The apartment was cleaned, the TV repaired and the windows replaced. Life went back to normal and in a typically Thai way we decided not to confront the issue. The only thing I wanted to know about was the injections. Piam pretended that she didn’t know what I was talking about and that I must have misunderstood her mother, because she didn’t have any injections. Yeah, right...
Link to the previous post: This is Thailand. Chapter 13: Exit of the Dragon. Part 4.
I really wanted everything to be like in the good old times, but I just couldn’t make them anymore. Every time Piam woke up, I awoke too and remained alert. She walked to the kitchen, got a drink and walked back. She hesitated in the doorway, looking at me for a good few minutes while I pretended to sleep. I didn’t sleep because I was afraid. I was afraid that in one smooth move she would chop off my balls, or push the kitchen knife straight into my heart. I believed she could do it. She wasn’t normal. She was getting some injections and pretended that there was no problem. There were too many similar stories in the media, I couldn’t afford a second of losing my attention. I lost my trust. Completely. I decided that we needed to break up. But a calm conversation was not an option.
It was supposed to be a Friday like any other. I will remember it, however, until the end of my life. In the morning, Piam drove Apple to school and came back from the market with breakfast. After breakfast, I took the car to the city to deal with some business issues.
-Honey, I can’t pick up Apple up from school. Sorry - I said on the phone.
-What happened?
-The city is jammed as always. I’m at the airport, I have a meeting soon. Please pick her up by taxi.
-Ok baby, no problem. What time will you be home?
-I don’t know, maybe 6 or 7. Why?
-My friend invited me for dinner and a few drinks. I wanted to leave Apple with my parents and go to the center, Ok?
-Sure, go and have fun.
-Thank you. I’ll be back late, don’t wait for me.
It was my only chance. Now or never. I called Peter.
-I’m at the airport, Brazil? - I said.
-Wait. What? What airport? Brazil?
-I am getting the fuck out of here. Should I go to Brazil?
-Go for it!
-Alright, we’ll talk later.
I hung up the phone, compared the offer and bought a one-way ticket to Sao Paolo – Brazil’s biggest city. I came back home, packed the most important items into a small backpack and left the rest. Maybe I am a mother fucker, but I left Piam some cash so that she could survive the first few weeks without me. I caught a taxi to the airport. On the way, I sent her a message saying that I was going for drinks with my friend and that I would be back in the morning. I turned off my phone.
**
The plane made a big circle over the Bay of Thailand. I looked for the last time at Bangkok, lit up by millions of lights. Will I ever come back here? If so, in what circumstances? Will I like South America? Or maybe the smell of the Orient will draw me back again? Seven hours later, I landed in Doha, the capital of Qatar. I know the small airport like my own pocket. I had transferred here two times before – on the way to Thailand in 2007 and to Iran in 2009. I washed my tired face in the bathroom. I connected to the wireless internet and checked my e-mails. A short message from Piam was waiting for me:
From: Piam
To: Marek
Subject: Where are you?
Honey, where are you? Are you sleeping over at your friend’s place? Why aren’t you answering your phone? I love you.
Yours,
Piam
I write back.
From: Marek
To: Piam
Subject: Re: Where are you?
Dear Piam,
Our relationship doesn’t make any sense. I’ve left Thailand. Sorry for everything. Goodbye.
Marek
I made this decision consciously and I know it was the best solution. Despite this, tears were flowing down my cheeks as I deleted my mailbox and deactivated Facebook. I don’t want to receive any messages from her. I don’t want to read her reply. I can’t stand the crying messages. I boarded the plane flying to Sao Paolo. A 15 hour flight to Brazil gave me more time to think about everything that had happened over the last 18 months. Flying over the deserts of Africa and the endless blue of the Atlantic Ocean, I slowly realized the scale of revolution, which had just started to happen in my life. This is, however, a topic for a completely different story...
THE END
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