Cross Currents (28 page)

“Yes . . . well, no, actually. I just wanted to say hi.”

A middle-aged woman appeared in a nearby doorway. “That my mother,” Dao said, grinning. “She cannot speak English. Since you come here, to our home, she must think you want to marry me.”

“What?”

“We Thais very traditional in some ways. If a man visits a woman's house, sure, sure he is going to ask to marry her.”

“I . . . I didn't know—”

“It okay. You
farang
. That make it okay.”

“I didn't have any idea.”

Dao walked toward her mother, speaking in Thai. At first her mother's face was blank and her body still, but as Dao continued to talk, the older woman nodded and then went back inside. Dao returned to Ryan's side. “Yes, I was right,” she said, smiling. “She think that maybe you want to marry me.”

“What'd you tell her?”

“Only that you my number one customer. That you want another massage. Come, follow me. I show you something.”

They left the clearing, walking back toward the village. Watching Dao as she led him forward, Ryan realized for the first time how little she was. The top of her head might have risen to his collarbone. Yet she had the curves of a woman, and he couldn't help but watch her hips as she stepped over roots and fallen branches.

“Sure, sure, my mother will have many questions for me tonight,” she said, turning to glance at him. “And my father . . . oh, King Kong, how surprised he will be!”

“I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“That okay. Do not worry your brain. It muscle too. It will get tired. But I cannot massage it. So sorry.”

He listened to her laugh, wondering where she was taking him. Soon they were in the main part of the village, passing shops and pubs and clusters of tourists. Dao said hello in Thai to many of the locals she passed, sharing a few words or a smile. Ryan noticed that everyone seemed to light up when they saw her.

She proceeded past the start of the pier, followed a trail toward the nearby beach, and stopped at a vendor, speaking again in Thai. Ryan watched as an old woman dropped a spoonful of butter on what looked like a giant saucepan. As the butter heated up, the woman patted and shaped two balls of dough. After flattening the dough until it was no thicker than a few sheets of paper, she set it on the saucepan, then added half of a banana, sliced down its length, on each of what were soon two crepes. The woman sprinkled cane sugar on her creations before holding a can of chocolate syrup above each crepe, dripping chocolate strategically. Once the crepes were flipped, the vendor used her steel spatula to set them on a paper plate. She handed the plate and several napkins to Dao, who gave her some money and waved good-bye.

Dao walked to the beach and sat down on the sand near the water's edge. More than a dozen longboats were moored here, sterns tied to anchored buoys and bows secured by ropes to nearby palm trees. The longboats swayed back and forth in the breeze like horses awaiting their riders. In the distance, a passenger ferry approached—a rectangle of blue and white dwarfed by the island's massive cliffs.

“This good treat for you,” Dao said, handing Ryan the plate. “Give you more muscle to chase pretty girls.”

Ryan thanked her and bit into one of the crepes. The combination of butter, chocolate, and cooked bananas made him smile. “I can see why you like this. It's just about perfect.”

“Of course it perfect. Like me, right?”

He laughed, handing her the plate. “That's right. Like you.”

She ate the crepe in a well-practiced manner, rolling it tighter, then biting one end. Ryan watched her eat, aware of how her full lips glistened from the butter. After finishing the treat, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and set the plate down. “I so surprised today when you come to my house. Nothing ever give me bigger surprise. I ask myself if I am dreaming, if King Kong really come out of jungle, like in the movie.”

Ryan raised his sunglasses so that they were perched atop his head. “Are you always home on your days off?”

“One day. One day off every week. And yes, on that day I home.”

“What do you do?”

“Help parents. My father, he not see so well. My mother have . . . how you say . . . arthritis? So, I help them. Washing clothes, making the dinner, sweeping the floor.”

“Just you? Do you have brothers or sisters who help?”

“Yes, I have three brothers and one sister. But they all younger. Still in school. So, as oldest child, I have to take care of parents.”

“What about you? Do you ever do anything for yourself? Buy something nice for yourself?”

Her brow furrowed. “For me? No. Never. My money, it go to my parents. They use some for food, for clothes. They save some to use if my little brothers or sister want to go to university on mainland. My mother and father, they want one child to go to university. No one in our family ever go before.”

The ferry neared, approaching the pier, which was filled with Thais. “But what about you?” Ryan asked. “It's your money. Do you want to go to a university?”

She looked away from him, her smile fading. “It not matter what I want. I cannot go. I have to make money.”

“That's not fair. It's your—”

“It fair. It what we do. Then one day, if my brother go to university and later get good job, maybe he can help me, help my children. That how it work.”

“Would you . . . if you could . . . would you go to a university?”

“Of course.”

“How old are you?”

Her smile returned. “A smart woman never answer that question. And a polite man, he never ask.”

“Tell me.”

“Nineteen. But why you ask?”

Ryan shook his head, saddened by the thought that she wanted to go back to school, but never would. He knew that she was bright and eager. How must she feel giving massages to rich tourists, day after day, listening to their stories, seeing the thickness of their wallets? “You're still young,” he finally replied. “You could still go to school.”

“Impossible. For me, anyway. But please, do not worry your big head, King Kong. I am fine. Am happy. And if my brothers or sister go to university, then I even more happy.”

A Thai man untied a nearby longboat, started the engine, and backed it out into the azure waters. The familiar and repetitive cough of the two-stroke engine filled the air.

“I . . . I came today because I wanted to thank you,” Ryan said.

“Thank me? For massage? It great massage, I know. But you not need to thank me twice.”

“That's not what I wanted to thank you for.”

“What?”

“It's just . . . you make me laugh. And you . . . appreciate me for who I am.”

“What you mean?”

Ryan scratched at a mosquito bite on his arm. “Most women . . . they don't seem to understand me. I annoy them, I think.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. Maybe I . . . I worry too much about what I want to do.”

She pushed her hair aside, so that it lay on the shoulder that was farthest from him. “What you want to do?”

“Study. Exercise.” He smiled. “And get massages from girls on Ko Phi Phi.”

“Girls!”

“I mean, from one girl on Ko Phi Phi. A beautiful girl named Dao.”

“That better. Much better.”

“But I'm the opposite from you. You work for everyone else. I just work for myself.”

“But someday, when you have good job, you can take care of your wife, your children. So you not only work for you, but for them.”

“You think so?”

She nodded. “Of course I think so. Your wife will be lucky woman. Same, same for your children.”

He resisted a sudden urge to touch her bare shoulder, which glistened in the sun. “You see? That's why I wanted to thank you.”

A breeze stirred her hair. She smiled. “You are welcome, my big gorilla.”

Watching her grin, Ryan thought about the differences between them. Their histories were as varied as water and sand. And yet, they were also connected. She saw him for who he was, and though he had spent very little time with her, he wanted to spend more. He wanted to watch her sit on the beach, to listen to her laugh, to somehow, someday help her as she had helped him.

His eyes found the place where the water and the sand met. He watched this place, saw how little waves tugged at the sand, pulling and pushing it, bringing movement to what had once known stillness, changing patterns that had seemed so permanent.

He looked up again, smiling as she chided him for not listening, then laughing as she picked up a strand of seaweed and threw it at him.

THE DAY HAD BEEN PRODUCTIVE and somewhat celebratory for Patch. He'd finished his path a few hours after breakfast, positioning the last brick into place and then inspecting the entire project, making sure that nothing had shifted or loosened. The path was better than he could have imagined, strong and eye-catching. He knew that it was a significant upgrade from the sandy trail that people had previously used and that it might draw more customers in Lek and Sarai's direction, which pleased him.

After finishing the path, Patch had worked on the tree house, nailing a thick piece of plywood on top of the support beams. He then added railings to every side of the structure, leaving an opening by the ladder. Decorations came next, pieces of coral that he'd found on the beach soon gracing nearby branches. He also painted the top of the plywood, re-creating what Ko Phi Phi looked like from above. He'd seen such pictures in guidebooks, and it wasn't hard to paint the butterfly-shaped island surrounded by the turquoise sea.

Lek had walked to the tree house and slowly climbed up the ladder. He had sought out Patch to thank him for the path, but was equally pleased with the tree house. Both Lek and Patch had wanted to show the children right away but would have to wait until after school. So they sat and smiled, Lek swinging his feet over the edge, feeling years younger, as if the weight and burdens of time had slipped off his shoulders.

Hoping to repay Patch for the path and the tree house, Lek had asked whether he wanted to borrow the longboat for the afternoon. Patch understood the generosity behind the offer, as fuel was expensive, and frivolous excursions on the boat were rare sights. A part of him had been tempted to politely refuse, but he also understood that Lek longed to repay all the hard work. And so he had said yes, smiling at the way Lek had grinned and then tried to hurry down the ladder.

Patch had seen Brooke on the beach reading, and as Lek led him toward the longboat, he'd called out to her. She had set down her book, wrapped a sarong around her hips, and caught up to them. Patch had tried to find Ryan as well, but his brother's bungalow was empty. Once Lek ensured that the engine was working fine, he had patted Patch on the back, which he'd never done before, and helped the two Americans get under way.

Now, as Brooke stood near the stern and steered the boat toward a distant cove, Patch wondered whether Ryan was getting another massage. Brooke had told Patch that she knew about the woman, that she was happy for Ryan. And while Patch worried Ryan might object to Brooke and him spending so much time together, he was comforted by the knowledge that Ryan seemed eager to seek out the masseuse and didn't appear to have any desire to be with Brooke.

The sea was almost flat. Gentle swells caused the bow of the longboat to rise and fall. Standing next to Brooke, his hand on one of the steel poles that supported the canopy, Patch watched her steer. The serenity of her lightly tanned face seemed to match the still, smooth surface of the water. The wind blew her hair back, causing it to flutter like a flag.

As they approached the cove, Patch eased off on the throttle and the longboat slowed. Though the area was a popular destination for world-class snorkeling, it wasn't always crowded. People tended to congregate here in the late morning or early afternoon, and Patch was glad to see that they had arrived after all but two boats had gone. The cove didn't have a beach or anywhere to land, so Patch pointed to a large buoy and asked whether Brooke could steer toward it. Her aim was true and he cut the engine, hurried to the bow, and grabbed the buoy. After securing the longboat, he picked up a bag of snorkeling gear and headed back to Brooke. She had taken off her sarong and was in the midst of applying sunscreen to her legs. Patch tried to busy himself but found it hard not to glance in her direction. The sight of her bikini-clad body left nothing to his imagination and nearly overwhelmed him with desire.

“I want to introduce you to a friend of mine,” he said, needing to break the silence. “Actually, a friend of Niran's and an acquaintance of mine.”