Bar Girl (27 page)

‘Not this one, Karn,’ Siswan told her, seriously. ‘Not this girl.’

Karn looked down at her young friend. The expression on Siswan’s face didn’t allow for further comment.

‘Maybe not.’ Karn smiled down at her. ‘Maybe not.’

That was the last time that Siswan sat on the beach with Karn. The last time that she would enjoy her time with the old woman. Two days later, when Siswan returned to the beach to meet her friend, a woman she had never met before was there. A younger woman who told Siswan that she was Karn’s niece. Karn had passed away in her sleep two nights ago. The same day that they had joked about Siswan’s first proper conversation with a farang.

Siswan had spent so much time with Karn, so much time talking and learning, that she had become used to the old woman’s presence. Had never thought about her not being there, on the beach, whenever Siswan went to see her.

Now she was gone. Like Sood. Siswan was alone once more. She spent a week mourning the loss of her friend. She didn’t speak to any more farangs for that week. Hardly spoke to anyone. Every day she went to the beach and watched the waves race towards the shore. So many obstacles.

Every day for a week, she watched the waves and said prayers for Karn. Spoke of her kind heart. Her love for a farang Siswan had never met. She said prayers for the old woman’s life, her help and her friendship.

A woman who had gone against the tide. Who had struck out for the calm waters beyond the surf. A woman who had married a farang for the right reason. Siswan would miss her and, in her memory, as well as Sood’s, she repeated her promise to the sea.

A week after she had been told, Siswan stopped mourning for the loss of her friend. She stopped praying, stopped feeling sorry for herself. It was time to act on everything Karn had taught her.

‘Thank you, Mike,’ she told him again.

‘I was just asking about, you know, the funeral arrangements?’ he asked, almost apologetically.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘I called Ped this morning. The cremation will be in two days. An auspicious day.’

‘Yes,’ Mike said, thoughtfully. ‘Funerals are always auspicious.’

She almost laughed at his sombre mood. He didn’t understand. Why would he? She knew that the farangs didn’t have the same religious beliefs as her own people.

‘No. I mean that it’s an auspicious day for the monks. A lucky day on which to ascend to heaven, Mike.’ She smiled, not unkindly.

‘Oh, I see,’ he said. ‘When will you be leaving?’

‘Leaving?’ The thought hadn’t crossed her mind.

‘Yes. To go to the funeral?’ Mike said.

‘I’m not sure I’ll be going,’ she said, quietly.

Mike looked a little shocked. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. When he did, his voice sounded concerned.

‘You have to go, Siswan,’ he said. ‘He was your father.’

‘You don’t understand, Mike. You’re more of a father to me than he ever was,’ Siswan told him.

‘Yes. But he was your real father. You owe it to your family, Siswan,’ he replied, quietly.

‘I owe my family nothing, Mike.’ She sounded angry. ‘Nothing at all.’

Siswan couldn’t stop herself from becoming annoyed. If it hadn’t been for her father, Bak might have been a better brother. If it hadn’t been for Bak, she wouldn’t have had to do what she did in the fields. If it hadn’t been for her mother she wouldn’t have had to leave the village. If it hadn’t been for her mother, none of this would have happened. If her mother had been stronger. If she had removed her father’s sting instead of accepting her lot in life. Why had her mother been so weak? Why had she condemned her instead of helping her?

Suddenly, Siswan found herself sobbing. Tears streamed down her face. She tried to stop them. Force them away. They wouldn’t stop.

She felt Mike’s arm again as he held her. She felt him pull her towards him, into his chest. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t resist. No inner voice spoke to her. No thoughts of revulsion filled her mind. She allowed her arms to wrap around his big shoulders. She pulled herself in closer to him.

She cried and cried into the shoulder of the man who should have been her father. The shoulder of a man who cared for her in a way she had never known before. This was the first embrace she had ever had from a man that didn’t involve sex.

‘I’m sorry, Mike,’ she said at last.

He pulled back, looked down into her face. The tears had removed the little makeup she had applied around her eyes that morning. She looked beautiful. Young and beautiful.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she sniffed. ‘I’m okay now.’

She took her arms from his shoulders, wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. She felt better. She looked up into Mike’s concerned face.

‘I’m fine, Mike,’ she said, trying to smile. ‘I feel a little foolish but, other than that, I’m fine.’

‘Would you like a friend to come with you, Siswan?’ he asked.

She knew what he meant. He didn’t need to explain. What would they think, though? In the village. What would they think if she returned with a farang? Would they condemn her again? Would her mother condemn her?

‘Yes, Mike,’ she said, with a real smile. ‘I’d like that a lot.’

To hell with the village. To hell with what they thought. To hell with her mother. Karn had returned with a farang. A farang she had loved. Not for money, for love. Siswan would do the same. She loved Mike as a father. She would not be ashamed of him. She would not be ashamed of herself.

‘There’s something I’d like to do on the way, Mike,’ she asked. ‘If that’s all right with you?’

‘Of course.’ He smiled. ‘No problem. When do you want to travel?’

‘We’ll go up on the day of the funeral. That way we won’t have to stay the night,’ she told him.

Two days later Siswan and Mike set off in a hired car. Apple confirmed she would be able to cope with the two bars whilst they were away. The bars were doing so well that there really wasn’t a lot for her to do. Just keep an eye on things and make sure the customers were happy.

‘You know how to do the cash deposits at the bank?’ Siswan had asked her for the third time that day.

‘Yes. I’ll take care of it, Miss Siswan,’ Apple had dutifully replied.

Eventually Mike had managed to get her to go home and get a few hours rest before he collected her in the early hours of the morning.

Even so, she didn’t get much sleep. Mirak hadn’t called. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since the evening of the argument. She wasn’t surprised really. She doubted if she would ever hear from him again. Couldn’t blame him for walking away. She was tempted to call him, to try and patch things up, but what would be the point? Eventually it would get back to the physical side of their relationship, or the lack of one, and then the same argument would flare up again.

She knew that there was no future with Mirak, perhaps no future with any man, and it made her sad. Mike was the only man who she felt comfortable with and he was old enough to be her grandfather. Anyway, she didn’t look upon Mike as a man. Not a man in a sexual way.

When he turned up outside her apartment block she was already showered, dressed and waiting outside.

‘Am I late?’ Mike asked her, as he reached across and opened the passenger door.

‘No. I couldn’t sleep much,’ she answered as she climbed in.

‘Well, this journey will make you sleepy. It’s a long way,’ he told her.

She remembered the journey she had taken with Tad and Song so many years before. It had been a long way in the cab of that old truck. The car Mike had hired was far more comfortable and a lot faster.

‘How long will it take us?’ she asked him.

‘Oh, we’ll get there about one, maybe one-thirty. What time did you say the funeral was?’

‘Three.’

‘We’ll make it.’ He smiled at her.

Siswan settled back into the seat as Mike steered their way out of town and onto the main highway. She didn’t really know why she had agreed to go to the funeral. There was no need for her to show her respects. She didn’t have any respect for her father or his memory. There was something though. Something deep inside her that wanted her to go. To show up in the village as a successful woman? A woman with enough money to buy her respectability back? She didn’t know. Maybe she just wanted to see her mother again. To question what she had said all those years ago. To make her pay for what she had said. No, it wasn’t that. She expected nothing from her mother. Nothing at all.

Suddenly it dawned on her. The reason she had agreed to go was to get away from the pain the loss of Mirak had caused her. To keep busy. To stop the thoughts. That must be the reason. There couldn’t be any other.

The road stretched out before them. Not as an unknown future this time but as a known past. A past that defined who she was; who and what she had become. She had learned the ways of the farang and had made their world her own. For now, at least. Mike’s words brought her out of her reverie.

‘How old was your father, Siswan?’ he asked her.

‘I’m not too sure,’ she answered after a moments hesitation. ‘About fifty I think, maybe a little younger.’

‘My god, he was young,’ Mike stated.

‘Yes. But he drank all the time, Mike. Too much whiskey.’

‘Even so, that’s no age,’ Mike said.

‘He lived too long, Mike,’ she said, coldly.

She told him of her childhood. Told him about the nights she had lain awake listening to her mother’s cries and her father’s ranting. He listened without speaking as she told him what her life had been like in the village. The visits to the temple. The harsh upbringing. Her lack of education. Everything. Everything except what had happened with Bak. She was too ashamed. Too wrapped up in the guilt of what she had done. Her mother had condemned her. What you do is wrong, Siswan.

When she finished, Mike didn’t speak. He drove with a fixed expression as though he were contemplating what she had told him. Trying to understand the life she must have lived. Finally, as though he had accepted what he had been told, he spoke.

‘I can understand why you wouldn’t want to go home,’ he said, quietly.

That was all he said. There was no need for her to reply. No need to discuss it further. In her own mind she still questioned what it was that was making her take this journey. Making her travel back in time to face the stares of the villagers. The remarks they would make about her. She was about to confront a wave so large, so immense, it threatened to engulf her, and yet she was still going.

As they approached the outskirts of the town, Siswan remembered the way to the park where she had slept under the big blossom tree. She remembered the night she had killed a rat that came too close. She remembered the boys and their illicit drinking. She remembered the old man and the fight under the low hanging branches that had threatened to trap her.

She gave Mike directions as he slowly manoeuvred the car through the busy streets. Eventually they came to the road beside the park and he pulled over. Cut the engine.

She sat and looked out of the window. The park looked the same. The small lake sat languid in the afternoon sun. The tree she had slept under didn’t look so big now. The branches hung heavy with pink blossoms and she imagined she could smell their fragrance as she sat and looked.

Memories flooded into her mind. The smell and taste of the water from the lake when she washed herself and her clothes. The search for work and for food during the days. Fighting off the dogs to be able to scavenge from the rubbish bins. It all seemed so distant now. So far removed from the noise and lights of the bars. She thought about how she had felt those first nights away from home. How small she had seemed. How insignificant to the world around her. How lonely.

She turned her head and looked along the sidewalk. There were no small restaurants there yet. Too early. Too hot under the glare of the sun. They would be there later though. When the sun began to dip below the horizon. She wondered if the old woman would be there. If she still worked the same spot on the dusty paving slabs.

‘We’d better get going, Siswan,’ Mike said, softly.

‘Yes,’ she replied, pulling her thoughts away from her past. ‘Yes, we should.’

They drove away from the town and into the countryside. The roads were familiar to Siswan now. She had walked the same route to get away. In order to feel clean.

‘Just pull over here, Mike, please,’ she asked when the car was nearing the outskirts of the village.

Once more, she sat and looked. The small pond really did look small now. The fetid water lay still, hardly a ripple to disturb its glass-like surface. The muddy brown banks were dry and hard looking as they slipped down to meet the green coloured water.

A sudden splash startled her. A circle of ripples moved outward toward the banks. The circles became larger, wider as they stretched across the pond. A fish had broken the stillness of the picture. The only movement in an otherwise fixed moment of time.