Lie back and enjoy it

Boyfriend Maiyuu and I are likely to sit out the Songkran water-throwing festival.

It’s too hot, and we can’t be bothered. That's what we told ourselves this morning over our gay gentleman's breakfast.

I do enjoy hearing about other people’s plans, though.

After work tonight, Ball will join his family in Silom, the central business district of Bangkok.

As I understand it, they are hiring a pick-up truck. They will have to find a large plastic tub of water from somewhere, and plastic bowls.

They dip the bowls in the tub, and toss water at people.

Or maybe Ball will join his friends for their own celebrations instead.

I don’t understand what is happening, as the information his mother gives me is scrappy, and Ball is so moody at the moment I hardly dare ask.

What I do know is that he has asked his mother for B300 to put towards petrol, and the cost of hiring a pick-up truck.

The trucks crawl up and down Silom, Maiyuu tells me.

I have never been to the centre of town for Songkran, and nor do I care to jostle with water-soaked tourists and bedraggled Thai youngsters for the privilege.

But Maiyuu is Thai, so he knows. At times like these, when I get little help from my Thai friends, I know I can always ask Maiyuu, my most loyal Thai ally of all. Who cares what anyone else thinks, when I have my own Thai, who loves me?

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Ball and I are growing distant, which will please those readers among you who say my presence in this family’s life is only for the worse.

It seems we communicate best at carer R’s ya dong stand, where we were able to say what we like, and R provided constant, irreverent adult-style chatter to keep his customers amused.

At Ball's place, his Mum is usually present. We also have the distraction of kids, and Ball’s girlfriend, Jay. They listen to everything, and make their own contributions.

I say little, and do little other than play with the kids. I am losing interest in communicating with Ball, who appears surly, or to the extent that he does talk, is interested mainly in his girlfriend.

I knew they would draw closer once he stopped visiting R’s dreadful ya dong stand, and so it has turned out to be.

Ball asks Jay to call him while he is at work. They chat for ages. When I visited Mum yesterday, and we called Ball at work, I could find nothing to say.

‘How are you? Are you working hard?’ no longer carries any meaning.

I tried asking a question or two, but didn’t wait for an answer. I hung up abruptly. Who cares?

So much of my relationship with this family depends on information, and when I am not getting it, everything dries up.

So tell me, Mum...what is this Songkran plan exactly? You want my B300, but I still don’t understand what is going on.

You are hiring a truck? Who is driving...Ball? He’s a kid, in charge of a pick-up? I doubt it.

His younger brother, Beer? Once again, I don’t think so. He’s an unpleasant, moody so-and-so who belongs on a leash, not in charge of a vehicle in a public place.

Idle partner Lort, who does nothing for anyone...I think we can count him out.

Elder sister Kae might be there, but I doubt she’s driving. Her boyfriend is celebrating Songkran with his own family, he told me. So who’s left?

And why does Ball need B300? How much are the others contributing? If I switch off my cellphone today and pretend the bunch of you don’t exist, will you still go ahead and hire your truck? Where do you put the toddlers when all this water-throwing action is going on?

‘Would you like to come?’ Mum asked last night. We were sitting in the family room.

No thanks. ‘It’s too hot,’ I said instantly.
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Still, I might go. I can feel myself closing up, as tight as a cork in a bottle. I get hurt, so withdraw from people to spite them, and myself.

As we sat sipping our beers, Kae delved into a clothes drawer, looking for tiny bathing costumes for her own toddler son Maew, and the other toddler of the household - adopted Nong Fresh - to wear.

As for Ball, I doubt he will remember to take a change of clothes. If he is going straight from work to playing Songkran on the back of a truck, he will need casual wear, as he can hardly wear his security guard's uniform.

Organising his needs will fall to Mum and me, when I visit her later this morning.

And suddenly I will feel back in the flow of things, as if I am contributing again to this family's goings-on.

If I pay the B300 which Balls says he needs, I also will have bought myself a place on that forlorn truck.

I can do whatever the hell I like – toss water at him all night, if I want. That would cheer me up no end, as I think he deserves it.

When I turn up at his place, I receive no word of Hello. He asks me nothing about what I am doing, offers no news about his day. He just drinks in moody silence, or talks to the girlfriend, if he speaks at all.

Still, why am I complaining? Surely I knew what to expect when I started mixing with this family, and with someone so young.

He’s a moody teen, not an adult equipped with a well-rounded set of social skills. I should just lie back, and enjoy it.