Bakery break-out, girlfriend blues

Chef Maiyuu’s break into the commercial baking world may have arrived.

Maiyuu knows a woman who runs a bakery close to home. She sells little from her shop, but makes mainly to order. However, her shop has a display cabinet, and a fridge.

Maiyuu made several chocolate cupcakes for her to sample. She called him back as soon as she had tried them.

‘Your baking is delicious!’

She has called Maiyuu back to the shop so they can talk.

Recently, Maiyuu has also talked about making home-made ice-cream for order. He will put up an advertisement in our condo, and any tenants interested in ordering his stuff can get in touch.

At the moment he has several flavours in our fridge: blueberry soft cream, kiwi sherbet/sorbet, mango, and milk tea.

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My brain appears to be growing soft. Thankfully, I am aware of the change as much as anyone else, so have not suffered any dramatic loss of face.

I get tired easily. Things which mattered to me once now have a fuzzy feel about them, as if they are really not so important after all.

Maybe I should create a Facebook account, and vent my spleen in the same way as everyone else.

Once I have let off steam, will I start caring again? Or has it seeped away into the lost years of my youth?

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Ball may be in danger of losing his girlfriend Jay.

Jay's father has arrived in town from Chiang Mai, where he lives, to pick up his daughter. He wants to take Jay back to Chiang Mai, as he misses her.

Jay does not want to go, as she has found a good job here, and loves Ball.

Ball knows that if Jay goes, he will have to start again.

He has mixed feelings about their relationship. He loves Jay, and feels sorry for her at the same time.

'She has a big bruise on her leg where I kicked her once, and bruises on her wrists after she put up her hands to stop me hurting her,' he said.

Yesterday he apologised for the harm he has inflicted on her in the year they have known each other.

The good news for Jay is that Dad could be persuaded to let her stay, if he knows she is happy. The bad news is, he is under the mistaken impression that Jay lives in Bangkok alone.

Jay's elder brother, who also lives in Bangkok, lied to Dad on her behalf. He mentioned nothing about the fact she actually lives with Ball's family.

Dad has arrived, and wants to see his daughter, so it is only a matter of time before the truth comes out.

Ball said that when Dad makes contact, he will probably ask his mother to talk to the man, as it is a matter for adults to discuss, not teenagers.

I told him that Jay should have told the truth from the outset.

'Nothing would make a father more worried than knowing his teenage daughter is living in a strange city alone,' I told him.

'Jay's brother told the wrong lie.'

New job beckons, brothers fall out

Ball has found a new job, with an insurance company in town.

He will be a company messenger, taking paperwork from one floor or desk to another.

The boss called him yesterday to confirm he ahd the job. He starts on Monday.

Earlier, they offered the position to his girlfriend Jay, but she had found another job in the meantime. Mum called to see if they would accept men instead.

Ball visited the place to submit his application form, and gave a brief interview.

Several days passed in which we wondered if the company would call, and finally it did.

‘I am excited about the prospect of starting work,’ he said, pouring a whisky.

Mum and Ball gave me the good news when I visited yesterday morning.

Ball’s uncle, Toob, was also present. He took a taxi from Pak Nam, where he lives, to spend the day again with Ball’s family.

‘It’s wet, so there’s no work,’ said Toob, who is employed on the docks.

Today, if all goes well, we will visit a department store or clothes market to buy work outfits for Ball.

He needs just about everything: trousers, work shirts, neckties.

Mum wants him to wear the white shirts he wore in his last job. Some of them date from his days as a school student. We think he can do better.

Ball and I are holding out for proper work shirts, perhaps with a fine stripe.

Most of all, I am looking forward to seeing him in a necktie, as I have never seen him dressed up.

‘I don’t know how to tie one...but once it is on, I am told you can just loosen it and take it off your neck. The next day, when you want to wear it again, you slip it on and tighten it again,’ he said.

‘I will call in on Monday morning and tie it for you,’ I said.

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Uncle Toob sat silently for hours, so much so I thought he was anxious or depressed.

However, he sprang to life in early afternoon when Ball started arguing with his brother, Beer.

Mr B had decided he would apply for work at a local eatery, washing dishes.

‘He just wants to meet the girls there. I did the same when I was his age,’ Ball told me.

‘It’s a rotten job – the boss treats the staff poorly, you will have a stack of dishes to wash. The pay is lousy, and all this just to meet girls?’ he told Mr B.

Mr B was unimpressed. ‘If I want to find a job, that’s up to me,’ he said.

Mum chipped in. The conversation - more like a series of rapid-fire exchanges - quickly ratcheted up in intensity.

Ball wanted some acknowledgement from his brother that he had done the same thing in his time, and knew what it was like.

Mr B, however, wasn’t interested in giving his brother credit, or taking his advice.

A couple of stiff exchanges followed, in which Ball referred to his brother unflatteringly as ‘ai sat’ ('your animal') to show his displeasure.

Mr B made the mistake of pointing in his brother’s face – and it was all on.

Ball leapt to his feet and swung a fist at Mr B. The two of them grabbed each other, clawing at each other’s faces.

The scrummage – more like a moving man hug, as neither was making much headway – drifted from the door, back towards Mum’s bedroom. Someone stepped on a beer bottle, which shattered.

Mum jumped in, trying to pull the boys apart. I tried to separate them too, without success, and concentrated on trying to keep them away from the broken glass.

Uncle Toob snapped out of his reverie, jumped in between them, and managed to pull Ball off his brother.

Ball’s nose was bloodied, his right eye red. He lay on the floor in Toob’s arms, panting.

I tended to Mr B, whose foot was bleeding from a minor wound. I sat him down, found a towel for his foot, and helped Mum clean up the glass.

‘That was an argument over nothing. If your brother wants to find a job, then let him!’ Mum scolded Ball.

Mr B was still angry.

‘You are no role model to me as an elder brother. All you do is drink. I can only look to Boy,’ Beer said in tears, referring to the boys’ elder brother, soldier Boy.

Mum sent Mr B out to perform an errand. His face was unmarked, unlike Ball’s, who has a cut nose, red eye, and scratch on his chin.

Ball resumed his seating position on the floor, back to his mother. He cried as he nursed his drink.

‘Beer’s face doesn’t have a mark on it...but you scratched me in three places,’ he told his mother in tears, as if to say she had treated Mr B more favourably.

‘I was trying to keep you away from the glass. How do you know all those marks come from my fingernails?’ asked Mum.

I stayed for another hour to cool Mr Ball’s temper and lighten his mood.

Uncle Toob offered advice about the relationship between brothers, and how alcohol can ruin everything.

‘In a family, the mere knowledge that you drink can be held against you. If a fight takes place, everyone assumes it was the drinker’s fault,’ he said.

Ball pleaded with his mother not to tell his elder sister Kae about the fight with Mr B.

Feisty Kae speaks her mind with the boys. ‘I am already in the wrong, no matter what I say,’ he said.

I went to work.

In early evening, Ball’s elder brother, soldier Boy, and Ball’s girlfriend Jay turned up at home.

Jay complained about the marks on Ball’s face, so the story came out in the end.

I have yet to hear what Kae said about it, but elder brother Boy stepped in to exercise some male leadership.

Mum told me what happened: ‘Boy gave Ball a long talk, and asked him, as Beer’s elder, to apologise for the fight.

'The two argued briefly, but have now made up. Ball cried again, but is okay now,’ she said, when I called in mid-evening.

An hour later, when I called again, Ball had gone to bed.

‘He’s had as much as he can take for one day,’ said Mum.

It was the first time I have seen the boys hitting each other. They snap and bicker, but I have never seen them come to blows.

Mum, however, has seen it all.

‘This was a minor fight, compared to some I have seen.’

An uncle from the past

Ball was reunited with an uncle from the past, only the third time the pair have met.

His father’s elder brother, Toob, who works in shipping in Samut Prakan, spent the day with Ball’s family yesterday.

Mum bought a bottle of cheap Thai whisky, as did I. The last time the pair met was at the funeral of Ball’s father a few years ago.

‘He’s grown up so much,’ Toob said, referring to Ball.

Toob, 57, was one of 12 children, two of whom including Ball’s Dad are now dead.

He has two teenage children of his own, but after leaving his wife now lives alone, staying in one cheap hotel after another.

‘I don’t want to be burdened down,’ he said, asking why he prefers to live in hotels rather than finding a place of his own.

‘I have friends from a wide range of ages....my own age, your mother’s, even your own,’ Toob told Ball.

‘I can make B2000 or B3000 a day. In my job, I am comfortable,’ he said.

Ball lacks older male figures in his life on his Dad’s side of the family. He and Toob hit it off immediately.

‘I like the way Toob talks. He gives advice while also talking about stories in his life,’ Ball told me, while his uncle and Ball’s Mum were busy chatting.

Uncle Toob looks similar to Ball’s elder brother, soldier Boy, who is regarded as the hero of the family.

He is the eldest child, neither smokes nor drinks, and has a girlfriend. He is also good to his Mum.

‘I have my father’s fiery temperament,’ Ball told me.

‘My brother is widely liked in the neighbourhood. But when we were young, and argued with kids in the soi, I would be the first to stand up for him and sort people out,’ said Ball.

‘I’m small, but I didn’t let that worry me,’ he added.

I looked at the portrait of Ball’s Dad on the wall. ‘Everyone else has Dad’s nose. I have Mum’s,’ said Ball.

‘I want a long, tapering face, like Dad’s, but ended up with a wide face like Mum,’ he said, rubbing his features unhappily.

‘You have no need to worry about your looks,’ I told him.

Uncle Toob overheard me.

‘My daughter and her partner run a bar in Bangkok. The next time I am visiting, I will take you there. With your Korean-style looks, girls will swarm all over you,’ he told Ball.

Mr Fiesty Korean looked embarrassed.

‘I reserve the right to screen girls for him,’ I said.

Ball laughed, and looked at me to see if I was being serious.

‘Just joking,’I added, ‘though a visit to that bar sounds great.’

Ball has visited few nightspots in Bangkok. I want to take him to one, perhaps a beer garden, with Mum as our invited guest. We will see.

While Ball stepped away for a moment, I turned to his uncle.

‘Ball’s uncles seldom visit. I hope you come again soon. He would love to have you in his life,’ I told Toob.

‘I will try to come again soon,’ he said.

Mulling work options, old girlfriend calls

Maiyuu is again considering providing bakery to order, to supplement our income.

A small eatery has opened close to home. 'I will ask them if they would like to order bakery products from me. First, though, I have to decide what to make,’ he said.

Maiyuu could offer them home-made ice-cream, though a small investment would be needed first. We would have to buy him a bigger ice-cream maker.

Two friends have asked him to make cakes for an upcoming party. He will charge a token amount for his labour.

‘You could turn that into a bigger enterprise if you were to put up a notice in the condo offering home baking,’ I said.

‘Most of the tenants in this condo work during the day. I doubt they would be interested,’ he said.

Thais have an answer for everything, don’t they?

-
‘He’s still a teenager...he can’t see beyond today or tomorrow,’ said idle taxi driver Lort.

We were sitting in a slum alleyway, talking about Mr Ball’s options for finding work. Ball was away buying food supplies with his Mum.

‘He has yet to consider what to do with his future,’ said Lort. He agreed that Ball needs to find a solid job.

Ball has worked in 7-11 convenience stores, but in a few years he will be too old for that any more, or for serving in shops or restaurants.

By the time he's 20 or 21, he will be too old to ask his mother to support him while he is out of work (she won't allow it, said Lort optimistically).

Ball, a proud young man with a temper, has left jobs after falling into arguments with his superiors.

That stems from his youth and will pass in time. However, he might still be happier in a job where he could be his own master.

Ball reckons he could end up as a taxi driver, but he does not know Bangkok well, and has a poor sense of direction.

Lort suggested he could become a motorcycle taxi driver.

'Can you see him mixing with that rough crowd? 'I asked.

Lort agreed that he couldn't. Ball would have trouble fitting in there as well.

Ball could marry a girl with better school-leaving qualifications than his own, and send her out to work while he looks after their kids at home. That might be his best option, as Ball does not seem to want to work.

In short, his future looks grim.

‘If you returned to learning, you could improve your options,' I told Ball recently.

‘I will never return to study. That’s finished,’ he declared.

Studying part-time to get his school leaving certificate would take three years, Lort told me. Ball left school at 15 without one.

'I can see I might have to be with Ball for many years yet,' I said.

'You should stick with him and give him the guidance and help he needs,' said Lort.

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'I have looked forward to the World Cup for so long. It's held every four years, and the last time it was on, I was just a kid,' said Ball.

Ball has been following the World Cup eagerly. Few of his friends turn up at his place to watch the matches with him, as they are too busy with work.

However, every few days he heads out to play football with youngsters who gather at a nearby vacant section.

I asked him why he sees his friends so seldom these days. ‘They invite me out, but I have no money, so I have to say no,’ he said.

‘I am out of work, so would have to ask my mother for help. I don't want to bother her, so I stay at home instead.'

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A girl from Ball’s past called.

Ball doesn't have a cellphone, so most contact goes through his mother.

Mum was happy to get the call.

‘Where are you now, look [child]?’ she asked the caller.

‘So you are still at Carrefour...and you graduated with a certificate in accounting!’ Mum said excitedly, as the young woman on the end of the line, called Nam, told her story.

Nam holds the honour of being Ball’s first girlfriend, a few years before.

Ball had mentioned her before, but I thought she was just a passing attraction.

Mum handed the phone to Ball. They spoke for 20min.

Mum watched with pride as her son caught up with his old girlfriend's news.

Nan had kept Mum’s contact numbers. When the battery on one of Mum's cellphone gave out, Nan called on the other, and Mum handed the device to Ball.

Mum likes Nan more than she does Ball's present girlfriend, Jay. 'Ball loved her...he doesn't love Jay,' she told me as the pair chatted away.

While Nan has done well, graduating with a leaving certificate in accounting, Ball is out of work, with no immediate prospects of bettering himself.

We were sitting on the floor, feeding and playing with the toddlers. When the call ended, I asked Ball if he would consider going back to Nan.

‘I can’t go back. I am now with Jay...and I love her, even though we argue,’ he said.

Ball has big, sad eyes. Sometimes it is hard to know if they reflect his feelings, as he looks sad anyway.

Half an hour earlier, Ball had taken Jay on his motorbike to apply for a job which she found on the internet.

Soon after the call with Nan ended, Ball went out to fetch Jay, so she wouldn’t have to walk home.

Was he feeling guilty? Who knows.

But Nan, who must occupy a special place in his heart as his first serious girlfriend, still has feelings for Ball, and him for her.

Wet weather adventurer

Ball was caught in the rain as he took home a man in his 40s on his motorbike.

I met the older guy half an hour earlier, as he sat with Mum, her son and a few others outside the slum, drinking.

He was growing outspoken and touchy-feely as he knocked back the beers, but the others did their best to ignore him.

He decided he couldn’t find his own way back home, so prevailed on Mr Ball.

'Can you take me home?' he slurred.

Eager to be rid of him, the rest of the group agreed it was time for this guy to go, and urged Ball to oblige.

Ball’s first instinct was to pass on the burden to his younger brother Beer, the go-for of the household, but Mr B made some excuse, so Ball was left with the job.

Touchy-feely lived only five minutes away, but it started to pour while they were away.

Mum's friend Noi was concerned, and didn't think Ball should have been dragged into ferrying touchy-feely home.

‘If he found his way here, he can find his way back. The roads are slippery in the wet, and Ball could have an accident.’

She frets about me too.

Earlier, when Ball dropped in to his place to talk to his brother, she looked at me and said: ‘Don’t worry, he’ll be back in a moment.’

Ball pulled up on his motorcycle, and touchy feely clambered on the back.

He was away 10 minutes. Noi, peering eagerly through the rain, was the first to call his waterlogged return.

'Here he comes,' she said, as she pointed down the road at an approaching motorcycle.

Ball, displaying a keen sense of direction which normally eludes him, had found his way to touchy-feely's place, and dropped him off.

As the rain started, he managed to take off his watch, a possession he treasures perhaps more than any other. He handed it to his mother for safekeeping.

He parked his bike, as I pulled from my bag a towel, which I gave him to dry off.

Another member of the gathering, a grizzled guy in his 50s who sells dry squid on a cart, gave me the thumbs up. ‘Good on you!’ he said.

Ball took the towel, wiped himself down briskly, and handed it back. If he had held on to it any longer, it might have looked as if we were close.

‘Ball, you have a cold. Please dry yourself properly,’ I said, giving it back to him.

He put it through his hair, and handed it back a second time. I held on to it for a moment, and tried again.

‘Put it over your shoulders to keep warm,’ I said.

He took it, and let it lie there limply as if he would rather stand there soaked.

I like to think Ball has a gay angel sitting on one shoulder, a straight angel on the other.

A minute later, with his shoulders still swathed in the towel I had given him, his straight angel starting giving him grief.

‘What will they think? Quick, hand it back!’ it chattered in his ear.

Ball surrendered the towel a third time, and I gave up my fight.

I enjoyed seeing him soaked to the skin. His skin looked clearer, his boyish face more open and pronounced, as his wet hair was plastered to his little head.

Ten minutes later, we made our way back home.

Ball headed straight for his girlfriend, and started talking in that impenetrable teenage-style, boyfriend/girlfriend way they have.

Realising my chance to make a difference had passed (I am slipping back!) I said goodnight and left them to it.