Even Thai Girls Cry

by J. F. Gump

  Together, with one on each side, Math and Nuang helped Jum out of his room and down the short path to the garden they had made. When they arrived, Jum stared at everything for a very long time.

  “It is perfect,” he announced, smiling in satisfaction. “It is the most beautiful garden I have ever seen. I am very proud of you, Math, and of you too, Nuang. I would like to sit here for a while and admire what you have done for me with your own hands. Help me over there, where I can sit. Then you two should go and wash the dirt from your hands. When you have finished, I would like for you to come back and pray with me for a while before I sleep.”

  They helped Jum to a cool place in the shade on a small area of grass. He sat with his back resting against a smooth rock. Once they were sure he was comfortable, they went to wash themselves.

  When they returned, Jum was still sitting in the same position as they had left him. Math and Nuang sat on the grass just in front of Jum. His eyes were closed and he did not seem to notice their arrival.

  After a few minutes, Math said, “Father, are you sleeping?”

  Jum did not move or answer. An uneasy feeling clutched at her. “Father, are you okay?” she asked, reaching out to touch his hand. It was cool and unresponsive. She knew immediately her father was dead.

  She moved close to Jum and pulled him against her chest. She held him like that for a long time, rocking back and forth, crying. Finally, Nuang pulled Math and her father apart.

  “Let him sleep now, Math,” Nuang said gently through her own tears. “Your father would not want you to mourn his death. His spirit cannot swim against the river of your tears. He would want you to remember the happiness you gave to him before he died. Come with me, we must tell the other monks what has happened. Then we must get some rest for ourselves. Tomorrow will be a very busy day.”

  Nuang lead Math away from her father’s garden.

  Surat came home that evening but he was tired and went to bed early. As he slept, Nuang and Math sat awake and talked about Jum and everything he had told them. Math was still coming to grips with all of the implications. As they talked, she realized for the first time that she now had another family by blood. She had already met Jum’s brother, the attorney, her uncle.

  How strange, she thought, to have relatives you never knew existed. She knew she could never tell anyone. Some people might not understand, and look down on Jum and her mother with shame and disgrace. She could not do that to the memory of her father, and she could not allow the public humiliation that might fall upon her mother.

  Math and Nuang agreed it was best to say nothing. She would tell Mike but no one else. He would understand and, like Nuang, he would keep her secret.

  That night Math dreamed of the monkey-man again. This time the monkey-man said nothing. He appeared in her dream from out of nowhere, swinging his sword at her. Over and over the tip of his blade swished toward her, missing only by a hair’s breadth. She backed away until she bumped into a wall. There was no place to run. The blade touched on her chest just below her right breast.

  Math clutched at the wound with her left hand. She could feel the blood pouring through her fingers. Then his blade cut across her forehead just above her left eye. She put her other hand to her head. She could feel no blood. She knew her head must be bleeding, but she could not feel it.

  Suddenly, the monkey-man stopped his attack. He stood back, laughed at her, then disappeared. She woke up breathless. She sat up and grabbed at her chest, expecting to find a bloody gash. There was nothing. It had been a dream.

  “Are you okay, Math?” Nuang had awakened at Math’s stirring.

  “I dreamed about the monkey-man again. I am scared, Nuang. Every time I dream about the monkey-man, someone dies or something bad happens.”

  “You are wrong,” said Nuang. “You only dream about the monkey-man after someone has already died.”

  “Why did he cut me, Nuang?”

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” Nuang reassured. “It is only a bad dream. Nothing is going to happen.”

  She nodded but she was not convinced. She would tell Mike about the dream. He had only laughed at her before, but maybe this time he would not.

  In the morning, Math and Nuang went to the temple to see what the funeral arrangements would be. Jum’s body, they were informed, had been shipped to Phitsanulok at the request of his brother. Jum’s family was taking care of the funeral. The monks at the Chiang Mai temple were having a simple Buddhist ceremony for Jum tomorrow, and Math and Nuang were welcome to attend if they wanted.

  “What will you do, Math?” Nuang asked, as they left the temple.

  “I will go to Phitsanulok and say my last goodbye to my father,” she answered without hesitation.

  “What about Sawat?”

  “What about him? I am not afraid of him.”

  “I know you are not afraid Math, but Sawat is a dangerous man to you. He cannot be trusted and you cannot believe anything he says. I am afraid he might hurt you really bad the next time.”

  “I have decided that I will stay at my other father’s house. Sawat will not bother me as long as my father is around. I will leave Phitsanulok as soon as the funeral is over.”

  “You know, Math, you are a lucky girl.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “You call this lucky?”

  “You are lucky to have another father to protect you after the first one has died. Where will you go when you leave Phitsanulok? Will you come back here? You know you are welcome.”

  “I don’t know what I will do. When I get to Phitsanulok, I will pack my clothes and things, and then I will decide where I will go.”

  “What about Mike?”

  She hesitated remembering Mike’s last fax and her answer to him. “I don’t know about that either. Right now I am very mixed up and I don’t know what to do. Sometimes it seems like there is so much on me that I can no longer bear it. I cannot stay in Phitsanulok. It is my home but I cannot stay there. The father who loved me and was so kind to me is dead. I know I have another father, but he is the same one who used to beat our mother and all of us, his own children. The man I love is on the other side of the world and may never come back to me. I have no job and just a little money. Sometimes everything is too much. I feel so tired. Sometimes I wish the monkey-man would take my life so I could rest.”

  “That’s crazy talk,” Nuang said pointedly. “You have lived through worse things and you will live through this. There is a man who would be crushed if you were to die. He is coming back for you, and you have much to live for. I don’t know when Mike will be back, but I can feel in my heart that it will be soon.”

  “I hope you are right, Nuang. I pray to Buddha that you are right. But I am so afraid something terrible will happen and I will never see Mike again.”

  “Nothing terrible is going to happen,” Nuang said, comforting. “Everything will be okay.” She put her arms around Math and held her tight.

  Math was silent. Memories of her last night with Mike in Bangkok flashed through her head. She would do anything to have that night back. To do it over and do it right. She would do anything to have Mike in her arms again. She would never let him go until he had made love to her one last time.

  She shook off the thought. “Sister, if it turns out that you are wrong and the monkey-man dreams are real, could you do something for me?”

  “I am tired of you worrying about that stupid dream,” Nuang said, irritated. “I told you it means nothing.”

  “I know you are right,” Math responded. “But just in case you are wrong, will you do something for me?”

  Nuang gave in and promised that, if anything bad happened, she would do what Math asked.

  Math told Nuang what she wanted her to do and Nuang nodded her agreement.

  Chapter 30

  Math arrived in Phitsanulok at seven o’clock the next
morning. She went directly to the temple where Jum had once lived. The monks there would know about the family’s plans for her father’s funeral. She dispensed with customs and asked the first monk she met. He did not seem insulted at her brashness. Instead, he motioned for her to follow him.

  He led her to the garden where she had spent an afternoon cleaning. Her father’s garden. A small tent had been erected in the center of the grassy area. Under the tent, an ornate wooden casket held Jum’s body. Just outside of the garden was a much larger tent with rows of folding chairs and stacks of flowers on a long table. The family had spared no expense. It will be a fitting farewell for my father, Math thought.

  “May I walk down and look?” she asked. The monk nodded his consent.

  She walked to the casket, glad she had come early. She was the only one there. She stood beside Jum, saying silent prayers and crying for her loss. She would miss the old monk, her friend, her father.

  In a while she returned to where the monk waited. “When is the funeral?”

  “Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock,” he replied.

  “Thank you for everything.” She wai’ed to the monk and left.

  From the temple she went to her house and packed her suitcase with everything she thought she might need. Then she went to her father’s barbershop. He had turned to barbering three years ago, when he had hurt his back and could no longer work as a laborer. His shop was little more than a hole in the wall, but the business made enough money for him to live.

  “Sawasdee ka, father,” she said, wai’ing as she entered his shop.

  “Math? What are you doing here?” he asked, surprised.

  “I was wondering if I might be allowed to stay at your house for a night or two.”

  “Of course,” he looked at her curiously. “May I ask why you don’t stay at your own house, or at your mother’s house like you do sometimes? Is everything okay?”

  “I think someone has been inside my house,” she lied. “I am afraid to stay there in case they come back. I only need to stay with you for a day or two.”

  He fished his house key from his pocket and handed it to her. “You can stay as long as you wish.”

  That night Math and her father talked, but not much. They never did. She mentioned Mike to see her father’s reaction. As expected, his reaction was negative. Her father, like many people in Phitsanulok, was very anti-farang. Rather than argue, she agreed with her father that the best thing would be for her to forget Mike and find a nice Thai man to marry. It was a lie, but she was not in the mood for a confrontation.

  The next morning she went to the temple at nine o’clock. The garden was full of monks and Jum’s family and friends. She knew she had every right in the world to be there, and that no one would think anything other than that she was just a friend coming to pay her respects, yet she held back. She could not bring herself to walk to the casket or mingle with the other mourners. These people had money and she felt out of place, intimidated. She stayed at the edge of the crowd and paid her respects from a distance.

  At ten o’clock, the monks began their services. By eleven, it was over. A member of the family announced that Jum’s body would be cremated at noon and told them where the burning would take place.

  Math wanted desperately to attend the burning of the body, but she knew it was only for family and very close friends. She would never be allowed to attend. With head hung low and tears in her eyes she said one final prayer for her father.

  As she turned to leave, she felt a strong hand on her arm. She turned around, half expecting to see Sawat. It was not. It was Jum’s brother, the attorney. The same man who had helped her with the electric company when Jabal and little Sadayu had been killed.

  “I am Isara,” he said, “in case you don’t remember my name. Please, I would like for you to come with me.”

  “I do remember you. Where do you want to take me?”

  “I will explain later,” he spoke softly. “You will be safe.”

  He led her to a car. Everyone stared as they passed among the mourners, but no one said anything. Isara opened the door and motioned her inside. She looked up at her uncle then climbed into the back seat. He slid in beside of her. He gestured to his driver and they drove away from the temple.

  It was a fancy car, a Mercedes, much like the one Mike had rented to Bangkok. Leather seats, a small bar, and a compact TV. A sliding glass window separated the front seat from the back. She had no doubt this car cost more than she would make in a lifetime. Isara pushed the window shut for privacy.

  “I know everything, Math,” he began. “I have known for a long time. Jum was my older brother. He was my hero while I was growing up. Even when my own father and family disowned and disinherited him, I kept in contact with him. He told me about you when you were less than a year old. You probably don’t know it, but I have had people keeping track of you most of your life. At least until recently. I lost you for a while, when you moved away from Phitsanulok, but I know some about that because Jum told me.

  “A couple of weeks ago I received a short message from Jum. Then, just a few days ago, I received a long letter from him. He told me about many things, including your American friend. Jum said he had confessed to you and that you had forgiven him. Because of you, Math, he died a happy man. Thank you for making my brother happy and giving him peace. Did you finish the garden before he died?”

  She looked at Isara questioningly. “Yes, I think my father willed himself to live until it was finished. He said it was very beautiful. He died sitting in the garden on the day we planted the last flower. How do you know about the garden?”

  Isara blushed then stammered, “He mentioned it in his letter. He said you and your sister were working very hard. I am happy he got to see it before he died.”

  Math accepted Isara’s answer, even though his face said it was not completely true. “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  “I want you to be with me today because you are my brother’s daughter, my niece. Most of the relatives at the funeral today are hypocrites. They are the same ones who disowned Jum, when my father did. They are here out of politeness but not out of respect. I knew you had returned to Phitsanulok and I knew you were staying at your father’s house. I was sure you would be here today, but, if you had not come this morning, I had someone ready to bring you. I arranged everything for the funeral and I have reserved a seat for you next to me. As Jum’s daughter, I think you should be allowed to take your rightful place among the relatives at the burning of the body. I would be proud if you join with me to honor and say goodbye to someone who was special to both of us.”

  “Thank you for your kindness, Isara, uncle,” she said. “but aren’t you worried what the rest of your family might think.”

  He snorted, disgusted, and said, “I do not care what they think.”

  “Then I would be proud to sit next to you at the final ceremony for my father.”

  Math sat tall next to Isara through the ceremony at the crematorium. Everyone stared at them and whispered amongst themselves. After the ceremony ended, members of the family filed past Jum and dropped flowers into his wooden casket.

  Isara intentionally held Math back until they were the only ones who had not passed the body. Then he handed her a large bouquet of roses and orchids, and walked toward Jum, motioning for her to follow. Isara dropped his single rose into the casket. He turned and waited for Math.

  Gently, she laid her bouquet on Jum’s resting body. His blank face stared up at her. Even in death she looked like him. She glanced up at Isara. Tears streamed from her eyes. Her knees weakened.

  Isara noticed. He took Math by the arm and escorted her away from the casket. Moments later, Jum was pushed into the pyre.

  Everyone stood respectfully for a while then started milling away from the crematorium. It was time to go home.

  “Thank you un
cle,” Math said. “How can I ever repay you for what you have done for me today?”

  “You can come with me again tomorrow at nine o’clock,” he answered. “There is one more thing that you and I must do.”

  “What is that?”

  “I will tell you tomorrow,” he answered. “I will have my driver take you home now. He will pick you up there again in the morning.”

  “No,” she said. She was embarrassed by her father’s house. It was even shabbier than her own. “I think that is not a good idea. Maybe he can drop me near my other father’s house. I will show him where. He can pick me up at the same place tomorrow.”

  Isara nodded and spoke to his driver.

  Math had the driver stop by Phitsanulok Communications and asked him to wait while she went inside. She had several faxes from Mike. She paid for them and shoved them in her purse to read later. Next, she had the driver take her to the place where she would meet him in the morning. At her father’s house, she sorted the faxes into chronological order and read them in turn.

  In his first fax, Mike said he had received her last fax. He still loved her but didn’t want her to become an old maid waiting for him. He promised he would come for her as soon as he could, but he didn’t know when that would be. He asked her to fax him and reaffirm she would wait for him.

  The next fax was dated two days after the first. Mike had not heard from her. He asked if her health was okay. He was very worried about her. Again, he asked her to fax him as soon as possible.

  The third fax had come about a week after the second. Mike asked if she still remembered him. Since she had not replied, he wanted to make sure she still knew who he was. His fax begged her to let him know something, even if it was bad news.

  His last fax was just two days old. In that fax Mike said he would not be sending anymore faxes. Since she had not confirmed she would wait for him, he believed she had decided to move on with her life and to forget about their future plans. He said he was sad, but he understood her decision. He said he still loved her, and would never forget her, but he would not stand in the way of her happiness with someone else.