Even Thai Girls Cry

by J. F. Gump

  Math cried as she read his words. She cussed herself for not sending him a fax before now. She found a piece of paper and sat down to write. Halfway through the first sentence her pen ran out of ink. She searched desperately through her father’s house but did not find another. Finally, she gave up the search. She was physically and mentally exhausted by everything that had happened during the last two weeks. She lay down and fell asleep.

  The next morning, Isara’s car was waiting as promised. Isara was inside. “Thank you for coming. We are going back to the temple. After today, Jum will be at rest.”

  At the temple Isara took an urn from the trunk of the car. Math followed as he walked to Jum’s garden. “In this urn are the remains of your father, my brother. Jum never asked me to do this, but I know he would like to become one with his garden of which he was so proud. I want you to help me spread Jum’s ashes among his flowers.”

  She nodded but said nothing. Together, they carefully placed a piece of Jum next to every flower. When they were finished, they said a short prayer, then left the temple grounds.

  “Math,” Isara said as they rode toward her meeting place, “If there is anything you need, now or ever, all you have to do is ask. Do you need money or anything?”

  She knew she needed money, but her pride would not allow her to say that. Instead, she asked. “Can you help me get a passport and a visa to America?”

  Isara chuckled. “I think that can be arranged. It might take me a while, but I know the right people to make it happen. Here is my business card. Call me in three or four months and I think I will have good news for you.” He noticed the frown on her face. “I hope that is not too long,” he added.

  “No, it is not too long,” she replied. “I have waited this long; another few months will make no difference. Do you need any papers or anything from me for the passport?”

  “Don’t worry, I have ways to get everything I need.”

  The car pulled to the curb. “Don’t forget Math, if there is anything you need, you call me at the number on my business card. I will always be there to help you.”

  “There is one more thing, uncle. Do you have a pen I can borrow? Mine ran out of ink and there is a letter I must write.”

  Isara laughed softly to himself and handed her a very fine pen from his suit pocket.

  She got out of the car and wai’ed to Isara. “Thank you for everything. I will never forget you.” She watched as the Mercedes disappeared down the street.

  That evening she called a friend, a girl she had worked with at the finance company. She asked if she could come to visit with her in Bangkok for a few days. The girl agreed without questions.

  Next, Math called Mike’s office in America. He was not there, and the lady who answered the phone refused to give a number where he could be reached. She didn’t leave a message for Mike to call.

  Later, she finished the fax she had started the night before. “Teeluk,” she wrote, “I am sorry you have not heard from me for so long. You must think I have forgotten about you, but I have not. My life has been very mixed up lately and I have not been able to write. I still love you and I am still waiting for you. I will explain everything later.

  “You will not be able to connect with me for a while because I cannot live in Phitsanulok any longer. I am going to Bangkok in the morning to visit with a friend. I don’t know where I will go after that, but I will write to you every chance I get. If you send faxes to Phitsanulok Communications, I will get them when I can. Please teeluk, trust me and what I do. I am not with another man. I love only you. I wait for you as your devoted and faithful wife. Math.”

  Chapter 31

  During the following weeks, Math became a gypsy, living for a few days with a friend here and a relative there. Whenever she had money, she would send Mike a fax telling him where she was and what she was doing. It was nearly two months before she returned to Phitsanulok. When she finally came home, she went to her mother’s house.

  Her mother had an oversized envelope addressed to her from Isara. Inside was a passport and a letter. Math was so excited about the passport that she forgot about the letter until her mother asked what it said. Math read it aloud.

  “Here is the passport I promised. I am still working on the visa. Maybe two more months. There was a person in Phitsanulok who hurt you in the past; he will not hurt you again. With my help, he is now in the army near Kampuchea. I think he will be there for a long time. Call if you need anything. Isara.”

  She was ecstatic. She danced around laughing excitedly and babbling to her mother and brother about her passport and Sawat’s new career. It was the first good thing that had happened to her for months. Maybe her life was finally changing for the better.

  After she finally calmed down, she called Phitsanulok Communications and asked about her faxes. She had had quite a few, but since she didn’t come to pick them up for such a long time, they had started throwing them away. She was irritated but too excited to be angry. She sat down and wrote a fax to Mike.

  “Teeluk,” she wrote, “I have just come back to Phitsanulok. I know you have sent me faxes but the communications company has thrown them away. I don’t know what you have said to me. I need to tell you that today I received my passport. If you still want me, I will be ready to go with you whenever you ask. I have no job and no money, but I still have my dreams. Please answer me soon. Let me know if you still want me after all of this time. I love you with all of my heart, Math.”

  She borrowed money from her mother, then rode to Phitsanulok Communications and ordered them to send it. She asked if she could wait for the reply and they agreed. By closing time there had been no reply. The next morning, Math was there when they opened. She waited all day for Mike’s fax. She knew it was nighttime in America, but she waited anyway. At eight o’clock that evening, his fax came.

  “Sweetheart,” it read. “I was out of the office yesterday and just now got your fax. I am excited about your passport. I think we can make good use of it very soon. My own life here in America is turning upside down. So many things are happening I don’t where to begin. If all goes as planned, I am coming back to Thailand and I think I have a good job for you. I thought I would never say this, but I want you to go to Pattaya as soon as possible. When you get there, let me know where I can fax to you. I will explain everything then. I love you, Mike.”

  “Quick, give me piece of paper,” She demanded. She scribbled her reply, “I will wait for you in Pattaya, teeluk. I love you, too. Math.” She threw a hundred baht bill on the counter and left without waiting for her change.

  She felt better than she had in a long time. Everything was going to be okay. Mike was coming back to her, she had a passport, and soon she would have a visa. She stopped at the bus station on her way home and bought a ticket to Pattaya. It cost every last baht her mother had loaned to her. That night she told her mother and brother she was going to visit with Anan and work at his company. In the morning she left for Pattaya.

  Anan still owned her and he knew it. She convinced him to let her work for him in exchange for food, a place to sleep, and the use of his bigger motorcycle. She even got him to throw in a little spending money.

  Pattaya was full of places to send and receive faxes. Math picked one at random and sent a fax to Mike saying she had arrived and was waiting for him.

  Every day she would check to see if she had faxes. Sometimes she did and sometimes she didn’t, but she checked every day just in case.

  Mike had explained about a friend who was starting a tourist business and needed an assistant in Pattaya. He had suggested Math, and his friend had agreed. The man had also agreed to pay Mike’s airfare to Thailand, if he would help set up their office in Pattaya. Mike asked her to find prices on office space and on condos similar to where he had lived.

  Math was happy to do whatever Mike asked. If it meant him coming back to her, she would
do anything.

  As the days passed and his faxes continued to be more positive, she knew Nuang had been right. Mike was coming back for her.

  At long last, the day she had been praying for arrived. It started just like any other day. She had two sales calls lined up for that morning. They were both in Jomtien Beach. She would stop for her faxes after she finished with business. At eleven o’clock she arrived at Kafe Net and she had a fax.

  “My darling Math,” Mike had written, “Everything is set. My airline tickets are confirmed. I will be with you again in six weeks. I must go to a meeting now and have no time to explain. I will send you another fax later today or tomorrow. I am excited about seeing you again. I have much to tell you about my life. I love you. Mike.”

  She squealed out loud and reread the fax. Then she read it one more time. “Six weeks,’ she told the girl behind the counter. “He will be here in just six weeks.” She squealed again and ran from the office without paying her bill.

  She was beside herself with excitement and happiness. She was floating on air as she rode to her brother’s house. She couldn’t wait to get there and tell Anan and everyone that Mike was coming back to her. She would call Nuang first thing. Nuang would want to know.

  Traffic was light, so she pushed the accelerator hard. She was going make it to her brother’s house in record time.

  In her hurry, Math almost missed her turn-off from Sukhumvit Road. She braked abruptly to make the turn. The driver behind her could not slow so quickly, and his car hit her motorcycle hard in the rear.

  Math pitched backwards from her motorcycle and bounced off the windshield on her right side. She flew over the top of the still moving car. Her head hit the chrome plated bumper just before her body landed on the pavement. She was still conscious. In a panic reaction she stood. She was surprised she was alive. There was a piercing pain in her right side when she tried to breath. She put her hand over the pain and could feel a sticky wetness. Her head hurt terribly, throbbing above her left eyebrow. She reached up but there was no blood. Suddenly, she felt herself reeling. She stumbled and fell. Everything was going blurry and dim. The sun was fading. She heard someone shout something about an ambulance. She struggled desperately to stand again, but could not. She lay there giving in to the darkness that was engulfing her. Just before everything faded away, her last thoughts were of Mike and the baby with white hair.

  Chapter 32

  Mike arrived at his office on Wednesday morning at 8:15 a.m. Fifteen minutes late again. He was famous for never being at work on time. He waited for someone to make their usual snide remarks, but no one did. Instead, everyone just stared at him - no smiles, no good mornings, nothing. He went into his office wondering what was up with them. The receptionist was directly behind him.

  “What is it, Laura?” he asked.

  “You have had three phone calls and one fax from Thailand today already.” she said, her voice cracked slightly. “I thought you would want to know. Here is the fax.” She handed it to him.

  “Thanks, Laura,” he said. “Was the caller a man, woman or child?” He smiled at his question. He was sure it was Math with some crazy thing to tell him.

  “It was a man,” Laura said and dropped her eyes away from him. “I’m sorry, but I read your fax. I think you should read it right away. I will hold your calls.” She turned and walked away.

  An unwanted terror gripped his chest. Adrenaline pumped into his bloodstream by the gallon. He sat down and read the fax. He read it over and over hoping the meaning of the words would change. They didn’t.

  “Dear Sir,” the fax read, “Math has had an accident and it is very serious. She is in intensive care at the Bangkok-Pattaya Hospital. The doctors want 90,000 baht to operate and I only have 20,000 baht. Without the operation, she will die. Please help me. I am the brother of Math. Anan.” The phone numbers for the hospital and Anan were included.

  Mike sat and stared at the fax, stunned. This couldn’t be happening. Someone had made a mistake or was playing a nightmarish trick on him. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, but he couldn’t focus on any of them. He tried desperately to think but couldn’t. A dense fog of numbness invaded his head. Everything within his scope of awareness became surrealistic, dreamlike. He entered a state of severe mental shock. He didn’t move, he didn’t think, he didn’t react. He just sat there.

  “Mike,” Laura said.

  Mike gave no indication that he heard her.

  “Mike,” Laura said louder, scared, almost shouting.

  He lifted his head. “What?” His voice was monotone.

  “That Thai man is on the phone again. Do you want to talk to him?”

  He nodded lifelessly. “Please shut the door on your way out.”

  He did not pick up the phone right away. Instead he stood and started talking to himself. “Come on, you stupid son-of-a-bitch. Snap out of it. You’ve got to think. Math may be dying and you’re acting like a stupid asshole.”

  He paced back and forth across his small office, slapping himself hard on the face. The pain cleared his head a little. He hit himself again and again until a wedge of anger and awareness pried loose the grip of emotional shock. He picked up the phone. “Hello, this is Mike.”

  “Hello, sir. I am Anan. I am Math’s brother. Do you remember me? Did you receive my fax?” The man was obviously Thai, and more obviously crying.

  “Yes, I remember you, and I have your fax,” Mike said trying to remain calm. “Anan, please tell me what has happened.”

  “Sir, Math, she have accident. She hurt head very bad. If doctor no operate, maybe she die. I have not money. Please sir, can you help?” His words were a repeat of the fax.

  “How much money do you need?” Mike asked.

  “Seventy thousand baht, sir,” Anan answered. “Please help me, sir. I want my sister’s life back.” Anan broke down in unintelligible sobbing.

  Mike could feel his own eyes watering. He took a deep breath. “That’s a lot of money, Anan, but I will get it. I just don’t know how I can get it to you by tomorrow. With the banks and foreign countries it is not easy. What about her insurance? I know Math has insurance because I paid it every month.”

  “The insurance company no pay,” Anan answered. “I not understand, sir.”

  Mike could barely hear his words because of his crying. “I don’t understand either,” Mike responded. “Anan, please listen carefully. I will do everything I can. You must fax me your bank account number and your bank’s international routing number.” He knew he was talking more complicated English than most Thais could understand, but he couldn’t think of the Thai words. “Do you understand what I said, Anan?”

  “Yes, sir,” Anan replied, “Tomorrow I fax my bank account number.”

  “And the international routing number, Anan,” Mike reiterated forcefully, almost shouting. “I need the routing number or I cannot send you money. Tell the bank you are getting money from America. They will understand and give you everything I need. Remember, Anan, account number and international routing number. Okay?”

  “Okay, sir,” Anan answered, “Thank you, sir. Goodbye now, sir.” The phone clicked in his ear.

  His mind was working again. He called the phone number of the hospital from the fax. The lady who answered the phone did not speak English and after a minute of non-communications she hung up. He called back. This time he was connected to ICU but ran into the same language problem. He called again. Again, he was connected to ICU. This time the lady in ICU said, “One moment, please.”

  He waited on the phone for nearly ten minutes. He was about to hang up when another lady came on the line. Her English was not good, but it was better than anyone else he had talked to so far. Very slowly and very distinctly he asked his question, “Khun Tippawan Bongkot sabai mai? Is she okay? Tippawan Bongkot.”

  “One moment, please,” the new lady
said. After a very short wait, the nurse continued, “Miss Tippawan have very much head injury. Prognosis not good. Will die in one or two days.”

  The woman’s words hit him hard. He felt the shock creeping back. “Are you sure? Are you sure 100%?”

  “Yes, sure, 100%,” the lady responded. “Maybe die already, but have machine to help breathe. Prognosis not good,” the lady repeated. “Will die in one or two days.”

  “Thank you,” he said and hung up the phone. His mind turned into a mass of confusion. What if the lady in ICU was wrong? What if Anan was right and all Math needed was an operation? What if there was still time?

  He had an overpowering urge to catch the next flight to Thailand. He fought the impulse down. Flying in a plane for the next twenty-four hours wouldn’t help anyone. He had to get the money. Whether it was for an operation or to help the family pay for Math’s funeral, he had to get the money. He had to.

  He also needed someone in Thailand to help him find out exactly what the facts were. But who? Everyone he knew and trusted had been gone from Pattaya for a long time. Who, damn it, he forced his mind to think, who could he call? Daeng! The name popped into his head. His friend Daeng from the Thai company. She had given him her home phone number once. Surely he had it somewhere. He was a packrat and never threw away anything.

  Systematically, he went through every scrap of paper in his wallet, his laptop computer case, and his desk. After a thirty-minute search he found it. He looked at his watch. It was ten o’clock. That meant it was ten at night in Thailand. Not too late. He dialed Daeng’s number hoping beyond hope it had not changed. She answered on the fourth ring.

  “Hello, Daeng,” he said, “This is Mike. Do you remember me?”