Ownership claims

Carer R bought us each a steaming cup of Mama instant noodles. Young Ball was so hungry, he was gulping them down as fast as he could.

His hands are tiny, his body still forming, I thought as I watched him eat.

His Mum will be thinking of him, as mothers always do. He has a girlfriend, too, though the two argue often, and she seldom ventures out of doors to see him.

At the ya dong stand two minutes from his home, he also has me, and carer R.

Is it enough? And how do we rank in his life?

Is it a question meant in fun, as I have no right to get possessive.

Ball is close to Na, a fish trader in his 30s who lives next to R's shop. He joins us at carer R’s ya dong stand in the small hours.

I know he likes Ball. After an hour or so of imbibing ya dong, they can barely keep their hands to themselves.

But even as he plays his man games with Ball, Na is looking at me, worried I will get jealous if I see him touching Ball too much.

Often, Ball is at the stall before me. These days, carer R tells me, other customers ask Ball if I will turn up to meet him.

Ball doesn't like that. 'I can pay for myself,' he says.

I have been distant and remote from Ball lately, after a strange happening at his place.

One day I went to see him at his home. I waited in the alleyway outside his front door, which was open. I watched him as played at a computer close to his mother's bedroom.

Mum was in the living room, which like the bedroom can be seen partly from the front door. From the shadows, she called out, inviting me to come inside.

I didn't hear.

I waited in the alleyway for five minutes, but after Ball failed to come out to greet me, I walked home alone.

Later the same day I sent him a text message asking if I could give him some food money...once again, no response.

Last night he explained his apparent lack of interest: he is worried what people are thinking about us.

'Is the farang coming to see you?' his Mum had asked when she saw the text message.

'I wanted to say yes, just like I wanted to welcome you in the door when you came to see me at home, but I wasn't sure how to do it,' he said.

He is not worried about the gay thing so much as he is perceptions that he is selling himself.

He lives in a slum. He worries that when his neighbours see us, they will assume he has struck up a relationship with this middle-aged farang because he is hard up, and needs the money.

'The truth is, I have never asked anything from you,' he said.

Ball says he likes the way I treat him; and I enjoy being with him, too.

-
Ball, carer R, and myself are often the only drinkers left at his ya dong stand after 9pm.

Carer R loves to talk, and is keen on having me as an audience.

I am not sure what need I am fulfilling, as he is married, and loves his wife. Is she not a good listener?

He also likes the idea that Ball and I are close friends, much more than just customers.

'We are friends, and help each other,' he said last night, as he went off to fetch us instant noodles, which he paid for himself.

'You need something to line your stomach when drinking ya dong,' he said.

We're an odd bunch, it is true.

As I am massaging Ball's legs, back and shoulders, R is busy chatting away, trying to distract my attention with his life stories.

As soon as one tale ends, another starts.

At first Ball and I sat apart from each other, and I had little to say. Ball asked me politely about work, and I responded briefly.

But after an hour at carer R’s stand I decided there was no point in being a stranger.

While carer R went off to buy cigarettes, I asked Ball to sit next to me.

He explained his lack of interest the day we met at his home, and discussed his latest attempts to find work.

His own feelings had not changed, he said, despite my perception that he had grown more remote.

‘I am still the same,’ he said, looking at me earnestly. 'I miss our talks. Some things I say to you, I can't say to anyone else.'

I carry a pottle of ointment for massaging away aches and pains. I pulled it out, and set it on the table.

As I laid my hands upon his shoulders, Ball's small frame relaxed.

After a few days away, we were slipping back into our old roles. We do indeed care for each other, each in his own odd way.

Who gets to own who hardly matters.

Layers of love

Maiyuu is bent over the rubbish bin, peeling an onion.

He has a sore back, weeping eyes...

I remember peeling onions, back in the days when I cooked.

While we have money, Maiyuu toils in the kitchen, making beautiful food for us to eat.

When pay runs short, he sleeps on the sofa in front of the TV – for days, if necessary, waiting for my pay day to come again.

But for the rest of the time, he is busy trying to make me happy.

Yes, he might enjoy making food anyway, as it’s a way of releasing creative energy.

But really, it’s how he shows his love.

We don’t do it in the sack, but at the kitchen table instead.

Argument aftermath

Maiyuu is rifling through our CD collection, looking for a stray CD by Grammy singer Marsha Vadhanapanich. He must have her entire collection, but this particular disc was his favourite. We still have the cover, but not the disc inside.

I suspect it fell victim to our most recent argument. When we argue, I go into clean-up mode, as vigorous physical activity, even with a duster, helps me release stress.

After our argument a few weeks ago, I set to work making order of our disorderly CD collection. CDs without a home lie scattered about; no one ever thinks to be put them back in their covers. Maiyuu was in his bedroom sulking at the time.

I must admit, I took advantage of the opportunity to throw out about a dozen discs for which I could find no home – mainly no-name CDs on which we had recorded this or that, but which we hardly ever play. Out they went, into the rubbish. I fear Marsha’s CD may have gone with them, though I can’t recall it.

I would not have done it deliberately, as I like Marsha, and even after the heat of our argument – when I told Maiyuu forcefully that he would have to leave – I still knew, inside my heart, that we would probably stay together, because we always do.

So it must have been an accident.

‘Why don’t you buy another?’ I asked.

‘You can’t find it in stores now...and it was my favourite, too,’ he said glumly.

Sorry, lad.

Maiyuu wants me to admit that I threw it out, so he can stop looking for the wretched thing.

But I honestly can’t recall whether I tossed it out or not. He suspects I threw it out just to spite him, but really I am not so clever as to know which Marsha albums are his favourites, and which aren’t.

Marsha wasn’t the only material loss we suffered as a result of that row.  I destroyed a B1,000 mirror as well.

Meet the competition

Family friend Na performs a favour for Ball. So why should I feel put out?

Na, a fish monger, lives within walking distance of carer R's ya dong stand.

Sitting around the ya dong table the other night, he volunteered to pick up Ball’s girlfriend from the supermarket.

Normally, Ball’s brother would go, but the motorcycle was unavailable, and the girl was stuck there alone. Ball thanked him for the favour.

‘I am so grateful,’ said Ball.

‘Never mind. You are close to me. We pitch in to help each other,’ said Na.

Na may have been sincere, but it occurred to me as I sat admiring Ball’s boyish features in the dim light of carer R’s shop, that adults such as Na and myself are too easily taken by the beauty of the young.

Ball, 19, must know that adults admire him. When I was his age, I knew I was liked.

Some adults will perform special favours for the young simply because of the way they look. Is Na one of them?

I have seen Ball and Na in huddles over their ya dong, talking earnestly about Ball’s family and girlfriend problems. The stories are probably similar to the ones Ball tells me.

Sometimes, Na catches me looking at them both as they are chatting together in their huddle.

‘Careful, the farang will get jealous!’ Na jokes, deferring to the emotional claim I am attempting to stake over the young man.

Ball turns to smile at me, and puts a reassuring hand on my knee.
-
Carer R has asked us to join him on a trip to the North in April.

He plans to hire a car and has invited me, Ball, and regular customer Na to his home in the provinces, so we can watch a traditional lantern festival.

I haven’t told them yet, but I won’t be able to make it, as my life in Bangkok takes priority. The trip to the North would take a week, which is too long.

My job and boyfriend are important, even if they mean little to Ball, who rarely asks about them. Carer R asks more often, because he is an adult, and more interested in other people’s lives.

I might have to start seeing less of the ya dong crowd altogether, as boyfriend Maiyuu complains that I have been spending so much time over there that I am starting to neglect him.

The other day, I returned home at 2am.

Maiyuu had waited up for hours to cook me an evening meal, after I came home later than expected. Needless to say, I was not popular.

‘I will stop going during the week, and only visit there on my days off,’ I told him.

Carer R’s ya dong stand will now be a weekend pursuit only, perhaps where it should have been all along.

Ball hibernates, drawing closer to carer R

My friend Ball from the slums has left his job at a coffee store owned by a local supermarket.

They did not want him, because he is sick with a persistent cough, and fails to turn up for work on time – the legacy of his late-night imbibing at carer R’s ya dong stand.

His mother is now trying to find him a job as a security guard, which is how he first worked when he left school at 16 a few years ago. She knows a guard who works at a condo near me, and yesterday was planning to take him for an interview.

I wanted to give Ball some food money yesterday, after he told me the day before that he had lost B400. But Ball did not return my calls, so I abandoned the idea.

He has not turned up at R’s ya dong stand for the last two nights, which is a welcome development. Perhaps it was forced upon him by the fact that he has lost his money. Or perhaps Mum has told him, now that he is not working, that he should try to save money by staying at home.

I turned up at his place in the afternoon, after sending a text message asking him if I could drop around with food money.

He was sitting inside, playing a computer game with his brother. He smiled at me through the open door, but did not bother coming out. I walked home, mission unaccomplished.

Carer R and Ball also appear to have fallen out, which is another reason, perhaps, that Ball is avoiding the place.

As for young Ball, I have noticed that when my friend is sober, he needs me less. Certainly, he does not like to be seen around this middle-aged farang in daylight.

‘Why do men your age like to think that young people find you so attractive?’ Maiyuu asked the other day.

He’s right – most of them don’t.

-
Maiyuu has laid rubber floor tiles for the sitting room floor.

The place looks larger with a tiled floor. He also bought a couple of wooden slatted units which lie on the verandah outside the living room.

In other domestic action, Maiyuu called in two air conditioning men to clean two of our air con machines. One had sprung a leak. With the cost of cooling agent included, the bill was almost B3,000.