Mawkish Concern

I clung to a traditional Thai massage in the late afternoon. The encroaching twilight asphyxiating somehow and the masseuse squinting frightfully.

‘Kuhn sabai dii mai’? Uttered with more than routine concern.

I couldn’t ring. She needed space. I must ring. She is my friend. We are in this together. She hacks it alone at the poles and in the short-time rooms too.

Time inched forward, playing statues. If this were the night before she went back to the bar then…... About 8 o’clock Catherine said: ‘You look restless, need somewhere to go?” I smiled involuntarily at the botched Dylan line.

Our Soi conjures an impromptu ‘Isaan’ night market where the suffocating chilli-soaked smoke hangs in patches, and the ranked karaoke bars have bare limbs in and out. My barber is there too and I stopped by for a shave. Then I would telephone her. We could spend this last evening together. Yet less than twenty minutes later I was listening to the elective ringing tones of Tata’s song pissing belief away.

That night a scurvied Chinese drip eroding a stone spiral stair.

Next morning on the phone she just said defiantly: ‘Yeh.. last night I work. ….no telephone you no have bat. I want go condio. …… I no go customer chin chin….. I want you come bar tonight.’

Early evening, I first went to a photo exhibition at the foreign correspondents club to see frank photographed faces looking out among the clubs living glitterati, before the Cowboy.

About the penultimate bar on the left coming from the Asok end a hello girl slung. ‘Lady dancing, finish 2 song.’ I entered avoiding the eyes. She was dark nearly as a silhouette. Another friend whispered conspiratorially, ‘I ask she why want dancing ikkrang…… no have money for family……’ I looked up, registering the slight new hunch, until she was fetched and beside me lacy and vulnerable again, leaning forward with a hesitant stare. I saw what a customer saw.

The friend bubbled: ‘She new lady, work here two day, lady work Bar before stay Surin 4 month with family.’

Smiles as if it might be true. Then the ludic over we were serious again;

‘You angry me?’ tip-toeing our territory

‘Mai pen lai’ you want drink?

It felt strange to be doing this after so long for publicly I claimed her, encircling the naked waist which everybody knew she could hardly refuse.

Then after a decent interval;

‘You want me pay bar?’

Wondering if leaving my wallet the note might tear.

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