Bar Girl (28 page)

She remembered the times she and Bak had played there as children. A time of innocence. A time of laughter.

‘Okay, Mike. Let’s go,’ she said, turning away from the pond.

As they drove slowly past the first of the houses she saw people look up. Look to see who was passing in the shiny new car. Something to talk about in the otherwise dull evenings.

At Siswan’s direction, Mike drew up outside her old house. There were people in the garden. People she recognised from her youth. Would they recognise her? She didn’t know. Didn’t care that much. The chanting of the monk from inside the small downstairs room marked the beginning of the funeral ceremony.

As they approached the weather beaten wooden door she turned to Mike. It would be bad enough for her to walk in alone. Already she could hear the murmurings of those gathered outside. ‘Siswan’, she heard them say and ‘farang’. Mostly farang.

‘I’ll wait here, Siswan,’ Mike said, as though reading her thoughts.

She smiled up at him. Reached out and squeezed his arm. More for the villagers to gossip about.

‘Thank you, Mike,’ she said, before turning and entering her old home. Inside lay her father. Placed within a plain wooden coffin that was more like a box than a coffin, he was in the centre of the small room. A yellow-robed monk sat to one side chanting the prayers and rites necessary for the soul to attain heaven.

To one side of the monk, at a respectful distance, sat Ped. Her cousin had her hands raised in prayer and her eyes closed. She didn’t open them as Siswan entered the room. To the other side of Ped sat her mother. The woman who had condemned her.

The sight of her mother filled Siswan with emotions. She suddenly wanted to cry. To stand in front of the gathered family and cry. She held the tears back. Stood in the entrance of the room she just stared at her mother.

The woman looked older. Much older than the five years that had passed since Siswan had last seen her. She looked worn and broken. Ped had told her that her mother was better. That she had even started to go to the temple again. Siswan couldn’t see that woman. She couldn’t see a person strong enough to even stand, let alone make the journey to the temple to pray. What she saw was an empty, broken body. A body that had grown thin and frayed. She almost allowed a cry to escape from her throat.

The monk stopped chanting. The prayer was over. Ped lowered her hands, opened her eyes. When she saw Siswan a startled sound escaped her lips. Her mother, too, lowered her hands and looked at Ped to see what had startled her. She followed the young woman’s eyes and caught sight of Siswan standing in the doorway.

At that moment, the moment that their eyes met, Siswan realised why Ped had told her that her mother was getting better. It was in her eyes. The watery faraway look Siswan had remembered was gone. The eyes that looked at her were alive. Alive and aware of what they were seeing. Her mother’s eyes were those of a younger woman. A woman who wasn’t yet defeated. A woman who had come back.

‘Siswan,’ her mother said.

A single word. Spoken so quietly. Almost whispered. Siswan. Her name spoken from the voice of her mother. A voice that had condemned her so many years ago.

Now Siswan understood what it was that had made her come back for her father’s funeral. Now she understood why she was here. Why she was willing to risk being ridiculed by the villagers. Why she risked the stares, the gossip, the possibility of further condemnation. With that one, whispered word, her mother had made it clear.

It had nothing to do with running away from Mirak, nothing to do with buying back her respectability, nothing to do with showing off her success. The only reason she had come back was to gain redemption. Redemption for her sins. Redemption for having done what she had done with Bak, with the boys in the field. Redemption for the old man in the park, for every sin, great or small, that she had committed in order to survive.

There was only one person in the whole world who could give her the redemption she so desperately wanted. One person who would be able to tell her that it hadn’t been her fault, that she hadn’t had a choice. The same person who had condemned her. The same person who had told her that what she did was wrong. Only one. The woman she now stared at. Her own mother.

Siswan crossed the floor on legs she didn’t trust. She felt light headed. Faint. She never took her eyes off her mother. Didn’t look at the dead body of her father. Didn’t look at her cousin or the other members of the family gathered in the small room. She needed her mother. Wanted to feel her touch. Hear her words of forgiveness.

She fell to her knees. Lowered her head to the floor in front of the old woman. Silently she prayed for the touch, the words that would redeem her soul. Redeem herself.

She felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder. Felt the weight of her arm as she leaned out to touch her.

‘Siswan,’ her mother whispered, again. ‘Oh, my Siswan.’

Siswan looked up into her mother’s face. Tears were running down the old woman’s cheeks.

*****

The cremation took place in the temple. Her father’s body had been placed on the back of a truck and Siswan, holding her mother’s arm as though she would never let it go, had walked slowly behind it.

Paper flowers of white, yellow and blue had been placed around the bloated and unrecognisable figure of her father. The flowers, so pretty in the afternoon sunshine, did little to eradicate the ugliness of her father’s face. A face swollen in size and blotched from years of whiskey consumption. She didn’t know this man they were to burn. Didn’t allow herself to even think about him.

As she walked behind his body, the only thing she cared about was the woman at her side. She had come back from wherever she had hidden herself. Come back from the place where her father’s fists had sent her. That was what mattered to Siswan.

‘Where have you been?’ her mother asked her.

Siswan told her a version of her life. Told her how she had found work with the farang that followed behind them in the car. Told her a sweetened story of how she had been lucky to find such a good and honest employer. She omitted anything that lay blame on Bak or the family.

‘We don’t know where Bak is,’ her mother told her, in her quiet voice. ‘But I’m glad you have returned. Your father will be pleased you are here.’

Siswan didn’t reply. Didn’t say what she thought of her father. What he had done to her mother. What he had done to them all. She was happy to be with her mother. Happy to be walking beside her to the temple.

After the ceremony, after the fires had consumed what was left of her father, Siswan helped her mother into Mike’s car.

‘We can drive back, Mama,’ she said. ‘It’s too far for you to walk again.’ They drove back in virtual silence. Only once did her mother speak in the car.

‘Is this farang your husband?’ she asked.

‘No Mama,’ Siswan said with a smile. ‘He is my friend. A good friend.’

As they drove away from the village that evening, Siswan felt happier than she had in a long time. Happier than when she had last left her home. She had managed a conversation with Ped even though she hadn’t wanted to leave her mother’s side.

‘I’ll send you some more money,’ she had told her cousin.

‘She was asking about you for the last three days. I’m glad you came back for her.’ Ped smiled.

‘Thank you, Ped.’ Siswan had hugged her. ‘Thank you for looking after her.’

‘She’s family, Siswan. I had to help my family.’ Ped smiled, and hugged her back.

The family had all gathered in the garden that evening to eat a meal in honour of her father. Siswan had looked at them all. Years before, they had gathered in her garden. Years before, they had said and done nothing to stop the beatings her mother received. To stop the man they were now honouring. She said nothing. Held her peace and contented herself with her mother’s company. It didn’t matter anymore.

Mike had sat in the garden and ate with her and her family. He hadn’t said much. Hadn’t needed to. His very presence gave her strength. Finally, after they had said their goodbyes, he turned to her.

‘Are you glad you came, Siswan?’ he asked.

‘Oh, yes.’ She smiled at him. ‘Thank you, Mike.’

‘Well, I didn’t do very much. Just drove the car.’

‘Mike, you don’t know how much you did. You’ll never know.’ She put her arms around him.

She didn’t care that the family were watching this show of affection. Didn’t care that their beliefs disallowed such public displays. She smiled up at the big farang.

‘Now you truly are my Papa, Mike.’

He smiled back, opened the car door for her to climb in.

‘If that’s true, it means Rican is going to be your stepmother.’ He closed the door before she could reply.

She had to wait until he had walked around the car. Had to wait until he had smiled and waved to her family. Had to wait whilst he slowly and deliberately took his time getting in behind the wheel.

‘What did you say?’ she asked him.

‘Oh, sorry. Didn’t you know?’ He grinned.

‘No. I didn’t know!’ she admonished him. ‘When did you decide that?’

‘Well, I was going to tell you the morning you told me about your father. It didn’t seem right then,’ he told her.

‘Bloody hell, Mike,’ she laughed. ‘Can I be a bridesmaid?’

‘Well, I thought a maid of honour,’ he smiled. ‘You and Apple.’

‘No, Mike. A bridesmaid,’ she laughed.

‘What, you mean?’ he asked, incredulously.

‘Yes. Why not?’ She smiled at him. ‘Do you mean to tell me that you’ve never met a bar girl who’s a virgin?’

Mike just looked at her for a moment. She didn’t say anything. Just looked at him with a smile on her face. She waited for what she had said to sink in. Now you’re just as shocked as I am, she thought to herself.

‘I didn’t know,’ he said, as he drove. ‘I should have guessed.’

‘How could you guess?’ she asked.

‘You never go with a man. The trouble with Mirak,’ he told her.

‘Ah, yes.’ She turned serious. ‘The trouble with Mirak.’

‘What are you going to do about him?’

‘I don’t think there’s much I can do. I really hurt him,’ she said, quietly.

‘Oh, I don’t know, Siswan. Us men are pretty thick skinned you know.’ He smiled. ‘He’ll come back. If you want him to.’

‘I’m not sure that I do, Mike,’ she told him. ‘It just makes life so complicated.’

‘It makes life worth living, Siswan,’ he said. ‘There ain’t much else besides love.’

‘Apart from the money, Mike. There’s always the money.’

Mike didn’t say anything in reply. He just smiled and kept driving down the dark and dusty lanes. She remembered Karn. She hadn’t thought about the money. Not when it came to her farang.

‘Maybe there’s more, Mike,’ she said, quietly.

‘Yes, Siswan. There’s more. You’ll see.’

They continued on in silence. When they came to the main town, Siswan asked Mike to return to the park. There was something she wanted to do.

When they pulled up alongside the small lake once again, the road had changed dramatically. Rows of small restaurants and cafés lined the sidewalk. People were everywhere; walking, jogging, even a few riding bicycles. So different from the day when the heat of the sun kept most people away.

‘Here, Mike,’ she suddenly said. ‘Stop here please.’

She climbed out of the car and walked a few paces down the sidewalk. The first thing she saw was the old, rusting motorbike and sidecar. She was certain it was the same one. She looked along the sidewalk.

The old woman was stood at her small grille when Siswan approached. She looked up at the young woman stood in front of her.

‘Yes?’ she said, expectantly.

‘Hello.’ Siswan gave her a wai. The old woman smiled in reply.

‘Do you want to eat?’ she asked.

‘Can I work for you?’ Siswan asked, in all innocence.

The old woman cackled. She revealed black stumps of teeth and a yellow coated tongue. The teeth were even blacker than Siswan remembered.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘I have nowhere to go. I need a bed, somewhere to shower. Food,’ Siswan told her.

The old woman didn’t reply. Her face looked puzzled as though she was remembering something. Something from her past.

‘I know you,’ she said, hesitantly. ‘I think I do.’

‘I know you,’ Siswan told her.

Siswan reached into her handbag. Pulled out her purse. Whilst the old woman watched, she counted out ten, one thousand notes.

‘This should cover the rattan mat I took from you,’ she said, handing the money to the surprised old woman.

‘What?’ The woman looked at the money, then back to Siswan.

‘Yes. I owe you a new one.’ Siswan smiled. ‘And I owe you a young girl’s thanks.’

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked back to the car. Settling herself back in the passenger seat she turned to Mike.

‘And sometimes, Mike,’ she said. ‘Just sometimes, it’s all about the money.’

It was just after two in the morning when Mike pulled up outside Mike’s Bar. There wasn’t room to park so he dropped Siswan off and went to find a place for the car. The long journey back had been uneventful and, as far as Siswan was concerned, thankfully so. She’d had enough emotional stress for one day.

When she entered the bar she found it in full swing. The girls were all busy, the drinks were flowing and the music was blasting out like there was no tomorrow.

It’s good to be back, she thought to herself and, smiling, headed for the bar where she could see Lon chatting away to a good looking farang.

‘Where’s Apple?’ she said to the girl, after nodding and smiling to the farang customer.

‘Oh, hello, Miss Siswan.’ Lon smiled and offered a wai. ‘She’s up at your bar. I mean Swan’s Bar.’

Siswan had told the girls often enough that she didn’t own either bar. Mike was the owner. Call the bars by their names. She let it go this time.

‘Okay, I’ll walk up. Everything alright here?’

‘Oh, yes. Very all right!’ Lon answered, with a grin and a slight nod towards the young farang.

Siswan smiled back. She couldn’t blame Lon. The guy was very handsome.