Entry No.14

[khunsanuk]

RAINFALL

 

Guy?s fingers trembled as he lit yet another cigarette, the previous one still smouldering in the ashtray. His hands felt clammy and he was sweating, despite the chill blast from the air-conditioning. There was a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. This was the most terrible thing he had done in his life, and the waiting was the hardest part.

 

He walked across to the window and stared out at the cityscape in front of him. Bangkok, shrouded in cloud. The rain had started and soon it would close in, relentless and oppressive. It had rained like that the night he had met her, nearly three years ago.

 

He had been trawling through the bars of Soi Cowboy with Greg, a good friend and an old Bangkok hand. They had been out in the street flirting with the ?welcome? girls when the rain came, forcing them to take refuge in one of the bars.

 

It had been a standard go-go bar, and they had sat down on the bench seats around the outside and ordered a couple of beers. Half a dozen girls were dancing, their movements nothing more than going through the motions in time with the bland Thai pop music. One of the girls caught his eye. She was very petite, even for a Thai girl, with huge eyes. She smiled, a gorgeous lop-sided smile that lit up her whole face.

 

After her shift she came over, demurely holding out a dainty hand.

 

?Hello. My name Fon, may I sit down??

 

He was taken with her politeness, her petiteness, and her beauty. They laughed at the coincidence of her name and the random selection of the bar because of the rain, Fon being the Thai word for rain. It was an omen and he was smitten.

 

He had spent the rest of that trip with her, and the next one, contrived just a couple of months later. He had heard all the stories of how a relationship with a bargirl was doomed to fail. But those stories were not about Fon, she was different. Greg had tried to tell him that they all said that, ?this one is different?, but he ignored him, and it was too late now.

 

Outside the rain closed in, the visibility dropped, the grey skies pushing in from all sides. He checked his wallet, the tickets were there, but there were still a couple of hours to go. There was an empty bottle of Mekong whisky on the table, maybe the last he would ever drink. He considered going to buy another, but couldn?t face braving the downpour, and suddenly the thought of the cheap sweet taste made him feel sick.

 

He had known it would be difficult to get a visa for Fon to come to England, so had used the opportunity to do what he had dreamed about, to take off to pastures new. He sold his modest share portfolio and rented out his house and moved to Bangkok. He knew he would have no trouble finding a teaching job, but Greg was able to find him work in IT, to which he was more suited and paid far better.

 

Which, as it turned out, was no bad thing, as the problems with Fon started almost immediately. Nothing too much to begin with, and mostly about money. Then there was the not coming back to the apartment when she said, or coming back drunk. They would fight, she would cry, and then would smile with that extraordinary lop-sided smile and look at him with those huge eyes and he would forgive her. Always. As she knew he would.

 

But it didn?t get better. There were more problems and more fights. They made the decision to move out of Bangkok. They went to Hua Hin on the gulf coast a couple of hours south. They found a suitable business available, a small bar and restaurant. Fon would run it and it would provide her with her own source of income. There was enough IT work available for Guy even in a town like Hua Hin. It seemed like the ideal solution.

 

Instead things soon got worse. It wasn?t just the money, that was still as bad as ever, despite the business appearing to do well, but the lies started. Again they would fight and again she would cry and he would feel guilty. He wanted to walk away, but couldn?t, and then she would say she was sorry and she wouldn?t do it again. Her smile and her eyes would do their magic and he would take her into his arms.

 

Then came the stories of other men, customers in the bar, an old boyfriend from her Cowboy days. He couldn?t believe them and tried to ignore them, but on top of everything else it was too much. This time when he confronted her she became angry and denied everything. He believed her, he had too, he loved her too much and this time it had been his turn to back down and apologise.

 

While they lived in Hua Hin he got to know Boy. Boy was a tuk-tuk driver, a regular Thai guy. They would play pool together and talk football, and they became good friends. People told him that you should never trust a Thai man, but Boy would never ask for money or expect any favours. He introduced to him to his brother, Daeng. Daeng was a cop, not high ranking but with influence. He didn?t have the same charm as Boy, and was always sponging drinks and chatting up the girls in the bar, who were very wary of him. However, he was a useful contact to have.

 

Then it happened. He caught Fon. He had gone to Bangkok to pick up some computer parts and had planned to have a night out with Greg, but Greg had been sick so he returned that evening. Fon was in a bed with this guy, a Dane, a regular customer in the bar. He didn?t wait, he didn?t want to hear. He left. Three days later he was back in England.

 

As soon as he arrived he started to miss Thailand, the food, the climate, the lifestyle. And he missed Fon. She called him constantly saying how sorry she was, what a mistake she had made, how she would never do it again, how much she loved him and how different it would be when he came back.

 

He held out for a short while, but he couldn?t put her behind him. Every time he closed his eyes he saw that funny smile and those lovely, lovely eyes.

 

He went back. It got worse. He could not stop loving her, but she lied more and more, she cheated more and more. It was as if she knew that by getting him back she had won. The thought of leaving again, or just leaving her at all broke him up but he knew that if he stayed it would destroy him.

 

Then it came to him. There was a way of dealing with this Thai-style. He spoke to Boy. Boy said he knew how to deal with it.

 

It was Boy he was waiting for now. It was too late to stop what he put in motion, and although he had huge misgivings he was desperate and knew it was the only thing that he could do.

 

Beside the television there was a manila envelope. He opened it and counted the money again. 60,000 Baht. He had already paid 20,000 with the rest to be handed over when the job was done. Having paid for his airline tickets it was all the money he had left. He had been concerned about what would happen to Boy, but Daeng would take care of that. Perhaps he would have to spend a couple of months as a monk in a forest wat, but the disappearance of an Isaan peasant?s daughter in a distant town would hardly be investigated and would soon be forgotten.

 

He looked out of the window. The rain had eased and the skies were lifting. Soon the sun would come out again. He stubbed out the cigarette and lit another one. Already he began to feel better.

 

There was a knock on the door. Peering through the spyhole he saw Boy. He looked relaxed; he hardly even looked wet. He opened the door to let him in.

 

Boy looked at him, his gaze steady.

 

?Finish? was all he said.

 

The heavy feeling in his stomach moved up to his heart and his eyes blurred. For the first time it was not just guilt or regret he felt but real remorse. He couldn?t look at Boy and turned away to pick up the money.

 

?60,000.? He paused, ?I must go now Boy.?

 

Boy nodded as he took the cash.

 

?Take a good journey, my friend, ? he said.

 

Guy forced himself to look up. His eyes widened with shock as he saw the gun pointing at him. He didn?t understand, couldn?t take in what he saw. His last thought, bizarrely, was that the silencer was as big as the gun.

 

The girl slipped into the room. She was tiny with large brown eyes. She looked at the body on the floor, then at the man slipping the gun back into the waistband of his jeans. The expression on her face was of regret, sorrow and bewilderment. It passed quickly and she turned to Boy.

 

?Come on, tilac, let?s go,? he said.

 

She gave him a quick lop-sided smile and took his hand as they left the room.

 

[khunsanuk]

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