‘Of course,’ I said.
We love each other as friends...nothing more. But I could hardly say ‘No, I don’t love Ball,’ as it’s not what sentimental Thais like to hear.
It was our first meeting. Fang had turned up at our scrubby sidewalk drinking hole, sandwiched between a railway line and a truckyard, in one of Bangkok’s nastiest slums.
It’s not a suitable place to bring a girl, but I was keen to meet Fang, as we had only ever spoken on the phone.
Takraw Ball’s girlfriend, Nan, who I had met previously, knows about Fang, a long-term admirer of his.
She lives with her parents, studies, and works part-time at a hotel.
Fang, who lives close to his office, walked past his company for months before finally plucking up the courage to tell him, through a friend, that she wanted to get to know him.
Ball enjoys the attention, of course, and talks to Fang on the phone whenever he can.
However, he says he is committed to Nan, who lives with him, and who he has known for five or six years.
I don’t know why Fang bothers with Ball. She has pretty, Chinese-style features, and a warm manner. Surely she can find someone who truly cares about her?
When he is with Fang, Ball behaves like a kid, playing around and teasing. If another pretty office girl walks past, he'll call out to her.
'I'm going home,' pouts Fang. Ball consoles her, and they start again.
When he is with Nan, he appears more serious, perhaps because he has more at stake.
Ball and Fang seldom meet, even though she still passes by his office every day.
Ball he is too shy to be seen with Fang at work. ‘I worry that someone at the office will tell Nan we have been seeing each other,’ he says.
Nan is the tolerant type. Ball swears he has ended his relationship with Fang, but she refuses to believe him.
On the night we met, Nan insisted she keep Ball’s phone with her, as she didn’t want him calling Fang behind her back.
He called Fang on my phone instead, and invited her to join us after she finished work.
I last saw Nan about two weeks ago, when she turned up at our drinking hole without warning, demanding to know if Ball had arranged to meet Fang there secretly. The two of us were drinking alone until Nan turned up on her motorbike, and refused to leave.
He denied it, but she refused to believe him. They argued, and she started to cry.
As I wiped tears from Nan’s eyes, the arguing grew more intense.
After five minutes of remonstrating with Ball and making no progress – both hurled abuse at each other freely – Nan stood up, grabbed Ball’s drink, and threw the contents in his face.
Four or five workers at the next table turned around to look.
Ball turned red in the face. Nan stormed off, and refused to take Ball’s calls.
‘If you are not careful, you will lose her,’ I warned Ball.
I like both girls, but hope that they never have to meet, at least when I am around.
Both are entitled to know where they stand in Ball's eyes.
A showdown might be welcome in that sense, but it won’t be a pretty sight.
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