Even Thai Girls Cry

by J. F. Gump

  After a few minutes of watching the motionless lump, Mike’s gaze wandered around the condo. It was a corner unit on the third floor. He had paid extra for an east-side view, away from the afternoon sun and the noise of Second Road. Drape-covered sliding glass doors accounted for both exterior walls of his corner unit. The inner walls were white plaster with dark wood trim. The condo came furnished with a bed, a sofa, two chairs, a coffee table, desk, kitchen table with chairs, a minimum of dishes, and a 19” color TV. It also came with cable, which meant he could watch a lot of Thai channels, a couple of bad English channels, or the Asian version of MTV. There were no pictures or other decorations to make it feel like a home. It was spartan, but it fit his lifestyle. Not much to take care of and a comfortable place to sleep.

  The floors were cheap marble, which was good. Minor spills wouldn’t stain like carpeting and he didn’t need a vacuum cleaner. He paid for maid room service, so the bed linens and towels were changed daily. They also mopped the marble floor every day. That thought made him hesitate. Slowly, he lifted his foot so he could see the bottom of his socks. Damn, still dirty.

  Mike had an ongoing battle with the room maids. When they mopped, they would do it with dirty water. He had taken time to teach them to use fresh water when they mopped his floor, but he had to remind them every few days so they wouldn’t forget. He had stopped getting angry about it. He had learned long ago that Thais don’t react well to angry farangs. Also, he had learned that Thais have their own ideas about things. If their ideas matched with farang ideas, fine. If not, they would make a short-term effort to please, then go back to their old habits. For a newcomer to Thailand, Thai habits could be very annoying if not downright frustrating. Mai pen rai, never mind, he muttered to himself, lowering his foot to the floor.

  His eyes came to rest on the photo album sitting on the shelf unit opposite of the desk. He had brought it with him on his last trip home. Some of the Thais he worked with at the oil refinery had asked about his life in America, so he had taken the time to assemble pictures from his childhood, his high school years, his time in Vietnam, and so on, until the present time. They had been delighted to see Mike at the various ages of his life. For the last few months he had been adding a few pictures of Thailand every week or so.

  That reminded him; he had some pictures he’d picked up on Friday night. Since the lump looked like it wasn’t going to move anytime soon, and since the crossword puzzle wasn’t getting done, he decided to kill some time sorting and selecting pictures.

  Mike pulled the album from the shelf, laid it on the desk, and opened the front cover. Inside was a picture of himself as a baby not yet two years old. White hair, blue eyes. His hair had changed colors twice since then. First to brown and then to a mix of gray and brown. The next color would be total gray unless all of his hair fell out before then. He had a powerful urge to look at the top of his head with a mirror to see how much his bald spot was showing. Every year, his bald spot got a little bigger, and it was getting progressively harder to pretend he had any hair at all. On windy days he couldn’t even pretend. In a few years, he would save a bundle on haircuts and shampoo. He found the thought wryly amusing.

  He flipped to the back of the album and began inserting new pictures into the empty pages. A soft moan caught his attention. He glanced toward the bed. The lump was moving. One corner of the blanket raised and a brown, oriental face peeked out. He closed the album and stood.

  “So, you have decided to wake up, huh? I thought maybe you were going to sleep all day or maybe you were dead. How can you sleep with your head covered like that?”

  The girl didn’t respond to his questions. After a moment, she slid the blanket back and sat on the edge of the bed. He was relieved to see she still had her clothes on. “What are you doing here anyway?” he asked.

  “Khun Mike,” she said, staring at the floor, “Don’t you remember? You told Toy I could sleep at your house. I am sorry I slept in your bed, but last night I was very cold. I thought maybe I would freeze to death. I wanted to wake up first and go back on the sofa, but I did not. I hope you are not angry with me.”

  He stared at her for a moment, wondering if she was telling the truth. “Yes, I remember,” he lied, “And, no, I am not angry. I just don’t understand how you could be cold. When I woke up this morning, it must have been a hundred degrees in the room. Don’t you have any blood in your body or are you sick?”

  “I have blood and I am not sick,” she retorted. “Last night, I was cold, so I closed the air conditioner before I got into your bed. I am sorry. I did not know it would get so hot. I think your room needs a fan.”

  “What my room needs is for little girls to keep their fingers off things that don’t belong to them.”

  She hung her head. “I am not a little girl, and I said I was sorry.”

  “Never mind,” he sighed, “It’s too late to worry about that now. Look, whatever your name is, if you sweated under that blanket half as much as I did, you probably need a shower. There is soap, shampoo, and toothpaste in the bathroom. If you need a toothbrush, I guess you can use mine.”

  “Khop khun mak ka. Thank you very much,” she answered with a small smile on her lips. She picked up the towel she had carried to the bed with her and walked to the bathroom. Just before she closed the door, she looked at Mike and said, “I am Math.”

  While the girl was in the bathroom, Mike took the opportunity to clean up some of his bachelor’s mess that the daily maid service didn’t touch. Things like the magazines, books, and newspaper scattered here and there; the miscellaneous odds and ends of things he left laying on the desk and kitchen counter tops; the old food growing green fuzz in the refrigerator; and the curdled milk with an expiration date two weeks old.

  While cleaning, he found a discarded ice coffee can, an empty nut bag, and the open chip bag. It looked like she had pigged out while he slept. By the time the shower stopped, he had finished straightening the place. He sat back at his desk and pretended to work on a crossword puzzle, as he waited for her to emerge from the bathroom. He wait was short.

  Math had been fully clothed when she went into the bathroom. Mike assumed she would be fully clothed when she came out. He was wrong. When she exited the bathroom, she was not dressed, but wrapped in the bath towel instead.

  “Khun Mike,” she said with a shiver in her voice, “I am very cold.” She ran on tiptoes to the bed and again became a lump under the blanket.

  As she moved from the bath to the bed, he noticed that her arms, shoulders, and legs were still wet with water. She hadn’t dried, but only wrapped the towel around herself. “If you would wipe the water off, you wouldn’t feel so cold,” he said.

  She ignored his comment. In a pleading tone she said, “Khun Mike, can you stop the air conditioner, please? I am so cold.”

  Dear God, he sighed to himself, how do I get myself into these situations? He had barely stopped sweating and was just starting to feel comfortable. Now this girl, this intruder, wanted him to warm the room up again. Maybe she really didn’t have any blood. Either that or she was crazy. He would be glad when she was gone. “Okay, just this one time, and only for a few minutes,” he said and turned the air conditioner off.

  As he walked back to the desk, he saw her clothes neatly folded on the bathroom countertop. On impulse, he stepped into the bath and collected them. This should be interesting, he thought, looking first at the clothes in his arms and then at the girl covered up in the bed. This should be interesting indeed. He put the clothes on the kitchen table, then returned to his seat and waited.

  After a few minutes, the girl uncovered her head. “Can I have my clothes?”

  “Sure,” he said. “They are on the table.” He pointed in that direction.

  “I mean, can you bring them to me?”

  “Who was your slave this time last year?” he teased.

  “Please, Khun Mike,”
Math said in her most pitiful voice, “I am not a bar-girl and I am very shy. I would be embarrassed.”

  He did not respond.

  “Please,” she pleaded again.

  “Okay,” he relented. He laid her clothes on the bed, thinking it could still be interesting.

  She put on her clothes while remaining under the covers. He was impressed. He had tried that before and it was not easy.

  Once her clothes were in place, Math sat up on the edge of the bed. “Last night, you maow.”

  Mike knew the words. She had said he was drunk last night. “Mai maow,” he replied in Thai. “Maow mak mak.” Not drunk, but super drunk, was his answer.

  She laughed at his honesty.

  “Did you have fun last night?” he asked. He couldn’t remember everything that had happened. He hoped the girl could help fill in the missing time.

  “You mean before or after you tried to kiss me? Khun Mike, why did you do that?” Now, Math was teasing. She wondered how much he actually remembered.

  “I didn’t try to kiss you,” he said, sounding less confident than he hoped. “And quit calling me a coon. I am tired of everyone calling me a coon.”

  “Well, before that,” she said, “I had fun. I got to see some things in Pattaya, I got to talk to my friend Som Jai, I got to see you fight with your girlfriend, and I got to help you home after you drink many beers. Yes, Khun ..er.. I mean Mike. Yes, I had a lot of fun.”

  “What do you mean I had a fight with my girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Oh, maybe I did not understand about the lady named Lek. The way you and she talked, I thought you were girlfriend and boyfriend.”

  “Lek is only my friend,” he said louder than he intended. He remembered how their relationship had withered over the last few weeks. “She is not my girlfriend!”

  Math didn’t say anything. She just lowered her head and stared at the floor.

  “What’s wrong with you now?” He spoke softer this time, but still too loud.

  She looked up at him. “I have never heard a man ask a woman, who is just a friend, to go home with him and have sex.”

  He felt his face reddening. He didn’t remember doing that, but he knew he might have, if he had been drunk enough. Not so long ago he and Lek had been lovers of a sort. Everyone at Toy’s thought of them as girlfriend and boyfriend. Lek used to go home with him but they had never had sex. She would always “take care my bar” until all her customers were gone. By then, Mike was usually very tired and always very drunk. On those nights when Lek had gone home with him, he had been lucky just to get home, much less get anything else. Recently, he had started going home before Lek was finished with her work. Lek had never asked why he didn’t wait for her anymore.

  “Are you hungry?” he changed the subject. He knew she would be. Thais were always hungry. Eating seemed to be their national pastime.

  “No,” she said, surprising him, “My stomach does not feel good.”

  “Probably from of all the junk food you ate last night,” he said pointing at the chip bag. “When was the last time you ate some real food?”

  Math blushed. “I don’t remember; I think yesterday morning.”

  “Well, let’s buy some real food and see what happens. If you can eat, fine. If you can’t, that’s okay too.”

  After Mike had showered, shaved, and put on clean clothes, they left the condo. In the lobby, they ignored the stares and sly smiles of the day-help. Once outside of the condo, Mike considered where they should eat. He had a limited taste for Thai food, but figured he could suffer through one meal, if necessary. Then he remembered that the restaurant a block down the street served a combination menu of Thai, American, and German food. They went there.

  Math ordered a rice and pork breakfast soup and a cup of coffee. Mike ordered ham, eggs, toast, and orange juice. She was quiet while they waited for the food to be served. Her gaze wandered around the room.

  Mike watched as she gave the restaurant a close inspection. She was small-framed, almost frail. From walking next to her, he knew she was about 160 centimeters tall but probably weighed less than 45 kilos soaking wet. Her face was slightly longer than common for a Thai, but she was beautiful nonetheless. She had pulled her long black hair into a ponytail and bound it with a rubber band. Her eyes were almond-brown and almond-shaped. Her skin was lighter than most of the women he saw in Pattaya. No doubt she was proud of that. He noticed her eyes taking short, furtive glances at the other customers. She seemed nervous. After a moment he asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “It’s just that I have never been to a restaurant with a farang before. I think everyone is looking at me like I am a bar-girl.”

  “Well, screw them, if that is what they’re thinking.” he said. “As long as you and I know the truth, who cares what they think. By the way, you are wearing the same clothes today that you had on last night. Do you have a change of clothes?”

  For a moment she wondered if he could somehow smell her, then decided he couldn’t. He was just being observant. “Yes, they are the same. I have clothes, but I left them at my brother’s house. I will call him after we finish eating. If he is home, I will go back to his house to stay. I came to Pattaya to work with my brother. I did not come to sleep in your condo.”

  Her comment caught him off guard. “Oh, yes, of course,” was all he could think of to say.

  When Math finished eating, she called her new friend, Mon, at the restaurant near her brother’s house. Mike could understand a few of her words, but he couldn’t keep up with the conversation. After a minute, she turned her cell phone off.

  “My brother has not come home. I will call him again later. If he is still not at home, I will go to his house and get some of my clothes.” She hesitated for a moment before asking, “If he doesn’t come home, could I spend the night at your condo again?”

  Her unexpected directness unnerved him. He knew he had to work tomorrow. If she spent the night, he would have to leave her alone in his condo when he went to work. He had images of coming home and finding everything missing. The thought made him uneasy. He struggled with the question for a moment before answering. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

  “Thank you,” she smiled innocently.

  “Ghep tung krup, my bill please,” Mike called to the waiter. After he had paid, he turned to her and said, “Come on, I will buy you some clothes to wear for today. You shouldn’t be walking around all day in those tight slacks and dress shoes. I think a nice pair of shorts and some good sandals would be better. Besides, by the end of the day you will be smelling like some of the tourists if you don’t change your clothes. If you are ready, we can go to the Big C Shopping Center now.” He gave her a questioning look.

  “Thank you, Khun Mike, er.. I mean Mike,” she answered.

  They spent the next two hours shopping. First came the new clothes - shorts, shirt, and Dr. Scholl’s sandals from the ladies department. Next, they bought pineapple, cantaloupe, watermelon, milk, sodas, and more bread and water from the grocery section. Mike paid and they left the Big C. Outside, the temperature had reached its midday inferno. Their ten-minute walk home was heat-suffocating misery.

  By the time they reached the condo, Mike’s shirt was soaked and even Math had broke into a sweat. The room maids had come and gone, leaving the air conditioner off in their departure. Mike bee-lined to the control, turned the air conditioner on high, then stood in front of the vent, letting the cold air cool his body and dry the sweat from his skin and clothes. Before he had even begun to feel comfortable, Math was complaining.

  “Oh Mike, it’s so cold in here,” she said in a whining pitch.

  “Then get under the blanket,” he answered, “I am not turning the air off yet.”

  “But I am dirty from being outside. I would need a shower first.”

  “Then take a sho
wer for crying out loud,” he said.

  “I am not crying out loud,” she said, indignant.

  Mike sighed. “It’s just an expression. I mean take a shower and put on your new clothes. You will feel better.”

  “Okay,” she replied and headed to the bathroom.

  He noticed she did not shut the door. He was tempted to walk over and look inside, but didn’t. Instead, he continued to stand under the cold air. When he felt better, he turned the air conditioner to a more normal setting. He changed his shirt and turned on the TV. The shower was still running. He walked to the desk and sat down. From his chair, he had a full view of the bathroom. After a few minutes the shower stopped. He watched as her hand reached out and pulled a towel from the rack. A moment later she stepped from the shower, the towel wrapped neatly around her body. When she saw him staring at her, she smiled.

  “Please don’t look,” she said. “I am shy.”

  “Okay,” he said and put his hand across his eyes. He kept two fingers cracked apart just enough that he could peek through. He watched as she walked from the bathroom to the bedside and removed the tags from the new clothes he had bought her. He watched as she finished laying out the clothes, then loosening the towel to let it unwrap from her body. He watched as she finished drying her hair and wiping the water from her shoulders and arms.

  Her breasts were small, but well formed. Her buttocks and her legs were a work of art. Her stomach was flat and smooth. There was not an ounce of fat anywhere. God, she was beautiful. He felt a desire rising in him.

  Quickly, he closed the gap between his fingers and pushed his feelings back into submission. Maybe this was a trick of some sort to seduce him, he thought. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she simply trusted him and believed his promise not to peek. He kept his fingers pressed together tight and his eyes shut even tighter. He was embarrassed that he had looked in the first place.