Saying goodbye (3, final)

I had invited him to visit the market where I live, which is 10 minutes from where he stays close to Mum's shop.

Unfortunately, we didn't get around to it.

'Is there anything worth seeing there?' asked Isra.

'Nothing at all,' I replied cheerily.

Farang J travels light – all he brought with him was a rucksack. He also had a black carry-on bag, which contained little but cheap Thai cigarettes.

We watched the television soap operas for a couple of hours. Then it was time to go.

Toon, Isra and I had offered to take him to the airport as his send-off party.

'I will come with you to be your friend on the return journey from the airport,' Toon told Isra.

'I will come to be your friend, then, as everyone needs a friend,' I told Toon.

I also wanted to say good-bye to farang J, who is one of the few foreigners I know outside work.

One of our rituals, each time he visits, is to dance. Someone puts on a CD of 70s disco songs which farang J likes. We usually leave the dancing until the early hours of the morning, when few people are around.

We use one of the poles holding up Mum's shop as a dancing pole, to twist and writhe around.

This time, Isra, Mum and I danced, but we could not persuade farang J to leave his seat.

'I haven't had enough to drink,' he said.

That was several weeks ago, though it seems a long time ago now.

Early in the evening of farang J's departure, Toon was seeing his girlfriend. When that was over, he took a shower and walked from his condo to the shop to join us.

Toon was wearing his only pair of jeans, which are scruffy at the knees, a t-shirt in the King's yellow, and a jacket.

'I dressed up to send off farang J,' he told Mum.

On the journey to the airport, I sat in the front of the taxi, and the others in the back.

The streets we pass before we get to the motorway look pretty at night. As we approached the airport, tall office buildings, hotels and nightspots give way to single-level housing. This must be where the people live who complain about the airport noise, I thought.

When we arrived, I took farang J's cigarette bag.

Farang J and Isra walked together. I held Toon by the sleeve as we crossed the road to the terminal.

The boys smoked a cigarette. Then we entered.

Inside, farang J and I approached the check-in counter, while the other two waited in the aisle.

'Are you together?' the woman behind the counter asked. She meant, 'Are you travelling together?'

'No, we are just friends,' I said. No one noticed my small joke.

We queued to use a tiny toilet. The first time I entered, I walked straight back out. I am not used to using a urinal in front of a crowd.

'That was quick,' said farang J. 'Are you shy?'

Farang J went in first, followed by Toon, then me, for a second assault on the urinal. This time I overcame my reserve.

I came out before farang J. Isra gave me his rucksack, passport and boarding pass. Then she visited the women's toilets, which were just as crowded.

After we had finished there, we found the departure area.

At passport control, we stood by a wall of frosted glass, separating passengers from visitors. The queue of passengers waiting to have their passports checked was long.

As farang J and Isra kissed and hugged, Toon turned to me to show me his finger.

I don't think he chose this moment to show me his swollen finger so that farang J and Isra could enjoy their last moment together without being watched. Toon was just taken up with his finger.

'I think it will scar,' he said, picking at the stitch marks.

After farang J and Isra finished their hug, Toon and I took turns to shake his hand. Then he was gone.

Outside the airport building, we looked for another taxi. Again, I took Toon's sleeve.

On the journey back to Mum's shop, I sat in the back with Toon, and Isra in front.

When we arrived at Mum's shop, people dining on the sidewalk turned to look at us - a young Thai man and a foreign male getting out of the back seat of a taxi.

'Where have you been?' a friend asked.

Toon stopped at their table to explain that we had just been to the airport to see off farang J.

I walked back to Mum's shop. A few minutes later, Toon joined me, followed shortly after by a young woman he knows.

He introduced me as his drinking friend.

'The farang and I have drunk together since I was a boy,' he said, referring to the days when he was still studying.

I did not say much more, as I was exhausted. I just watched my 'drinking friend'. Toon has a small chest, which makes him look vulnerable. But judging by his willingness to pitch in to a fight which can leave him with a deep finger wound, he is actually anything but.

'Your whole hand is discoloured,' said the girl.

In the early hours of the morning, after Teung, the girl and the others had left, Toon and I parted ways.

I found a taxi, while Toon walked home in the darkness alone.

Whether he knows it or not, my young friend has another family right here in Bangkok – the regulars at Mum's shop.

Mum might get to see him on her occasional visits to Kalasin, but I suspect that once he goes, neither of us will see him again.

Thais do not make a big deal of goodbyes. One day, I would see him, the next, he would be gone.

'I have been lucky in Bangkok. I have met many people, including foreigners like you, Mali,' said Toon, as we talked that evening about his desire to return to Kalasin.

Dear Toon: I have been lucky knowing you, too. Please try to stick around a while longer, as this show is not over yet!