Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen: Mee Noi
Igo back to the table at the canteen and sit down to finish my meal, although I don’t feel much like eating anymore. Are Bua and Sud right? Does P’Wisit like me like that?
“Everything okay with Sud?” P’Wisit asks, looking me over with his dark, luminous eyes. I bet all the girls—and, I guess, guys—melt when he does that, acts like I’m the most important person in the world. Fuck.
“Yeah. He just forgot he has something he has to do,” I say.
“Listen, I’m going to the night market again tonight. Are you free?”
“I have a workshop,” I say.
Undeterred, P’Wisit asks, “What about tomorrow night? After that I’m booked and may not get to go again for a long time.”
I should go. It would be fun. But what if Bua and Sud are right?
But P’Wisit hasn’t called it a date. How am I supposed to know?
Sud called me na?ve, which pisses me off.
I’m not na?ve. I feel comfortable with P’Wisit, so why shouldn’t I go to the night market with him?
If P’Wisit really is interested in me as more than a friend, he’ll say so, and I can deal with it then.
“Sure. That will work,” I say.
P’Wisit’s face lights up. “Really? Great! I’ll come by your dorm, and we’ll walk there.”
I smile. “Sounds good.”
He stands and gathers his books. “I should get to class, but I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
I nod. As P’Wisit leaves, heads turn all over the canteen to watch him go. He’s so popular, which just reinforces my opinion that Sud and Bua are wrong. Why in the world would P’Wisit like someone like me when he could have anybody?
Glancing at my watch, I hurry to finish my food and get to my leadership and teamwork class.
My group has a project due in a couple of days, and preparation for it eats up the two and a half hours of class time. At some point, Sud texts me, but I don’t have time to open it until I’m seated in my next class.
Did he ask you out?
My investment analysis professor walks in, already telling us to get out our books. He has a strict no phones policy, so I have to wait until after class to text Sud back.
We’re going to the night market tomorrow night. He didn’t call it a date.
After sending the text, I pocket my phone and rush back to the dorm to shower and dress for the workshop because I’m running late.
Sud picks me up just after five. I don’t think it’s my imagination that he’s annoyed.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Keeping his eyes on the road, he says, “What do you mean?”
“You seem upset about something.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Okay,” I say, and resign myself to a silent ride, knowing from experience that no amount of cajoling will get Sud to talk when he doesn’t want to.
When we get there, he walks so quickly, I have to double my steps to keep up with him.
I’m not sure he would have held the elevator door for me if I didn’t slip in before it closed.
“You’re obviously angry with me,” I say as the elevator starts its ascent.
“Why would I be?” he asks, looking at the flashing numbers above the door instead of at me.
“I don’t know. I’m asking you!”
Sud gives me a dirty look. The elevator door opens, and he strides out.
By the time I reach the common room, he’s already talking to the intimacy coach, P’Arm.
In his mid-to-late thirties, he has dark hair that he slicks back from his face and a line of silver rings up both ears.
Today he’s wearing a mint green T-shirt that says Live, Love, Laugh across the front and a well-worn pair of blue jeans.
His square-framed glasses match the shirt exactly.
When I reach them, he says, “P’Prapha is working with Boat and Pete tonight. I’ll be working with you two on your NC scenes.”
Butterflies take off in my stomach.
P’Arm smiles. “Prapha tells me you’re already comfortable with each other.”
“We’ve known each other a long time,” I say, glancing at Sud, who doesn’t look at me.
P’Arm nods. “Okay. Let’s start by facing each other and clasping hands.”
We do. Sud continues to ignore me. I squeeze his hands but don’t get a reaction.
“Look into each other’s eyes,” P’Arm says.
Sud manages to drag his gaze to lock with mine.
I raise an eyebrow. Sud shifts his gaze to my chest.
P’Arm clears his throat. “I sense a problem.”
“Just a little argument before we got here,” I say.
“Well, that won’t do. You need to talk it out. You have ten minutes.” He turns away from us and stalks off to talk to three actors who play part of the friend group in the series.
Angry, I drag Sud into one of the side rooms and close the door. He’s acting like a three-year-old. Rounding on him, I say, “You are going to tell me right now what’s crawled up your ass.”
When he doesn’t answer, I go off on him. I don’t get angry easily, but I’ve had it. Uncaring if everyone outside the door hears, I shout, “Tell me what I did right now so I can fix it, dammit!”
That gets Sud’s attention.
“Is it P’Wisit? I mean, that’s all I can come up with.
We talked about him in the canteen, and you’ve been mad at me ever since.
” Becoming more agitated, I continue, “I still don’t think he’s flirting with me, but even if he is, why do you care?
It’s okay for you to date but not for me to do it?
” I point at him. “You’ve had at least a dozen girlfriends over the years.
Did I ever question you about them? And you know something else?
I don’t like it when you call me na?ve! I’m not a kid, Sud.
We’re the same age. Stop treating me like you treat Ten! ”
Confusing feelings crowd my mind. All the times Sud went out with girls.
The time Mae and Pah weren’t home, and I realized Sud and his current girlfriend were in his room with the door closed.
The way it made me feel the same way my parents do.
Chest tight, I gasp for breath and stumble backward, hitting the wall.
“Noi,” Sud says, suddenly very close.
Pushing past him, I yank open the door and run out of the room, past P’Arm and the others and into the hall where I lock myself into the first empty room I come upon. Leaning against the door, hot tears stream down my face as I struggle to catch my breath, hand clutched to my heart.
What the fuck just happened? How did this go from Sud acting like a sulky little kid to me having a tantrum and running out of the workshop to hide in someone’s office?
Feeling like someone’s standing on my chest, I slide to the floor.
The doorknob rattles, and then someone starts banging on it above my head.
“Noi, open the door.” Sud’s voice is muffled through the wood.
I want to yell at him to go away, but I can barely breathe, so I concentrate on doing that instead.
Why is Sud angry with me? Why wouldn’t he talk to me before? Even when P’Arm wanted us to practice, he still couldn’t look at me for longer than a few seconds. Is he trying to ruin his big chance? Aren’t we doing all this for him? Or is he sick of me?
The terrible feeling that I can’t name but know so well gets its grip on me, whispering that Sud is going to leave me and never come back.
“S-ud,” I stammer hoarsely, but Sud can’t hear me because he’s banging on the door, and I can’t breathe. The white heat of panic starts at my feet and travels steadily to my head, blackness edging out my vision. I try desperately to suck in air, but I can’t.
Relax. Relax. You’re only making it worse.
Too late. The black devours me, and I hear a thunk, followed by a burst of pain when my head hits the floor.
***
Something acrid fills my nostrils and I suck in a breath.
“Easy, now,” someone says. My fingers curl into velvety material. When I open my eyes, I’m assaulted by bright light and immediately snap them shut again.
“Turn off the lights.” That’s P’Arm’s voice, I’m pretty sure.
Sud has left you.
Bit by bit, what happened comes back to me, followed by a wave of panic.
“Calm down, Nong.” P’Arm rubs my arm. “Breathe in and out slowly. That’s it.”
Panic recedes and embarrassment replaces it. I turn my face away and wince when pain shoots through my head.
“Careful, Nong. You’ve got a lump the size of a golf ball above your temple. Here, keep this cold pack on it.”
Icey coldness on my sore head makes me wince. I feel P’Arm move away from the couch.
Sud has left you. Left you. Left you. Left you.
A hand carefully runs through my hair, avoiding the icepack. “Noi?”
My thumping heart slows down a bit when I hear Sud’s voice.
I try opening my eyes again and am successful this time because the room is darker than before, the only light coming from a small lamp on a shelf. I’m lying on a velvet couch in the same office I locked myself in.
Turning my head slowly, I meet Sud’s worried gaze where he’s kneeling beside me. His eyes are red.
“I’m sorry,” he says, gripping my hand. “I’m sorry I was being so stupid. I promise I won’t do it again.”
With Sud helping me, I sit up and, when I’m situated, he replaces the icepack. Twisting my fingers in my lap, I say, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“I deserved it. You were right; I was acting like a little kid. I’m sorry, Noi. I’ve let exams get to me, and I took it out on you.”
Is that all it was? Stress over exams?
“And I’m sorry for calling you na?ve. You’re an adult, like you said.”
Easing my legs off the couch, I push myself to my feet, Sud taking my arm to steady me.
“Are you sure you want to get up? You hit your head. You were unconscious for a few seconds. I think you should go to the hospital.”
“I lost consciousness because I panicked and couldn’t breathe and that’s when I hit my head,” I tell him. “I’m okay now. Really. We need to work. That’s what we’re here for, and we’ve wasted enough time.”
Sud reluctantly releases my arm.
In the common room, P’Arm is waiting for us.
Giving him the wai, I say, “I’m sorry, P’Arm, for causing so much trouble.”
P’Arm looks back and forth between me and Sud. “I take it you’re not angry with each other anymore?”