My son, the kathoey (part 2, final)

The night I met kathoey Nam in the market, he was wearing a tank-top, bra and body-hugging jeans. The day I found him in the car park, he was dressed more respectably as a boy, even wearing the King's yellow.

He opted for sensible clothes possibly because he had been moving about town looking for work. Only a tight pair of butt-hugging jeans marked him out as as creature of the night.

'I have not eaten, and neither has Mum or her child,' he said with a dejected look.

I promised to meet him that night, after I finished work.

'I will feed you, if you are a good boy,' I said. 'Can you do that?'

We talked about the night we met.

'I am sorry I behaved so badly. I was drunk. Still, you hurt my wrists,' he said.

'How did I do that?'

'When you were trying to get the phone and the money back from me,' he said.

I said sorry, too.

'From now on we will be good to each other,' he offered, and I agreed.

When I finished work, I called the number he had given me, and 'Mum' answered the phone.

Nam was out, but when he returned she would ask him to call. I asked her if she had eaten, and she said yes.

While I was waiting, I visited my massage friends in the market. One offered to read my fortune from her tarot cards.

The market has other tarot readers. One reader, Nam was to tell me later, charges 100 baht. My massage friend, perhaps because she reads cards as a mere sideline, charged just 40 baht, though if I wanted a detailed reading I would have to pay more.

Few of the cards I pulled at random from the pack contained any surprise. One said I had a lively imagination; I knew that. Another said I was self-reliant and independent, and did not look to others for help easily. True.

A third card said I was likely to do well, but would have to make my work goals more realistic. I would find a lover, or might even have met him already (I wish I had asked more about that).

One worrying card, however, concerned my friends. Jay Pa, my card-reader, said I was too good at giving people things, and that my friends liked to take advantage of my soft heart to get me to part with money.

'This is money that you and your partner in life could use yourselves, but you are giving it away,' said Jay Pa.

'I must harden up,' I told her, as I left the shop.

Five minutes later, as I was ordering food in the market, Nam appeared. I bought food for his household, too.

'Your Mum told me she has eaten,' I said.

'She was just greng jai you,' he said. 'Really, she hasn't eaten at all.'

While we waited for our food to arrive, Nam said he needed to get a new ID card so he could apply for work. He had applied at several places, but no one was hiring until the New Year.

Nam is muling two possibilities: work at a Dunking Donut shop, which pays reasonably well but is some distance away, or for a massage shop, closer to home but which pays just B5000 a month.

I lent him some money, so he could get the ID card made, and pay for a trip across town to apply for more work.

So much for hardening up.

'So, what are we to each other,' Nam asked, as the money changed hands.

'We shall have to be friends, because I already have a boyfriend,' I said.

He took the food back to his place, a tiny single room, where later he introduced me to 'Mum'. Nam sleeps on the floor, while Mum and the baby sleep on the bed.

'I will not stay, as you are sleeping,' I said. 'I will take Nam outside to talk.'

'A temple near here is holding a fair. This is the last night,' said Nam. We decided we would take a look, so hopped in a Suzuki van.

When we arrived it was shortly before midnight, and traders were packing up their stalls. I had not visited this temple before, but had seen the huge Buddha statue they had built over the last six months.

From my condo I look out on the Buddha image, in fact, which on this night was splendidly lit.

At the fair, Nam ran into a couple of his friends. One was a girl with a wide smile, aged in her early 20s, wearing a pretty pair of cotton pyjamas. She asked Nam if I was his new catch.

'We are just friends,' he smiled, though he did not look as if he meant it.

We met another couple of women friends there, too, who asked the same question.

'Why do you not sell items from stalls like these?' I asked.

'I do not want to work at night. Working a day job and sleeping at night is better,' he said.

From close up, the Buddha statue looked imposing and impressive. As I drew closer, I could see the small figure of a man perched on Buddha's knees.

He was handling what looked like a small flying fox - a travelling device suspended on cables which people can ride in mid-air to get over rivers, ravines and the like.

They can also be used for transporting goods from one remote place to another.

In this case, the guy positioned on the Buddha, and another on the ground, were sending smaller Buddha images back and forth along the wires. They were like baby Buddhas, bobbing away in mid-air between the guy on the ground and the man seated on Buddha's knees, so high up I could barely see him.

It looked suspiciously like a money-making venture, of the type where if you pay 100 baht, make a wish, send the little Buddha up the wires, and hope he makes an auspicious landing on the other side.

Nam took me into a couple of grand rooms where visitors could make merit. The Buddha images in these places were wearing gold flake, which fluttered softly in the night air.

'Have you ever made merit at a temple?' Nam asked.

I have, on a few occasions, usually with boyfriend Maiyuu. However, as this was Christmas Eve, and Buddhism is not my religion, I declined. To my surprise, Nam also turned the opportunity down.

'I am a Christian, too,' he said.

Life is full of surprises.

Back in the market, I said I felt like a drink. Nam looked delighted, and raced back to his place.

Five minutes later he emerged with yet another young woman friend, who was busy whispering in his ear as he introduced me.

Nam suggested we go to a karaoke place nearby. I would have to pay the bill for the three of us, of course, as he had no money, and had brought along his friend to partake in my generosity as well.

I wanted to take Nam to my regular drinking place, about 15 minutes away, but him alone. I did not fancy drinking at some noisy karaoke joint, and with a girl I did not know.

I declined the offer and went home, though I am sure I shall see him again. Tonight I expect him to return with at least a new ID card, or better still, evidence that he has applied for work.

If not, I shall have to give him a ticking off (or maybe even a light spanking), just like his Dad or Mum might have done, if they were still here.

Nam and I barely know each other, but almost in spite of myself, I have slipped into 'Dad' mode again. And when does a Dad's duties end?

Never.

Postscript: Kathoey Nam now has a job, his de facto mother tells me. She does not know where he is working, or for whom, but knows he has found work.

This might explain why he has not contacted me since I gave him money.

I do not want the money back; I am happy just to know that he can now support himself, and hopefully Mum, and the baby without needing anyone else's help.