Tropical Heat

Nicholas O’Neill pulled back the hotel room curtain and looked outside. The midday Thailand sun beat down on the gray sidewalks and black asphalt streets of Pattaya City. Shimmering waves of heat radiated upward engulfing everything less than three meters tall. Local Thais and foreign tourists passed back and forth in front of the hotel, their paces deliberately slow. Cars, trucks, and motorcycles moved along the narrow street in synchronized disorganization. Sheer luck and short centimeters separated rolling tires and shiny bumpers. Palm trees, exotic bushes, and bright flowers formed intricate patterns across the manicured hotel lawn. Nick dropped his hand and let the curtain fall back into place.

He glanced around the room. Very nice. Ritz luxury at Holiday Inn prices. If nothing else, the Thais did their hotels right. Free fruit plates, orchids on the pillows, and other little things that mean more than they cost. It was first class. He dreaded the thought of leaving his one-room haven and stepping outside into a world of alien odors and tropical heat, but he had no choice. He was here on a mission, one that couldn’t be ignored.

Yesterday, with the help of a very expensive taxi, he had gone to the hospital, the police station, and the crematorium. Personal stuff, wrapping up the legal loose ends of his brother. The police had given few details of Tad’s death. Obvious suicide, they had said. It happens in Pattaya all the time was their best explanation. They were polite, but clearly unconcerned. They gave him a copy of their report.

Nick supposed it could be true, but not likely. His brother wouldn’t just wake up one day and decide to kill himself. There had to be a damned good reason

Two years earlier his brother Tad had ventured to Thailand on a one year construction project. When it was finished, he had returned to the states just long enough to close his affairs and then he went back. No one, not even Tad himself, understood his compulsive need to return. Whatever drove him was stronger than family, money, or career.

After returning to Thailand, Tad had kept in touch by fax, phone, and email. Except for the odd names and exotic tone of his messages, Tad could have been living in a nearby city.

Nick had always enjoyed his older brother’s messages. Ever upbeat, entertaining, and exciting. If Tad had been upset about anything, he had never let it show. His messages came every week like clockwork. He had opened a night-spot for tourists, taken up golf, and hired the most beautiful accountant in Thailand. “Life doesn’t get any better than this,” he once wrote.

Just last month, Tad had emailed pictures of his new bar and his accountant. The attached note said one was a picture of his current wife and the other of his future wife. The bar was called the Suaee Dee Lady; the woman’s name was Jarapan. Everything said Tad was happy. There were no clues that Tad might do anything except live happily ever after.

Nick went to the bathroom and stuffed his pockets with toilet paper. Yesterday he had learned the hard way that some public toilets in Pattaya lacked a most essential need. The lesson had cost him a handkerchief. He checked once more to make sure he had put his passport, plane ticket, and Traveler’s Cheques in the room safe. Satisfied his few valuables were secure, he left the room.

He stopped at the front desk and asked one of the girls for directions to the address printed on a piece of paper. He knew she was answering in English, but he didn’t understand a word she said. After a frustrating minute, she wrote in Thai on the same paper and handed it back. She pointed outside to a small, dark-blue pickup truck with an open-sided cap over the bed. “Baht bus,” she said very clearly and waved him in that direction.

What the hell was a baht bus? He stepped from the coolness of the lobby into a blanket of moisture-soaked heat. Immediately, he began to sweat. As he approached the truck, he regretted not hiring the taxi for another day. It may have been expensive, but at least it had air conditioning. He handed the slip of paper to the driver. “How much?”

The driver stared at the note for a moment then looked up, his smile fading, “Fifty baht.” His tone left no room for negotiation.

Nick nodded, stepped into the back of the truck, and sat on one of the bench seats that lined both sides of the bed. As the driver pulled into the flow of traffic, it dawned on him: Baht was the local currency and this truck was a bus. Baht bus! It made sense.

The baht bus turned south on Beach Road. To his left sat a jumble of shops, restaurants, open-air beer bars, and go-go clubs. To his right lay the Gulf of Siam. He had never imagined he would ever be here to see this. He was in awe despite his efforts to remain aloof.

He guessed they had traveled about two kilometers when they stopped. The driver pointed from his window to a bar not far off of the main road. “Suaee Dee Lady,” he announced.

Nick handed him a hundred baht bill and walked away. It was double what they had agreed, but a bargain compared to yesterday’s taxi. The baht bus was gone before he reached the curb.

Without the artificial breeze of the moving truck, the heat and humidity were brutal. Sweat poured by the time he reached the Suaee Dee Lady. He pulled at the door but it didn’t budge. He focused on a sign that declared business hours from 6 p.m. until closing. Nick glanced at his watch; it was three o’clock. He had never thought Tad’s bar might be open only at night. Suddenly he felt foolish standing in front of the locked door. He glanced around but no one was looking at him. He walked back to the main road.

A steady stream of vehicles rolled down Beach Road, a one-way street heading south. His hotel was to the north. He didn’t know how to get back except by the way he had come. It would be a long walk, much too long for this heat.

A flash, high and to the right, caught his eye. A low thunder followed. A fast-moving bank of dark clouds had already covered a third of the sky. Within seconds the breeze shifted and intensified. It was noticeably cooler. A large drop of rain splattered near his feet. Another put a cool spot on his shoulder. A downpour was coming. He decided to find shelter rather than walk anywhere. He saw a cluster of open-air bars not far away and headed there. A heavy sheet of rain arrived as he stepped inside the covered area.

There were eight bars, each about 15 feet by 30 feet in size. Two were open for business. A few middle-aged men, clearly tourists, sipped at drinks, mostly beer. He selected a stool far inside where the rain wouldn’t blow on him. The girl tending bar came over.

“You like some drink?” she asked, her English broken and heavily accented.

“Budweiser.”

“Mai mee Budweise. No hab Budweise.”

Nick noticed a Carlsberg beer sign on the side of a cooler. “I’ll have a Carlsberg.”

The girl looked at him, puzzled.

Nick pointed at the sign, “Carlsberg.”

“Oh, Callsabuhg,” she smiled wide.

“Yeah, Callsabuhg.” He fought back an urge to laugh. In a moment she delivered his beer in a styrofoam sleeve and his tab in a wooden cup.

“You like play game?” she asked clear enough that he understood.

Nick spent the afternoon drinking Callsabuhg, playing Jinga, and getting his ass beat at Connect Four. Time passed quickly. When he finally looked at his watch, it was five thirty. He paid his bill, gave the girl a generous tip, and left.

Outside, the rain had stopped but it was still overcast. He felt lightheaded from the beer but his steps were steady. He walked toward the Suaee Dee Lady. Now he noticed there were other go-go bars on the same street. Funny he hadn’t noticed them earlier. Sexy young Thai women sat outside inviting passing tourists to come inside. Loud music spilled out each time a customer came or went. Nick walked directly to the Suaee Dee Lady. It was still closed.

“Hello, sexy man,” shouted the girl sitting at the front of the bar next door.

Nick looked in her direction. The girl was young, maybe twenty, and quite attractive. She was wearing what he assumed was a traditional Thai dress. He wondered if she was talking to him. He arched his eyebrows in question.

“Suaee Dee Lady kaput,” she said. “You come this bar. Very nice. Have air con, beautiful ladies. You like too much.”

As bad as the girl’s English was, it was better than most he had heard in Thailand. He moved toward her. A badge pinned to her blouse said Noi. “What do you mean, kaput?”

“The American who own bar was nice man. Him dead now.”

“You know him?”

“Everyone know Khun Tad.”

He wondered how well she knew Tad. “Can we talk?”

“You buy me drink, is okay.”

Nick nodded and followed her inside. An old song by the Bee Gees thumped from hidden speakers. Christmas tree lights dangled haphazardly from the ceiling. Two bikini-clad girls danced unenthusiastically on the raised stage. Eight or nine customers were scattered about the room. Noi led him to a table in the corner where it was quiet enough to talk.

“What you like drink?”

“Callsabuhg,” Nick answered, remembering his earlier experience.

Noi smiled and hurried away. She returned in a minute carrying drinks. His was a Carlsberg and hers was something in a small brown bottle.

“What’s that?” he asked, curious.

“Lipo,” she said. “Gives me power.” She did a Charles Atlas stance for emphasis.

Nick laughed. “I think you have enough power already.” He waited until she was on her stool, and then leaned close, “The man who owned the Suaee Dee Lady was my brother.”

Noi stiffened. She had thought him just another tourist. She hadn’t expected to meet Tad’s brother. Her practiced come-on lines escaped her. “You name what?”

“My name is Nick. Yesterday, the police told me Tad killed himself. I’m not sure I believe them. He wouldn’t do that without reason.” He paused, wondering just how good her English was. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I understand. Tad was your brother, he was my friend. I called him uncle. I will miss him forever.”

“Me too.” He studied her face, searching. “Do you know what happened?”

She shook her head, “No. Maybe you should ask him wife.”

Nick was caught off guard. Wife? More than once Tad had said he loved his accountant, but he had never said he had married her. “Her name is Jarapan?”

“Yes, you know she?”

“No, but I want to meet her. Can you help me find her?”

Noi hesitated; this was none of her business. Still, there could be something in it for her. “I’m not sure. You pay bar fine me, maybe I help.”

Bar fine? What was a bar fine? “How much?”

“Nit noy, just a little, only four hundred baht.”

Nick did quick calculations, a little over $10 at current exchange rates. “Okay.” He handed her a 1,000 baht bill. “For the bar fine, the drinks, and your tip.”

Noi smiled demurely and left the table. She returned a minute later dressed in tight jeans and a midriff length tank top. “Let’s go.”

Nick finished his beer in one long swallow then followed her toward the exit. At the door he lost his balance and staggered. Noi grabbed his hand to steady him, and then pulled him outside. “Now I help you find Jarapan.”

Neither spoke as they walked. She seemed to know where she was going, so he followed. She led him up and down streets, and in and out of vendor markets until he was hopelessly lost. Finally, they stopped at small nondescript bar.

Noi spoke rapidly to the girls who worked there. A Carlsberg and a Lipo appeared on the table—Nick paid. One girl brought a cell phone; Noi took it and dialed. A short wait was followed by a sing-song conversation. He didn’t understand Thai, but he heard the politeness in Noi’s tone.

Shortly, she turned off the phone and said in her clipped English, “Jarapan meet you at Suaee Dee Lady, twenty minutes. We drink first. Okay?”

Noi talked with her friends while Nick sipped at his beer and thought. He was about to meet the woman who would surely know what had happened to Tad. Steel butterflies churned in his stomach. He wondered which she might tell him, truth or lies.

While Tad lived in Thailand, Nick had read extensively about the country and the foreigners who migrated there. The stories were eerily repetitious. Men came to visit, decided they were in love, and then abandoned everything they knew to move here. While their money lasted, they were gods. When things got tight, their Thai lovers would dump them and disappear. Loss-of-face and depression were the immediate results. Suicide was often the long-term consequence.

Nick wondered if that was what had happened to Tad. He wondered even more if this Jarapan person—the woman his brother had professed to love—had something to do with his death. Anything was possible. Who was she anyway? Was she really an accountant or just an opportunistic hooker out to relieve some poor western sucker of his money. Thoughts of his brother being duped by a Thai whore paraded through his head. By the time his beer was gone he was convinced that this Jarapan woman had somehow caused Tad’s death. It all fit.

His lips felt numb. He was not used to drinking so much in one day. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes had passed. He nudged Noi with his elbow, “We should go.”

When they reached the street, Noi stopped, “We'll take a taxi. It’s quicker.”

Nick nodded his agreement; the faster the better.

Darkness had settled and the night lights of Pattaya had come alive. Noi flagged down a passing baht bus and spoke to the driver; a short argument ensued. Finally, the driver nodded. She turned to Nick and held out her hand. “Two hundred baht. He will take us there and won’t stop for anyone else. Okay?”

He knew it was too much but didn’t say anything. He gave her the money and climbed into the bed of the truck. She sat in the cab with the driver and that made him uncomfortable. Probably only giving directions, he told himself. Still it bothered him.

Nick took in the nighttime city as the baht bus made its way through the busy streets of Pattaya. It was barely dark and already they were out, those slender Thai women and the foreigners they entertained. The girls pretended they loved the men, while the men pretended it might be true. Nick had read enough to know it was all bullshit. The women loved a quick buck and the men loved what they were selling. It was that simple. Pattaya was a tinsel town, full of glitter and bright lights but with no real substance. Tad had been sucked into this distorted world and had fallen in love with some slant-eyed gold digger; he just knew it. And whatever had happened to Tad was this Jarapan’s fault, he felt it in his bones.

The traffic was heavy but the ride uneventful. Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the Suaee Dee Lady. Noi got out of the cab and Nick exited the back. The baht bus sped away.

“The driver didn’t want to come here,” she said. “He thinks it’s bad luck.” She nodded her head toward the entrance, “Miss Jarapan is inside.”

“Will you come with me?”

Noi took a step back, “No, Tad’s spirit is there. I don’t like dead people.” She pointed at the door. “Miss Jarapan is waiting. You go talk to her. I'll go talk to my friends.”

Nick watched as she disappeared into the same bar where he had met her. He turned back to the door of the Suaee Dee Lady, pulled it open, and stepped inside.

A single amber spotlight shined down on the raised dance stage. A woman sat at a table on the edge of the light. In front of her was some drink with ice. To her right sat a beer. A cigarette burned in the ashtray. The beer and the cigarette were too far away to be hers. He stepped forward, “My name is Nick. Tad was my brother.”

“I know. I have been waiting for you.”

Her English was almost perfect. She was the most attractive woman he had ever seen. More beautiful than the electronic images Tad had emailed. He understood how his brother could have fallen in love with her. It would be easy for any man to have his head turned by her beauty. He wondered what she had done to make Tad end his life. “I know you, too. Tad sent me pictures. How did you hurt him?”

Jarapan looked up, “What do you mean?”

Nick stared hard at her. “I mean how did you make my brother so crazy that he killed himself?”

“I did nothing. I loved Tad. He was my husband.”

She sounded so sincere, but he knew it was a lie. She had never loved Tad. Women like her never loved anything except a fat bank account. The closer he looked the more he knew he was right. “Come on, let’s be honest with each other. I’ve read all about you Thai women. What did you do? Screw around on him? Did he catch you with another man?”

His words stung hot poison like a cobra’s bite. She lashed back, “You are a stupid man. You don’t know anything. You should go now.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, surprised by her sharp reaction. “I'm upset. I only want to know what happened. Can you help me understand?”

Jarapan was quiet for the longest time. In a while she had calmed enough to answer, “I'll tell you a story. Eight months ago I met your brother Tad. He was a good man, very polite. He filled an empty part of my life. We dated, we laughed, and we loved. I tried to make him as happy as he made me. We made plans for our future, but now it's ended.” Her voice cracked as she added, “Tomorrow, I have decisions I must make.” She picked up the cigarette and butted it out.

He considered her words for a long second then said, “I don’t believe you.”

Silence echoed. They stared at each other in the dim amber glow.

“I don’t care what you believe,” she finally responded with measured calmness. “I want you to leave now.”

He didn’t move. His next words came out harsh, bitter, “I came to find what happened to my brother. You know the truth and I won’t leave until I know the truth, too.”

She turned her face from his outburst. In a moment she looked up, “There are things you don’t want to know. You should go now. Go home with your memories, nothing else is important.”

“Listen to me,” he returned, forcing his words softer. “Tad was more than my brother; he was the man who taught me to swim. He was the man who taught me to drive a car. He was the man who introduced me to my first piece of ass, for Christ’s sake. Tad wasn’t just someone I grew up with, he was my best friend. I want to know everything.”

Jarapan let his English words become Thai and she understood his need. She would tell him the truth. She touched lightly at her stomach, “I have Tad’s baby inside of me.”

Her pronouncement hit him like a sledgehammer. Of all the things he thought he might hear, he hadn’t expected this. He fought to keep himself under control. “Tad wouldn’t kill himself because you're pregnant. He loved kids. There's something more.” He paused for a moment then continued, “You did something to hurt him so much that he didn’t want to live. I know because I can see it in your eyes.”

“Then you’re as blind as you are stupid. You are nothing like your brother. I loved Tad and I would never do anything to hurt him. He was the only man who ever shared my heart and my body.” Her expression turned resolute, “If you want to know the truth then I will tell you, but I think you should just go home.”

Nick looked into her eyes. He wondered if he could be wrong. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “I need to know why my brother is dead.”

Jarapan looked away as tears formed then subsided. She reached into her purse and withdrew two envelopes. She handed one to Nick. “Please, read this first.”

A hard chill swept through him as he took the envelope from her outstretched hand. He slid the enclosed paper from its jacket and tilted it forward into the light. It was an official document from the Bangkok-Pattaya Hospital. The patient’s name was Tad O’Neill. His eyes scanned the confusing mix of Thai and English. One entry jumped from the page. HIV Positive - AIDS Confirmed. The words etched a fiery imagine in his mind. A harsh numbness invaded his senses. He wanted to cry but couldn’t. He looked up at Jarapan. If she had told the truth, she was carrying Tad’s baby. “What about you?”

She handed him the other envelope.

After a wavering pause he pulled out the paper and looked at the dreaded box. HIV Positive it read, there was no mention of full-blown AIDS. Nick’s world became surrealistic. “What will you do?”

“I don’t know.” She stood, her face empty of emotion. “I'm leaving now. You can stay as long as you want. This was your brother’s business. It’s yours now, I have no use for it.” She laid a key on the table and left.

Nick sat alone in the empty go-go. He couldn’t clear his head of the intoxicating effects of the beer or his shock. In a while, he locked the Suaee Dee Lady, went to the bar next door, and paid another bar fine for Noi. Outside he gave her 500 baht to escort him back to his hotel. He sent her away before they reached the lobby.

Nick was awakened at 3:00 a.m. by a knocking at his door. It was the police. They wanted him to go with them, but he couldn’t understand why. One policeman pushed an envelope in his direction. He knew without asking that it was from Jarapan. He didn’t want to take it, but his hand reached out of its own accord. His name, hotel, and room number were printed on the front. His heart raced and his hands trembled as he opened the note and read, “I have killed your brother’s baby. Please forgive me - Jarapan.”

Her words ripped at his soul. The shock he had felt earlier grew tenfold. “Dear God.” Nick whispered aloud. “Did she have an abortion? Is she okay?”

The policeman shook his head no to both questions.

Jarapan had been right. He should have left when she told him to go. He should have gone home with his memories. Nothing else was important. Nothing else meant anything at all. Nick cried in spite of himself.