Interminable

The tall, lean young man sat fidgeting in his seat, glancing sideways at the person beside him before posing a question that drew laughter from their side.

 

"This contraption-can it fly?"

 

"Hmm? What did you say, Prem?" His aunt asked, her voice threaded with amusement.

 

"This vessel in which we are seated-is it capable of flying?" When she asked him to repeat himself, he questioned again.

 

"Why wouldn't it? You've been flying a plane several times, haven't you? Wait, did you strike your head as well when you were injured?" At this, she turned to regard her nephew full in the face, muttering to herself.

 

"I daresa-uh, guess so, Aunt. My head throbs dreadfully, and my memory is nothing but a blank slate."

 

"Good heavens, Prem!" His aunt decided that once they had landed and returned home, she would have to take her nephew for a thorough examination. She had hastened to fetch him upon hearing he had been injured while aiding at a house fire. All the relatives were anxious, and so had dispatched her to bring him home; yet now it seemed a greater problem had followed.

 

He was taken to the finest physician, but they found nothing abnormal that could explain his loss of memory. They could only conclude it was shock from the conflagration. He learned by rote the names of all his kin, as well as the particulars of his own existence, the life of this man called Prem; yet when scarcely six months had elapsed, he could no longer bear the yearning for a certain someone dwelling beneath distant skies. And so he persuaded his family to permit his return to Siam, averring that familiar surroundings might summon back his lost memories.

 

His first undertaking was to seek out Arjan Prem's lodgings, and upon discovering them, he strove to take up the man's life. Yet the task proved far from simple-clothing, conveyance, sustenance-all those things he had never contrived for himself from childhood to the day death transformed him into a ghost… My Kaewta, when shall I behold your face again?

 

The man lowered his gaze upon the rolled paper in his hands. His brow creased with worry. His chest grew tight with a dread beyond measure. Was he ready to meet the one who dwelled in his thoughts? No, not at all. But what was there to do? The White Manor now lay in ashes, leaving mournful faces on all who looked upon it. Could he bear to see Kaewta weep before the place where the White Manor once stood?

 

There should be no harm in trying. It was merely a drawing of the White Manor, nothing more. He simply wished to ease Kaewta's sorrow, if only a fraction. And so, he entrusted the White Manor plans to his professor friend to pass along to Kaewta. Little did he know how the consequences would unnerve him so!

 

"Stop right there!"

 

"Hey!" the young man cried in alarm. Upon returning from the pier, he found someone pounding at his front gate. In his fright, he bolted at once without thinking, only to find the small figure hard on his heels.

 

".." He could only sit with his head hung low in silence, his heart racing as he scrambled for a way to prevent the person before him from discovering his identity.

 

"Why did you run away from me?" asked Kaewta, after watching him wipe the sweat from his brow for the third time.

 

BANG! Before he could finish a denial, a small hand slammed the table with such force that it startled the man and Ruedee as well. He shoved the oversized sunglasses back into place, so they once again veiled his eyes.

 

"How dare you lie to me?" Beads of sweat formed on his broad forehead as he met the gaze of the petite figure before him, wondering how the once-endearing Kaewta had become so formidable.

 

"No, Litt-Ah, I mean, no, I didn't." He adjusted them again as they kept sliding down.

 

"You broke your promise to me."

 

"Yes?" What promise had Arjan Prem made? The man raised a hand to wipe away more sweat, still ill at ease.

 

"Don't act as if you've forgotten. You said you wouldn't paint the White Manor without my permission- What?" Kaewta's sentence hung unfinished as Ruedee tugged sharply at his sleeve.

 

"There's something else you should say first." The man glanced at the young lady, offering a grateful smile for her timely intervention in resolving this predicament.

 

"Oh. Thank you for saving my life then." No sooner had he nodded in acceptance than the boy blurted another word. "Even though I mistook you for someone else."

 

"Kaew!"

 

"Uh..." The handsome face beneath the sunglasses went pallid. Uncertain whether he should be delighted that Kaewta knew he was the youth's rescuer, or saddened......saddened for Arjan Prem, who had given both life and soul for the one before him.

 

"Now, let's get to the main point... Oh well, could you please remove your sunglasses?" 

 

Kaewta crossed his arms and pointed at the eyewear on the face of the man opposite him. The man immediately shook his head in refusal.

 

"Hey, you. Don't you know it's rude? We're indoors; why wear sunglasses?" Seeing him refuse, the diminutive form could only heave a deep breath to quell the surge of anger that welled up. Yet what was there to be done? For he had already come to compassion for Arjan Prem... While Kaewta's unwavering devotion brought him happiness, he couldn't shake feelings of compassion for the original owner of this body... The more he recalled the other person bowing to kiss that smooth forehead before disappearing, the deeper his empathy grew. It was as though he himself were the thief who had stolen this body...

 

"Let's cut to the chase. You do realise I'm frustrated, don't you?" The man shook his head in answer, then quickly changed to nodding when he met those blazing eyes. 

 

"Have you lost your tongue?"

"No."

 

"All I see is nodding and head-shaking. I'm starting to think the cat got your tongue."

"What a foul mouth," he murmured, though the instigator had keen ears. The boy snapped a question.

 

"Excuse me?!"

 

"Um, could we please get to the main point now?" Ruedee couldn't help but interject. If she let this be, it seemed that Arjan Prem, once so self-assured, would be thoroughly dominated by this small person.

 

"Yes! I'm telling you I'm furious that you broke your promise."

"Promise?"

 

"The one where you promised not to paint the White Manor without my permission!"

 

"Er..." His expression suggested it'd slipped his mind entirely, prompting the boy to slam the table again, making everyone jump once more.

 

"What do you mean by doing such a thing?"

 

"I... merely wished to see the White Manor restored to its former state."

 

"So, you go back on your word and drew this?"

 

"Have I ever pledged my word to that?" The phrasing made the boy furrow his brow.

 

"You don't seem old enough to have a memory problem, sir." The man remained stoic. Kaewta huffed and pulled the brown paper from its tube.

 

"As punishment for breaking your promise, I'm going to tear this up!"

 

"No!" The tall gentleman leapt up, reaching to seize the painting from the smaller hands. At that instant, his dark spectacles slipped from his handsome face.

 

"Uh!" The small figure froze upon staring at his face, allowing the paper to be easily taken from his grasp.

 

"Pardon me. I must take my leave." The tall figure put on his eyewear and strode out from the shop in haste, leaving the boy frozen in place. What was he to do? Would Kaewta notice it? These eyes, full of love.

The very same eyes that have always been watching him.

"Uh!" The man jerked when his strong arm was held back.

 

"Where are you going?"

"Kaewta! Well, I'm going out for leisure."

 

"Leisure? Then I'm coming with you."

 

"Pardon?" What was he supposed to do? He knew all too well how headstrong Kaewta could be. Once the little one set his mind on something, getting him to release his hold was no easy task.

 

"How about taking your motor car?" The boy shook that arm coaxingly as the tall figure grew flustered.

 

"Mo...motor car?" Since when could he drive?!

 

"Yes. I've seen you drive it to the university."

 

"Well, I-I had a mind to try the tricycle."

 

"Then, where are you going for leisure? I'll come along."

 

The man raised his hand to wipe away perspiration. Where on earth could he take Kaewta? He didn't know a single place to go.

 

"Going... well. to..."

 

"We could go to that place you took me to earlier. You remember, don't you?"

 

Where had this Arjan Prem taken his Kaewta? "Which place was that?"

 

".." In the end, Kaewta had to name the destination himself. Of course, they didn't take the tricycle as the man had wished, but rather Ruedee's car with her serving as chauffeur. The professor watched the girl's agility with interest, asking whether women could drive automobiles, too. Ruedee let out a pleasing laugh at the remark, while Kaewta kept staring at his face to find fault. Or could Kaewta remember him now? He tucked his hands in his pockets with his heart beating frantically. ...Or should he remove it?

 

Over the past several days, Kaewta had watched over him so closely, never letting him stray from sight for even a second, save for when he went home to sleep. Or had Kaewta truly recognised him already, despite his constant wearing of sunglasses to hide his eyes? Sometimes he feigned silence when the other invited conversation, so the other wouldn't realise he couldn't recognise anything at all... Yet Kaewta kept dutifully taking him here and there so often, and he couldn't help but marvel at each outing-whether watching a film, attending a ball, or visiting various restaurants.

 

"..Why so quiet? Is the film not entertaining?" Kaewta turned to ask. He couldn't fathom how Kaewta had come by the funds to treat him to such leisure. But whenever he tried to voice concern, he always met with a sharp rebuke.

 

"It's enjoyable. Rather different from the Japanese film shows I used to see."

 

"Japanese film?"

 

"Yes. In those days, the Japanese fellows would come round with their travelling pictures quite regularly. I'd catch one now and again when I could spare time from duty."

 

"This is a Thai picture house. No Japanese involved," Kaewta explained with a smile.

 

"Is that so?" Kaewta didn't engage him further, not wishing to disturb the other patrons. As he fixed his gaze on the screen before them, the person beside him would often stare and wear a pensive expression. When he turned to look, aware of the gaze upon him, his companion would pretend to remark on how entertaining the picture was, this and that.

 

"How was it?" The petite figure lost his countenance after noticing his demeanour. Being confined in the narrow, dark picture house for too long had left him wretchedly uncomfortable and queasy, as though nausea had set his insides to churning.

 

"I won't come again next time. All this darkness and closeness set me in a spin." Kaewta laughed outright upon hearing this, and he couldn't help but smile in turn. If a bout of queasiness could draw Kaewta's loud laughter, then to bear it now and then was no great matter."

 

"Hmm." He studied, curious, the ebony disc spinning on and on, for his memory recalled something quite different.

 

"Is something wrong?" Kaewta asked

 

"This phonograph is... has it been changed? Previously, it used to be much heavier, thicker." He inquired with a furrowed brow, voicing puzzlement.

"Hmm?"

 

"Have they begun recording other music? No longer the piphat melodies once favoured?" He turned to ask his companion in wonder, then started, realising he had let his guard slip. Kaewta lifted his gaze to meet his. Those lips curved into a smile that stirred him inwardly. However, the slight youth merely cleared his throat softly before turning away.

 

"Ruedee is waiting to dance with you."

"Dance?"

 

"Isn't music meant to be simply listened to?"

 

"Don't tell me you don't know how to dance." The wee man arched an eyebrow, asking. The man fell briefly silent. How was he to admit that he didn't know how to dance? During his time studying in the West, he'd always contrived an escape from such events. How could he possibly dance?

 

"But I saw you dancing before, didn't I?"

 

"Uh..." Heavens! The man bit his lip, mind wandering for a way out, unaware that the other was just toying with him.

 

"All right, all right. If you won't go, I will." The man sighed in relief, grateful he was not being dragged into the dance. He turned his attention back to the gramophone, examining it once more.

 

"Times have changed... are records thinner these days?" He murmured to himself, unaware of the suspicious glances of the dancing pair whose eyes were fixed upon him.

 

"It's blazingly hot." The man murmured, tugging at his collar to let the breeze in.

 

"It's sweltering." The gentleman murmured, tugging at his collar to invite the breeze in.

 

"In that case, shall we stop for a sweet, sir? There's a fine little shop just ahead by the riverside market," Kaewta said, coming alongside.

 

The gentleman faltered mid-step, then hesitated. Once again today, Kaewta had been trailing him like a shadow. Had he unwittingly betrayed himself-some sign to rouse suspicion?

 

"You won't come?" asked the boy with lustrous black eyes, tilting his head. The sight made the gentleman's heart stutter, robbing the words of refusal from his lips.

 

He glanced down at his wrist, caught in the youth's grip as he urged him on, and frowned. Was Kaewta in the habit of grasping other men by the arm like this? At once, a jealous heat rose within him, rankled by the thought of just how close Kaewta and Arjan Prem were-close enough that he would allow such easy, unthinking touches?

 

"Here-Khai Khob, Nok Phloi, Bua Loy, Ai Tue-served over ice, chilled and refreshing!"

 

"Ice?"

 

"Yes, sir-icel Look here-these little clear bits," Kaewta said, scooping a few glistening cubes from his bowl with a spoon to show him.

 

"Is this not a delicacy reserved for palace nobles? How has it come to be sold so freely outside the court?"

 

"Pardon?" Kaewta tilted his head again.

"Uh......merely thought I assumed they might have used camphor to give a glacial sensation."

 

"Camphor? These days, we use ice in place of camphor. It's just as cool."

 

"Hmm?" He studied the lump of ice in his dessert cup, then scooped it into his mouth.

 

"How was it, sir? Was it as cool as camphor?" Kaewta asked with a smile, catching the startled expression on his face.

 

"It's cool, but not the same way as camphor. It has no flavour, but it's refreshing once paired with the dessert." He replied, then brought another spoonful to his lips.

 

"It's similar in effect. People often add it to sarim. It gives the dessert a cool note when eaten, though if too much is used, it turns bitter..." He paused mid-sentence, caught by the glint of curiosity in the youth's eyes. He had let another peculiar detail slip, hadn't he?

 

Kaewta took him home aboard a motorboat bound for the small house. On the way, the man kept his mouth tightly shut, refusing to converse with Kaewta for fear of unveiling himself once more. Yet the youth made hardly any effort to engage him in conversation and smiled to himself pleasantly. Now and then, the youth would glance his way, nodding in solitary or curling a faint smirk. He could only hope that in the days to come, Kaewta would not bring any fresh scheme to test him again...SIGH.

 

"Where are you planning to take me this time?"

 

"Don't you want to go?" Kaewta asked as he drew out money to pay for the boat fare, splitting it in half with Ruedee when the latter voiced his protest.

 

"Littl-, uh, you've been taking me out every weekend like this. It must be rather a bother."

 

"I just want to thank you for saving my life. Is that not allowed?"

"But..."

 

"Come, let us go pay our respects at the temple."

 

"The temple?" Gazing at the temple entrance, he felt his heart hollowed, for he was all too familiar with this particular temple. "Perhaps another day would be better?"

 

"We've already arrived at the temple gates. Would you turn back now?" Kaewta asked while walking ahead. Ruedee hurried to walk alongside him, casting a glance at him; he offered only a wistful smile. In the end, with no choice, he found himself seated before the venerable monk.

 

"Er, is there something amiss, I mean, wrong, with my face, Reverend Father?" the man ventured to ask, struggling to keep the tremor from his voice after enduring the monk's prolonged scrutiny.

 

"Not at all, Layman. Where have you been? It's been quite some time since I've seen your face." He was inwardly thankful to the venerable monk for not uttering anything more than that.

 

"At my hometown in the States, Reverend."

 

“Oh, I see. And have you returned for good or just visiting?" The monk asked. Those eyes were still fixed upon him.

 

"I shall remain permanently if circumstances permit."

 

"Is that so? Come closer." When the tall figure moved near, the monk sprinkled holy water and handed him something. May you dwell in peace and happiness, free from suffering and sorrow. Make good use of what time remains; let it not pass in vain."

 

"Yes, Venerable Father." The man bowed low to pay homage, taking those words to heart and sighing. The venerable monk must have seen...

 

"Is there something you want to tell me?" He paused mid-stride before turning back to the one behind him, averting that prying gaze.

 

"What are you uttering about?"

 

"If you won't say it, I'll ask instead. How did you manage to draw the White Manor so precisely?"

 

"Er...what scheme are you bringing this time?"

 

"You hardly know its layout, but I've lived there long enough to see that your sketch was flawless, not even a single detail off from the original.

 

"It...It must have been... a coincidence." He determined to attempt his utmost refusal... to see what would transpire.

 

"Why not just say you teach art-that, with just a few careful observations, you could render it perfectly?"

"Well..."

 

"And besides, the day I asked for your promise not to draw the White Manor, do you remember what you asked of me in return?"

 

"'..."His palms went clammy as he scrambled for any excuse, but nothing convincing came to mind.

 

"Last question: Why do you always wear those sunglasses around me?" The youth positioned himself to face him squarely. He gingerly removed the sunglasses. "Because you're afraid I'd realise you're not the real Arjan Prem?"

 

"Huh!"

"Am I right, Khun Yai?"

 

"What are you saying?" Transfixed, he froze where he stood, gazing down at that dainty visage with an anxious glint in his eyes.

 

The youth's brow knitted at his response. Biting his lip, he raised his left hand into view, displaying the band adorning his fourth finger. His right hand slowly removed the ring with deliberate slowness.

 

"Don't!" Desperate hands seized those slender fingers poised to cast away the token, gathering the slight form against him in raw panic.

 

"Forgive me, dear! Please forgive me..."

 

"Why did you lie? HIC... Why did you hide yourself from me?" The petite figure buried his face against the broad chest. Sobbing shook his entire frame. Every suppressed emotion came flooding forth.

 

"Little One, please grant me forgiveness."

 

"Do you know how much I missed you? My heart ached as if it would splinter, believing I'd lost you forever. SOB..."

 

"Forgive me, Love. I missed you terribly, too." Solid palms cradled that velvety face with infinite tenderness, pressing a gentle kiss to the smooth forehead. He moved to kiss to dry all those tears. Then, finally, claimed those dark-hued lips... lingering long with deep yearning.

 

"Khun Yai."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

 

The man's eyes widened before breaking into a smile, so bright, almost blinding. He graced the tip of that button nose with a kiss and whispered, "l love Kaewta too."

 

The vow I returned to hear you say.

"Love..."

With boundless devotion... The treasure of my soul...