Food rush, worried boyfriend, sleepy job-searcher

Maiyuu knows some young man in the slum is distracting me.

For the last few days, he has been tense and worried about what is going on inside this farang's head...so much so that he will jump at the slightest noise around home.

He spends most of the day cooking, as usual, trying to put these fears out of his mind. He seldom sleeps in the afternoon any more, perhaps because he worries I will have a go at him.

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I paid a late-afternoon visit to Mr Ball.

He was sleeping, which I found hard to believe for someone who is supposedly looking for work.

Steady on, I told myself...it’s Sunday. He can’t be on deck every day of the week.

Idle taxi driver Lort asked Ball to look after adopted baby daughter Fresh, as he wanted to rejoin a gambling ring nearby, where Ball’s mother was also trying her hand.

Ball is devoted to Fresh, and makes cute baby sounds when he is playing with her.

‘I like one of your own sounds, which I haven’t heard in days,’ I told Ball.

If I stick my finger up the sleeve of his T-shirt, and tickle under his arm, he sucks in his breath involuntarily. ‘Hoop!’

I tried it again, but did not get the reaction I wanted, perhaps because our relations have been strained lately.

Like a bossy Mum, I have been telling him what to do. Yet I am not sure how else I am supposed to ‘frame’ our relationship. I don’t want to be some mere drinking friend who plies him with liquor and walks away, hang the consequences.

I am not his lover either, and can’t expect that from him.

But I do worry, and feel waves of sorrow and pity for my young friend.

Ball was sleeping on his Mum’s bed. Nong Fresh, who is not yet 1, was crawling over him.

‘You haven’t changed clothes since yesterday. Do you have pyjamas?’ I asked, already knowing the answer.

‘No. I haven’t showered either, though I did get up at 10am for something to eat,’ he said. ‘I feel weak, as I was up late last night.’

Mum had bought the family beers as they watched football on TV.

Lort, who was hanging around like a fly over old food, asked me for a B100 loan.

‘My wallet is empty. I haven’t been to the ATM,’ I lied.

‘Well, let’s go to the ATM then. I want to rejoin the circle,’ he said.

‘I am not interested,’ I said. Thankfully, he knew better than to ask again.

In the market, I had found a woman selling B100 baht watches, which looked smart and were in the old-fashioned style which Ball likes.

She was also selling B100 wallets. Mr Ball has neither a watch nor wallet of his own, and could do with them.

However, after finding him wasting the day away, sleeping like a sad lump on his mother’s bed, I decided against.

As I write, I am listening to a Carpenters song.

‘It’s going to take some time, this time,’ sings Karen.

Indeed. We will have to wait and see whether this man’s day-to-day performance improves.

Life is not about drifting; it’s about achieving, to build for ourselves a better future. We shall see if he is up to it, or would rather just spend his days in a drunken or swollen-eyed, sleepy haze.

‘I will join carer R’s ya dong stand tomorrow night, as it is my day off. You are welcome to come, if you want a break,’ I said, testing him.

His ears pricked up; of course he’s interested. And yet I know what will happen. He’ll drink too much, as he usually does.

I will carry on drinking, even when I know it's past the time when both of us should go home to our partners.

I recall a scene from my past life overseas, many years ago.

'Pick up a pillow some time, and cuddle it,’ a psychologist told me.

‘You don’t know how to love yourself.’