I Feel You Linger In The Air

Chapter 9 - The Story of the Picture

"Jom! Jom, what's wrong?" The voice comes with arms grabbing me, keeping me from jumping down. It is Khun-Yai. He looks at me in worry, his arms tightening around me. "What happened? I heard you shouting, and it looked like you were about to jump from here."

I divert my gaze to the same spot and swallow the bitterness down my throat as I see the peaceful lawn down there. No traces of anything I just witnessed. Tan, the builders, and the broken branch are gone as if they were all illusions. I am shaking, unsure if I should be afraid, mad, or sad. I point at where Tan was earlier. "Just now, did you see anything on the lawn?"

"I saw fog."

"Was that all?"

I have no idea what my voice sounds like. I don't even know my hand is shivering until Khun-Yai reaches out and presses my pointed finger back down.

"Your hand is freezing. Let's get inside. It's dewy out here. You will get sick."

Khun-Yai loosens his embrace, but one of his hands grips my upper arm as he takes me inside. I trudge along, distracted. What was that just now? Did spacetime twist and form a passage connecting the past and the future again? Why didn't it take me back?

Once we have settled at the pearl-embellished desk in the hall, Khun-Yai asks, "Who is Than?" I flick my eyes up at him instantly, then cover it up with a question, "Khun-Yai. heard it?"

"You shouted so loud. Of course, I heard it."

I hesitate, short of excuses. "I was probably dreaming and sleepwalking."

I drop my eyes, my heart still racing. It is not easy to get it together after the previous incident. I slowly glance back up at Khun-Yai. His solemn eyes tell me he is not convinced.

"Do you sleepwalk often?"

For a second, I want to tell him everything. I want him to know so he can help me deal with this. My lips part, yet not a single word slips out. I can't say anything. How can he possibly understand the situation when I don't get it myself?

My hesitation draws a soft sigh from Khun-Yai's mouth. "Never mind. Take a rest today. You can serve me later when you feel better."

"No, I'm not sick," I object. "I'm okay. I've become like this because I've been sleeping too much. I get a jug and a cloth for you right away."

Khun-Yai looks at me quietly. I can only plead in a soft voice, "Please. Khun-Yai." In the end, Khun-Yai lets me do my job, even though I feel agitated. My mind wanders to the incident, and I lose focus, but I force myself to get a grip, knowing Khun-Yai is keeping an eye on me.

Since it is the weekend, there is no lesson with the foreign teacher. Khun-Yai usually spends his time at the study with the Luang before noon, unless they have guests, as they do today. I prepare Khun-Yai's attire as he orders and help him with trivial stuff while he gets dressed.

When Khun-Yai steps out of the little house, I heave a sigh of relief as I don't have to put on a straight face and pretend that everything is okay in front of him anymore. I take the chance when Khun-Yai is absent and Kesorn, the female servant, is tidying up the house, to explore the lawn.

The morning fog is gone, leaving only the pale sunlight and a whiff of coolness in the air. I step on the damp grass and plod around in the hopes of finding any traces indicating anything that seemed to be present here at dawn. Maybe the tiny source of fog is the passage to my era, and it is perhaps waiting to open again. I even wish to stumble upon a piece of paper with Tan's handwriting on it.

At last, my hope is no different from the swirls of fog fading in the sunlight. After going back and forth between the lawn and the stairs for some time until Kesorn glances at me suspiciously, I decide to give up and get back to work.

Kesorn goes back to the great house once she has finished cleaning. The little house is quiet. I am alone at Khun-Yai's desk, organising things aimlessly, encouraging myself not to lose hope so easily. Maybe the passage in time will occur again at the same spot tomorrow. This time, I have to jump down before everything vanishes.

I hear a click when I absentmindedly brush my hand against Khun-Yai's pocket watch on top of a book. It slides down to the dark wooden surface of the pearl-embellished table. I picked it up. It is a winding pocket watch with a porcelain dial adorned with seven rubies and Roman numeral hour markers. The brand 'Elgin' is printed conspicuously on the dial. 

I can't help smiling as I trace my fingers along the golden chain. Without this watch, I wouldn't have had any business to visit Khun-Yai at his place, and he wouldn't have had a story of my good deed to pass on to Khun-Kae and successfully persuaded her to welcome me.

If I disappear, returning to my world, will Khun-Yai be uneasy and look for me? Of course, he will. A person is gone. How can one be at ease about that? They might search for me urgently in fear of the possibility of murder. For a second, I think Khun-Yai will not look for me with the same feeling as the others have. There is something special in his eyes. It could be kindness or adoration, and it always emerges every time he looks at me.

I don't want to simply disappear and worry him. If the past world, where I am, is full of obstacles and sufferings generated from misplacedness, Khun-Yai is the only thing that brings me joy and warmth. It feels like there is good luck amid the misfortunes. I like him a lot, honestly. If I return to my world, I will certainly miss him.

I run my fingers to the end of the chain and get a bit surprised by a small clip there. I study it, flipping it over. The clip is in good condition and has a strong hook that attaches to the fabric to prevent the watch from dropping.

How did the watch fall out of Khun-Yai's pocket? I stop and think for a while. It is not that complicated, just a small, unexpected accident. Regardless, when I recall Khun-Yai's occasional facial expression that wasn't innocent and reserved as the one he put on in front of the elders, my chest is somewhat tingling. It's okay. When Khun-Yai comes back, I will feel him out.

The cool air and the sound of leaves gently blowing in the breeze bring a sense of laziness upon me. It will be a while before Khun-Yai is back at the little house. No need to rush to the kitchen. I stretch my arms before laying one of them on the desk and propping my head on it. The scent of the orange jasmine grown by the stairs fills the air, so refreshing that I close my eyes in a dreamy state.

And then I jump due to the familiar voice close by. "Who is this? Why are you sleeping in Yai's house?"

I sit straight immediately and turn my head towards the voice. The high voice belongs to a little boy around 9 or 10 years old. He is lanky and fair-skinned, his eyes big and sharp, holding a slate board in one arm. 

I quickly back away. Judging from the way he speaks, I can tell in an instant that he has some sort of power in this place. His tone and words are neither rude nor harsh, but firm and clear. He must be one of the bosses of this place. Before I respond, a woman's voice cuts in.

"Ugh...Khun-Lek. How can you run so fast? Just a second and you're already here." A female servant climbs up the stairs, panting. "Khun-Kae said not to bother Khun-Yai studying."

"Yai is not studying. He is at the great house with Father," he argues, then asks me again, "Who are you? What is your name?"

"I am Jom, Khun-Yai's majordomo," I reply. Khun-Lek nods while I observe his face. This little boy is unquestionably Khun-Yai's brother. He has the same facial structure and manner as Khun-Yai, like a miniature version of him, but with a slimmer body and a more feminine face. His eyes, however, display as much intelligence as his big brother's. More importantly, his manner indeed belongs to a child of a noble family. That is why they say nobility is a trait one is born with.

"Khun-Lek, I don't think you should play around in here. Let's go over there," the same woman says. I guess she is Khun-Lek's nursemaid. Her face is familiar as I have seen her in the kitchen. I didn't learn her name, though.

"I am not playing around. I came here to ask Yai to teach me how to draw," he says, seated himself at Khun-Yai's desk and placed the slate board on it. "Will you teach me instead, Prik? Do you know how to draw an 'aeroplane'?"

"Oh...what is an e-pan? I don't know what it is. Ever since you entered the foreign school, you've been confusing me with foreign words," the nursemaid complains. "If you play around in here, you will get scolded by Khun-Yai."

"Yai will scold me? That's impossible. It would sound more likely if it were Mother or Prim. Prik, bring my snack. I will have rice crust while waiting for Yai at this house."

Ordered by the little boss, the nursemaid frowns in vexation and draws out her voice with a sarcastic tone,

"Yes, sir.."

After the nursemaid has gone, Khun-Lek starts scribbling on the slate board. I sneak a peek and see him drawing a man in a soldier-like uniform and trying to draw something above. He keeps drawing and erasing it. His brow is knitted like a knot that I can't help asking

"What are you drawing, Khun-Lek?"

"An aeroplane," Khun-Lek answers. "The teacher said to draw my dream occupation. I want to be a 'pilot' flying an aeroplane. Oh...Do you know what it is? The school doesn't teach in a northern dialect. The Princaroy's College is a Christian school. They teach in Thai and English."

I smile. The Prince Royal's College, in which Khun-Lek calls and hears as 'Princaroy', still exists in my era. Whenever I drove by, I could glimpse the white church with its remarkable blue roof. For the record, the school was seized by the government during World War II and returned after the war had ended

"Can I try? Khun-Lek might like it." Seeing him draw, erase, and sigh repeatedly, I feel bad.

"You know how to draw?"

"I do."

Now that I have offered my help, I realise...Shit, what do aeroplanes in this era look like? Do they have commercial air transport? Or is there only military aircraft? 

Too late to turn back now. Khun-Lek hands me the slate board with those big, round jetty eyes. Ha...they're sure brothers. I can never say no to them. I try sketching the structure of something similar to a modern airplane but more old-fashioned, and glance up. Khun-Lek furrows his brow. I rapidly erase it and outline another one. This time is a bomber.

"Is this the one?" I flip the slate board towards him. “It looks different from the one I want."

I grit my teeth...Hmph! It must be more classic, huh? I think of old pictures and weigh whether to draw the Bréguet with two pairs of wings or the Nieuport with a set of wings. I chose the first one. Khun-Lek's face brightens instantly. "Draw a national flag at the tail."

I smile and add the flag as told. Khun-Lek loves it. He takes the slate board and admires the picture with a grin. "I will draw a person on the plane. How will it fly without a pilot?"

"Let's do that," I support.

"Goodness, Lek. Are you playing around in here?" Khun-Yai's voice sounds from the balcony, and Khun-Lek and I turn our heads at the same time.

"Yai." Khun-Lek beams, showing his lower teeth with a tooth missing. "I was waiting for you to teach me how to draw."

Khun-Yai looks at us and casts a small smile. "You're smiling now?"

It takes a minute for me to realise he was talking about me, not Khun-Lek. I was so absorbed in helping Khun-Lek draw the plane that I forgot the incident in the early morning for a while. I forgot what I had done to Khun-Yai.

He must have been shocked that I almost sleepwalked myself off the balcony. He also had to deal with me fairly panicking after that....Ugh, will he think there is something wrong with my brain?

I plaster a sheepish smile and reply, "Yes." Khun-Yai says nothing more and joins Khun-Lek at the desk. "Let me see. What are you drawing?"

Khun-Lek slides the slate board to show off his art. "An aeroplane. The teacher said to draw my dream occupation. I drew clouds and a pilot. Nai-Jom drew the aeroplane for me."

Khun-Yai eyes me, and I respond with a smile. "I want to fly an aeroplane, to be a pilot." Khun-Lek's voice sounds unconfident. "Do you think I can do it?"

Khun-Yai pats his brother's head lovingly. "Of course."

"They say I have to learn how to fly in France like Phraya Chalermakart."

Watching two brothers chat, I can't help but think of my sister. How is the lady boss Ueang Phueng doing? She must be far gone into her pregnancy, lumbering around with servants supporting her. Is Mr Robert taking good care of my sister? He must be. There is one good thing under his heartlessness: he seems to love and care for the lady boss, Ueang Phueng, dearly.

Khun-Yai and Khun-Lek are still chatting like brothers. I excuse myself and head out of the little house to check on Khun-Yai's lunch in the kitchen. Despite knowing the fog is gone, I flick my eyes around as I walk past the lawn.

At night, while I undo the curtains from the brass hoops on the four-poster bed, Khun-Yai says, "Tell me about your dream last night." I freeze, pretending to smooth the curtains. "It was nothing. Just a silly dream."

"Tell me. I will decide whether it was silly or not."

I shift my gaze left and right, not knowing what to say. A dream, my ass. It was real. If I am to say something is a dream, my current situation is more like it. A dream I have no clue how to wake up from. But I have to give him an answer.

"Sometimes I dreamed about this strange place. It was..ah, a town not existing in this era. The people, the objects, and the buildings were different from now, and I lived there. It was indescribable. I can't remember the details. I focused on my tasks today and forgot."

Khun-Yai stays silent, probably knowing he can't squeeze anything out of me more than this.

"Why don't you sleep in my room?"

"Huh?" My mouth falls open. "Why?"

"If you sleepwalk, I will grasp you. I will not let you go near the balcony."

"Oh, Khun-Yai, please don't burden yourself. I am your servant. How can I lie around in your room? It is inappropriate."

The thing is, I am not afraid that I will get so horny that I try to get it on with him someday if I sleep near such a handsome man. I am afraid he will discover that I am sneakily attempting to find a way back to my world. Besides, I am not a five-year-old kid. I don't need a babysitter keeping an eye on me.

"Inappropriate?" Khun-Yai stifles his laughter. "I am not making you sleep on my bed. Are you scared that I will ask you to scratch my back all night?"

"I can scratch your back right now. I don't need to sleep here. I won't sleepwalk again."

Khun-Yai stares at me, and I respond with an innocent face. "Do you want me to turn off the light now?"

"I will do it."

"Then. I'm going to bed," I say, wishing to dash out. Being stared at directly by Khun-Yai makes me all tingling. As I step over the threshold, I hear Khun-Yai speak. "If you sleepwalk again, you will sleep in my room."

I spin around and open my mouth, but the light is off. It is to be understood that the previous sentence is an order, not a suggestion.

The next day, I am awake before daybreak. I get up, tiptoe to the window, and open it. The air is crisp like the days before. Fog hovers over the trees and grass, blurring everything. The atmosphere is coldly grey. I push the door gently, trying not to make a noise, and walk out onto the freezing balcony.

My heart races as I reach the railing and throw my gaze down. Fog takes over every inch of the lawn. I make for the stairs and peer through the whiteness, hoping the planks will turn to decaying wood. To my disappointment, they look fine.

I rush down the stairs and run to the centre of the lawn. I turn back and forth, not knowing which direction to take. My heart stings in dismay when I discover nothing as hoped. Morning fog encircles me. Normal fog with no passages to any other world. I am still in B.E. 2471.

Overwhelmed by the pent-up anger, I bark out curses with no holding back. I swear at the theory of relativity, the black hole, and the wormhole. I know this is not superstition. No one sent me here with some black magic. But science is anything but helpful. Spacetime is freaking irresponsible!

I yell until I run out of energy and end up puffing on the lawn. I stand there for a while, absorb the disappointment, bear the indignation, and march back to the little house.

"Ouch!"

My face collides with something hard, knocking me off balance. Before I fall on my butt, my arm is gripped by something that keeps me in place. I stand in bafflement, enduring the pain in my nose and squinting at the shadowy figure of someone taller than me.

Before I utter a word, the person speaks first. The voice is familiar, and the words send chills all over my skin more than the frigid air.

"Are you sleepwalking again, Poh-Jom?"

The moment after that showcases the ultimate attempt of my life to put my lying skills into practice. It is a disaster. I can make up lame excuses for the wormhole and the black hole and convince him, shamelessly so. At least, they sound like animals or natural things. The worst part is:

"I want to know about the theory of relativity."

I scrunch up my face, feeling like crying. "No. It..!t's an activity. I was trying to find an activity to do."

Khun-Yai stares at me intently. I dip my chin and admit in a soft voice, "Yeah, I sleepwalked."

Good thing Khun-Yai accompanies Khun-Kae to make merit at the temple today and then has business somewhere else afterwards. He doesn't have time to interrogate me more yet. I spend most of my time helping the gardener tend to the potted plants near the little house and the veranda.

Late in the afternoon, a small figure shows up at the stairs with his nursemaid and pieces of paper in his hand.

"Nai-Jom, I want to draw."

And so, Khun-Lek, Prik, and I settle under the great tropical almond tree in the garden to draw pictures as  Khun-Lek wishes. By wanting to draw, Khun-Lek means I will be the one drawing, and he will tell me what he wants me to draw. Today, I draw on paper, not on the blackboard, because the pictures have to be erased on the board. It is a shame.

I lean my back against the tree trunk in the shade of tropical almond leaves branching around. Khun-Lek rolls on the reed mat laid out over the grass, watching me sketch while munching on his snacks. The area is pretty far from the little house, with the shady, wide garden stretching before us and paths cutting across the lawn skirted with potted plants.

"You want me to add a deer to the garden? There is no deer in this place," I point out when he wants me to draw a deer next to a few pheasants pecking bugs in the garden.

"I like deer for their long horns. Can't you draw it?"

"Sure, I can." Just a deer. Why wouldn't I be able to do it for Khun-Lek?

Khun-Lek cocks his head when I am done. "You're a majordomo. How come you're so good at drawing?"

I was an architect and got As in drawing and sketch design. I don't tell him that. Instead, I smile and ask, "Do you want me to draw a cat walking on the balcony over there?"

"Do it. Draw Yai's house as well. Make the cat walk on the railing."

I say with a laugh, "If I have to draw the house, it will take long."

"Take your time. I'll eat snacks while waiting."

I decided to draw it on a new sheet of paper because the current one is full of all kinds of animals. No room for something big.

I shift to find the right angle and start sketching. From this angle, I can see the spacious garden and the paths extending across the lawn to Khun-Yai's black teak house. Scenery with a beautiful composition. I slowly outline the little house, feeling oddly content as I draw. This is the closest to who I am. For someone with a career living on the other side of time, each line drawn brings this strange surge of joy. Even Khun-Lek watches in silence, not asking to add this and that like earlier.

"Do you want me to add blowing leaves, Khun-Lek?"

"Yeah, a lot of them. And the squirrel. I see it scurrying on the trees every day."

"You want a squirrel, too?"

"Must have one," Khun-Lek confirms seriously.

I add a squirrel as he wishes. It is a jumble of lines on the branch of the rain tree, but Khun-Lek seems pleased. I don't forget to add birds flying in the distance and the swirls of the wind, believing they bring the picture to life, as if it is moving.

Once I have finished, Khun-Lek takes the picture and expresses delight that I have drawn everything he wants on one piece of paper. But then I freeze as something pops into my mind. I stare at the picture in Khun-Lek's hands. It is just a piece of paper with pencil lines illustrating a story, but what I am looking at right now is much more than that. 

The details in the picture, everything created by my own hand in my own point of view, and the feeling as I drew all belong to the uniqueness of someone. I think I have seen this picture before. My hair stands on end. This is one of several pictures kept in the huge trunks I ordered Than's builder to move to the little house when I was an architect renovating this place.

Both delicate drawings and rough sketches were framed and wrapped in cloth, carefully protected in locked trunks, never transferred anywhere else until I found them.

My hand holding the pencil trembles. I know now why the sketches are so familiar. I think every drawing in the trunks I have seen that day was drawn by me.