Chapter Twenty-two from “A Wished-For Love.” 2,929 words.
Tom looked up to Sasi’s balcony on the top floor directly over the pool. He wasn’t surprised to see her waving and calling to him. He returned her wave and walked faster. When he looked again she had gone. He pushed through the revolving door and strode through the lobby. The clerk called out but Tom ignored him. The elevator doors opened and Sasi ran to him.
“Tom. Tom. How wonderful of you to come. I was worried you mightn’t.”
She put her hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. He held her by her bare waist. His hand pulsed with the touch of her body. He took her arm and led her to the elevator. The clerk was standing by, a look of anguish on his face. He spoke to Sasi in Thai. She replied, then wrote in the guest book to the clerk’s visible relief.
“Oh, Tom. You are a criminal. You failed to sign the guest book. I may have to call for the police.”
“Oh dear. Will you handcuff me so I don’t run away?”
“Of course. But the handcuffs are in my nightstand.”
Tom raised his eyebrows. “Oh?’
Sasi said “Come with me, you felon. I am making a citizen’s arrest.”
His brow furrowed in thought. “Is that a thing in Thailand?”
“You know, I will have to ask the police when they arrive.”
“What did you write in the book? That I promise to always sign in?”
“I wrote that I take responsibility for your actions, though you ravish me and make off with my sangria.”
They laughed at her joke and when the doors opened they entered the elevator. The attendant’s placid face turned into a smile when he saw Sasi. When the door opened to the foyer, the attendant bowed and spoke to her. She appeared to blush – the cast of shadow made it hard to tell, but she smiled and said thank you in English. The attendant bowed again as the door closed. They were alone in the foyer.
Tom was intrigued. The blush seemed remarkable for Sasi. “What did he say?”
“He said it was a pleasure for him to see me laughing, that I most often look serious and it makes him afraid to speak to me. I had not realized that was so. I must endeavor to smile more often when staff is in my presence.”
She stood close to him. He was afraid she would hear his heartbeat. Had she pressed her palm to his chest she would have felt its rapid beat.
“You make me smile, Tom. Perhaps you should see me every evening.” Gone was her smile, replaced by moist, parted lips that seemed to beg the press of his.
“Then we would both smile, Sasi.”
Neither spoke for a moment and Tom thought if she were any other woman he would kiss her. He knew she wouldn’t turn away. He knew too, that if he kissed her he would stay with her and there would be no turning back.
The long moment slipped past and Sasi opened the door and led the way to the kitchen. Sasi had known he would come. She picked up a tray with two glasses and a pitcher of sangria, and nodded toward the balcony.
“If you will open the door, Thomas, I will serve the drinks in Club Sasi.”
They sat at the same table as before and rested their feet the same way on the balcony rail. The sangria was cold and soothing, the night warm and relaxing. Tom was glad he had come. Sasi wore shorts and a light blouse tied in front. Her manner expressed ease, and comfort in his company. They made light talk for a while, Sasi asking questions about the life of a Sailor, and Tom learning more of Sasi’s remarkable life as the child of a globetrotting diplomat. As they spoke, Tom’s fatigue drained away and he slid ever deeper into his chair.
A timer rang out and Sasi walked to the kitchen where she was warming a late snack. She returned with a tray of sweet pork spring rolls and a dish of fried rice. She set the tray on the table between them. They ate from small plates, using fingers for the spring rolls and spoons for the rice.
“Ummm, these spring rolls taste great, and the fried rice is different but delicious. You’re a wonderful cook.”
“You’re sweet to say so, Tom. The spring rolls are made from my mother’s recipe, the fried rice is my own creation.”
“I can’t put my finger on what makes it different, though”
“We use shrimp paste in Thailand, and jasmine rice. I add coconut water when cooking the rice, though; perhaps that makes the difference.”
Tom was famished and Sasi watched him eat, smiling as he scooped the last of the rice into his spoon with his finger.
“I must remember to keep fried rice warm for your visits.”
“Fried rice is comfort food.” He sipped from a glass of water. “The first meal I ate in Pattaya was pineapple fried rice served in a hollowed-out pineapple, along with salad and red snapper – I selected the fish myself from the display tank. Everything was so delicious. I must take you to that restaurant.”
He couldn’t stifle a yawn and covered his mouth. “Excuse me. I guess eating made me sleepy.”
“You must be dreadfully tired after such a long day of hard work,” she said.
“Your note invigorated me. It was a welcome relief. I had wondered if I should come. I was afraid it would seem presumptuous and untimely. The note convinced me. I thought about our date all day. As the work wore on, though, I grew less hopeful about seeing you.”
“I would have slept on the sofa all night waiting for you.”
“It must be a comfortable sofa. Does it double as a bed? If I pull up the cushions, will we find a squeaky, lumpy mattress or a satin divan fit for a seraglio?”
“Neither, but we could lay the sofa and chair cushions on the floor. They would make a suitable bed, yes?”
“Hmm. What if we slipped between the cracks? Would we not disturb the people below us?”
The mischievous smile gave her away. “That would depend on how much noise we made.”
“I can’t picture you in an awkward position.”
“You haven’t seen me on my yoga mat.”
“Oh? Limber, are you?”
“Visualize a human pretzel and you will have some idea.”
He liked the image, but not because it was suggestive. It fit his own vivid image of Sasi. Whether it was the sangria, the late meal, or the fatigue that was returning, he wanted her to know.
“There is grace in all your movements, Sasi. You are purposeful, direct, funny, thoughtful, considerate.” Pleasure showed in her face and she looked at her hands, clasped in front of her. Tom went on. “You are charming, seductive without effort, beautiful beyond measure, and your smile reaches deep inside me so that I want to cry with joy when I see you.” He paused, certain he had said too much, too soon. “Now, I’ve said too much and upset you.”
“No, Thomas. I’m not upset.”
“You’ve called me Thomas several times.”
“Should I not?”
Tom was silent. How should he answer?
“Did Susanna call you Thomas?”
Is she the one, Susanna?
I do not know, Tomás
You must know, Susanna.
She makes me think of you.
She is not me.
I want you back, Susanna.
I cannot go back, Tomás.
You died too soon.
Why? Why? Tell me.
It was my time to die.
It isn’t fair.
Life is not always fair.
Sasi makes me feel the way you did.
Then you must be with her.
What if I forget you?
You must forget me to be happy with Sasi.
I lost half of my heart when you died.
Then Sasi must replace that part of your heart.
No, Susanna. I can’t.
Yes, Tomás. You must.
I don’t want to forget you. You have the piece of my heart that makes me whole.
You must let me go, Tomás, so you can find love and happiness again.
If Sasi is the one, she will hold the piece of your heart that makes you whole.
Truly. Love makes the heart whole, Tomás, not the person.
Do you love Sasi?
I’m falling in love with her, Susanna.
You must be fair to her, Tomás, and let her love you.
You must forget me to love her, Tomás, or you will not be happy.
Then I won’t be happy, Susanna.
I love you, Susanna.
I love you, Tomás.
Sasi’s eyes were pleading, her voice soft and tender. “Tell me about her.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“No, Sasi. You don’t. You can’t understand.”
“No. Someday, I will tell you about Susanna. I’m not ready.”
“What if someday I am no longer here?” Her eyes held his in a steady gaze. “What if someday you are no longer here?”
“What do you mean?”
She rose from the chair and leaned on the balcony railing. Moonlight reflected in her black hair – the way it had done in Susanna’s. Where Susanna’s face was parchment white, Sasi’s face was tan. Their lips had the same fullness, the same dip in Cupid’s Bow, the same red lipstick. On another woman, the red would have been garish; on Susanna, the color had accentuated the beauty of her whiteness to a degree Velasquez would have struggled to paint.
“I don’t believe in chance, Thomas. I believe we were brought together for a purpose.”
“For what purpose?”
“I don’t know.”
“What makes you feel this way?”
She turned toward him, her hands behind her on the rail. “When I first read your name in the register my heart seemed to beat faster.”
“Perhaps it was coincidence.”
“Yes. Perhaps. It happened a second time when I read your name again. When you gave me your letter it happened a third time, but with a stronger feeling.”
“Maybe that’s when you fell madly in love with me. Maybe angels were telling you “Fall in love, Sasi.”
Behind the smile, he was serious. He wanted to hear the words “I love you, Thomas,” spill from her lips but he was afraid to hear them. The pull she exerted on his heart was nearly tangible, not just a whisper of desire, not just a wish. Susanna’s pull had affected him the same way. He was afraid of what was happening. Afraid, too, of what she might tell him. It wasn’t wrong, it was just too late. Wasn’t it?
She turned to face the sea and he joined her, standing so close that their shoulders touched when one moved slightly. He breathed in the thick, jasmine scent of Sasi’s perfume. Her closeness of body sent a thrill through him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He would recall that moment many years later. The thrill passed, but the feeling remained, a warmth that seemed to buzz silently about him, as the love potion cast by a fairy godmother sparkles around the virtuous lover.
Then he knew he must go. The spell of Sasi was strong and he being weak could not break it. He had not come to Thailand to add guilt on top of guilt, but he could not step away from Sasi. Every bond between a man and a woman begins with a crucial moment. Tom and Sasi’s moment was at hand. Was lightning striking a third time?
“I did not want another relationship with a man, Thomas. My last one ended badly and left me with much anger and hurt. For some reason, though, some reason I do not understand, I wanted to know more about you before you walked away. I knew I had to see you before you saw anyone else. Before you saw another woman. I had to stop you before fate intervened and left us no more than hotel manager and guest.”
Sasi walked to the end of the balcony. She stood with arms crossed and her back against the wall. The full moon shone on her face. Her eyes were wet. He didn’t speak.
“I waited until you were gone, then picked up the bag of groceries and walked after you. I worried I had lost you until I saw you at the bar. Courage failed me, though, and I walked back to the hotel. I thought I should wait for your return, but I knew that would be too late. I had to go to you.”
Tom walked to her and she turned to him. “I am afraid of loneliness, Thomas, but loneliness flees when you are near. It flees now.” Her eyes were heavy with tears.
He felt tenderness for Sasi, but sorrow and regret for himself, too. How could he have let things come this far? How could he have left himself so vulnerable? Why hadn’t he walked away from her when he had the chance? If he had not stopped at the kickboxing bar, if he had continued to Walking Street, if, if, if. So many ifs. So many possible paths. So many possible pasts. How many futures had he embarked upon through his choices? Life would be easier without the twists and turns, false roads, and dead ends. Tom’s entire adult life had been a continual search for the true path to the love his parents had shared. Instead, he had scrambled blindly through maze after maze, each one stacked atop the other and mashed down until every turn ended in disappointment, every twist ended in another crushed dream, every exit an entrance to another chasing of his own tail.
The warm breeze carried the muffled sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below. Tom wished he were back at sea. There, he would be surrounded by five thousand men like him, their only concerns food, work, sleep, and not being blown into the sea by jet blast. Life was simpler at sea.
“I don’t know what to say, Sasi.” He sought for words to express the feeling behind the pulsing in his temples. I’m glad you came after me. I knew as I walked away that some kind of bond was established between us. I questioned the feeling and – I shouldn’t say this – felt a similarity with the day I met Susanna.”
He gripped Sasi’s arms and held her. She gazed intently, expectantly, at him, tears rolling to the tips of her eyelashes, stretching, then dropping away. He didn’t want her to cry. “I have wandered lost in love since Susanna died. We were going to have a life together.” He didn’t want to cry. “We were born in love, Sasi, and we spent our lives waiting for each other. When we met, we knew, we knew we had found the one we were born to love. Born to marry, to grow old with, to die next to in old age. When I held Susanna, the world ceased to exist and we were alone, completely alone, as though the only two people created. When she looked in my eyes, I could have lived without air, without bread, without water. I needed nothing, I wanted nothing, I had nothing, because Susanna was everything. Her touch thrilled me the way lovemaking does when you find yourself between passion and ecstasy and you feel the breath of God waft through your soul and you understand, you realize, you know at last that she is the precious gift whose name is imprinted on your heart.”
Sasi was crying, but her eyes held his. His grip tightened.
“Thomas. Thomas. I’m so sorry.”
“We were cheated, Sasi. We were cheated. We didn’t have a chance to marry. We didn’t have a chance to grow old together. We didn’t even get a chance to die together because I wasn‘t with her when she died!”
Passion gripped him. He ripped the necklace from his neck and held it up. The moon’s light reflected from the medallion, the rubies, the engagement ring. His vision blurred with tears and his voice caught in his throat.
“This. This. This is my mother’s medallion. She died giving birth to me. Her death broke my father’s heart. This is Susanna’s engagement ring. She died when our love was still in its infancy. I knew her for a fraction of the time we should have had together. It isn’t fair, but then, life isn’t fair is it?”
He let go of Sasi’s arms. She rubbed them where his hands had been.
“I’m afraid to love you Sasi. I’m afraid to love you and lose you. It seems the men in my family are doomed to kill the women they love. If I don’t go now, you will die too, and I don’t want to love you if that is our future.”
He left. Her cries tore at his heart but his own heart beat loud as passion surged and ebbed, surged and ebbed. He knew he was going to love Sasi. He knew she was the one. But he couldn’t bear to love her with the passion and ecstasy he had had with Susanna and then lose her. He couldn’t take the pain. Not again. He couldn’t take the pain of Sasi, Susanna, his father and his mother upon his shoulders. He wasn’t a God who moved pieces around on a chess board with whatever whim he felt. He was a man whose heart broke the same way in grief and love.