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It was a delayed response to Nawin's flippant comment of "I'm sure you will always be there for me." "Elderly?" "Khrap" he said with a wai. "Can you tell me your age. I mean how old are you honestly?" "Thirty something." Honesty did not always come out despite being summoned. "Elderly, as I said. How old do you think I am?" "I'd hate to know." "Seventeen." "Seventeen, really? Hmm."
It is too bad it's just that of any locker room scene" and then he pointed down at Nawin's open zipper. Nawin looked down and smiled widely. In all cases it was the massage of his own body to ease himself from the stress of thinking, knowing, and having to live in a world of illusions. Left to himself for a moment, he slipped into a brief sleep where, once again, he was with Kimberly.
Then there was a sudden need to defer to larger movements of the moment so he backed against a wall near a sink in the corridor to get out of the way of the officer who was now officiating over two large bundles of wadded linen that he was dragging toward a container near Nawin's feet.
"Well, good for you...I mean if you were happy before you've got more of it. If you weren't I guess you have less of it...unhappiness that is, negated negatives." The paramour laughed. "You're a comedian. I love that; I love you," he said as his fingers slid into the elastic of Nawin's underwear.
When the face was ugly its foul breath was fouler, and when handsome the snoring was a nice inebriating gust that picked up Nawin's kite; but in both perspectives the brazen Laotian in his impoverished vulnerability reminded him of Jatupon. For a moment he was scared of the Laotian as if having stumbled into a den of sleeping terrorist cells but it was the self that was his only terrorist.
Believe me, I am a self- made man and these "silky" hands, as you call them, have done a lot of things. Do you have a name?" "Boi." "Tell me something, Boi, I'm curious; do the beggars with their elephants just sleep with them randomly on sidewalks? Where do they go after shoppers go home and man and beast need to sleep?" "It's a mystery," said the Laotian and then grabbed one of Nawin's hands.
Nawin's life his myriad faces of lost forlornness, the hes of many ages was the background to advertisements about soap, beer, condoms, and cars. Repulsed by the foul language, she was transfixed by it nonetheless, until feeling the acidic rain that fell through polluted skies and the putrid city fall onto her skin.
"Sawadee khrap. Sabai dee mai? "Sabai dee. Where have you been all this time?" "Above you, of course, sleeping." "I mean since 5:30 when you thudded to the floor." "Oh, sorry, did I wake you?" Nawin's concern in this matter was only marginally genuine. For the most part it was feigned for the sake of kindness and to thwart this voice of distraction from his subject of deliberation.
Judged favorably or otherwise, it would have been a predominant issue, altering roles and distorting the potential outcome of the interaction. "I'm okay with it," he said. He was mocking Nawin's circumspect neutrality with a smile. "I'm just kidding. What about your sister? I mean would she care to pose nude if you and your family don't have any objections to it?" "Try.
It was as if that smile were saying that profane and abusive names were merely a mode of expression, like bantering, that gave visibility to something as impalpable as a relationship, and that she enjoyed whatever he wanted to call her as well as Nawin's intrusion of silence which was meant to be a reproach against Boi.
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