Chapter 7 Mee Noi
Chapter Seven: Mee Noi
“Wow, look at all your Instagram comments!” Bua says the following afternoon as we sit at one of the tables in front of the administration building studying.
“Get off your phone and study,” I tell her.
“I will in a minute,” she says, continuing to scroll on her phone.
I get lost in my work for a while, studying hard. I’ve always made good grades—I won’t allow myself to do anything less. My parents may pay for my schooling, but I’m the one making it work.
Suddenly, Bua says, “Mee Noi, who is this person who keeps commenting on your posts?”
“Oh, my God,” I say in English, because that’s what we’re studying. At least, I’m studying it. Bua is evidently still on her phone.
“Look,” she says, turning her phone to show me the screen. The commentor is vballboy555.
I shrug. “No clue.”
“He just said you look good in this shirt!”
“So? Haven’t you ever left a compliment on someone’s post before?”
“Not someone I wasn’t flirting with,” Bua says.
Remembering what she said to Sud about me needing to practice flirting so I can date, I scowl at her. Then the universe sends the perfect retribution.
“P’Tam!” I wave. P’Tam, who just walked around the corner, spots me and walks toward us.
“I am going to kill you!” Bua mouths, looking horrified, but she pastes a pleasant smile on her face as she turns to greet our senior. “Sawasdee-kha, P’Tam. You look very nice today.”
“Thank you, Nong, I had a presentation, so I did my hair different. You really think it looks good?”
“It’s very flattering,” Bua says. She glances at me, and I give her a look to remind her that she just told me she compliments when she’s flirting. She looks so worried I’m going to say something to P’Tam about it that I take pity on her.
“I just wanted to ask—is the field trip this weekend or next? I wrote it down somewhere, but I can’t find it.”
“This weekend,” P’Tam says. “I sent you an email.”
“Oh, yeah. What am I thinking?”
“See you then!” She says before walking off.
“You are mean.”
“Payback’s a bitch,” I say in English, pushing her textbook toward her on the table.
***
We leave early Saturday morning on a bus to Nakhon Pathom. Everyone’s in good spirits after completely mid-term exams. One of Bua’s friends asks her to sit with her, so I choose a seat by the window.
As the bus heads west on Highway 4, leaving behind the heavy traffic of Bangkok, the view of the cityscape gradually gives way to one of factories and suburban areas with the occasional roadside shop along the way.
Remembering I told Sud I’d text him when we left, I send one telling him to have fun on his trip to Hua Hin with his theater group. I put in my ear buds and choose a song on my phone.
A little over an hour later, I pluck them out when the scenery turns to rice fields and orchards as the bus enters the province of Nakhon Pathom.
A general rustling begins around me as passengers stretch, put away their phones and tablets, and prepare to disembark.
The site of food stalls along the road, along with the aroma of grilling meat drifting in the windows that are open, reminds me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast.
The bus slows as it enters the bustling town center. The Phra Pathom Chedi, with its gold dome gleaming in the late morning sun, makes an imposing backdrop to the mix of ancient and modern architecture. We pass temples and local markets, more tempting scents making my stomach growl.
The bus stops, and the group disembarks, heading across the parking area to a trio of college-age guys holding signs with the name of our university painted on them.
One of them is short and athletic-looking, another, tall and rangy, wearing a backward baseball cap; and the third a little older and obviously the leader as he calls everyone to gather round them.
As he welcomes us, I spot Bua making her way through the small crowd toward me, the friend she sat with on the bus accompanying her. She introduces her to me as Peach, and we turn and follow the three guys on foot toward the university in the distance. On the way, P’Tam joins us.
“What, exactly, will we be doing here, P’Tam?” Bua asks politely.
“We’re joining some students from the local university to create a medicinal garden on their campus,” P’Tam says.
“I don’t know much about plants,” Bua says.
P’Tam smiles. “Just stick with me, and I’ll show you what to do.”
Bua nearly trips on the pavement, but P’Tam catches her by the arm, and I bite my lip to keep from smiling.
Walking a little faster to give them time to talk, I wind up walking beside the tall, rangy guy with the baseball cap.
Having helped Mae for years with her garden in Wang Phong, Pran Buri, I have an interest in horticulture and am looking forward to the weekend.
The guy I’m walking with grins at me, and I nod back at him, noticing that his baseball hat says plant lover across the front.
Our guides take us to the guesthouse on the local university’s campus, and soon after we’ve unpacked our things, a group of students comes to escort us to a dining area in the same building. More students are there, unloading dishes of food.
The boy I walked with, now sans cap, sits down beside me at the long dining table.
“Sawasdee-khap,” he says with a wai. “I’m Film, a second-year student here.”
I introduce myself, adding that I’m a first-year student born in the year of the dog in order to establish how to address each other.
“Are you in the horticulture club at your university, Nong?” he asks, now that he knows he is indeed older than I am.
“No, I’m just helping the club, P. But I do like plants,” I say.
My cell phone dings with a notification of a text from Sud.
Did you make it to Nakhon Pathom?
No, I’m dead in the road. (emoji face with x’d out eyes.)
That’s not funny.
Laughing, I put down my phone and dig into my food, only to have to pick it up again when another text from Sud comes through.
Did you pack your insect repellent?
I answer that I did and start to put the phone down, only to pause at another notification.
Are you wearing it?
Yes! I have so much of it on me, the mosquitos are dropping dead out of the air onto our lunch plates.
That seems to satisfy him, and I continue my meal, discussing plants with P’Film. Before I know it, it’s time to clean up, and the local students treat us to a tour of the campus.
Then the students from both schools break into groups and do what they want to do.
P’Film invites me to explore the town, and we walk the streets, discussing the interesting older buildings.
Eventually, we’re hungry again and buy Moo Ping, eating the spicy pork from the skewers with sticky rice as we sit on a bench people-watching.
P’Film tells me he’s from a salt farm in the small province of Samut Songkhram near the Gulf.
“There’s a floating market, and, at night, you can take a boat out on one of the waterways and see thousands of fireflies along the shores.”
“That sounds beautiful,” I say, imagining it.
He nods. “It really is.”
“Are you homesick?” I ask.
“Not really. I’ve traveled a lot by myself over the past year or so. I’m an only child, and my parents encourage me to be independent. What about you? Where are you from?”
I tell him about Wang Phong and my family. Although I’m intrigued about P’Film’s independence, I wouldn’t trade having Sud and Ten in my life to be like him.
“So, you have two brothers. That must be cool. How old are they?”
“Ten is twelve, and Sud is nineteen.” I don’t bother explaining that I’m not really related to them. It just leads to a lot of questions that make me uncomfortable.
After we finish eating, we walk some more, and, when it starts to get dark, P’Film suggests we head back to the campus.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mee Noi,” he tells me, waving goodbye at the guesthouse and heading for his dormitory.
Inside, our group is lounging in the common area.
“Finally, you’re back,” Bua says when I walk in. “Where did you go? Did you have fun?”
I told her about what P’Film and I did, and she tells me about playing volleyball and then going to the night market.
“I’m glad you made a friend,” she tells me.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say in English, making Bua roll her eyes at me.
I know she means well, but why is it that all outgoing people feel like they need to supply us introverts with companionship?
Don’t they get that we’re happy with our very small friend groups that we only see when we want to?
Still, making friends with P’Film was easy and he’s nice, so I’m not sorry to have met him.
“You’re so prickly,” Bua complains. Then she gets an odd look on her face and says, “P’Tam stayed with me the whole time.”
“I told you she likes you,” I say in an undertone so no one else can hear.
Bua bites her lip. “I don’t know. I’m not convinced. She might just be being nice.”
“But you like her?” I ask.
“I didn’t say that.” She stands. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight,” I say, adding, “Sweet dreams” in a tone laced heavily with innuendo.
She flips me off before heading to the room to the left of the common area where the girls are sleeping, while I go to the large room on the right designated for the males. The horticulture club being predominantly female, there are only four of us—me, two fourth years, and a third year.
“Do you mind sleeping by the window, Nong?” the third year asks me. I’ve seen him around campus but don’t know his name.
“I’m fine with it, P,” I say, tossing my backpack onto that cot.
“Mee Noi, right?” he asks.
I nod and smile.
“I’m Zo,” he says, “and this is Champ and this is Boss.” As he indicates each senior, they give me a perfunctory wai.
When Champ moves past me toward the bathroom, his shoulder knocks into mine, making me stumble. He doesn’t apologize or look back at me, and when the bathroom door shuts behind him, Zo says, “Don’t mind him. He’s just jealous.”
I frown. “Of what?”
“Of you. His ex—who he isn’t over yet—thinks you’re cute. She comments a lot under your photos on the Best Boys website.”
Unfortunately, more and more photos of me have popped up on the website in the last few weeks.
I finally allowed the moderator to take a decent profile picture rather than the one taken without my knowing it when I was eating ramen.
Right before the mod took the new photo, Sud called out to me, “Look sexy, Noi!”
Then, when he saw it later on the website, he groaned.
“I said sexy, not annoyed.“ He was being a jerk—the picture isn’t that bad. I feel kind of odd when I see it, though—like I’m looking at a stranger instead of myself.
Maybe I’m not quite as unattractive as I thought I was.
Still, I’m nothing compared to Sud with his bright eyes, mega-watt smile, and muscular physique.
That’s why when Zo tells me about Champ’s ex, I’m a little skeptical.
I mean, why me when Sud and all the other boys on the site are so much better?
Eyeing the closed bathroom door, I wonder just how angry Champ is over his ex-girlfriend liking me.
Is he going to beat me up? Though the bathroom has several urinals and sinks and a couple of stalls, to play it safe, I wait until Champ exits before I go in to wash and change.
When I return, the lights are out and everyone is on their designated cot.
Relieved that it appears Champ doesn’t have any plans to confront me about daring to appeal to girls he likes, I make my way in the dark over to my cot by the window and lie down.
It’s hot for December, and I wish I could let in some fresh air, but I know that if I do even the few mosquitos out this time of year will find me and eat me alive. Growing up, I contracted Chikungunya fever once and Dengue fever twice. Mae always says my blood must be very sweet.
Suddenly homesick, I lie on top of the thin blanket listening to the faint music coming from somewhere on campus.
The first few weeks at school were hard for me, especially since I refused to live with Sud at his apartment.
My stuffed bear Fuzzy got me through those times, but I didn’t bring him with me to Nakhon Pathom for obvious reasons.
If I didn’t agree to come on this trip, I could be with Sud right now in Hua Hin, and then at home in Wang Phong later in the week.
Sitting up, I find my phone and text him.
What are you doing?
Lying back down, I wait for his reply, which comes several minutes later.
Drinking at a bar. What about you?
I start to type that I’m lying in bed in the university guest house, but something comes over me and I text one word.
Same.
Sud’s answer comes much more quickly this time.
You’re out drinking? Who are you with?
I purposely wait to answer and have to turn off the volume on my phone for fear of waking the others when his texts keep coming.
What kind of bar is it?
What are you drinking?
What are you wearing?
Noi?
I roll my eyes. He’s such a mom. I answer one question at a time.