted from one woman to the other. "I heard a rumor today. I want you to know it's not true. I haven't stayed away because of you. The truth is I am still here at the temple because of you." He turned and walked away, his face burning with embarrassment.

  "What did he mean?" Somjit asked, after he had left.

  "I think he meant exactly what he said."

  That night Laht made the biggest decision of his life. He was going to marry Somjit. For the next eight days, he did his every assigned duty. At the same time he ignored his saffron robes and wooed Somjit shamelessly. He knew he was a disgrace to the temple but he didn't care. None of the other monks said anything, but they avoided him. He barely noticed.

  Chapter 14

  Nuang left the temple only twice during the time she stayed there. The first time was her doctor visit with Laht. The second was the day she had an overpowering urge to see her family. It was a Saturday. The weather was cold and rainy—one of those days that pressed down on peoples' spirits and lent itself best to inner reflections.

  At two o'clock in the afternoon Nuang pulled her hair into a tight ball, covered herself with a robe, and walked into Phitsanulok. She stood near her mother's house for a long time but saw neither her mother nor her youngest brother.

  Later she walked past her sister's house. Neet and her two year old son were sitting in the doorway. Like herself they were bundled in extra clothes against the unusual cold that had penetrated Thailand. Her desire to go to them was strong. Just as she was about to give in to her urges, another person appeared in the doorway of the house. It was Anan, her next to youngest brother. She hadn't expected to see him here.

  Anan had his own advertising business in Pattaya and never came home for anything except family emergencies and funerals. Something was happening but she didn't know what. She wondered if someone had died.

  She was edging nearer when yet another figure caught the corner of her eye. It was a man walking fast up the street – her husband Surat. She stopped in mid stride. She didn't want to see him, or he to see her. She moved under the eave of a street vendor's cart and watched.

  Neet and Anan didn't seem surprised to see Surat. That could only mean they were expecting him. Surat did most of the talking. Sometimes her brother and sister spoke, but mostly they just listened. That was most unusual, especially for Anan. He had never liked Surat. In fact, he normally went out of his way to avoid conversations with Surat. Anan wasn't smiling, but he was listening very intently. Nuang strained her ears but couldn't make out their words.

  At that moment Anan's eyes fixed on Nuang; his stare was intense. She
turned away from his scrutiny. Her paranoia of being discovered erased all urges to see anyone. She hurried away without looking back.

  At the temple she stripped off the rain soaked robe and tried to make sense of what she had seen at her sister's house. She was sure it had to do with her. She wondered just how much Surat and the others might know. Probably only that she had disappeared with her newborn baby. It would be enough for them to hate her. If they knew the truth, they would understand why she had run away, but they would never be able to forgive her for having a farang's baby, especially while she was still married to Surat. She had shamed more than her husband and herself, she had disgraced her whole family. Her tears fell as steady as the cold rain outside.

  Later she went to the room next to her own and saw Somjit and the baby asleep on their bed. A small tug of jealousy pulled at her. Unlike herself, Somjit was a good mother, a true mother.

  That night and the following nights, her dreams were a paradoxical mix of nightmares and soft visions of her daughter Tippawan.

  Altogether, Nuang spent six weeks at the temple. By the beginning of the fifth week, she was going stir crazy. She knew she couldn't stay there forever, but she didn't know what she would do or where she would go if she left. She spent hours plotting and planning how she would survive once she left the temple. She discarded one scheme after another.

  Thoughts of Surat entered her mind more often than she wanted. They had been married for over seventeen years and she missed him. While they had lived together, she had never considered what her life would be like without him. Now she knew and it hurt. She loved her husband more than she had ever realized. It dawned on her that she could leave the baby with Somjit and return to Surat and beg his forgiveness, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. It wasn't possible.