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I shall love you until my final breath, and not a day will pass that I do not remember you.
Who would have thought that things would end up this way. To be forced by a woman of higher standing into marriage and the begetting of an heir, while being torn away from both my first and my last love. No freedom. No happiness. It is like a prison of invisible bars, with no path to escape. A cell without a lock, without a key.
Those two years without Naran were like breathing with a hole in my lungs, a wound only he could mend. When I first laid eyes on my son resting in Dhevi's arms, a wave of nausea rose within me.I may sound like a monster, because that tiny creature bears no fault - and yet, for reasons I cannot name, I found myself unable to look at it. I felt guilty. Guilty that I would never be a good father, guilty that the child wouldn't know a loving family or parents who supported one another. He would see a staged performance - only as much as I could manage. I can't force even a shred of false love for this woman after she bound me with her invisible chain. So why should I be bound to my son? Why can I not make even a single choice of my own in this life? Why, having sacrificed my happiness and my life to protect those I love, must I now surrender it to him as well?
Now Somchai is not even two, and I play the role of a father who is absent, consumed by work - a father the child will likely never truly ever know. Dhevi cares for him alone, and I try not to feel guilty about it, but the truth is that I too contributed to his existence. Forced or not, he carries my genes.
Will there ever be a moment when I know true happiness again?
Has Naran found it in America? Does he still remember me?
And then the words were spoken - words so unbelievable that the world seemed to stop for me. I felt as if seconds had stretched into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days, and my body had frozen in place.
"Krailert, we're sending you on a business trip to America."
Yes. Perhaps this was the moment. When my captain commanded me to go, to fulfill my duties on another continent - this very one - a cold fear gripped me. Would Dhevi allow me to go? Could she, knowing I was being sent to the land where the love of my life now dwelled, truly let me go?
I had played out countless scenarios in my mind, yet none had prepared me for how our conversation would truly unfold.
As expected, Dhevi forbade me from going, repeating the very same words she had spoken two years ago, still trying to keep me on a leash.
Everything would have crumbled, if not for the sudden phone call that Dhevi answered reluctantly.
"Your father has had a heart attack; he's in the hospital."
And suddenly, everything became so simple. That one piece of news was enough to lift the enormous weight I had carried on my heart for half of my life. That single piece of news drove me, as soon as Dhevi went to her father, to grab two shirts and a pair of extra trousers, hurl them into a bag in a rush of emotion, put on a hat and coat, and run out, leaving that cursed prison behind me.
I had no idea what would come next. My legs carried me on their own towards the airport, and I even called my captain to inform him that I intended to fulfill his request and go to America.
This was the one and only moment. The single chance - a tiny crack in a huge stone wall - that I decided to take on impulse. If it was ever going to work, it had to be now, in this exact situation.
After that, everything moved in a blur. A twenty-hour flight, checking into the hotel, and constant updates from my trusted contacts: Dhevi's father had died, the funeral, the family tearing itself apart - her brothers included. I have even heard about our son, who didn't understand what was happening, yet began to cry anyway.
The thought alone brought tears to my eyes. Guilt formed a massive lump in my throat, impossible to swallow. I had condemned my son to a life without a father, to the absence of a fully loving family. And all this because, for the first time, I had chosen to seize a chance for my own happiness. I had chosen myself.
Yet, if I had stayed in Thailand, would I have been a good father? Would it not be better for him to live without me than to witness that fake performance and the absence of any real feelings between his parents? I don't know. Truly, I don't know. And even if Naran has forgotten me, it seems I would do anything to escape it all.
I lay down to sleep - it was just three in the morning in Canada. I wasn't even sure if I was in the right country, the right America. The world slowly began to blur, and my eyes grew heavy. A profound exhaustion overtook me - not just the physical fatigue from the long flight, but the mental fatigue that had been trailing me for several long years.
I fell asleep with hope for a better future. I had no idea if I was dreaming at all. I woke up with aching muscles, my whole body was sore. Slowly, I got up and made myself a cup of coffee.
I looked out the window at the rising sun, as I do every morning, but for some reason, today's sunrise felt different.
I had an idea of how to get in touch with Naran, but first I had to take care of work matters - conferences, submitting reports, and a meeting with the local military.
It was somewhat helpful, because at conferences they always take photos that later appear in press articles. This time was no different. If the article reached Naran, he would know I had come to America. But that wouldn't be enough.
When I returned to my hotel room in the evening, I sat at the typewriter and took matters into my own hands, my fingers shaking with every keystroke. I couldn't calm my breathing, couldn't believe what I was doing - or that I was even doing something.
Well, it wasn't hard to publish and spread the article - especially when the author was Klai Rung, who was already well-known across Thailand, and with the right help, would become known in America aswell.
A few days later, I held the newspaper with my own article in my hands. That spark of hope made my heart race. It was a mix of stress and excitement. No calls from Dhevi, no calls from anyone.
"Heavy chains, now light as a feather,
have fallen to the ground, and I rise upon the wind.
I once thought fate could not be changed; I was trapped in a cage I could not escape. Yet fate is also the future, and the future depends on us alone.
I intend to build it with my own hands, not someone else's. Now I know that I can.
Sometimes, however, the past clings to us - attached like an unbreakable thread. We usually try every way to cut it, yet I have woven it around my heart, and I intend to keep it there until my last day.
As I write this, a song plays in my mind, which I will quote for you:
'Hello, stranger
It seems so good to see you back again
How long has it been?' - Barbara Lewis, Hello Stranger
Sometimes what we leave behind returns with double force. May the wind be at our backs.
Yours,
Klai Rung"
All that was left was to wait.
Over the next three weeks, I received a few calls from my captain, during which I explained that I had no intention of returning and that I wanted to transfer to the American army. And, of course, a few calls from Dhevi with threats - that she would send her brothers after Naran and Trin, and that her father's death changed nothing. But I knew from my source that it did, quite a lot. That's why I quit my job in Thailand and applied for a transfer to the army in Canada.
In any case, everyone was trying to reach me - everyone, that is, except the one person I most wanted to hear from.
The news broke almost immediately, announcing the grand return of Klai Rung. I began to wonder - or rather, to suspect - that the lack of response from Sarasawadee or Naran himself wasn't due to ignorance of my presence, but a conscious choice on his part, a decision to move on.
I was slowly beginning to come to terms with it, trying to console myself with the thought that I would never have to see Dhevi again. Yet alongside this attempt at acceptance, a pain started to build in my heart - a pain caused by sorrow and disappointment.
The following week, I went to the city library to read some literature, something I had sorely missed lately. Imagine my surprise when the librarian handed me a folded note, which, when I opened it, contained the title of a book, a page number, and the verse number.
I didn't think for long. I rushed straight to the right shelf and pulled out "Hamlet". My mind was foggy, and my heart began to race faster and faster. I opened it to the indicated page, and my eyes fell on the passage circled in ink:
"I stand in pause where I shall first begin, and both neglect"
I felt Naran's presence the moment I read those few words. He wasn't here now, I felt him close anyway. It meant he was in Canada... so close.
Without waiting another moment, I picked up "Romeo and Juliet" and looked for the verses I wanted to highlight.
"Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast"
"Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all"
Then I slipped the note with the title and page numbers back into "Hamlet" and headed toward the hotel.
Is this really happening?
The next day, I returned again, hoping to find another message from him. A wave of relief washed over me when I found a piece of paper with the title and page numbers. So it really was him.
This time, his chosen quote was also from "Romeo and Juliet", so I didn't have to search for long. Tears welled up in my eyes.
"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite."
So I decided that my reply would be a verse from "Sonnet 43" also written by William Shakespeare.
"When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when i sleep, in dreams they look on thee
And darkly bright are bright in dark directed"
The next two days looked really similar to each other. I was coming to the library, looking for the right book, and marking the parts I wanted to deliver, this way I was communicating with Naran by the literature.
I felt Déjà vu.
I was swept away by feelings of nostalgia and memories each time I put that little paper with my message between the books.
I got reminded of the process that brought us to our first meeting.
My desire to see him again was tremendous. I wish I could kiss him. Feel his touch on my skin, along with his moustache which always chafed it gently while making out, melding a velvet kiss with a bit of harshness.
I would like to have his body next to mine, to take his hand and go on another thousand secret dates whether to the cinema or the park. I yearn to look into his dark eyes, losing myself in them every day.
His last message he left for me was written on a piece of paper instead of a marked verse in a book as usual.
"The gloomy nights that we passed, no matter how long it takes, we will have the hopeful light shining on our hearts"
27.09.1973, 7 PM
I didn't even notice when my hands started shaking. Beneath the lyrics of the song I had written, inspired by his letter, was tomorrow's date. I was staring at blurred characters blending into one another, trying to process what it really meant, even though deep down I already knew it.
I clutched the piece of paper to my chest and closed my eyes. See you tomorrow.
***
Is it weird that I had no idea what I should have worn? Usually, I didn't have any problem with it. Whenever we were together, I dressed in whatever fell into my hands... or I had no clothes at all.
And now I was worried about a protruding button, a crumpled collar and even slightly soiled shoes. I shaved before leaving, and afterwards I rushed to the library.
It was 6:55 PM. I went inside and immediately felt like falling apart when I was told that the library was open til 7 PM. Maybe it wasn't the right place? No, it had to be this one. There was no other possibility because Naran didn't write anything about the location.
I waited inside for another five minutes, which seemed to stretch into hours. Drops of sweat slowly ran down my forehead and cheeks. Naran didn't show up.
"Excuse me, sir. Unfortunately, you have to leave. The library is about to close" said a woman standing next to the exit.
"Oh, right...", feeling self-conscious, I went out into the hall, watching as the librarian locked the door.
The entrance to the building didn't lead to the library straight away. The library was a space located behind a narrow vestibule, something like a waiting room, with coat hooks and a restroom. Suddenly, a particular door caught my eye, which I didn't notice earlier. It was placed at the end of the corridor, on the left side.
"Excuse me!" I called out in panic to the woman who was about to leave the building. "What's behind that door?" I asked, pointing to the area at the far, dark end of the hall.
"Over there? It's a really old room with a piano. Many students come in to play, which is possible thanks to the soundproof door. That way, they don't disturb people reading"
The spark of hope popped out in my head.
"Is this room still open?" I asked.
"Yes, of course. The whole building is open til 10 PM, only the library gets closed at 7 PM. If you wish to play, go ahead" she smiled gently and left.
My legs rushed first and before I had even realized I was in the small room filled up with smoke and the smell of cigarettes. The room wasn't too spacious. There was only one window, and the width between two walls was wide enough to fit about two pianos, in the place where only one stood.
Yet it was clear that it wasn't what drew my attention. The truth is, if that woman didn't tell me about the piano, I would never have noticed it.
He stood there.
I felt his gaze on me, which paralyzed me to the core as I couldn't move any inch of my body.
Naran was dressed in a white shirt with a few buttons undone from the top, and grey pants, with his brown leather camera bag slung over his shoulder. He hadn't changed a bit. Time blurred, and I felt as if it hadn't been two years but just two days since I last saw him. I had no idea how long I'd been standing there or how long I had been staring at his face. I wanted to prove to myself that this man over there was real, that it wasn't a dream and he would not vanish in a span of a few seconds.
"You really made a song inspired by my letter" he laughed softly, casting his gaze to the floor.
The moment he spoke up, I realized I hadn't been breathing since I came in. As I heard his voice, I took a deep breath which turned into an unexpected and quiet sob. I pressed my hand to my mouth, feeling a mix of shock and embarrassment, but what surprised me the most was the fact I had my face fully covered in tears. I didn't know when I'd started crying. Perhaps it was the very moment I saw him standing against the sunset outside the window, which cast his skin in a shade of honey.
"You cut your hair". It was the only thing I managed to say. I slowly started to calm down my breath, and once I did it, I filled my lungs with the smoky air and then let it out. What's funny, despite the smell of cigarettes and the amount of smoke in the room, it felt as if for the first time I could breathe freely after those two years.
"Not that much" he laughed again and the sound was like music to my ears.
He crushed the rest of his cigarette into the ashtray, tossed it into a bin, and then moved a few steps closer. My heart pounded like mad.
His eyes traced me from head to toe, before settling on my collar, which he reached out to adjust with a gentle touch. His fingers, which had brushed my neck at first, now moved slowly across the back of my neck and head, stroking my hair. His eyes wandered over my face, before tenderly wiping away the tears that ran down my cheeks.
"Why are you trembling so much?" he smiled with those cute, prominent cheeks of his. gradually blooming into a delicate rose hue.
"Can I hug you?" I asked with a strangled voice. His presence was like a drug I had once tasted, and now, with him so close, I felt an irresistible urge to taste it once more.
Naran nodded, and I instantly clung to him with all my strength. His touch, his smell, his hands embracing my waist, his chin laying on the top of my arm. The feeling of nostalgia, belonging and home.
"Lets fly beyond the sky" I murmured, holding on to him without letting go even an inch.
"And what with..." he lifted his head to look me in the eyes, with his hands still around me.
"Her father died, Naran"
For a moment, he seemed lost in thought. I felt my heart climb into my throat.
"What about her brothers?"
"At odds. I don't think they'll do anything to us" I answered, trying to analyze his reaction. It was clear he was confused.
"And what about you?"
I clenched my jaw as a pang struck my heart, I lowered my gaze to the ground. I had to tell him. I was so terrified of how he might react, that he'd tell me I needed to go back to Thailand, or that I was a bad father for having left the child without one. Even if he never really had a father to begin with.
"I have a son" I finally forced the words out, and waited. Waited for any reaction - for an insult, a shove, a confusion. Anything. Do something. Speak up. Say something to me.
The silence had occurred. The silence which was at the same time the loudest one I had ever heard. I looked back at Naran's face with panic.
I had expected everything but a gaze filled with compassion, understanding, and fear. He knew I didn't want it. He knew I had been forced.
His eyes expressed more than a thousand words. I had never felt as understood and supported as I did now.
The only thing he answered to me was:
"Are you sure?" He brought my face into his hands, caressing it gently. I closed my eyes for a moment and took his hands into mine.
"It would be better for him to be without a father than with one who wouldn't give him the love he needs," I replied. Clearly, I was consumed by guilt, and it seemed to me that Naran sensed it too.
However, we would both talk about that later, because that one answer was enough for Naran to press his lips to mine with the greed and tenderness I had yearned the most in the world.
I wove my fingers through his hair, tugging it softly as I pulled him even closer to me. I had my eyes closed, yet instead of the spreading darkness, I saw fireworks of various colors.
Our kiss turned straightaway into a storm of desire soaked with longing, sorrow and joy. We moved further into the room until Naran leaned against the closed piano, with my lips finding the neck he had so willingly unveiled to me.
Oh God, how I missed it.
While Naran was unbuckling my pants belt, my hands roamed over the chest so well known to me, recalling every curve and the outline of its muscles.
I traced the line of his spine with my fingertips, gliding lower and lower, absorbing the warmth radiating from his skin, until at last I could feel the inside of him.
Naran shuddered and sighed softly, and I smiled, silencing his sweet moan with a warm kiss.
I came back home.