I was crying on the way back on the plane.
Simply it is not about sympathetic but full of joy. Probably, similar to a dying tree get soaked with rain. You leaves were laughing and dancing and become alive. But for me it is more than that. You never thought you would come back. Now you feel again warmth in your heart again.
I don’t think it is about her, but perhaps it does. Perhaps it is everything about her. Her move, her body, her vibrant, or even her soul. It could also be about her talent, her kindness or just her look. I really don’t know. Or perhaps it is just about me. I didn’t even kiss her. In fact, this is not normal. It would have been a thousand kisses by now if I had met her few years earlier. We barely even touch but I felt so warm and completed.
Yes, I was as torn as much as I am on the highest point of the sky. You saw the rainbow that would be possible to appreciate only from afar. A dream that will surely end. Should not let myself out from that darkness in the first place. I meant, I shouldn’t have.
I know, even few years from now, I will live on that few days memory. A reality that was never there. An agony, a tragedy with joy. But one thing she said is important: Never underestimate the London’s weather. It could be sunshine in the morning and soaked in the afternoon. I know by heart that she would always be right.
Crying is not about weakness. It is only just about crying.
…
It was a very cold and windy night.
I was standing in front of Dominion Theatre and wondering what I was doing here. I was waiting for someone I had never met before. That was not my usual type. I am not a waiting type. If I were to met with someone, I would walk toward them. Now, I was standing in this London worst weather. Perhaps I should have worn more clothing.
My eyes pointed to each figure passing by, wondering how she might appear in reality. I met with friend on Facebook before and sometimes they did not look very much like they appear in their profile picture. Sometimes they are taller, sometimes they are shorter. Sometimes they even looked different. My eyes come across the street billboard and see an image of a woman. An album of some band called VAMPIRE WEEKEND. I know nothing about them. Too old to catch up with the world properly these days. But the woman in the poster looked nice anyway. Old fashion type.
Then a figure was walking across the street. Her hair was blowing in wind like a dream. She dressed in a fashionably dark coat. I know she must be here for quite sometime then, by the way she dressed. Not too much, not too less. And her short skirt does review the figure under the dark tight. I can barely see her face in the dark yet but surely I know my night was saved by that pair of leg.
And suddenly she smile.
Now my memoirs kind of kicking back to me. Yes, I recognised her face. I did add her as my favorite on my iphone Facebook. You know, the pages that allow you to access those beautiful faces quickly. And as soon as my memory starts to kick in, I recalled that she had a boyfriend.
“Wouldn’t you boyfriend will get mad coming out to see a guy, like, in the middle of the night like this?”
“ Oh, don’t worry. It will be fine. I did see new people all the time. My husband is not kind of care so much about that.”
My heart dropped.
“ Having your dinner yet? Where do you want to go to eat?”
…
BOUNDARY is a hotel in East London area.
I am not quite familiar with East London at all. When I studied here almost 15 years ago, my architectural school was very near to Tottenham Court Road and my house was in Barns, near Hammersmith Bridge, which was quite far west. She said east London had recently started to pick up the vibrant. It used to be an area of the poor and the cost of living is lower. That was why architects, designers and artists all rushed in for cheaper rent. And new thing are coming up, new bars, new restaurants and new hotels.
We winded up ourselves down the stair well in the hotel. The wall was painted blue with nice illustration done by hands accompanied us all the way to the restaurant entrance. I do have an issue for living under the basement level in this city. But this approach kind of keep me forgot about that for a while. She was taken off the coat and give it to the girl in the front. That was the first time I realised she had been carrying her portfolio to show me as we discussed earlier.
And that was also the first time I saw her white skin on her bare shoulders.
I was impressed earlier by the work posted on the Facebook. She must be professional artist of some sort, I thought. The way those line are drawn must only be done by hands. Very disciplinary characteristic.
“I am a freelance illustrator ka, P Duang. I have been living here for at least 8 years.”
“Shall we have a look at your work after dinner then?” I was still a bit floating in the air the way she called me. P is very intimate for Thai. Show you some level of respect as well as intimacy.
It was a very nice restaurant. A perfect for a date. Every waiter and waitress are black personals with French accent. It is a perfect place for a date. Like dinning in a colonial somewhere between the earth and a dream.
I flipped through each pages of her work quickly. I always do that. I must have seen like thousand of pages like this. But I know her work were different. Somehow, once I saw one’s work, I could almost tell what kind of people they are. Just like reading palms.
I know she always had things in behind. Sophisticated but also complicated. Dark with sunny side up. She must be bloody sensitive but tend not to show or talk about it. She definitely had a dream. I lift my eyes from her work from time to time. Quite often, in fact, looking at her face. That is when I just realised she is, indeed, a good looking girl.
She was talking about her work and how she got commission through an agent an her work disseminated internationally. She may need to fly to Tokyo and New York in few weeks regarding the necessity of her work and her business. But I was afloat already. Thinking of nothing but to take her photograph of her one day.
We were walking back onto the street again. The dinner was over and the wind was getting even colder. She puff some warm smoke into her lungs as we walked through this thin freezing air. Her laugh was filling up the alley.
We were walking pass places that she wanted to show me, restaurant and bars, She seemed to know all of them. I barely remember any names. Then, we stood in front of a club with no sign and closed doors.
“This is Shoreditch House. It is a private club. I really want to get inside that one day.”
“Why don’t you then? You seem to be all over already!”
“ Nah, this one is different. It IS a private club. You have to be a member to get in. Oh, GOOD GOSH! I really want to be a member for this one. Nice restaurants inside, bars, pool table, even a swimming pool on the roof top! This must be cool! It probably takes me a least three years in the line for that membership things. SAD!!!”
Like a young child trying to get a new toy, I think.
She was now and the red bus and the bus was passing by. Could not let my eyes getting of her, as if she was taking my breath away.
…
I sent her the text next day afternoon:
“You know what? I just learned that we are going to have a dinner tonight at Shoreditch House. You can join us tonight. I want you to meet few friends of mine who live here.”
And that was how I could possibly meet her again.
I was in London for business purposes. Meetings after meetings in the London rain can drive you depress easily. I don’t know why but to meet with her again will be a bless I think. And I was lucky to find the perfect excuse. They always said the second date is the most difficult. Girls would be most unlikely to do it if guys doesn’t do well on the first one. I thought I have a perfect mechanic there which would not leave her much room to escape from it.
“Let me know what time I should be there. I’m around Hoxton square anyway 
” She texted back.
…
We were back in East London again.
I met her in the reception of Shoreditch House. Arnold, a friend of mine, took me and my client inside. We were late, as usual for visitors in London. She must be sitting there waiting for like almost an hour already. To my surprise, when we met, she showed no sign of disappointment.
“Sorry we are late…” I started to explain.
“That is ok ka! Shall we go in? I’m dying to see the place!”
“ You must be starving.”
“Ha ha! I am indeed! But it absolutely ok ka P Duang! If you were my boyfriend, you would have been a dead meat! Ha ha!”
I always have this thing with arriving late for date, or meeting. I normally got cold hands and a bit of paranoid when I was getting late fro any appointment. I even can’t drive sometimes when that thing happened. All my staff know about this and they will be unlikely to be late. But I tried to explain to my inside this time that it was not my fault. It was my clients’ fault. At least I could keep my coolness at bay.
We got ourselves few floor up. I noticed that now I was walking behind her instead of my client. We arrived at our reserved seats. Arnold had done a very good job this time: one hour late and they still kept our table. I took my jacket off and she was doing the same. She was in a nice blue dress, short, but not too short. And then she turned her back towards me. That is when I notice her bare white skin again, exposed in a large proportion. Enough to drive anyone mad.
And that was when I thought she was bloody sexy.
I don’t think woman would be sexy when they were fully revealed. Sexy is about ambiguity or unpredictable. Women are sexy most with their clothes on, not the opposite.
The dinner went well. I couldn’t finish most of the food. We simply ordered too much and Arnold is an Asian type that love to order a lot for sharing. Food, wine and chit-chatting. I was tired, sleepy and though about so many many things at the same time. I wouldn’t say I was opposing to socialite. But I always have my own threshold for that.
We walk over to Arnold’s friend house for a visit and few more drink. I don’t drink, in fact. And I was so impolite about that. My mind don’t think anything further than being with her a little longer and a little longer..
And a little longer.
I felt like shooting. And I must have taken hundreds of her picture if my battery hadn’t run off. It has been a long time. Even I couldn’t remember when it was my last time with this kind of feeling. A lust from your soul, whole hearted. But also coated with love. I wanted to feel her, smell her and even touch her. Fortunately, none of that happened. Fortunately.
I am still a guy with certain disciplinary threshold. I have always been. And still am.
I really wanted to die that night.
…
“What are you doing? No. Not the video tape. I hate that. I would hate see myself in motion.”
I was trying to taping her during lunch. I taped her anyway. And it was a very good one though.
We finished VAN DOESBURG exhibition together, which would be something very sexy for me. I don’t remember I went to any art exhibition with a women who would share such appreciation to a modern art. Not to mention the understanding to part of it. Few hours back before we are here at Tate Modern, I asked her out and met me around Borough Market.
Today it was a very bright sunshine day.
Nothing is as beautiful as London in the sun with blue sky. She told me earlier that she never leave her house before noon. I asked her to bend her rule a bit and come out earlier. I didn’t want us to miss the sun. She told me do not underestimate London. You would never know what’s going to happen next.
We were walking towards a exhibition in Turbine Hall. A work by Miroslaw Balka, perhaps. A gigantic grey steel structure with a vast dark chamber of about three or four floor building hight. Inside, there was nothing but darkness. Deep, deep darkness.
“I want to walk into that” I told her.
“I can wait here”
“Why? Don’t tell me you are afraid of THAT!”
She seemed hesitated. And I was still trying to convince.
“ Come on. It would be less fun without you”
We both finally walk in to the sculpture. Plunging yourselves into the darkness was indeed a unique feeling. Light started to disappear and darkness gradually consume you. I started to see less and less of her but still feel her near.
And then all the visibility is gone. The idea of being alone with her in the absolute darkness got me excited again. She was there, right in front of me, in the vast deep darkness. I could have kissed her without anyone seeing. Not even her. Loosing your sight made your other sensory working three fold more accurate. I could notice her only by her strong perfume. And It was the only thing that confirm her presence. She was right in front of me. Closer than I thought. Very close.
“Does this thing have the end?”
In fact, as soon as I finished that sentence, I could feel my hand run into some hard wall in front of me. So this is indeed the end.
I want that three second to last forever.
“I think we should go back to the light.” She suggested.
And we both walk back to the light.
…
“I got this album this morning” and I showed her the vinyl I got from HMV during our dinner at UMU, a nice Japanese restaurant near Bond Street.
“Wow! I like VAMPIRE WEEKEND. That would be cool!”
Well, in fact, I know nothing about VAMPIRE WEEKEND. Never heard of it before. Never knew what they would sound like. Just a bright young woman on the cover. It was all about that. I brought up some few more to show her, OK GO, BEATLES and THE DOORS.
“I don’t know THE DOORS”
“Yes, I know. It is kind of old.”
“You are old.”
Yes, I know.
That I am old. That I am divorced and badly torn by my latest girl friend who cheated on me. I know she would live happily ever after with her husband no matter how much they broke their words into each other. She would live through it. She would live through everything. She would be so persistent. If she would like to do it, she would succeed it, no matter what.
I told her I don’t believe in a physical relationship without a soul. I couldn’t involve with someone who I did not care or love. That would be so sick for me. She told me she was cheating on her ex-boyfriend all the time. I told her that I understand that. It would normally happen when someone had lost his or her first love and still empty inside. I bet she had never done that again after marriage.
It was so easy for me to tell her everything: many of which that I tried to forget.
We are walking from somewhere near the restaurant and out to the Regent Street. She told me so many thing further about herself, her family, how she got herself to study in London in the first place with a help of her mom. How she fight for her own life.
It was a good walk. I realised at that moment that I can fall in love with this woman easily.
“How long do you think it should take a man to fall in love?”, I asked her.
“How does a man know it wold be love, then?”, She asked me back.
Typical response, I thought. I man was always a subject to love discrimination. We were always thought of as the sex that would be interested to mate more than love. Of cause, none of us accept that.
All of sudden, I feel a warm rush through my vain.
It was a feeling that long gone for me.
“You know. A man would know that he falls in love only when he wants to say it and he can’t. It will stuck in his throat and he can’t get the word out properly”, I told her.
“Ha ha. How do you know that?”
“It has just happened to me a moment ago”
…
We were then standing in front of the Piccadilly Circus in the early hour of the night.
I didn’t know what to say. She would take Bakerloo Line and I would take Piccadilly Line. This was where we have to depart. The next day, I would go back to Bangkok early morning and she would go back to her normal life, cooking and drawing, with husband and friends.
“I think we can do the goodbye hug here. It might look better than do it underground”
She agreed. And then our body touched, for only the first and last time.
I let go off her hand and saying goodbye.
I was walking away.
…
I am listening now to VAMPIRE WEEKEND. It is indeed a good band.
With a different kind of sound and some unpredictable music structure. The artist surely makes his message come across.
Of cause, I am missing her. She said she would give me three days and I would forget about all of this and what happened in London. I still doubt that. It might be more to her who would want to forget. She would not love me, eventually, for sure but we had a certain deal. By the age of fourty, she would become old with wrinkles on her face and nobody love her very much any longer, not even her husband, perhaps, we can live together in the house by the sea. I would be 55 by then and all my children would have a life of their own. She would want a large table for drawings. I am ok with that except that she would want it painted white. I would prefer a natural wooden colour. Big closet is also a sure deal and I should have any problem with that. Some partition is find, only I want to design it as a book shelves we saw in Shoreditch House.
“Do not underestimate London. You would never know what’s going to happen next.”
And I think she would always be right about that. It is now her city and not mine. Nothing I would have known.
Except living under this rainy sky.
I Am Yesterday. You Are Present. We Are Tomorrow 