As business at her shop tails off, Mum and her husband, who run it, have found new ways to supplement their income.
Both gamble on football games. They write down in notebooks details of what they have lost and won.
They wager with customers who are also good friends. When they turn up, the first item of business is to settle debts from the previous night’s game.
I see B1,000 bills change hands...sometimes several of them.
Mum’s husband, Pa, is on the phone to his bookie virtually every time I see him.
These days, I go only two nights a week, and do not stay long. I don't like the way gambling dominates activity there.
I teach English to two children in the area, so have to go anyway. After I finish, I drink at Mum’s shop, but I usually leave by 10pm.
The other night, Mum tried to talk to me, the first time we had spoken in several weeks.
‘I sent her back...she was lying and stealing...we had to pay the bus fare...’
Mum was talking about a relative, who comes from the provinces but stayed in Bangkok during the school break. A teenage girl, she is a handful. One day, Mum told her to go home.
I listened, but I didn’t take it in. Once, I would have asked questions, and shown an interest. Now I can’t be bothered, so I sat there and said nothing.
Performing arts student Jay was drinking next to me, but I hardly talked to him, either.
Later in the night, Chin, a fan of Japanese comics, joined us.
He sat down and started reading, with barely a word of conversation. He did not want to be disturbed, so I let him get on with it.
Either we have become so close that we don’t need to talk any more, or we are apathetic.
‘Mr Fatty...don’t you wan’t to talk to me? In that case, I will pretend I never met you, either.’
Tearaway Thai boy Kew – part-time security guard, part-time ageing bar boy in Pattaya, who I met one night close to Mum's shop, many years ago now – sent me that text message a few days ago.
He had called me one day when I was busy. I talked to him briefly, then hung up.
I haven’t replied to his message. No doubt, if we meet again, we’ll still be friends. I feel the same way about the young people at Mum’s shop.
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