Even Thai Girls Cry

by J. F. Gump

  They didn’t go to the river as they usually did. Instead, they went to a pond owned by one of Jabal’s bosses. His boss kept the pond stocked with fish, and he had told Jabal he could fish there whenever he wanted. Jabal figured they would have better luck there than the river, and that the fish would probably taste better too. But, according to a young girl who lived near the pond, the fish weren’t biting as good as usual that day.

  From a distance, she had watched Jabal and Sadayu as they fished. Sadayu had soon bored with holding the pole and catching nothing. Before long, he’d stopped fishing and started exploring the banks of the pond. Sadayu was on the other side of the pond from his father, when he saw a large fish in the water.

  The girl had seen the fish too. It had been swimming near the surface, acting as if it was dying. Sadayu hadn’t been able to resist the temptation. He jumped into the water determined to catch the fish with his bare hands. The fish moved away just as Sadayu made his grab. He swam furiously after it.

  He hadn’t gone far when disaster struck. He seemed to be cramping or something. Sadayu screamed to his father for help. Without even thinking, Jabal jumped into the water after his son. Immediately, his muscles spasmed and he was unable to swim. Sadayu, seeing his father sink into the water, swam toward him to help. But the closer Sadayu came to his father, the more his muscles tightened. Suddenly, Sadayu turned and started back toward the shore. He didn’t get far before he lost his struggle with the water and drowned.

  The girl had gone for help, but it was too late. There was a power line down in the pond. Jabal’s boss had told the electric company a week earlier, but they had never repaired it. Jabal didn’t know, because his boss had never told him.

  “Oh Neet,” Math said. “What a tragedy. The electric company should be made to pay. It is their fault. They killed your husband and your son. I will make them pay.”

  Neet laughed grimly and shook her head, “Papa called them this morning. They said it was not their fault. They said they were sorry, but they will do nothing.”

  “The dirty bastards,” Math said, using one of Mike’s phrases. Confidently, she added, “I will make then pay. You just watch me.”

  Math and Neet walked together into the living room. Her mother and father were standing beside each other, talking. Suddenly, Math remembered her monkey-man dream. Dear Buddha, so this was who the monkey-man meant. Math felt a sharp stab of guilt. She should have told everyone about her dream. If she had, maybe none of this would have happened. But how was she to know the dream meant anything? There was nothing to do about it now. It was too late. If she ever had a dream like that again, she would tell everyone she knew.

  Later that day, Math and her family went to the temple to begin their mourning. Jabal and Sadayu were in their decorated caskets. Someone had placed the teddy bear Math had bought for Sadayu into the casket with him. Little Sadayu looked like he was asleep holding onto the bear. He can’t be dead, she thought.

  There was a flash. Someone was taking pictures. Math became instantly angry. She turned to see who it was, but saw no one. Whoever it was had already put the camera out of sight.

  She looked back at the caskets. She felt dizzy, light-headed, like she was floating on air. She could hear people talking, but couldn’t make out their words. She turned to look. Everyone stared at her, their faces blurred and distorted. She turned back toward the caskets, losing her balance in the motion. She took a staggering step forward to keep herself from falling. The last thing she remembered was blackness closing in and a sense that she was flying. She landed hard on the marble floor of the temple.

  Math awoke to a cold, damp cloth wiping her face. She was nauseated and exhausted. She opened her eyes and saw a monk sitting beside her. It was her old friend Jum. He was the monk who seemed to always be there whenever she needed someone.

  She reached up to take Jum by the hand, then stopped herself. It was not polite to touch a monk, and she never had, even though he sometimes touched her. Also, it was not polite to talk to a monk, unless they spoke first. She had broken this rule of etiquette many times, but Jum had never seemed to mind. She had not seen Jum for a long time, so today she waited for him to speak.

  Jum continued wiping Math’s face with the cloth for several minutes after she had awakened. “Are you feeling better?” he asked, when he finally spoke.

  “I’m not sure,” she answered. “I feel a little sick and very tired. I guess I will be okay.”

  “I saw you fall, Math,” he said. “You fell very hard. You should be more careful with yourself. You are a very special person right now, and I do not want you to get hurt.”

  “I don’t feel very special,” she said. “I only feel sick and my arm hurts.”

  Jum did not respond. The silence went on for a long while. Finally, Math whispered, “Why did God allow this to happen to my nephew and my brother-in-law? They were too good to die so young.”

  “Everything happens for a reason, my child,” he whispered back. “Their bodies are dead but their spirits live on. I can feel them around us now. Pray for them but do not mourn for them. Someday they will return, and they will have a better life to replace this one that ended so soon. This you must believe, Math.”

  She sat up and looked at the monk. “I do believe,” she said. “I should be with my family now. They must be wondering if I am okay. They have enough to worry about, without having to worry about me.”

  Jum nodded but said nothing.

  Math stood to leave. She felt a little woozy, but much better than she had earlier. “Thank you for you kindness,” she said. She gave Jum her most respectful of wai’s. As expected, Jum nodded but did not return her wai. She smiled, then turned and walked away.

  Jum’s voice stopped her as she reached the doorway. “Someday, I have something I must... uh... I mean, if you ever need to talk, you know how to find me. Please take care of yourself.” This time Jum presented Math with a wai.

  Math was shocked at his gesture. Monks never wai’ed anyone, not even the king. Though she could not understand why he had done such a thing, it made her feel good. Indeed, it made her feel special. Not knowing what else to do, she smiled and wai’ed him in return.

  The sympathy ceremony was nearly finished by the time Math rejoined her family. She removed her shoes and sat on the floor next to her sisters and her brother. She was careful to not show the bottom of her feet to the nine monks performing the ceremony.

  Her gaze wandered around the temple as she listened to the chanting. The flowers, the flickering candles, smoking incense, and the caskets that held the dead bodies of Jabal and little Sadayu, it was all very emotional. She held back a strong urge to cry. It was bad luck to cry at the ceremony. The spirits would not move on as long as loved ones were grieving for them; they could not swim against a river of tears. It was best to cry later, alone, in the privacy of her home.

  Math saw Sawat standing to one side as she and her family left the temple for the night. He didn’t say anything, but the glare he gave her was discomforting. He frightened her. She took her brother Anan by his arm and walked close beside him. She didn’t look back at Sawat.

  Her mother’s house was crowded with relatives who had come for the funeral. There were not enough places for everyone to sleep. Math knew she would have to stay at her own house for the night and the thought made her uneasy. Sawat and his threatening stares lay heavy on her mind. She had no doubt that Sawat would come to visit her later. She was afraid to stay alone.

  After the commotion had calmed, Math asked her oldest sister Nuang and her husband to sleep at her house. She was relieved when they agreed. It was after eight o’clock before she, Nuang, and Surat went to her home. Surat fell asleep soon after they arrived.

  Math tried to call Mike, but her cell phone battery was dead. She opened her suitcase for the charger but it wasn’t there. “Damn it,” she said, using words she had hea
rd Mike say when he was irritated.

  “What’s wrong?” Nuang asked.

  “My phone battery is dead and I left the charger in Pattaya,” she answered.

  “Who would you be calling this time of the night anyway?” Nuang was curious.

  “It is a long story,” Math responded, “and you probably wouldn’t believe me, even if I told you.”

  “Maybe or maybe not,” Nuang said softly. “Tell me, and then I will tell you if I believe you or not.”

  They talked late into the night. Math told her older sister everything about Mike. How they met, how they fought, and how they loved. Nuang was totally engrossed.

  As Nuang listened to Math talk, she felt a deep sense of envy. She had always been attracted to farang men. She had often wished she had waited to meet one instead of marrying Surat. Surat was a nice man, but he didn’t care much about Nuang’s family. Over the years, Nuang and Surat had stopped being husband and wife. They had never had children. They stayed together out of financial need rather than love. In a while, Math stopped talking.

  “Sister,” Nuang said honestly, “I think you are a very lucky lady.”

  Math laughed. “If I am lucky now, it’s the first time in my life.”

  “I want to meet this Mike person someday. If he is to be my brother-in-law, I should meet him.”

  “Brother-in-law?” Math asked. “Who said I would marry him?”

  “Do I look stupid?” Nuang asked, then added, “Never mind, don’t answer that.” She stared at Math for a moment. “I can tell you are in love with that man, by the way your eyes shine when you talk. I think you will marry him someday. By the way, does he have any brothers or cousins or friends who would like a nice Thai wife?”

  Math and Nuang laughed together at her question. Their laughter was interrupted by a knock at the door. Nuang glanced at the door and then at her husband. He didn’t move. When Nuang looked back at Math, she saw terror on her face. “What’s wrong?” Nuang whispered urgently. “Who is that?”

  “It must be Sawat. Please answer the door and tell him to go away. I don’t want to see him.”

  “I thought you and Sawat were finished. Why would he be here?”

  Another knock came - louder this time.

  “Please Nuang,” Math pleaded softly, “Just answer the door and tell him to go away.”

  Nuang walked to the door and opened it a crack. It was Sawat. He was leaning against the door jamb, his face inches from Nuang.

  “Who are you?” Sawat asked, surprised it was not Math.

  Nuang could smell Mekong on his breath. “I am Nuang and I have seen you before,” she said. “It is late. What do you want?”

  “I want to see Math,” Sawat answered. “Tell her to come here now or there will be a big problem.”

  “Math is asleep,” Nuang said. “This is not a good time. There has been a death in our family. You must leave now and let us mourn in peace.” She started to push the door shut.

  Sawat pushed back with the heel of his hand. “You don’t seem to understand. Math owes me something and I have come to collect. I want to see her now.”

  “You are the one who does not seem to understand,” Nuang hissed back. “There has been a death in our family and you are being rude. My husband is here and he is asleep. If you wake him, then you are correct, there will be a big problem, but it will be your problem, not Math’s. Do you understand me?”

  Sawat moved his hand away from the door - her threat had worked.

  “You tell Math this is not finished. Tell her I will be back to collect what belongs to me.” He turned and walked away.

  Nuang shut and bolted the door behind him. “Would you mind telling me what that was all about?” she demanded of Math.

  Math told Nuang the whole story. She left nothing to the imagination.

  “You are not safe here,” Nuang said, when Math had finished talking. “Sawat has been drinking tonight and you know how Thai men can be when they are drinking. You remember what father was like. I never cared much for Sawat. I think he is no good. He might hurt you. You must get out of Phitsanulok.”

  “I cannot leave until the funeral is over, and I cannot leave until I know our sister is okay. I don’t think Sawat would hurt me, but he does scare me.”

  “Well, he scares me too, and I think he would hurt you,” Nuang said. “I don’t trust him. I will stay with you until you leave Phitsanulok. You are my sister and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “No, you cannot stay here.” Math said determinedly. “A wife belongs with her husband. When the funeral is over, you must go back to your home and take care of Surat. That is what a woman does for her husband.”

  “Surat is no longer my husband,” Nuang responded. “He is just the man I live with. Our love died a long time ago. I will stay here until everything is settled and you leave Phitsanulok. There will be no more discussion. That is final. Am I clear?”

  Math nodded. She was lucky to have a sister like Nuang.

  That night they all slept in the same bed. Surat on one side, Nuang in the middle and Math on the other side. Math did not like to sleep alone and knowing her sister was beside her made her feel good. She fell asleep quickly.

  In the wee hours of the morning, she dreamed of the monkey-man again. “They are not the ones,” he laughed. “You are so stupid,” he mocked her, “You are so stupid.” He danced around her, his sword slicing the air. “It is someone a lot more important to you.” He laughed again and swung his sword straight at her.

  Math jerked awake. She was sweating. Outside, a rooster crowed. The early light of dawn seeped through the window. She shook Nuang lightly.

  “What?” Nuang mumbled, still mostly asleep.

  She told Nuang about her dream. It was almost the same dream she had dreamt on the bus several weeks earlier. She was sure it meant something. Didn’t recurring dreams mean they would come true?

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” Nuang said. “Except you probably ate too much spicy food. Now go back to sleep. We have a very busy day today.”

  Math could not sleep. She got out of bed and wrote down everything she remembered about her dreams of the monkey-man. She would show it to Mike when she saw him again. He was very smart and maybe he would know what it meant. As she made her notes, she had an eerie feeling that it was Mike who the monkey-man was talking about. The thought put a small seed of terror in her chest. Before she had time to think about what might happen to Mike, she was sick. She rushed outside and vomited. She thought she saw blood but wasn’t sure.

  The next few days passed like a blur. The ceremonies, the relatives, the food, the coffins, and everything filled each day from morning to night. Every day, Math tried to call Mike from a pay phone, but either he was not home or the phone lines to Pattaya were out. She cursed the unreliable Thai phone system.

  Sawat showed up at the temple every day, but didn’t say anything to anyone or make any more threats. He never came back to her house.

  Jum, the monk, seemed to be everywhere Math went, but he didn’t talk to her. Always, he just stood and stared.

  Every morning Math was sick and threw up. She decided she had grown an ulcer from the stress and Nuang agreed. Nuang insisted Math see a doctor as soon as the funeral was over, and Math promised she would.

  Each evening, before they went to sleep, Math and Nuang would talk. Nuang talked about her dreams, which had never arrived, while Math talked about her future and the dreams she hoped would come true. During those few days, Math and Nuang built a sister-to-sister relationship stronger than they had ever had before.

  Late at night, after the lights were off, Math would think of Mike. She hoped he was safe. Also, she hoped he was alone. She knew he must be wondering what was happening in Phitsanulok. Mike always worried when she was not near him. She prayed he was not too lonely. She knew he had become
accustomed to having female companionship during the time she had lived with him. She also knew that sometimes men decided they needed a woman every night, even if it wasn’t someone they loved. He isn’t like that, she would think to herself. He doesn’t go with bar girls. Those thoughts helped some, except the times when she thought about Lek. She knew Mike had once liked Lek very much. In fact, she often felt like she had stolen him away from Lek. He had always denied it, but she thought it was true. As long as he didn’t go near Lek, he would be safe.

  Chapter 17

  On Saturday, the seventh day after their deaths, Jabal and little Sadayu were cremated. Afterwards, everyone went home and cried, exhausted.

  When Nuang told Surat she was staying with Math for a few days and would not be going back to Chiang Mai with him, a heated argument ensued. Surat shouted and made threats. Nuang screamed back louder, ignoring his tirade. In the end, Surat got in his car and drove back to Chiang Mai alone. Nuang cried, but just a little. She wasn’t sure if her tears were from sadness or relief. Secretly, Math was happy that Nuang had decided to stay, even though she was sad about the argument.

  Together, Math and Nuang took care of Neet’s young baby so Neet could get some much needed rest. Math was like an old mother hen. If the baby whimpered even a little, Math would swoop it up and make cooing noises or feed it until the baby was quiet. Nuang chided Math gently for spoiling the baby, but she didn’t interfere.

  The next morning, after her daily sickness, Math went to the temple. The monk, Jum, was participating in a ceremony and she had to wait to see him. She passed the time strolling the temple grounds. No one said anything or tried to stop her. The temple was quiet except for faint chanting. For the first time in a week, she felt at peace. She didn’t hear Jum when he approached.

  “How are you today, my daughter?” he said, surprising her.

  Math turned and wai’ed respectfully. “I am fine,” she answered, then added with an impish grin, “And how is my father?”