The Farang Affair

by J. F. Gump

  Before leaving Phitsanulok he drove to the temple but didn't go inside. Instead, he sat in his car and waited, hoping to catch a glimpse of Somjit, but she never came into sight.

  He fingered the envelope laying on the car seat. It held a letter saying things he could not say in person. He wanted Somjit to have it and not have it at the same time. He wasn't sure what to do. Just as he decided to leave, a fellow monk, the one who always seemed wiser than the others, appeared at the entrance of the temple. Laht took the envelope and exited the car.

  "Sawasdee krup," he said smiling, wai'ing politely.

  "Sawasdee krup," the monk responded. He glanced at Laht's Toyota. "I see you have returned to the world of human desires."

  Laht smiled sheepishly. "I promised my father that I would heal all of Thailand. I can't do that so easily in a monk's robe."

  The monk nodded his understanding. "I wish you well in your noble quest. You must come back to visit us when you have time. I will say prayers for your success and your safety."

  "Thank you, I need all the help I can get." He hesitated for a second before adding, "I was hoping you could do something for me."

  The monk raised his eyebrows in question, waiting for Laht to speak.

  Laht offered the envelope. "I would like for you to give this to Somjit. You know her. She's the woman whose baby died. I want to tell her goodbye."

  "Maybe you should tell her yourself. Don't you think that would be better?"

  Laht shook his head, "No, I don't want to see her right now. It's very complicated. It would be best if you give her my letter."

  The monk stared for a moment before taking the envelope. "Love is always very complicated, isn't it?"

  "More complicated than you can imagine. Thank you for your help." He glanced at his watch, "It's getting late. I have to be in Chiang Mai this afternoon so I must be going. Thank you for giving Somjit my letter. I'm forever in your debt." He wai'ed respectfully and returned to his car.

  The monk smiled and waved as Laht drove away. Then he continued on his way to the city for his morning routine of exchanging prayers for gifts of food. He would deliver the letter to Somjit later.

  Chapter 30

  Three days had passed since everyone had deserted Somjit. She was returning to her room from the midday meal when she was stopped by one of the monks. She knew him but didn't know him at the same time. She had seen him almost every day since she had been here, but he had never approached her or spoken to her before.

  "Please stop," he ordered more than asked. "I must speak with you."

  Somjit hurriedly presented him with a wai and then waited. She wondered why he wanted to talk to her.

  "I have something for you," he said. He removed an envelope from his shoulder bag. "It's from the young man named Laht."

  Somjit's hands shook as she raced back to the women's quarters. Her imagination ran wild at what he might have written. She didn't stop to get the baby from the afternoon caregiver, but went straight to her room and sat on her bed. Carefully she tore off one end of the envelope and shook loose its contents. Ten 1,000 baht bills slid out followed by a single piece of paper. She ignored the money and unfolded the handwritten note.

  "Somjit," it read. "The money is to help you and Nuang care for the baby after you leave the temple. If you need a place to go, you can come to Chiang Mai. I can be reached at the number below. Laht."

  Somjit wasn't sure what she expected, but she had hoped for more than she found. Not for more money, but for more substance. She had prayed to see "I love you" written on the paper but it wasn't there. She reread the short note, "If you need a place to go, you can come to Chiang Mai."

  She mulled his words, trying to understand his intent. Was he making another offer or was he just being kind? If he wanted her to come to Chiang Mai, he could have just bought her a bus ticket. That would be a lot cheaper than the ten thousand baht. Maybe the money was only a bribe to make her go away, and his letter nothing but banal politeness. Actually she was surprised he had written at all.

  She remembered the day Laht had left the temple. He had asked her to go with him and she had told him no. It hadn't been intentional. She hadn't even realized what he had said until after he was gone. Her answer had come from her throat but not her heart. The memory made her angry.

  She read the letter again. "If you need a place to go, you can come to Chiang Mai."

  No, that wasn't banal anything. He was asking her to come to him and the money was for her to get there. The more she thought about it, the more she knew it was true.

  She packed and collected Tippawan from the sitter. It was almost dark when Somjit and the baby left the temple. She flagged down the first taxi she saw.

  She made one stop to buy disposable diapers and a few snacks before directing the driver to the Phitsanulok bus terminal. The next bus to Chiang Mai wasn't scheduled until early morning. She found a comfortable spot and settled in for the night.

  It was five o'clock in the morning, when the baby vomited for the first time. It was five-thirty when the diarrhea started. By the time she boarded her bus, she had changed the baby's diaper three times. The trip northwards was filled with alternating bouts of vomiting and diarrhea.

  The vomiting stopped three hours outside of Phitsanulok, but the diarrhea continued until past noon. That was when the baby became very quiet. Her skin felt clammy. It had been hours since the baby had nursed. Somjit was sure the baby must be dehydrated. She attempted to breastfeed, but the baby didn't respond.

  She dampened the corner of a small washcloth with bottled water and squeezed a few drops into baby's mouth. She couldn't tell if the baby swallowed or not, but the water didn't come back out. Every few minutes she repeated the routine. She prayed that the water was safe. She prayed even harder for the baby to be okay. She wished she hadn’t left the temple.

  Somjit's bus arrived at the Chiang Mai station at two o'clock in the afternoon. The temperature outside the terminal was suffocating. She hired a three wheeled tuk-tuk taxi to the nearest pharmacy. She had the driver wait while she bought more diapers, an eyedropper, and a bottle of infant electrolytic drink. Then she asked the driver to take her to the nearest hotel with air conditioning. She had to get the baby out of the heat. A thundering downpour arrived just as she entered the hotel lobby. It was three o'clock.

  During the next four hours Somjit managed to force an entire bottle of liquid into the baby, one eyedropper at a time. The baby seemed less clammy now, and was breathing easier. She was sure the Lord Buddha had answered her prayers. In a while, the baby fell asleep.

  Somjit rushed through a shower and put on fresh clothes. Afterwards, she checked the baby's diaper—the diarrhea had started again. She wasn't sure what to do, but she knew she had to do something. Her first thought was to call Laht. After all, he was a doctor. More than that, he was the baby's doctor.

  The phone in the room was out of order. She tried to wake the baby but couldn't. Somjit panicked. She ran from the room leaving the baby lying on the bed. She had to move fast and she couldn't do it with a baby on her shoulder.

  In the lobby she approached the receptionist. "The phone in my room is broken and I must make a call. Do you have a phone I can use? It's very urgent."

  "I'm sorry," the girl behind the desk responded. "The hotel phones have been out of order since the storm. There's a pay phone down the street to your right. It's only a couple of blocks. Maybe you should try that one."

  Somjit ran full speed despite the thick closeness of the night air. She arrived in less than a minute. The phone was dead. She saw another one down a side street and ran there. It was out of order too. So was the next one and the one after that. She wanted to scream. She stopped a passing teenage girl, "Where can I find a working phone in this city?"

  "What?" The girl looked at her like she was from another planet.

  "A phone. I need a telephone. This is an emergency. Where can I find one that works?"

  "I think the storm w
iped them out," the girl answered. "This one still works though." She pulled a cell phone from her waistband. "If it's a local call, you can use mine."

  Laht answered on the second ring. Somjit nearly fainted at the sound of his voice. "I need help, Laht. I only came to see you, but now I need help." Her voice was edged with hysteria.

  "Calm down. Everything will be okay," he said confidently. "Where are you now? Tell me where you are and I will come to you."

  Somjit looked around. Her panic grew when she didn't see the hotel anywhere. "I don't know." She handed the phone to the girl and asked her to tell Laht where they were. She listened to the one-sided conversation while the girl explained. In a moment the girl returned the phone to Somjit.

  "Stay where you are," Laht ordered. "I'm not far away."

  The phone went dead. She handed it back to the girl, thanked her profusely, and then waited for Laht to arrive.

  Chapter 31

  Weeks had passed since Surat Duansawang had been demoted to the taxi circuit for his unauthorized use of a company vehicle. He had worked hard for the last year to become one of the "privileged" drivers, but he had ruined it all with his frantic trip to Phitsanulok to find Nuang. He had expected to be fired but was put on taxi duty instead. If he didn't mess up again, he would get his old job back in a few months.

  Without Nuang, he had fallen into the habit of working double shifts. Since she had emptied their bank account, he needed the extra money. It had been nearly two months since she had vanished, but to Surat it seemed like yesterday. As often as possible, he would drive past their house to see if she had come home.

  He felt foolish driving through his neighborhood five or six times a day, but he did it anyway. He wondered how long it would be before he gave up on ever finding Nuang. He was sure it wouldn't be anytime soon.

  The day had been miserably hot. At 3 p.m. a monsoon downpour swept through the city. Heavy sheets of rain split the air and filled the storm sewers to overflow. Traffic slowed to a crawl as cars and motorcycles died with flooded ignitions. The electricity went off for a short time and sections of the city phone system died altogether. Pedestrians sought shelter inside shops and beneath umbrellas.

  At four o'clock the sun returned to bake wisps of steam from the rain soaked streets and sidewalks. The tropical heat in Chiang Mai became thick enough to slice.

  Even after the sun gave way to the night the hot dampness continued to press against everything within reach. Surat Duansawang kept his air conditioner running just enough to keep the taxi comfortably cool but without causing his windows to fog. The shiny faces and sweat mottled clothes of the people outside made him happy he was working tonight.

  He had just dropped two farang tourists at a downtown hotel and was headed back to the airport when he saw a Thai man and woman waving at his taxi from the other side of the street.

  Normally he wasn't interested in local fares, but this man's clothes and posture spoke of money. He pushed his hand out the window and motioned that he was coming back for them. Surat had a nose for good tippers and this one smelled like a hundred baht minimum. He did a U-turn at the next intersection and hoped another driver wouldn't beat him to the waiting couple. Seconds later he coasted alongside of them and they entered the back seat.

  The man directed him to the Dee Lek Hotel. Surat nodded and drove off.

  The Dee Lek was one of the seediest hotels in Chiang Mai. He knew they weren't going there for dinner so it had to be for an early evening tryst. He smiled at the thought but said nothing. As long as they gave him a generous tip, what they were doing was none of his business. He eavesdropped on their conversation.

  "How long has the baby been sick?" the man asked.

  "Since early this morning," the woman replied. "I am very scared. Nuang left her baby with me because she believed in me. If anything happens to the baby, I will kill myself."

  Nuang? Surat's heart stutter-stepped. He knew there must be thousands of Nuangs in Thailand but he had never met one.

  "If anything happens," the man was saying, "it's not because you're a bad mother. Do you have any idea where Nuang might have gone?"

  "No, I don't know how to contact her. I told you before that she just disappeared. She left me a note and said she would be back soon. I couldn't wait at the temple any longer. You understand that, don't you?" She let out a small sob.

  The man put his arm around her and lowered his voice to a soothing tone, "Yes, I understand why you left the temple, but I don't understand what Nuang did. I was sure she would return to her family once she had time to think. I guess I was wrong."

  Surat stopped in front of the hotel and turned off his meter. He smiled his best smile and waited for the man to pay.

  "Can you wait here for a minute?" the man asked. "I might want you to drive us someplace else. I'll make it worth your while."

  Surat nodded. After the couple entered the hotel, he slid back into the taxi and resumed the meter. As he waited, he replayed the overheard conversation. Nuang! The name had to be a coincidence. There was no way two complete strangers could be talking about his wife and his baby. On the other hand, it was a baby and its mother's name was Nuang. Anything was possible.

  He thought hard for some way to get more information from them but nothing came. He would listen with both ears wide open when they came back—if they came back. The idea that they had cheated him out of his fare crossed his mind. He shoved the thought aside. The man clearly had too much class to pull a cheap trick like that.

  His wait was short. Five minutes later they returned. The man was carrying a baby and the woman was crying.

  "Take me to the Chiang Mai Hospital," the man ordered as they slid inside the rear seat. "I'll pay an extra 1,000 baht if you hurry. This is an emergency."

  Surat needed no encouragement. The very idea that he could be saving a baby's life was all he needed. The notion that he might be saving his own baby's life made him push harder on the gas pedal. The tires squealed as he pulled into traffic and sped toward the hospital. He kept his ears glued to the back seat.

  "Don't worry." the man was saying. "Everything will be okay."

  "I have to find Nuang," the woman replied through tears.

  "I will if I can," he said. "Do you know her family name?"

  "She told me her given name is Chalamsee but I don't know her family name. She said she had a brother in Pattaya and that she was from Chiang Mai."

  Surat's ears nearly popped from his head. It was all he could do to keep quiet.

  "That isn't much," the man said. "I will call my father; maybe he can help find her. He's good at that sort of thing."

  The woman pulled the baby close to her breast and cried, "Laht, I am so scared."

  The man put his arm around her. "Everything will be okay. Please trust me."

  Minutes later they arrived at the hospital. When the man tried to pay, Surat refused his money. "Please, you must take care of the baby. You can pay me later. I will wait for you here in case you need another ride."

  Surat fought back a powerful urge to follow them as they disappeared through the emergency room doors. He parked his taxi away from the entrance, then returned to wait.

  His heart pounded as he remembered what the woman had said. She wanted to find a woman whose name was Chalamsee and whose nickname was Nuang. Her Nuang had a brother in Pattaya, she was from Chiang Mai, and she had a baby—all just like his wife. It had to be her. Everything fit. As impossible as it seemed, he had found his baby because he had stopped to give the man and woman a ride in his taxi. But where was Nuang? It was obvious the couple didn't know, but the man had said something about his father finding her.

  My father is good at that sort of thing, the man had said. Surat hoped it was true. Maybe this whole nightmare would be over soon.

  Surat wondered how long they would be inside the hospital. He would wait all night, if he had to. He didn't want to lose them, but what would he say when they returned? Would he have the nerve to come ri
ght out and accuse them of having his baby? He blushed at the thought of such rudeness at a time like this. The baby was sick; at least the man had said so. He should be praying for the baby's health instead of planning how he would take it away from them. The notion that the baby might die clawed through his head. The thought terrified him. He lit a cigarette and waited.

  Twenty minutes later the man returned to where Surat stood. "Thank you for waiting, but I think we will be here for a long time. We have taken enough of your time already. Here's the thousand baht I promised you." He held the money out toward Surat.

  "What about the baby? Will it be okay?"

  "I don't know. I think everything will be okay. Look, I don't mean to be impolite but I must hurry. I am the baby's doctor." He pushed the money at Surat again.

  Surat took the bill and watched as the man walked back inside the hospital. A fluttering pressed at his chest. He wondered what he should do. It only took a minute for him to decide. He would stay until they went home. He hurried to his taxi, moved it to a spot where he could see the hospital entrance, then sat back and relaxed.

  He fell asleep before midnight.

  Chapter 32

  Strictly speaking, Laht was not the baby's doctor, but as a soon-to-be staff physician he had been allowed to take part in treating Nuang's baby. Somjit waited in the emergency room lobby.

  The baby's dehydration was less than he had expected, and the hospital doctors had treated a thousand other infants with the similar symptoms. Laht had the American book learning, but these doctors had the real-life experience. He didn't interfere.

  The doctors worked with practiced confidence and like magic the baby's temperature dropped and the diarrhea ended. By four o'clock in the morning, the baby had drunk and retained enough liquids to satisfy even the most cautious of doctors. Laht asked the night nurse to call them a taxi.

  As he and Somjit waited at the curb, he remembered the taxi driver who had brought them to the hospital. He wondered at the cabby's concern. Maybe the man had a baby of his own or something. He was sure that must be it. In less than a minute, their new taxi arrived and the other taxi driver was forgotten.