Boys at play

'Mum', at her shop in Pin Khlao

A reader asked to read more about Mum and the regulars at her shop. Here you are!

Finally, signs of a small breakthrough.

Mum has long been reluctant to acknowledge that I have a boyfriend. She appears to harbour a fantasy that one day we will move to the Northeast (Esan) together, where we would live a quiet life on a family farm.

That would enable her to escape the hard slog of her existence running her shop, a burden she shares with her husband, who is aged in his 50s, smokes, and drinks.

I don't know how seriously she entertains such thoughts. But last night she showed a willingness to admit that I do, indeed, have a boyfriend at home, who might like a say in what happens to me in the event Mum decides to go back to the provinces.

Maiyuu has been in cooking mode lately, and yesterday made a large pot of rice gruel. He was worried we would not be able to finish it ourselves, so he put some in a plastic container for Mum.

'Who made it?' Mum asked when I arrived at her shop.

'The guy I live with,' I said.

This is the usual way I refer to Maiyuu, to spare Mum's feelings. However, Mum is one who likes to speak directly, and told me if I meant 'boyfriend', then I should say so.

'Okay. The boyfriend made it,' I said.

'It's delicious,' said Mum. So, now she knows my boyfriend can cook.

Later in the evening, young Tock turned up.

'The farang is drinking alone - would you like to join him?' Mum teased.

Tock is a real man, but knows I like him. He gave me his to-die-for smile, exchanged a brief greeting, then left.

A few nights ago, the cook who works at the shop next to Mum's joined us. He brought along his 16 year-old nephew for me to meet. Pao, dressed in a T-shirt and boxer shorts, took a seat next to me at the bar.

'Can you teach him English? He was educated in the provinces,' said Top, his uncle. 'If you teach him, you can have him for two nights,' he joked.

Pao dropped out of school, and came to Bangkok for work experience. His mother works at another shop close by.

'He won't learn much English,' Mum said. 'But he will learn noises like, ''Ooooh'' and ''Aaaah''.

Por laughed. He was shy, but appeared to be enjoying himself.

He was still young, but had already gone out with many girls, he told me.

'He's going back to Roi Et for a few days, but will be back on Friday,' said Top eagerly. He is keen for the two of us to get to know each other, though I don't really know why. I suspect he just likes to play.

Late on Friday night, just as his uncle said, Pao returned from his trip to the provinces. A van pulled up next to the shop. I watched as Pao and several adults including his mother extracted themselves from the van, before collecting their bags and wandering home.

Mum called out to Pao.

'The farang has been waiting for you, all this time,' she joked.

Pao looked too tired to respond. His mother smiled at me. She did not seem to mind that a farang more than twice her son's age was taking an interest in his welfare.

Pao, in fact, is just one of many young ones who works in the area. These are the lighthearted games we play at Mum's shop, which does not lack for entertainment.

One regular customer is a young man who works as a motorcycle taxi driver. Lek sits with his friends in a little wooden shelter across the road from Mum's shop, and comes over several times a night to buy Pepsi and cigarettes.

He and his friends are aged in their late teens or early 20s. Another boy there, whose name I do not know, is tall, with a willowish frame. He wears his hair in Japanese style, long down the sides of his face, and is forever looking at himself in the mirror to make sure it is sitting right.

Yet, is he straight? Of course.

Still another boy in that group likes to walk about with his shirt off. He has a tattoo on one arm, so perhaps he is showing it off.

Last night I saw the tattooed boy, shirt off, eating at a khao mun gai (chicken and rice) stand close by. Later he went back to join Lek and his friends at the motorcycle taxi stand.

Lek knows I can sell Pepsi without making too many mistakes, so when he comes over, he just calls out my name. I rise and go to the fridge to get a bottle.

I put ice in a bag, pour in the Pepsi, then grab a straw.

Lately when Lek pays, he gives me too little - one or two baht short. He trusts I will say nothing, and I do not, as I feel sorry for the boys. They do not make much money.

'Do you like Thai girls?' he asked me last night, as I handed him his drink.

At first, I did not understand him, as he used some clever language which I did not get. Teenage speak, perhaps.

'Do you think Thai girls are okay?' he asked again.

'Okay...if you are like that,' I replied, as honestly as I could. I knew Mum was listening. If I tried to bluff him, she would have told him bluntly that in fact I like boys.

'The farang likes the cute boys with little bodies,' said Mum, just to make it clear.

'Oh!' he looked surprised. 'Now I feel embarrassed,' he said, smiling, as he crossed the road.

Obviously, I behave too much like a gentleman, or he might have guessed before now. Yet I treat all boys who come to the shop with respect - how else should one behave?

Lek does, however, know about kathoey Bom's preferences, and is not afraid to ask Bom to pay for his drinks.

Bom, in fact, appears to have a small retinue of straight but cute boys whose drinks he buys. I see these kids whizzing around on their motorbikes. Now, I no longer need to ask if they are Bom's boys - if they are cute, and young enough, then I can just guess.

In return for the free drinks, Lek will give Bom a bright smile - but nothing more. I am sure the others do the same.

If I was generous, I would offer to relieve Bom's burden by occasionally paying for Lek's drinks myself. Then we would both have a young man looking to us for free drinks.

On the other hand, I don't want to encourage these youngsters to think that they can get whatever they want just by flashing a sweet smile.

Nor would I want them to think that I want anything else - as a smile and simple friendship are enough.

Needless to say, Bom, another regular at the shop, also knows young Pao. 'He likes both boys and girls,' said Bom knowingly.

Just how does he find out such things?

Last night, it rained. I watched as Pao opened an umbrella for a group of customers, and then tried to avoid getting wet himself. He looked girly as he bobbed under the umbrella, holding on to his knees - but then maybe he is unaware of his own body language.

After the rain cleared, his uncle Top tried to get Pao to talk to me, but he was too shy. I stood on the street in front of their shop and smiled at them both.

'Pao, the farang wants to buy you a beer,' he said.

In fact, I had not offered to buy the boy a beer, but Pao's uncle likes to tease - perhaps because he knows his nephew is interested in men.

Pao stuck close to his uncle instead, hugging him, giggling, and trying to hide his face.

When that didn't work, Pao turned his back on me, so he wouldn't have to meet my gaze. Staff in the shop, who had gathered around to watch the exchange, were teasing him about the farang, but he did not seem to mind. He could not stop giggling.

'He's shy,' Top apologised.

That's alright. I was just playing, too.

I can teach him English, but that's as far as it would go. Even that is unlikely to happen, as I am too demanding a teacher.

'You have to want to do it, and make a commitment to it, or I am not interested,' I told Pao last time we met.

So, we'll see.