Chapter Twenty-Three Rama
Ifeel as though I’m waking from a long dream. It’s Sunday and I’ve missed three days of work. I might as well kiss the internship award goodbye.
I don’t remember much of the past few days. Alex and Pete have been watching me like hawks, although I don’t think I’ve done more than eat and sleep.
I do recall being out on the street and, I think, talking to Pravat on the phone. Had that really happened?
After taking my first shower in days, I join Pete in the kitchen where he’s sitting at the table having coffee. His face brightens when he sees I’m up and dressed.
“Feeling better?”
I nod. “Much better. I’m sorry you’ve had to take care of me.”
“You don’t know how good it feels to have you back to your old self. You really had us worried.”
While pouring a cup of coffee, the memory of walking into the living room and seeing her makes me fumble and spill the hot liquid.
“Rama.” Pete’s suddenly beside me, taking the carafe out of my hand. I stare at the puddle on the marble countertop
“Have a seat,” Pete tells me, and when I do, he hands me my mug of coffee. I look away, embarrassed, as he cleans up my mess.
“You should call Pravat if you’re feeling up to it,” Pete says. “He’s been worried about you.”
Pravat. My memory stirs. “Did I talk to him while I was sick?”
“Yeah.” Pete explains to me what happened, and I listen, shocked.
I barely remember any of that. My boss sent me home?
Pravat had to call Pete for me? I vaguely remember being on the street and getting yelled out by someone and talking to some man with a long beard and a knapsack. My cheeks heat in embarrassment.
A sudden thought has me sitting up straight. “You didn’t call Pah, did you?”
“No. I didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily, but I have to be honest—I got close to it. Do you remember going to the emergency room?”
“Yeah. Some of it.” I came to myself lying on a padded table with an IV stuck in the back of my hand. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. “I’m going to go lie down for a while,” I say, getting up from the table and heading for my room.
“The doctor thought maybe you overworked yourself. He wanted to run tests, but you wouldn’t allow it.”
I nod.
“You won’t let it happen again, will you? You’ll eat and sleep better?”
“Yes. Of course. I hadn’t realized I was driving myself into the ground. I’m sorry I worried you guys.”
Pete insists on cooking me some breakfast, and when I’m finished eating, I go back to my room to lie down. I should be concerned about work and everything I’ve missed, but all I feel is numb. I don’t know how long I lie in bed before finally reaching for my cell phone and calling Pravat.
“Rama?” He sounds so agitated; I immediately feel awful.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m sorry I worried you.”
“Are you all right?”
“Much better, yes.”
Pravat releases a deep breath, and suddenly tears spring to my eyes.
I’m emotionally unstable. I know this. A psychiatrist would tell me I’ve kept things bottled up too long. That seeing my aunt sitting in Pete’s living room triggered a breakdown. I’m furious with myself for being so weak, and I’m furious that I somehow dragged Pravat into this.
“I was ready to get on a plane and fly out there,” Pravat says.
“What? You would have come here?”
“Of course. I was going to drag you back to the hospital if I had to.”
I take a moment to digest that. Pravat would have disrupted his life to fly thousands of miles to make sure I was being taken care of. I don’t know what to say.
“Tell me how you’re feeling,” he demands, and when I start to reassure him again that I’m fine, he interrupts. “The truth, Rama.”
“I’m still a little out-of-it,” I say softly, wiping at my eyes.
“Pete said you seemed fine when you walked into the room that night and then you just lost it.”
“I can’t talk about it,” I finally whisper after a long, drawn-out moment. “Please don’t ask me to.”
I know I just verified that something other than exhaustion triggered the breakdown, but I don’t want to lie to Pravat.
“All right. But don’t you think you should talk about it with someone?” he asks.
I grunt, having no answer that would satisfy him. I’m not dredging up those vile memories with a therapist.
“I wish I were there with you,” I say instead. God, I’m so tired. How can I still be this exhausted?
“I wish you were, too,” Pravat says. “Are you going to work tomorrow?”
“I have to. I’m sure to have missed so much. I don’t know how I’m going to make it up.”
“Please don’t run yourself into the ground again. If you do, I’ll get on the next flight and make you wish you didn’t.”
I can’t help but chuckle. It feels foreign. “All right. I’ll be good.”
We don’t disconnect right away, instead talking about Pravat’s painting, and I feel myself relaxing as I listen to the deep cadence of his voice.
I must drift off to sleep because the next thing I’m aware of, the afternoon sun is shining brightly onto my bed and the phone lays beside me, the screen dark.
I hoped, after taking a week off, to jump back into the job and make up for the time I missed, but that’s not the way things work out.
I can’t concentrate, and every small task I seems monumental.
At first, my boss is understanding, but as the days pass and nothing changes, his frustration mounts.
When he calls me into his office and suggests I leave the program, it hits me hard.
I’ve never failed at anything in my life.
“I’ll do better,” I tell him. “Please, just give me the chance.”
Mr. Gains shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, Rama. You started off well, and I’ve been very impressed with your work.
But it’s obvious that something has happened that’s stolen your concentration.
Since your illness, you’ve become run-down and distracted.
At this point, it’s senseless for you to be here when you aren’t absorbing anything.
You need to return to Thailand and work on your physical and mental health.
If you wish to intern in the program next year, I’ll save a space for you. ”
I can see there’s nothing to say that will change his mind, so I thank him and leave his office. Embarrassed and ashamed, I exit the building without saying goodbye to anyone.
The apartment’s empty when I return, both Pete and Alex still at work.
Numb, I change into my swim trunks and go to the pool, swimming laps until I’m so exhausted; I can barely heave myself out of the water.
The cold air of the apartment raises goosebumps on my skin, and I take a hot shower before collapsing on my bed for a nap.
When I wake, I decide to cook dinner for all of us. Keeping my mind trained on what I’m doing, I begin preparing Tom kha kai—chicken in coconut soup. By the time Alex walks in the door, the food’s almost ready.
“Something smells delicious,” he says, approaching me at the stove. His blond hair is disheveled, and when I glance out the small window above the sink, I see the sky’s darkened with clouds and the wind’s blowing.
“Storm came up fast. You’re home early,” Alex says. Taking off his wire-framed glasses, he wipes the lenses with his shirt.
“I hope you’re hungry,” I say. “I’ve probably made too much.”
“Starving. And don’t worry, we can eat the leftovers for lunch tomorrow. Pete should be home soon. I’m going to take a shower.”
As I watch him walk down the hall to the bedroom he shares with my cousin, a sharp longing overtakes me. Will I ever have what they do? None of my past relationships have satisfied me. None of the breakups have affected me other than to sting my pride.
Since returning to the apartment that morning, I’ve avoided thinking about what I’m going to do next, but as I remove three bowls from the cabinets, an unexpected spark of anticipation runs through me at the thought of returning home.
I can begin preparing for the second season of My Doctor, My Love.
I can see Pravat. Maybe then my mind will clear of the memories that have been torturing me.
“What are you smiling about?”
Pete’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts, nearly causing me to drop the spoons I’d taken from the drawer. I hadn’t even heard him enter the apartment.
“You look like a drowned cat,” I tease, glancing over his rain-splattered suit.
He cusses at me in Thai, but when I begin ladling the soup into the bowls, he quickly changes his tune.
“Tom kha kai! My favorite.”
Alex appears, and my heart clenches when he sniff-kisses Pete’s cheek. Alex became enamored with the Thai custom after meeting Pete, calling it “sweet.”
It’s Pravat’s face I see when I imagine this type of relationship for myself. I know it’s impossible, but I can’t help what I feel.
I wait until we’re finished eating and washing the dishes to tell them about what happened today.
Pete looks stricken. “I’m sorry, Rama. You must be upset,” he says at the same time Alex says, “Maybe it’s for the best.”
Pete gives Alex an exasperated look. “Uncle Korn is not going to be happy.”
“Rama’s a grown man, and he obviously needs this time off. I’m sure his father will understand.”
“The entire reason Rama took this internship was to please Uncle Korn. Now he has to tell him he’s been thrown out.”
I wince, and Pete hurries to apologize. “I didn’t mean it that way. And it’s not like you failed. You were doing fine until—”
Not wanting to go there, I hold up my hand to stop him. “It’s okay. I’ll deal with my father.”
Pete turns off the water and wipes his hands with a towel while Alex turns on the dishwasher.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Pete asks.
“Yes. I’ll call Pah tonight and explain.”
I don’t know what I’m going to tell him.
“When will you return home?” Alex asks.
“As soon as possible. I’m sorry to be leaving you guys, but I think it’s for the best. I’m really looking forward to going home.”
We talk a while longer before heading to bed.
Pulling out my laptop, I book a flight for Bangkok that leaves the following evening.
I don’t call my father. I’m not sure why—it isn’t as though I can hide what happened from him.
Even if I wasn’t returning home early, he’d eventually hear about it.
All I know is I can’t face my father’s disappointment right now.
I can only deal with one thing at a time, and at the moment that’s packing my things for the long flight back to Thailand.
By the time I lie down to go to sleep, it’s very late, but despite the unfavorable circumstances, I’m excited to be headed home. I’ve missed Bangkok, and I want to see Pravat.