By Dodger

When I got back to the USA, Thep had just got off the bus in Si Saket to stay with his family until my return. We spent the next two weeks talking on the phone every day- our routine for years now. He would hold the phone out the window of our newly constructed jungle house so I could hear the rooster’s crow. He would yell out to whichever family member was in sight to say hi to me. Trivial sounding communications between two people, although significant being the only connection we had together during these periods of separation.

On July 4th, we had one of our textbook arguments. He wanted to return to Pattaya for a few days to attend a concert with his friends. Thep is an absolute fan of this one popular Isaan band and reacts to their concerts in the same manner that I did years ago when Jethro Tull was playing at the Chicago Stadium. Thep got in trouble the last time he attended this concert and I was opposed to him going. In 2007, Thep and a bunch of friends were arrested for failing a pee test following this concert- the first time I knew about his yaba use. His mention of this concert again, raised the hairs on the back of my neck and my answer was, “No, not a good idea.”

July 5th: no answer on his telephone. Maybe he was at the market with his mom or still sleeping, his favorite pastime when the farm chores beckon. July 6th – the same result. ‘That little bastard went to the concert.’ I did not phone him for the next few days thinking he would call when he returned, full of explanations and apologies. The call never came. My thoughts swayed towards the possibility that he extended his stay in Pattaya to party with his friends and was just afraid to call me but this didn’t make sense, as this behavior had ended years ago. My anger turned to concern. Weeks passed without the phone ringing. Weeks turned to months until the point at which I felt something bad had happened to him and there was no way anyone could inform me if it had.

September arrived and I boarded the plane for Thailand. I had just endured 3 months of being totally in the dark and had no idea what I would learn when I got there. Not having him, waiting at the airport to greet me was depressing. I really thought he might have lost his life in a motorbike accident or something. Whatever the news was – it was going to be bad, that I knew for sure. I popped pills to help me sleep, and for the first time in years found myself waking up alone in the bed. I counted the minutes during the day until the evening came where I could go to see Thep’s friends to hear the news. At 8:00 pm sharp, I was standing in front of the go-go bar where a few of his friends still worked. I was greeted by the mamasan, who I’ve known for years and who looked at me as if he had seen a ghost. After a short pause and with a sense of panic in his voice, he asked me if I knew about Thep. I said no, that I had just arrived and hadn’t spoken with Thep in 3 months. At hearing this he put his arms around me and said…”I’m so sorry this happened.” At hearing those words I felt my legs go numb and started seeing my life flash in front of my eyes, I just kept repeating…”What happened? – What happened?” and the answer seemed to linger on his lips forever…

Next Month, Part 4; Tragic News

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