Clingy nephew

Pao loves his uncle. Most Thais at Mum's shop do not seem to notice anything unusual about his behaviour. But if you take a close look, you will see a teenage boy who can barely leave his uncle Top alone.

Top, aged in his early 30s, works as a cook at the shop next to Mum's place. He lives above the shop with his girlfriend, where they share their own bedroom. Pao, 16, sleeps in the same place, but in his own room.

All come from the same province in Esan. Pao is a relatively recent arrival, and is probably missing his friends. He knows no one in Bangkok, other than family - and his mother recently left Bangkok to go back to the Northeast.

It is a family-run outfit. Top's older sister also works there. She has a young son, who looks similar to Pao. Until recently, the boys worked, played, and lived together, but now the younger boy, too, has left the shop.

The absence of friends probably explains why Pao is so clingy. Not to me, but to his long-suffering uncle.

I rarely see Top alone, because Pao hangs around him so much. From where I sit at Mum's place, I have a clear view of their shop, an eatery cum karaoke joint. Last night, I watched them together.

They were sitting at a table, waiting for the last diners to leave. Perhaps Pao was bored. He play-fought with Top. He grabbed him around the throat, and pretended to throttle him.

Then he buried his head in Top's chest. He held his hands, and played with his uncle's face by pulling his cheeks. On and on it went - Pao had an inexhaustible supply of moves and positions he would try on his uncle, who sat there impassively, or laughed.

I could not help but laugh myself. It looked fun. I would like to find someone who could love me that much.

When I laughed at the pair of them playing, Top would point at me, so Pao would notice I was watching. Sometimes he buried his face in his uncle's chest again, so he wouldn't have to look at me. Other times he appeared to enjoy the attention.

When you see people every day - even if you do not always talk - do you become closer? I often wonder whether my relationship with people at Mum's shop is changing, even if I am not aware of it.

If the young ones see me there every day, perhaps they trust me more. They can open up, and be themselves. Or perhaps they behave naturally like that in front of anyone, as most people do not seem to notice.

A friend in his 20s, called Jay, was sitting with me. 'I left home because I have no friends there - I come out, and I still can't find any,' he complained.

Jay borrowed my cellphone to call someone. 'Leave the door open for me,' I heard him whisper. A girlfriend, presumably.

While he chatted, I watched Top and Pao. I kept laughing, until Jay asked what I found so funny.

I pointed to the pair. Apparently, he hadn't noticed them playing, even though they were sitting closer to him than they were to me.

'They are uncle and nephew, but behave more like close friends the same age, or even boyfriends,' I said.

'The farang thinks you look like boyfriends,' Jay called out helpfully.

Pao and Top looked at me impassively - and then carried on playing.

Later, Jay left, so I joined Pao and Top at their table.

'He has a nickname,' said Pao, referring to his uncle. He told me what it was. It meant nothing to me - the name of a character in a TV series, perhaps.

'And that one over there is Mr Norasing,' he said, pointing to another worker in the restaurant.

Norasing is a children's fantasy on TV. Pao laughed. Unfortunately, I couldn't see the humour in that either, so I gave up talking to Pao. Shortly after, he went back to work inside the restaurant, leaving Top and me alone.

'Don't you get annoyed by all that physical contact?' I asked him. I felt a tinge of envy, but at the same time wondered whether he ever thought it odd, the way his nephew can't leave him alone.

'Sometimes,' he admitted. He used a word in Thai, kook kik (กุ๊กกิ๊ก), to describe the way his nephew played with him.

That word often describes the kind of petting and flirtatious behaviour which goes on between boys and girls who have just met.

'And your girlfriend?' I asked.

'We sleep in a different bedroom from him,' he said.

Someone should invite the poor boy to watch a movie. Maybe I should do it. I could act as a role model or surrogate Dad.

I don't think I will. I would have to ask them both. While I can have an intelligent conversation with Top, I can't get inside the mind of his 16 year-old nephew.

Towards the end of the night, the pair re-appeared at the table, taking seats opposite each other. They ate a meal quietly. It was probably their last meal of the day, before they packed up their shop and retired upstairs - before doing it all over again the next day.

I went home. On my way there, I stopped at the nightclub nearby to talk to taxi driver Ekk, who I had not seen for almost a week.

'I have been back home to Esan,' said Ekk, as we climbed inside his taxi to talk. He wore what looked like a water lilly behind one ear.

'I picked this up this morning when I left. It was starting to wither, so I put it behind my ear,' he said.

Ekk looked worse for wear. He has yet to recover from his cold, which has now spread to his chest.

I brushed his hair back from his face, and put my hand on forehead to test his temperature. He felt hot.

'You look unwell. Please go home to bed, and call me tomorrow,' I said.

'A friend at home has asked me to buy him food. Then I will go back,' he said.

Ekk dropped me off at my place in his taxi.

Ekk lives with a group of young men who fix taxis by day, and, like him, drive them by night. They even park at the same taxi stand, and when they are not busy, climb into each other's taxis to talk.

They know I like Ekk, as I ask after him on the nights when he is not around.

I should be grateful that Thais are such a relaxed bunch. When I ask after Ekk, I don't want them to get suspicious, or judge my behaviour.

In the same way, no doubt, I should stop judging young Pao, and try to enjoy the show.