runaway princess…

“You’re beautiful,” He recited.

“You want something.”  I declared smiling.

“I want you.”  He scanned my body with his crystal blue eyes.

“I am taken.” 

“You might be,” He replied casually. “Where is he?”

“In a safe place where no men like you can harm him.” 

I allowed a soft laugh as I thanked the waiter for my Bailey’s.

“I’m serious.”  He said looking at me in the eye.

“So am I.”  I answered.

“You’re good but please, call me Sean. Sir makes me feel…”

“Ahead of your time?” I answered. Sean laughed and I honestly found it quite sexy. Oh, his entire being was amazingly stunning.

“I am not old so I don’t want to feel that way.”  He confessed.

“How young are you, Mr.…?

“Whitman. I am 32. You?”  He sipped his Carlsberg.

“Let your numbers switch place.”  I said.

“Well you’re the one ahead of your time…”  He stated smiling.

“Ahead and stumbling.”  I said watching him chuckle. 

He leaned over to reach out for my hand yet I crossed my arms and leaned back on my chair disallowing his action. “Oh, you’re good.” He nodded.

“You’re not the first man I’ve spoken to, Mr. Whitman.”  I leaned putting my palms together. “What do you want? There are beautiful women all over this place. Why have you placed your fine ass on my table?”

I sensed him studying me a bit. Either that or Sean Whitman was thinking with his entire brain capacity in search of a first class line hoping I’d literally fall for it.

“I approached you because you’re alone.”

“Well, isn’t that bravery…?”  I commented giving him a soft applaud.  He smirked keeping his smile as sincere as possible.  “Ever thought of the fact that I might be secluding myself?” 

“Not in Thailand. Girls sitting alone in a bar are usually waiting for their daily victim…”

“Do share your expertise.”  I commented.

The blonde hair Brit-Swiss blushed.

“You’re not here to make friends, Mr. Whitman. Spill it.”  I declared.

“Be with me on my holiday for three weeks. I offer you five star hotel, first class service and cash at hand if you agree for the entire three weeks, not a day less.”  He announced introducing me his true colors – colors I’ve always wished to be nonexistent in a man.

“Location?” I kept my posture erect and voice calm.

“Phi Phi Island.” He said as my head flew to Leonardo DiCaprio’s The Beach. 

“Timing?”  I continued clasping my hands together.

“I need to go back to London for two weeks so after that I will be back to pick you up.”

“Type of transportation?” 

“We’ll fly.”

“Name of airline and seating arrangement?”  I asked.

“We’ll get us business with Thai Airways?”

“Outer parties?” 

“I don’t mind a couple other girls if you’re up for it. If not, it’ll be just the two of us under the sun, baby.”

“Exclusively compensated?” I assured sounding like a first class whore.

“Everything. Food, services, you name it. Just be with me.”

I exhaled, feeling a deep anguish running through my body.  Since I moved back to Asia, I’ve discovered how the love and hate relationship I’ve maintained with Caucasian men have turned into one frenzied fixation.

Again he examined my face. “You really have a man don’t you?”

“I do.”

“He doesn’t have to know, baby.” He almost whispered.

“No, he doesn’t.”  I agreed.

“Deal is it…”  He asked.

“State your price.”  I smiled as Sean Whitman showed his widest grin.

“Two grand.”

“You’re cheap.”  I giggled as he raised his eyebrows laughing.

“Honey, that’s two grand a week. You will leave with six grand.”

He ordered another Carlsberg.

“Honey, what else do you want? You want clothes? We’ll go shopping then. Just name your brands.”

“Burberry?”  I lied having no interest in that particular top dog name.

“Whatever you want, baby. I promise.”

I thought of all the mentally underprivileged men I’ve unavoidably met during my short life.

“Six grand for three weeks of full paid holiday sounds reasonable. Branded clothing is a common desire amongst women. But it’s not enough. You’re still chaining yourself.”  I said leaning bringing my face two inches from his. “Look around…” 

Sean brought his eyes to every corner of the bar.  “What?”  He said.

“There’s not a rich man in this building or city that cannot give me what you’ve offered.”

“Yes, but we want each other, honey.” He announced confidently. “You’d choose me over that loaded fat guy.”  Sean pointed to an overweight middle aged man surrounded with four Thai women – one on his lap.

“Give me a lifetime.”  I grew anxious at how far he was willing to go.

“What?”

“I want your offer plus a lifetime with you.”  I stated flatly.

“You’re joking now.”  Sean backed away a bit.

“Your offer is awfully insignificant, Mr. Whitman.”  For the first time that night I allowed an insincere smile watching Sean Whitman turned for embarrassment. And fury.

“How about ten grand?”  He answered densely.

“You don’t understand.”  I smirked. “The sum in your bank account won’t do a thing!”
“You’re lucky I offered that much!”  He raised his voice.

“You think I’m worth ten grand, Mr. Whitman? These girls here are worth that. You can pay ten grand and get five of them! Discount at it’s best for a tight wallet like yours!”  I stated firmly.

“How much would you go for? How much?!”  Sean insisted.

“Be with me, love me.”  I laughed watching him parting his lips in distress. “But we both know you can’t afford that much!”

“Bet your man is loaded?”  He twisted the conversation leaving me contemplating for a few seconds.

“No idea to be honest.”  I answered softly.

“So have fun with me. What is the problem?”  He demanded.

“The problem, Mr. Whitman, is that you can’t give me what I want. Ten grand doesn’t exactly cover it.”

“You’re a fucking insane woman.”  Sean scoffed loudly.  Suddenly his handsome face was the most hideous thing a woman can ask for.

“Better insane than poor in more ways than one,” I laughed cynically. “Get off my table or I’ll call security.” I glanced at a tall built Thai man in a black shirt standing in a corner giving me a concerned look in return.

“There are tons like you in Bangkok anyway.”  Sean got up.

“I hope not, otherwise you’d be doing a one-some for three weeks.”

“Fuck you.”  The blonde recited before leaving.

——————

I sat in the backseat of a taxi gazing out at Bangkok’s nightlife. Mr. Whitman’s “you’re beautiful” ended with “fuck you.”  Funny, the sort of dejavus playing for me.

“You go alone, Miss.”  The driver asked. “No friend?”

“No, friend not here.”  I answered thinking of my lover whose voice lingered inside my head.

I am so much in love with you. Tell me this is forever, Sita. All I think of is you, me and our little Alex…

I am jealous. I am jealous of the distance between us. Closer to you from where I stand. But you can never understand.

I’m jealous. Of the smiles you receive. Of the sins you conceive. The beauty your eyes feast on. When the day is gone. Certainly not my body. Nor my decree.

So I’m jealous. Of the darkness your mind aches to light. Of the dream your heart reaches at night. Without me you dance in the heavens. Until daylight.

Forgive me for being jealous. Cursing at this distance between us. Of every soul you meet and greet. Ones perhaps you long between your sheets. Of every soul that comes and goes.  Ones perhaps to be my foes.

I am utterly undeniably jealous. At the clothes covering your skin. At your naked body in the light so dim. Sitting in the solitary. Without the presence of me.

Until you take me. Hold me. Own me. Keep me. Captivate me. Greed only for me. Love me…

I remain jealous.

I deserved to be punished.  Today for the first time in my life, I hit a child.

Perhaps to some people it’s one way, if not the best way to discipline a child, to educate them, to throw some sense into them, to remind them that somehow a quiet class is traditionally good. Oh, but as I ran my hand through that boy’s cheek, I’ve also placed my decency in the lowest place possible.

As a child, there was a time where I felt hands across my face when I somehow displeased the adults in my life. I never liked it. I hated it and always found ways to fight back projecting my objection in various ways. For some reason, at that earliest stage of life, I knew that it was plain erroneous to have anyone putting that much pressure on my body as a cause of anger. Thus, after feeling such way of punishment during my early years, I made a promise to myself to never lay a hand on anyone, especially a child.

Today I broke my own promise. I was physically exhausted and mentally disturbed this entire week. I kept few bad news in my head. I kept few drops of tears inside. I was faking my every smile.  Still…it was no excuse to hit a child.

———-

My patience stood helpless on the ground as the entire class decided to be what I call unrefined. (God, this is the part where I thank those nutty royals for at least planting mannerism on me more than skin deep).  I closed my eyes wishing that my headache would go away.  I shushed the class for what seemed to be the millionth time. I told everyone gently to place, hell…glue their butt on their chair.  I slammed a ruler once, feeling odd portraying that much aggression in class. 

I was going ballistic convincing myself (trying to at least…) that I’m a goddamn good teacher.  I know how to put materials, necessary ones in their heads and keep it there.  I know how to make kids from anywhere laugh and put comfort on their lap. I goddamn know how to make parents praise their children because of the effort they’ve put in learning. I know how to make a white kid shut up and listen to me.  I know how to make a black kid say hi to me. I know how to make a Chinese kid smile at me first. I know how to make Japanese bow 90 degrees and have no problem bowing back that much.

What is fuckin’ wrong with Thai kids being so damn preposterous 24/7?!

All I ever wanted to do was have fun teaching and smile in satisfaction at students who would finally toss away their fear for speaking English. Oh, but silly naïve me. Who would’ve thought that culture gap would be such a mean enemy toward me?  Who would’ve thought that my patience would always be standing at the edge of a cliff? Who would’ve thought that I would stick around this long? Who would’ve thought that I begin to take no tolerance toward my fellow Asians?!

———-

That kid WAS the Devil. He was pulling all my chains and nerves, fully knowing I possessed only few left. He was physically unattractive with that malicious smile painted across his face since I stepped in the classroom.  He created the charade and enjoyed every minute of it.  I tapped his shoulder a bit harsh once, motioning for him to sit down yet he ignored my existence.  Few of his friends decided to join and began jumping around the room. Some shouted my name, asking for my attention thinking whatever animal like behavior they were taking was something amusing. 

No wonder you remain third world, I thought heavily.

The boy looked at me, daring me to do something, anything to stop him from his dominion.  He laughed at my commands and loved at the fact that he was causing a bigger headache for me.  He smiled at my fatigue. He enjoyed at the fact that I was plain helpless.

He came to me and laughed in my face.  At that split second, I slammed my hand against his right cheek silencing the entire class.  It was just too loud, I thought.

“Khun Sita…”  A girl started.

“Don’t say a word.”  I managed to hide the shock from my own action.  The last time I placed pressure that much on a person’s cheek was a couple years ago when I was betrayed by a lover.  Yet at that time, I held no regret. I was pleased and wished for repetition. But this time, looking at the boy’s 8 year old eyes, I was taken back to those moments where I myself felt hands running across my cheeks as a child.

“I don’t like you at all and I want you to know it. I want you to remember tomorrow also.”  I said to the boy softly who still stood frozen in front of me.  It was a battle between me who wanted to apologize to him and me who wanted to slap him again and again and again and lock him up in the bathroom for a few hours in the dark…

THE WAY HE’S LOVED ME SINCE THAT NIGHT WE MET…

Sorry for loving you so much

That my love is making you cry

Sorry for those empty nights

That you have to spend alone

Sorry for the distance we have

That your days are so long

Sorry for loving you so much

That you are scared of loosing it

Sorry for missing you so

That you have to wait

Sorry for not being there with you

That you feel lonely without me

Sorry for loving you so much

That love hurts some days

Sorry for my affectionate touch

That you can’t feel everyday

Sorry for not kissing you every night

That you need to be kissed tonight

Sorry for loving you so much

That your feelings get mixed up

Sorry for being so far

That my touch can’t be reach

Sorry for all this time

That your heart been missing me

It felt like I’ve had sex and fully committed myself to the Devil (the real one, not the one wearing Prada) these past few days. I admit I’ve been a tyrant to my own self while giving away my million dollar smile (I’d like to think it’s worth that much) to just about every walking body.  Now, the last time I actually ridiculed myself with this much pestering was a while back when the whole world around me was in no doubt withering. At that time Dad wasn’t home much and when he was, I didn’t hear a thing.  He was basically what I call then Financially Fucked. Mom was minding her own business praising just about every middle aged man, except her husband, in my face. My sisters were never home so there was no one to buy my Kotex (or Charm with wings as large as Mami Poko) during those heavy emergency hours. I was never a lady to keep umbrellas for rainy days. My folks needed me “home”, so a ticket to my next flight and new life in

Singapore

as they promised was postponed.  Um…my crazy first class maniac ex was torturing me while the lover I had at the time acted like a real guy – multitasking was as challenging as tapping your head with one hand while rubbing your tummy in circles with the other.  I went through massive weight gain and loss in less than 6 months. I hated myself in the mirror although my friends still thought I was the hottest chick around. (Sigh).

So yes, there I was isolating myself from anything breathing. A knock on my door used to freak me out and a second knock drove me up all four walls (and ceiling).  The only person I always tolerated was Mom herself and even then she had to be extra careful. Otherwise I might’ve given her one of my rare but quite deadly outbursts.  Oh, but I never did as she was always one that had the most beautiful heart in the world. Christ, I’d bow at her feet for eternity if I could.

But that was then when I had all the reasons in the world to be what my doctor called mildly depressed, a state of mind declared still to be pretty normal and 100% curable.  And yes, it was.

But recently, nothing worked and it’s been one great dejavu (however you spell that). I turned down a modeling gig, which offered me 5 grand for a day’s work.  I considered that an awfully nice bundle considering that they tolerated my extra love handles.  They liked my face, but I hated theirs so I shut down the phone without regrets (maybe just a tad bit). I shouted to my student whom I could’ve sworn was the Devil’s advocate himself to jump out the window if he couldn’t stand still in my class. I even offered the push.  I snapped at all the little adorable girls grabbing on my Giordano. Lay off the fuckin’ shirt bitches!! I almost forgot Mom’s birthday if it wasn’t for the damn alarm ringing off my phone. I shushed every student who recited their good mornings to me wishing their mothers would’ve taught them on how to keep their mouth shut more often. Just like Mom.  I cursed at the nasty lunch, any students who walked annoyingly slow, the Physical Education teacher who needed to grow an extra 10 inches to fit his job, the lesbian dance teacher who touched me too much (I hate strangers touching me), and last but not least, Yoiji – my Japanese angel who reminded me all too much of what I was like as a kid and still at 23, nothing of my heart have changed.

Oh, Mom….I wished she was stroking my hair convincing me with her sweetest words that the Devil would vanish in no time. But such wish is just far too weak. The Devil shadowed me at all my hours and I did nothing but gave in.

“Yoiji’s mother will stay for one month. But it’s her company from

Japan

that sent her here. They’re putting her on training so she can’t spend 24 hours with Yo.”  Khun Pao, Yoiji’s homeroom teacher stated at lunch. (Khun is a title in Thai for the elderly).

“So her real intention wasn’t to visit him?”  I scowled.

“No.”

I stared at my Japanese angel along with the other children who were ready for their nap time.  He clutched to a green handkerchief belonging to his mother, not allowing anyone else to touch it.  He looked at me then blushed, fully realizing how sentimental he was as a boy to be so attached to something of his mother’s.

I bent down and placed my hand on his face as I’ve done at every nap time since the day I met him.  “Can I hold it?”  I asked.

“You can but I hold it too.”  He placed my hand on the handkerchief as he brought it closer to his chest.

“I have a meeting today.” Khun Pao said. “Put them to sleep okay.”  She walked out.

I turned to Yo as he stared blankly at the wall.  I hate your parents, my head recited. I can’t care less what excuse they might have but if you were mine, I’d never ever leave you. Period.

They have no idea how much he misses them, how much he’s loosing more time each day to be with them, and how many good night kisses and good morning hugs he’s lost.  How he’s so diligent, so different and special from the other kids around him, how he’s created his own world and enjoying himself being inside it, how he can’t care less of his surroundings because it’s just not good enough for him, how his intelligence surpassed every one else’s, how quickly of him to be bored from everything because a mind like his deserves so much more than anyone has ever given him.

“Where is your mother?”  I asked him feeling reluctant whether I should bring up that touchy subject.

“She said she’s working.”  His gloomy face melted me.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”  The boy whispered almost in tears.

“Can I sleep here?”  I leaned beside him afraid to intrude his space. I knew exactly what it felt like to be all alone. My best cure was to stay alone as other’s presence would only damage my growing emotional instability.  I absolutely despise gray areas.

“Yes.”  He said still staring at the wall.  I rubbed his back and kissed his hair in silence. And that moment I broke down in tears.

“Why are you crying?”  Yoiji’s face confused.

“Do you miss her?”  I asked him.  The boy got up to sit a while before lying back down on his tummy.  “Do you?”  I turned to him as he quickly buried his face on the pillow.

That was a “yes”.  I brought my face close to his as he turned to me.  I gave him an Eskimo kiss he always liked.  Yoiji giggled.

“You miss your dad too?”

“I haven’t seen him in a long time.”  The four year old spoke out.

“How long?”

“I don’t know. Mom said he’s working in

Japan

too.”

“Do you love your mother, Yo?”

“Love.”  He answered quickly.

“And your father?”  I asked holding him close to my chest.

“Yes.”  He said shyly.

I held him close for a while before he sat up.

“You need to sleep.”  I said to him. “Everybody else is asleep already.”  The boy looked around at all his classmates breathing softly drowning in their own dreams.

“Why are you crying?”  He turned to me.

I smiled, took his handkerchief and wiped my tears with it.  He grabbed it quickly, kissed and gripped it tighter. 

“Where are your mom and dad?”  He suddenly asked.

“Far away also.”

“Really?”

“Really.”  I ran my hands through his hair. “I am like you. Our parents are both far away.”  The boy placed his body next to mine and stared back at the ceiling.

“Is that why you’re crying?”

“No.”

“Why?”  He insisted softly.

“Remember Khun Robert?”  I asked him referring to my lover who visited my school few weeks back.

“Yes.”  Yoiji smiled shyly. “Your friend.”

“He lives in

Japan

.”  I confessed.

“Really?”  The boy became wide eyed.

I witnessed him thinking a million miles away. It was one of the most beautiful things in the whole world seeing him in such a deep contemplation like that. He curled his eyebrows just like I did when I was his age whenever I felt that I needed to understand something, anything.

“Why is everybody in

Japan

?”  The Japanese boy looked at me with the saddest brown eyes I’ve seen next to mine. 

“I don’t know, Yoiji.”  I said hugging him so very tightly crying in my silence just as he was in his.