 |
| Ta |
‘I don’t like songs
popular with teens today. I prefer old songs.’
That was teenager Mr Ball, as we sat in front of the family computer, watching old YouTube videos.
‘So you are a young man with an old head?’ I asked him.
Ball laughed.
‘Something like that,’ he said.
We have spent the last couple of nights huddled away in a small room off Mum’s bedroom, where the computer sits, sipping beers and watching music videos.
Normally we’d take a berth in the sitting room, where the rest of the family gathers, but Ball wanted to put some space between him and his family, so we hid in the computer room instead.
Ball and his elder sister Kae argued a few nights ago over an unpaid internet bill.
The adults in the household agreed they would chip in every month to pay the bill rather than have Mum find the money herself. Ball’s girlfriend was supposed to pay her share a couple of days ago, but forgot.
Ball and I were seated in the living room as the conversation unfolded that day.
Ball made a comment to his mother which upset Kae. She criticised Ball and his girlfriend, Jay.
Youngest child Beer was on his back. Mum was inspecting the hairs on his head, looking for grey imposters. When she found one, she plucked it out.
Ball retorted, and Kae launched another volley.
As the argument broke over his head, Mr B, looking disgusted, picked himself up and left.
Ball raised his voice, and tears formed in his eyes. Kae, unimpressed, likened her younger brother to a drunken dog.
Girlfriend Jay walked in half way through, but said nothing, as she knows her place.
‘I am an outsider...how can I step in?’ she said later.
Mum snapped at both Kae and Ball for speaking too strongly, but otherwise said nothing, which was disappointing.
In the end, Ball declared he wasn’t standing for any more criticism. ‘Pack a bag...we’re going,’ he told his girlfriend.
Kae carried on shouting as they mounted the stairs to their room.
Ten minutes later, the couple reappeared, bag in hand.
‘It’s raining outside...can’t you wait?’I asked him.
‘I am not staying in a place where people are attacking me,’ he said.
Jay looked at me hopelessly.
‘Please help talk to him,’ she said.
We sat under a motorway on the outskirts of the slum, as Ball cried out his problems.
Ball asked me for a loan so they could spend the night at a cheap hotel.
’That won’t solve anything. Your girlfriend has just finished work and has yet to eat, change her clothes, shower. Why don’t you go back and think about this again tomorrow?’ I asked.
‘I am grown up, and have friends. They can put me up for the night even if you don’t help,’ he said.
‘I want to see you both renting your own place one day. But this is not the time,’ I replied.
‘Or, I could sleep here under the bridge,’ he declared.
Idle taxi driver Lort paid us a visit. The timing was fortunate, as I was starting to despair of my chances of persuading Ball to go home.
I asked about Kae's movements. Kae, he said, had gone to bed.
'If you go back, no one will think ill of you,' I told Ball.
Mr Ball had cried himself out anyway, so we lugged his bag back home.
I bought them a noodle, and said goodnight.
The next day, I visited Ball after he finished work.
He and his sister Kae had yet to talk to each other, but relations appeared to be thawing.
We sat in the computer room, as Ball told me excitedly about his day at work.
Ball has started a new job, delivering mail at a city bank. He and his co-workers started on the same day together, which has helped them draw close, as they regard themselves as equals.
‘No one is gossiping about anyone else, or ordering us about,’ said Ball.
All the previous mail delivery boys were asked to leave, after they were discovered gambling one day at the bank.
Ball loves his new job. Every time we meet at his place, he has a new work story to tell me, as we watch his favourite Thai videos on YouTube.
My job, as I see it, is to be there for him as he chatters excitedly about his new job, and help him get over his troubles at home.
Sister Kae is too proud to climb down, still less apologise, so they tread around each other cautiously, as they wait for their emotional wounds to heal.
‘They are like fire meeting fire,’ Lort told me. ‘Neither will give in to the other.’
Mum sympathises with Kae more than she does with Ball.
‘Ball is hot-headed and doesn’t think,’ she said.
Still, there is cause for hope. On the night of the argument, I called Kae.
I left Ball and Jay, who were having a noodle, and slipped off home to call Kae. She was asleep when I called, but I pressed on regardless.
‘Ball is back. Persuading him to return was hard work. I worry that next time you argue, he may walk out and never come back,’ I told her.
Kae told me what led up to the argument, which helped make sense of why she criticised him that day.
‘Ball believes you are closer to Beer than him, and feels put out, as if you don't love him as much,’ I said.
‘I ask Ball to come out with us, but Ball is seldom interested, as he has his own girlfriend,’ she said.
Kae has her own boyfriend, who lives with her at Ball's place, but said nothing as Kae was criticising her brother.
‘Ball has found a new job which he loves. I hope he sticks at it,’ I said. ‘If this bitterness carries on, he may not.’
Kae cried.
‘I am always happy for him when he does well,’ she said.
If she acts as the scolding big sister, it's because she wants him to take responsibility.
The next night, I told Ball about my conversation with his sister. I can’t expect anyone else to try to patch up their differences, as no one seems interested.
‘Kae cried when I told her you had found a job you enjoy,’ I said. ‘Why do you think she did that?’
Ball pondered for a moment.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, but I detected a smile cross his lips.
Postscript: Singer Ta Chanit Yaisummoer (ต๊ะ ฌานิศ ใหญ่เสมอ), of the band Boyscout, is one of Ball’s favourites (pictured above).
He was performing when Ball was still a boy, but Ball remembers his stuff.
