I Feel You Linger In The Air

 Chapter 1 - Jom

"Jom, where do yer want me to put away the antiques and the trunks in the great house?"

The northern dialect drew my attention from my rough sketch. I turned to Than, the local head carpenter in Chiang Mai, the subcontractor working for my company, where I was an assigned architect. "The storeroom is already full?"

"No, sir, but I'm not sure if the stuff in the trunk is valuable. If the builders ruin them, I doubt they will be able to pay the lady back."

"What's in it? Let me have a look." I closed my sketchbook, stepped out of the waterfront pavilion, and strolled along the laterite path cutting through the lawn freshly watered.

The hot wind blew softly, carrying with it the pleasant scent of Lantoms that reached my nose. The white flowers had fallen onto the lawn, small dots on the bright green grass. I bent down and picked one, then I smelt its aroma and dropped it in my shirt pocket. If it were before, the flowers would have been planted at the temples, not residences, as the meaning of its name was ominous, indicating misery. However, after the name had changed to 'Leelawadee', its status was rapidly upgraded. 

A few hundred trees grew into five thousand, becoming the popular plant decorating the front and back yards of homes and resorts all over Thailand.

This house was an exception, as the previous owner had planted the trees a long time ago. wasn't sure if he was too progressive to hold on to the old beliefs or so heartbroken and miserable that he filled the backyard with Lantoms as a remembrance.

From the waterfront pavilion, lined with Lantoms, and through the spacious lawn, it opened onto the huge, ancient great house, presumably a hundred years old. The wastory building was built in Maniamied with colonial architecture. The first floor was lined with brick walls painted concrete, curved into a sequence of white arches evenly spaced above the pathways. The top floor was made of nearly black teak, with hipped and gabled roofs. The owners must have been well-off since their ancestors owned such a property with a great house adjoining the Ping River.

I passed under the arch and ascended the stairs to the large balcony that surrounded both sides of the house, under the protective roof. The paint on the wooden poles and the etched railing peeled away from age, but the wood remained firm. Two thick, heavy trunks sat on the balcony floor, flanked by a builder waiting for an order regarding what to do with them.

"Let's see what's inside. If it's gold, will we be able to hold back?" I joked as I approached. I unhooked the large keyring from my waistband. The great house owner left every key with me just in case I needed any of them. The ring contained a house key, room keys, and small keys for cabinets and drawers. 

I tried each of them until I found the right one. I opened the trunk and was surprised to find it filled with arranged stacks of framed photos, each wrapped in cloth as though they were cherished by the owner. I unlocked the other trunk; it was also full of framed photos, but there was a dark, thick wooden container the size of a napkin box. The lid was curved and tightly locked. I picked it up and tried to work it with the keys, but none worked. I put the small wooden box back in the trunk and hooked the keyring on my waistband before carefully checking the photos one by one.

"Hmm..? These are all pencil drawing pictures." I looked at it, stunned.  Every picture was old, the paper yellow. The stains on the glasses made them harder to see, though the style felt somehow familiar. Most pictures presented different angles of the property, the great house, the little house, and some scenery. Some were drawn in detail, and some were roughly sketched as if the artist was too lazy to be meticulous. And then, I found something interesting.

It was a sketch of the Chiang Mai Railway Station in the past, which was markedly different from the present building. It meant the picture must have been drawn before World War II, before the Allies bombed the station to destroy the Japanese transportation route. It was restored years after that.

"Wow, I think it's absolutely valuable, Than. I mean, historically. Look, there are several pictures of this great house and the little house, seemingly before some renovations. Do you see it here, Than? The back balcony of the great house is intact."

"Maybe it's the artist in that era's piece?"

"I don't know." I shook my head. "But it's definitely something emotionally precious to the house owner, considering how they had been kept in the trunks. Why don't we put them in the little house for now? No one goes there, and it can be tightly locked."

"Good idea." Than nodded in agreement.

I wrapped the pictures in the cloth and put them back in place, then my eyes caught a small framed picture leaning against the inner wall of the second trunk. I picked it up to check. It was a picture of the waterfront pavilion, different from the present one. assumed it had been built simultaneously with the great house, but had been demolished due to its decay, and replaced by a new one. 

My heart oddly dropped as I looked at the picture. I felt both happy and sad. A smile flickered in the corner of my mouth, though I had no idea why. I stopped smiling before Tan could notice. I cleared my throat and ordered the builder, "Put these in the bedroom of the little house. I will unlock the entrance for you."

Once the builder had put away everything as I had wished, I walked down the stairs with Than.

"What time will the lady arrive, Jom?" Than asked.

"On Wednesday," I answered. "She's coming with her children."

The said lady was the owner of the place and the client hiring my company to renovate the great house, including expanding the little house to turn it into a gallery. Judging from the pictures in those two trunks, I guessed they would be showcased after the expansion was completed.

Actually, given the scope of the project, it was unnecessary to contact an architecture company in Bangkok. Chiang Mai has tons of competent architecture companies and contractors that charge less than those in Bangkok. But my question had already been answered by Than, the chief architect of my company.

'Jom, the client requested an architecture team that renovated the old house in Khlong San to carry out this project.'

"Whoa… It's far in Chiang Mai and not even a big project. Why did the client choose our company? Do they want a turnkey?"

A turnkey project is a contract that includes design and construction, meaning the company undertakes both and dispatches a team to supervise the work until the project is completed.

'Not that reason. The house owner is a high lady, an old friend of the president's father. She and her family are still abroad, so she prefers to have an acquaintance handle it. Is that good enough of a reason?' Um... it was the reason for the rich with connections.

'Why the architecture team that renovated the house in Khlong San specifically?

'The architects are handsome, I guess,' Than bantered, but I cracked a proud smile. 'She saw it in the magazine with Un's and your interview. You had an internship in Chiang Mai, didn't you?'

'Right,' I drew out my voice. I chose to intern there for two months during college. 

'Will Un agree to go, though? His wife is far gone in her pregnancy!

Un was another architect who had worked on the project in Khlong San with me.

‘He's not going.' Than shook his head.

"Oh, that means...'

'Yeah, you're going alone.'

My mouth flapped open to argue. What the hell? The fact that I was single and had no family didn't mean I was free to do whatever I wanted. Life was convenient in Bangkok. A lot of my friends were there. Was being single a status to be bullied?

'2.5 pay raise,' said Than.

Hmm...?

Wait, let me catch my breath...A 2.5 raise is the rate for the architects responsible for overseas projects. With a daily allowance and laundry fee. There's no construction camp, so if you rent an apartment, the company will pay for it.' Than bombarded me with benefits.

'Um...'I thought hard.

After mulling it over for ten seconds, I replied, 'I kind of miss Chiang Mai anyway.'

And there I was, in Chiang Mai, in front of a hundred-year-old great house, and practising the northern dialect I once understood as an intern. I understood the meaning, but I wasn't yet good at speaking it.

"I'll be leaving it to you on Monday," I reminded Than. "'I’ll be late. Maybe in the afternoon."

Than nodded and promised, "No worries. Yer heading back tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," I answered. Tomorrow was Saturday. I would be overseeing the construction in the morning and off to Bangkok in the afternoon. I'd be back on Monday after two nights.

"If there's nothing else, I'll go home now, Jom. My men are waiting on the truck." 

Than pouted at the truck where the builders clustered in the back. I glanced at my watch. It was five in the evening. These builders were punctual, especially when it was time to clock out.

"Of course, Than. See you tomorrow."

"Yer also don't go home late. It's dusty in Chiang Mai at the moment. If yer trip on some root and get knocked out here alone, no one will save yer."

"Well, my corpse won't be rotten after just one night," I said with a laugh.

Than started the engine and drove off. I plopped on the bottom step of the stairs at the front of the little house and opened my sketchbook to resume the work I had paused earlier. 

The design had been completed at the company in the form of blueprints, but during construction, many details still needed to be added. There were parts to be fixed due to unexpected problems, and parts where the blueprints didn't provide thorough coverage. Even the tiling: the builders had asked me whether it should be spread out from the centre or start from the left or right side for an optimal result. The picturesqueness of things was to be decided by the architects.

I sat there in the shade of the Bengal almond tree, which overhung the roof and covered the outdoor stairs, with the occasional breeze cooling me off. I liked the little house more than the great house. It was a two-story teak house suited to a small family, not gigantic or filled with numerous rooms like the great house.

I stayed there for a long while and stopped sketching when the sky darkened. I rose and stretched to rid the ache before striding away from the little house while thinking about where to have dinner. I walked on the lawn under the grey sky of dusk. Chills suddenly ran down my spine. It was like someone was staring at me.

...Poh-Jom.

I turned abruptly to the little house...On the upper balcony, I glimpsed something that looked like a human shadow. I knew no one was there. I just walked out a few meters away. If someone had gone up the stairs, I would have noticed. Was it a ghost?

Chills spreading all over my limbs, I spun and marched off without even a thought of proving anything. The scent of Lantoms reached my nose, stronger than in the afternoon. But I was on the front lawn! How could they be so aromatic?!

As soon as I hopped in my car, I started the engine and accelerated off the property with no looking back. To be honest, I didn't even dare to glance at the rearview mirror. No matter how much I loved Lantoms, it didn't mean I could deal with every situation.

Fifteen minutes later, I enjoyed the music at the restaurant by the Ping River on the same side as the Ket Karam Temple, near the church and multiple galleries in the area. The restaurant was a gastrobar that served food during the day and hosted live music at night. On Friday night, it was crowded with people who had come early to get good tables and stayed long into the night.

The band's music in the corner chased away my recent fright. I ordered a Frankfurter paired with a cold beer. Part of me wanted to call the engineers over, but I changed my mind. Those guys drank alcohol like it was water, chugging it down their throats continuously with no sign of stopping. Tonight, I was satisfied with a can of beer. I didn't want to get drunk or make my head feel foggy during my trip tomorrow.

Taking in the vibe and music, I soon forgot about the frightening incident at the little house. I took out my phone and checked the details of my flight and the hotel I had booked for two nights for the hundredth time. Next, I opened my phone's gallery and scrolled past the construction site photos until I found the one I wanted to see.

It was a photo of a man clasping his hands behind his neck and smiling faintly at the camera with Westminster Cathedral in England as the background. He was tall, good-looking, with broad shoulders and a warm personality. He was flying from England to Thailand after studying there for four years.

My heart swelled at the sight of his smile, longing fanning out in my chest. I tapped the screen gently and whispered, "See you tomorrow."

Ohm...the first and only boyfriend in my life. The phrase might not be wrong, but also not be right. Not because I couldn't predict whether something would change us in the future, but because I didn't have a single idea that the definition of my 'life' would go beyond the meaning and time I expected at the moment.