Bad boy turns good (part 2, final)

In these circumstances, little wonder that Kew could be ruthless. Once, when his mother was sick, he persuaded me to part with B3000 for her hospital bill. As soon as I gave it to him, I felt guilty. She was not my responsibility, and nor was he.

However, in the absence of a father figure or elder brother, I fulfilled the role of mentor in his life.

'I regard you as a member of our family,' Kew's mother told me once. 'Kew benefits from your advice. However, he mixes with a bad crowd. Whenever you have problems with Kew, I want you to call me,' she said.

After she died, Kew moved in to stay with a woman who lived opposite, a friend of Kew's mother.

Kew's sister went to stay with her father, who made it clear that Kew was not welcome. He stayed in Bangkok.

The woman who gave shelter to Kew had two young children of her own. Once, the woman took off to another province, and left Kew alone to support them.

Kew did not have much money. At night, Kew would call me after I finished work, and I would meet them in the market, to buy them noodles before bed.

Later, Kew moved to Chumporn, where he worked on a shrimp farm. I did not see Kew again for a long time. One night, on the occasion of his 21st birthday, Kew called to say hello. He sounded happy, though he said the work was hard.

Another time, he called to say he was in Bangkok. 'I have grown my hair long, down to my shoulders,' he said.

'I am sure you look beautiful. I want to run my hands through it,' I told him.

He laughed.

Unfortunately, we did not get the chance to meet, as he had to go back to the farm.

Some nights, as I jogged on the roof of my condo, which faces over his way, or passed his mother's apartment, I thought of my young friend and wondered where his life had taken him.

I go through phases when I need to hear from particular friends; sometimes, months would go by before I heard from Kew again. I missed his sunny smile and cheeky manner.

I thought about that lonely room in the apartment. It must belong to someone else now. Those days all seemed a long time ago.

But then...

The other night, as I was heading to my drinking spot on the Thon Buri side, Kew called to say that he was in town.

Half an hour later, we reunited at my drinking spot, less than five minutes' walk from where he used to fish. It was the first time we had seen each other in more than two years.

This was a different Kew from the boy I knew before. He was still his old, cheerful self. But the new Kew now carries himself with the air of someone who has found more permanent success and happiness.

Kew has a new job, selling Otop products (a state-subsidisded arts and crafts scheme). He and a team of half a dozen workers make tiny traditional long-tailed boats, in decorative bottles. It is skilled work, for which Kew is well rewarded. Kew, who once found it difficult to scrape together B100 a day, now makes more than 10,000 a month.

'I left my father's farm, and have been back here about a month. When I first came back my skin was dark, but now it has grown lighter,' he told me happily.

Kew asked after Maiyuu, and various other people he met when he knew me. I introduced him to half a dozen of my friends; years later, he can still remember them.

Kew wore smart, casual clothes, not the scruffy jeans and smelly T-shirts of old. He also brought with him a pretty young woman, petite and shy, whose bright smile looked familiar.

Kew would not confirm as much, but she looked like the elder daughter of the woman who gave Kew shelter after his mother died.

'Why don't you ask her,' Kew said teasingly. I didn't dare, as she looked too shy.

'Don't let him get away with too much,' I warned her. 'Kew needs a firm hand in his life, so you must try to keep him in line.'

Kew, who turns 24 next month, now has a small nest egg saved, and in six months or so plans to return to the provinces, to buy his own farm.

When he is not working, he pursues his old interest in fishing. He has invited me to join him on the water, one day next month.

'I will pay the fishing expenses, as you are just there to watch. However, we can share the cost of the drinks afterwards,' he said.

'Of course,' I replied.

Once, Kew would not have been in a position to pay, but can now look after himself. With the change in his financial stature, his confidence and approach to life have also improved.

'I hardly go out at night any more,' he said, when I asked how much his life had changed.

Kew has hardened into a man. He has lost his baby face, and as his face becomes more chiseled, he is starting to look almost Chinese.

He also reckons he is also growing a small paunch, though I could not see any sign. He just looks healthy - a far cry from the under-fed, stressed creature I knew of old.

'I am 100 per cent Thai,' he said proudly.

He is also 100 per cent man, despite the stories he once told me. Inevitably the conversation turned to marriage and family, as these worthy goals are next in Kew's sights.

'You should be a father,' Kew told me. 'Why don't you find a girlfriend and raise a family?'

'I am not ready,' I said.

However, it will not be long before Kew himself is strong enough to take on that role. He and his girlfriend work well together. They are more than just lovers; he is also the senior partner in the relationship, and has grown in the role.

'Have you eaten yet? Can you stay a while longer? Are you cold?' he asked her attentively, as any gentleman should.

I am proud of the new Kew, and told him so.

For a long time, I could not see beyond Kew's ruthless streak to spot the healthy ambition that he was nurturing beneath. When he had nothing, Kew could indeed be brutal. He was willing to sacrifice his friends so that he himself could get ahead.

My scruffy streetkid friend of the past has now transformed himself into a successful young adult. The rest of the world - especially his former victims - can but rejoice in his success.

'Remember the room in that apartment which your mother used to own? I wonder what has happened to that now,' I said.

'I still have it. My mother owned it, but I have kept it in case I need the money one day.'

So the room has been there in this man's life all along. No one took it away. It must be one of the few things from that rough phase that he did not lose, or was not forced to surrender.

'I do not lease it to anyone as being a landlord would just bring me more problems. So it just sits there, waiting.'

A few hours later, I took the pair home. Kew now lives in another place not far from mine, with a couple of male friends. He decided against having them stay in his mother's old place, presumably to protect his investment.

In the distant past, I once wondered if Kew would ever learn to keep himself out of trouble. In fact, I worried he would not make it out of his early 20s.

I should have known better. Here is a young man who, by virtue of a clear-headed determination to succeed, might do better than many of us.

His Mum taught him well. If her spirit lives on in that large, empty room with the whispering curtains, I am sure she would feel proud of her only son.