Not the full baht?

The thought hadn’t occurred to me – maybe Mr Ball is not the full baht (tem baht)?

‘He almost died when he was in the womb,’ his Mum said.

‘I had to take many drugs. He survived, but this is how he came out...’

Mum and her elder sister were talking to me about the Young Prince, who had stepped out to pick up his girlfriend Jay from work. I turned up a moment or two after he had left.

‘I am struggling to bring up a family, his sister wants him to find work...but Ball carries on regardless, drinking late and sleeping in, because he is not aware of what is going on,’ she said.

‘He just has no idea, and has been this way since childhood.’

I contemplated these words. I doubt Mum is saying he is not quite all there...he just might be a little slow to gather what people around him are thinking.

Well, I hope that’s what she meant, anyway. If he’s missing a few ticals, I have never noticed.

On the other hand, a sceptic might say, if he was the full quid, baht or whatever, he probably wouldn’t be spending so much time in the company of a middle-aged farang like me.

‘He’s never been a bad lad as such, but is so different from his elder brother, Boy, who worked hard as a student, and is diligent even now as a soldier.'

Earlier in the day, I had dropped in to see Ball. Girlfriend Jay was there too.

I asked him to sit next to me. I rubbed his back for him, wiped sweat off his lip, and pulled his hair away from his face.

He submitted to this manly treatment without any complaint, even though his Mum, aunt and girlfriend were in the same room.

‘Jay is growing more beautiful every day I see her,’ I whispered to Ball.

Jay was sitting on the other side of the room, but still managed to hear me.

‘That’s right, I am!’ she said.

She crossed the room, and squeezed herself into the gap between us.

Ball, unimpressed, tried to shoo his girlfriend upstairs, where she faced the unappealing prospect of sitting alone in their squalid bedroom while the conversation carried on below.

But Jay, who was in good sprits, would not be fobbed off.

She works at a nearby supermarket. This weekend's rally by the red-shirted United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship has been good for business, she said.

‘Customers have been hording food for days. They turn up first thing in the morning, and there are still long queues at the counter at 11pm when we close,’ she said.

Ball loves Jay, despite the bickering.

The other night as we drank at carer R’s stand, I asked after Jay.

‘Just the same...we argue, then make up,’ Ball said.

‘But you love her, right?’

‘Yes...in the same way as ever.’

It was the first time that he had admitted loving the girl, though I always knew he did.

The Little Prince is proud to have her in his life, and no doubt enjoys knowing that someone other than is Mum loves him for who he is.

‘Carer R is moving to the provinces. Do you think we can still see each other?’ I asked Ball.

‘We can meet at home,’ he said.

‘Why do you think I like being with you so much?’ I asked.

‘Maybe you are lonely,’ he said.

‘Do I ever irritate you, wanting to be with you all the time, and touching you as much as I do?’

‘No,’ he said, smiling.

Hopefully, that’s not because he’s missing a few quid, I told myself after listening to his mother's meanderings.