Chapter 24 Nen

Following Nen to Sawasdee that morning I found her with cigarette and coffee, a red love bite where I’d returned her attack the night before.  Smiling and walking past I bought the Bangkok Post from 7/11 and returned for a lazy breakfast.  My mind still sizzled I realized I had to get it together.  If I was going to make it out of Bangkok, to plan my next move I had to clear my head. 

Waiting until my body corrected itself in the early afternoon I collected my notebook and began to think.  I didn’t have much money left, but enough to get set up wherever I decided to go.  So my options, I needed an income, and in Asia the only way I knew to get that was teaching; China? Korea? Bangkok?   My lingering hunger for China was tempered by the fact I’d already done it, Korea by the fact I’d be an illegal, but perhaps Bangkok.  I’d read an American professor describe the city as somewhere where something different happened every day.  That was what I wanted, a place constantly evolving, free from the straightjacket of rules and regulations.  If I hung around long enough I might get to write something for The Post.  But there was my lack of credentials, I’d never written anything, I had no degree, all I had was a vague notion I wanted to write something. 

The other option was England; that was the sensible choice, go home, live with the family for a while, save some money, but how many times could I do that?  I’d return with memories fresh in my head, feel relaxed and then I’d be struck by reality.  I was nothing in England, a C.V. full of holes, my family’s patience wearing thinner every return. ‘I hope your going to settle this time,’ my grandmother would say, ‘perhaps you’ve finally got that wanderlust out of your system’.  They didn’t have a clue, I wasn’t wandering, I was working, seeking answers, getting on with the important work. My degree was something I knew I had to get to the end of, put the foundations of philosophy beneath me and see where it went.  My family wanted to rush me, scolding when I told them it might take four years instead of three, ‘You’ll be thirty by then,’ they’d tell me.  Thirty with nothing behind you is what they’d meant.    

Nen wandered to my table and asked about my plans for the night. 

“You come to my apartment?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Spending the afternoon reading Cameron’s short story I jogged the circuit from the previous day and met her at six.  Walking to the river with another girl from the restaurant and crossing by ferry it was a pleasant feeling, a breeze rippling across the deck, the madness of the city temporarily left behind.  The bus on the other side seemed to take forever to wind its way through rush-hour.  Arriving we walked a couple of lanes to an apartment set back from the road.

“Expensive?” I asked.

“Four thousand baht a month, but four girl share, so not expensive.”

Inside it was a single room identical to the shy girls in Chiang Mai; double bed, T.V., a couple of wardrobes stuffed with clothes, balcony adorned with drying rack and cooking utensils.

“Where do you sleep?” I asked.

“Floor, it’s O.K.”

Sitting on the bed the other girl took out a book and Nen turned on the T.V.. 

“What you reading?” I asked.

She turned to Nen for a translation.

“She study English.”

“Oh, go to school?”

“Yes,” she replied timidly.

She was studying around her job, a girl on an upward path while Nen’s only seemed to lead to down.  The quiet girl was a nice girl but not the type of girl I could ever be with.  Nen was my type, wild and crazy, someone I could latch with.  Changing into Khaki mini-skirt complimented by a matching top she twirled in front of me.

“O.K.?”

I nodded my approval.

“We go now,” she said.

“Go where?”

“Khao San.”

That evening we returned to the Khao San Centre.

“Nen, I can’t drink all night,” I said as we sat with our first drinks at 7.00.

“No problem, my friends from Sweden come.”

Leaving me to join them I spent my night wandering the streets, chatting to Jim who wanted to use me in T.V. commercials. 

“You meet me tomorrow, I take you to see agency,” he propositioned.

I listened to him for another half an hour and as he’d finished a foreigner stopped to continue the conversation. 

“If you want to work in Bangkok you can teach English,” he said.

He told me he’d been a builder back in England, had had enough and sold up.  Ragged in appearance he had lines running through his face, he was walking a bulldog which lived up to the idea canines share looks with their owners.  In his early forties I reckoned beer and women had aged him quickly.  People lost there purpose in Bangkok, found it again in a bottle of whiskey and the stub of a cigarette.  Strolling back to my guesthouse I spotted Nen, whiskey open, shrieks of laughter rising from the table she shared with her Swedish friends, I passed without stopping.    

At breakfast the next morning she came straight to my table.

“What you do last night?” she interrogated.

“Sleeping, you have a good time?”

“Yes, make party for my friend, so drunk.”

As I ate breakfast I noticed French Pierre sitting with a Thai girl, leaning over as he spotted me.

“How are you?”

“Good, you?” He rubbed a hand against his face, heavy bags sagging beneath his puffy eyes.

“O.K., I go to Patpong like you say, take two girls home,” I nodded. “Shit man, fucking shit, they come, only stay two hours, all the time looking at their watches, six thousand baht.”

“Who’s the new girl?”

“I met her yesterday, can’t speak fucking English.”

Spending the rest of the day mulling over my options I arranged to take Nen to the cinema and watched the rugby with Alex.  His friend playing in the opening test he screamed his name as we drank our Chang’s.  The Lions were feeble, losing as the kiwis in the bar roared approval.  We moved to table near the street.

“Not great,” I said.

“Didn’t flow at all.”

A lone Ozzie chatting to us from a neighbouring table he told us he’d been in Bangkok for eight years. 

“Just got out,” he said.

“Sorry.”

“Out of prison.”

He looked like another weather beaten soul, teaching to keep himself afloat.  He’d been inside two months for walking down Khao San with a friend smoking a joint; smoking by association they called it.  Excusing himself he reached down picking up a pair of crutches.  He only had one leg.  It seemed to symbolize all the foreigners living in the city, something missing, they’d come in search of something better, an easier life but it didn’t seem to work out like that.

Alex leaving to visit the bank I sat alone picking at the label on my beer bottle. Before I’d always dived in and out of Khao San but now I was observing.  Using my time like a journalist to work out how the foreigners reconciled their days of drinking.  I didn’t know how they did it; day after day, it was like Muay Thai, all consuming but in place of fitness came inebriation.  Walking back to Sawasdee I checked a travel agent for flights and was surprised to find England the cheapest destination. 

I went to meet Nen.

“We can leave in half an hour take taxi, bus too busy now,” Nen said as I returned to my guesthouse.  It took an age to wind across the city, my eyes drawn to the meter as the red numbers gradually grew larger.  Always knowing exactly how much credit I had it was painful to watch it tick away.  Eighty baht later we arrived opposite a huge mall, crossing via a foot bridge and entering an arcade of restaurants and shops.  We rode an escalator to the top floor, posters for Mr & Mrs Smith looming from the walls.

“Ah, we see this movie, I like these actors,” Nen said pulling on her jumper.

“Aren’t you hot?”

“Not want people to think I bad girl, if they see tattoo, no good.”

The title of the film seemed appropriate for our relationship, two strangers spending the week like a wedded couple.  The film itself was trash, a generous budget, two pretty actors, explosions, but it was good, sat chomping popcorn and sipping my Pepsi, holding hands, it was fun.  Not that I’d want to do every day but it was something I hadn’t done for a long time and I enjoyed it. 

Returning to Khao San I’d moved to a new guesthouse providing T.V., en-suite, window and a pool.  I lay on the bed and waited as Nen fixed her hair and climbed on top of me.  Removing my penis, she playfully sucked until I was hard and I put a condom on, pulling up her skirt.  She wasn’t taught thin, somewhere in-between, enough extra flesh to give her a shapely pair of breasts.  Sinking my head between them I moved to her neck and stopped at the love bite.

“No, no, everybody can see,” she said as I attended the mark.

Grabbing her rear I squeezed it tightly and eased inside.  I hated condoms, but I didn’t have a choice, and like the magazine without the nipples, she was sexy enough to come in spite of it. 

Moving up and down, I came first and continued until she shrieked and collapsed.   

“How long you stay?” she said taking a cigarette.

“Maybe a week.”

“Here have swimming pool, tomorrow can go?”

“You have time?”

“I not go to work tomorrow.”

Popping downstairs to collect fruit shakes we spent the night watching T.V. and woke late.

“I better go work,” she said.

Showering and collecting her clothes she left.  The room seemed empty without her.  It was something that hit me every time I slept with a girl now, loneliness temporarily removed and then exacerbated once they’d left.  It was the price you paid for non attachment, never knowing how long it would be before you got to hold someone again. For a while I turned on the T.V. but it was useless.  Getting up I looked in the mirror, I still had my physique but how long would it I last in Bangkok?  The delicate lines gradually fading amongst overeating and caloried drinks, I had to make a plan.

Brunching on pancakes the next morning Pierre was with another new girl, maybe in her mid twenties, a delicate paisley dress revealing a long pair of shapely legs.

“Hey man, I didn’t see you there, I found the girl, this girl speaks English,” he said smiling.

“What happened to the other one?”

“Ah, I don’t know, anyway this one’s taking me to Ayuthaya, you know Ayuthaya?  Some kind of ancient city,” Sweat running down his face I reckoned he’d been pissed for four days straight. 

“This is Cha,” he introduced.

“Helloa.”

As her greeting reached my ears I heard it, the deep voice, Adam’s apple, she was a stunningly attractive ladyboy.

“Hey man, have to go now, we have to get there in daylight,” Pierre said shaking my hand and heading to the street.

Nen approached my table pointing after them, “Ladyboy, he know it ladyboy?”

I shook my head, watching as his grey rental car snaked down the lane. 

Easing back until afternoon I was joined by Alex.  He told me he had a flight arranged for later that week but for now he was stuck.  Moving to talk about his travel plans he told me he was on his way to Australia.

“I’ve wanted to go travelling for ages, could never get the money together until my brother offered me a room in his house.  To be honest, I’d been getting a bit depressed.”

“What were you doing?”

“Removals, pretty good actually, my old man knew the gaffer, Removals of Chelsea.  I moved Noel Gallagher.  They had this room with all this kinky sex stuff, you know, those sex swings?  Before that I had an office job in Hemel Hempstead, kind of systems support, not very interesting so when the removals came up I took it.”

“Well, I bet you’re glad you’re out here.”

I could tell he was, beer in hand, icy beads running down its neck.  He was first time out, scratching the itch, but I could see the danger signs.  He was planning to spend all his money, eight thousand pounds and then go back.  For some it was easy, dust off the suit, return to the office but for those dissatisfied, things were different.  Some got lost forever, picking up work to keep them abroad; others went back for a time and found they couldn’t cope, seesawing from one side of the world to the other.  And then there was me, the disciplined traveller, or at least I liked to think so.  Never letting my money get too low, never staying in a place when I thought I’d be better somewhere else.  ‘What are you going to do?’ I questioned myself again.

That evening Nen dragged me back to the Khao San Centre where we met two Scandinavian girls she knew from Pi Pi.

“Nen I can’t drink,” I said for a second night.

“Just a bit longer honey, I take you play pool,” she pleaded.

The girls leaving for the airport we moved to a bar, the pool table occupied we ordered a couple of cocktails and I dragged her to the floor for a slow dance.  Back in my room by eleven I knew I had to leave, every night with Nen would be alcoholic, and every extra day without a flight meant another day in Bangkok.  The next morning I didn’t tell her my intention, just bought the ticket and returned for breakfast joined by the French girls who told me how much they were enjoying Bangkok

“What else should we see?” They asked.

I took them on a tour, helped them negotiate with their shopping and returned to the guesthouse to draw up an itinerary for Chiangmai.  I didn’t like offer too much advice, just gave them a few sites and the address of my boxing camp. 

The dark haired of the two sat looking at me, “I think you are,” she made a soft whistling sound with her lips and placed her hands in front of her moving them apart. “Very calm, I not see many people like you,” she said.

It was exactly the persona I tried to put out, the calm demeanour of someone who knew exactly what they were doing, only I didn’t, I didn’t have a fucking clue.  If only she could have seen the turmoil inside the head, all the loose connections.

Back in my room that evening I told Nen I’d booked the ticket.  She was O.K. but in the back of my mind I was still asking myself the question, ‘Do I really want to go?’

“Is it easy to find a teaching job in Bangkok?” I asked her as she sat on the bed.

“Very easy, I have foreigner friend who can help you.”

“How about apartments? I don’t want to live around Khao San, is there anywhere quieter? Somewhere near Sukhumvit?”

“Before I live with English boyfriend have very nice place, near centre, not too expensive.”

I started imagining myself living with her.  It would be like my time with Suzy, thrown together, her helping me, me helping her.  I felt I wanted to, just for a while to enter her world and lift her to somewhere safe.  We’d rent a simple apartment, buy all the necessities you needed to start a life together; ironing board, bedding, T.V..  I’d encourage her to get a job in a better class of restaurant and I’d teach and study philosophy.  We’d spend evenings at home and visit the bars in Sukhumvit after work, occasionally go to Khao San.  My life again in some kind of balance, a partner who’d need me and when she didn’t, I’d let her fly.

I lived a split life for the next few days, half the time imagining life in Bangkok, the other thinking about home.  I had an e-mail to say my father to say he’d bought a new house and the old was lying empty.  That meant a job from Gareth and a place to stay rent free. 

The morning of my departure Nen and I went to a park by the river.  Sitting on the grass, I watched people as they lay talking and wondered how I could leave it all.  The easy life in exchange for home, I knew I’d need work if I stayed, but there was still so much to recommend it; the weather, excitement, picking up the language. 

“I lose my job,” Nen started.

“They sacked you?”

“I go this morning and they tell me not to come back.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed her.

“This friend of yours, you really think he could find me a job?”

“I call him now, no problem.”

Before I could reply she had the phone to her ear. 

“Hi Nen…Nen, I want ask your help.  My friend English want to teach, can meet you today?”

Listening to the reply she thanked him and hung up.

“Say he can come to Khao San tonight, finding job no problem, I already tell you.”

Leaning forward she rested her head on my chest.

“Please stay, please…”

It was crazy, I’d known her a less than a week and we were talking about setting up home together, but that wasn’t real the problem, the problem was the future.  I wanted to live in Bangkok but I wanted to do it in style.  I wanted money, opportunities to explore, to write for The Bangkok Post.  It was stick or twist again, try and make a go of it with what I had or go home and collect reinforcements; get my degree, save some money, maybe buy the house to rent out in England.  I reckoned I’d need at least my degree to write for The Post and that made being at home for a while make sense; settle down, pay my fees, get the books I’d need. 

I was starting to form a vision of the type of life I wanted, it was definitely international but I wanted to operate at a higher level.  I’d seen what happened to people who taught English.  I’d met one at my Buddhist centre in Birmingham, forty eight he’d returned from Rome with nothing.

“Houses are so expensive,” he’d complained.

The American I’d met on my first day in China had been the same, living a hand to mouth existence, enough money to cover costs but nothing to put aside.  He’d been considering buying a new belt that day, only a couple of dollars, but he’d had to think about it.  No, I was going to operate on a higher level, some sort of correspondent, entrepreneur, something freelance but something that paid. 

“I have to go now,” I said standing.

“No, please stay, can do everything no problem.”

Reluctantly joining me we walked to my hotel and I collected my bags arguing with the receptionist as she refused to return my deposit.

“You not have receipt?”

“You know I paid, if I didn’t pay you wouldn’t have given me the room.”

Storming out I was shaking, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so angry.  We hailed a taxi and climbed inside.

“You tell me about quiet place where I can live, can you ask the driver to take us past,” I said.

“You stay, yes, you stay?” Nen replied excitedly.

“Just ask.”

As we moved through the city she gripped my hand.  I didn’t want to leave her, she needed someone but it couldn’t be me.  Passing through the area she pointed from the window.

“Here, see?”

It was pretty, the colonial buildings I’d envisaged, wider boulevards than I’d not seen elsewhere in the city but it wasn’t enough.  Reaching the airport I smoked a cigarette and walked to the ATM. 

“For you, need money if you not have job,” I said handing her a few thousand baht.  It wasn’t payment, just someone who had money giving it to someone who didn’t. 

Approaching check in I dropped my bag and took her in my arms. 

“Don’t forget me,” she said tightening her grip.  It seemed so unfair how life left so many people lonely.  So many people who just wanted to hold someone, but somehow it all became so complicated.

“I have to go.”

She pushed a piece of paper into my hand.

“Don’t read now,” she said.

Passing my bags through the x-ray machine I looked up as she disappeared through the crowd.  Leaving Nen behind, leaving Bangkok, was it the smart move?  If I stayed perhaps things would open up, opportunities I hadn’t seen yet, the kind you had to wait for.  Held up at customs for overstaying my visa I paid the fine and passed to departures eating KFC to ease my mood.  I took out the piece of paper.

‘Don’t forget me, love Nen XXX.’ 

Finishing my food I found myself walking towards information ‘Why don’t you stay? One more roll of the dice’.  I couldn’t, too late, I had to go.  Turning I headed towards my gate.  ‘No, fuck it, I’m staying’.  Turning again I headed for information.

“Hi, I’m supposed to be flying to London but I need to stay, can I get my bags off.”

“You have to ask at your gate.”

I hurried down the tunnel, repeating my predicament and adding the idea I was meeting a friend in Bangkok.

“You cannot get refund on ticket, you know this?” the girl said.

I stood for a moment as my mind whirred.

“No problem, I’ll take the flight.”

On the plane I stowed my luggage and sat rapping my fingers on the armrest.  My whole body was jumping, I didn’t want to go.  I knew what was going to happen, nothing would have changed at home, two weeks from now I’d feel like I’d never been away.  I remembered something I’d read ‘The definition of insanity is doing the same thing twice and expecting different results.’  That was it, trapped in a cycle, living in England until desperation drove me abroad, returning once anxiety over the future became too much.  I felt like a terrorist, the whole plane watching me to see what I’d do next.  I stood and removed my carry-on bag marching back towards the entrance. 

“Is there a problem sir?” a cabin girl asked as she stood in my path.

“Can I still get off, I have to meet a friend in Bangkok.”

“Sorry sir, we’re cleared for departure.”

The flight passed in a blur, my mind empty, watching film after film until I found myself unclipping my belt and looking out at Heathrow.  Riding the tube to London I thought about Gareth, about my brief spell in the city.  I hadn’t really known it before but I’d come to see it as a place you had to be born or have a good reason for being now.  Anyone else would be swept away; it wasn’t the place for me.  Making two changes I arrived at Marylebone and took the train to Solihull calling Stuart from the station.

“Hey buddy, how are you?”

“Adzie man, haven’t heard from you for a while.”

“Any chance of a lift?”

“Where are you?”

“Solihull station,” I heard him chuckle.

“When’d you get back?”

“A few hours ago.”

Taking me to his place I spent the night filling him in on what had happened and my still un-made plans.