Boyfriend Maiyuu would disapprove of me spending money on Pao. Luckily, he was not at home.
Maiyuu has been away for two days. If he had been home, the loneliness which has gripped me over the last two days would not weigh so heavily. I probably wouldn't feel such a pressing need to go shopping for young Pao.
I looked in the boyfriend's wardrobe before I left. It is full of clothes - many more pairs of shirts, T-shirts, trousers and shorts that I have ever owned.
When I ask about his extensive wardrobe, he insists that he buys many items on sale, or second-hand.
Still, he has rarely gone without. He does not know what it is like to wear the same pair of jeans every day, or recycle the same two T-shirts.
I inspected streetside stalls opposite the mall first, as they are usually cheaper. I found a place which sells leather bags and accessories.
I chose a buckle which looked like a hand gun. Mum's teenage son has just bought an air gun, which I am sure Pao has seen.
The alternatives were buckles made into the shape of mythical women-beasts, and buckles with biker-style shields.
I also selected a strip of leather which would make up the other part of the belt.
'I will put holes in it for you, and cut the leather to size so it is not too long,' said the shop's owner.
He cut the leather strip to the required length, and shaped the head into an arrow. He smoothed the edges, then punched holes in the thing.
Together, the belt and buckle cost B300.
I took my guilty purchases back home, where I hid them in a place where the boyfriend is unlikely to find them.
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Why did I bother?I presented Pao with the belt he wanted, but he barely looked up from the television.
He looked surprised to get it, and said he could not remember asking me for it just the night before.
Pao was watching a fantasy movie with two or three friends. I could not understand his indifferent reaction, but then Pao might have felt too shy to accept the thing in the presence of others.
I gave him his belt, and we talked briefly about whether he would be able to wear it (the shop did not put in enough holes for the belt pin). Then I went back to Mum's shop.
Fifteen minutes later, I was serving customers when a drunken farang turned up.
His hair was long, matted, and greasy, and his shirt looked in need of a wash.
'Can I drink some of your whisky?' he asked, spying the bottle of whisky I had opened.
'No,' I replied.
'Why not?' he asked provocatively.
'I don't know you.'
He stared at me, then walked away.
Turning away that bum was easy. Maybe I should have said No to Pao, too.
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