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House of Sighs PART TWO - Forty-one
FORTY-ONEJune 1, 2018Baskets of fruit and meat in the hulls of canoes, manned by proprietors tapping wares with fresh Baht notes, shouted, ‘First sale of the day!’ They did this because tried-and-maybe-true tradition implied it brought good luck. In places like these, where the skillful prospered and the lazy went hungry, good luck was a currency that mattered.Men and women, buyers and sellers both, contorted themselves to reach for that perfect durian, to shoo away flies. Tourists laid down their earnings after a volley of intense and often inappropriate bartering. Back, forth, back, forth, relent, feast.This was Damnoen Saduak, the famous floating market west of Bangkok, a spattering of colors spanning the river’s girth from bank to bank.Or to be more precise, this was a photograph of those markets, one clipped and mounted within a nice bamboo frame, purchased by the Australian government with taxpayer coin. The remnants of the price tag could
House of Sighs Forty
FORTYDanny marched through Bangkok’s crooked street-veins like a bubble of oxygen seeking out a heart to stop, listening to a playlist on his phone as he went. He wasn’t moved by what he saw and gained pleasure only in those moments when the world tripped into rhythm with one of his songs. These little synchronicities turned everything Technicolor. Streets came to life, clouds parted. Now there were smiles on the faces passing him by, food smells that cut through the humid sewer fog.These moments didn’t last.Either the world shrugged off the song or the song shrugged off the world, and then all that Technicolor bled to black and white again, leaving Danny to settle into his strides and walk those uneven streets alone, dodging cars and tuk-tuks, sky spitting. He didn’t know where he was going or why he’d left the apartment in the first place. He never did.Dogs scurried between buildings, each minute of their lives spent fearful of beatings. Food scraps everywhere. Meat-stripped
House of Sighs Thirty-nine
THIRTY-NINEAiden came home to find their apartment empty. This would happen many times over in the months to come.“Babe?”A faint echo off the walls.The dial tone as he called, and called, and called.Aiden sat on the edge of the bed he shared with a man he’d dragged across the world because he thought ‘getting away’ might be healing. Sure, healing may very well be a part of what was happening here, but he couldn’t help questioning why it had to hurt so damn much along the way.Danny’s suit was laid out on the mattress, a shadow freed of its master.
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THIRTY-EIGHTJuly 3, 2018“You’ve lost weight,” Aiden said.“Yeah.”“Must be all those long walks.”“M-maybe,” Danny replied, staring at his food. He scooped Pad Thai into his mouth with chopsticks, their wooden ends clicking. This sound—crab claws, carrion-feeders—made Aiden’s skin crawl.Silence again within the apartment, while outside Bangkok exploded with evening activity. There was always a festival of some sort happening, or night markets with a multitude of foods to try, temples to explore.Yet here they sat at their table for two.Aiden held his fork a little harder than he needed to; he’d never mastered chopsticks. Knuckles rolled white, bones rising through the skin.I want to throttle some sense into him.Look where we are, Aiden longed to scream.There are people all over the world who would kill to be here.He did no such thing, of course. Danny would only withdraw if confronted. This was their emotional tango now: one step forward, two steps back, and if the
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THIRTY-SEVENAiden bolted upright, shock slamming him awake. It was still dark in their bedroom, the ceiling fan whipping the air. Danny screamed in his sleep.“Wake up, babe,” Aiden said, rolling over to touch his partner’s back. He stilled his hand instead. Heat beamed off Danny’s pale flesh through the weave of his cotton shirt. Feverish. Sickly. The sheets were wet with perspiration.“Stop!” Aiden cried, not sure what to do. He couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d woken in the night to find himself spooning a crocodile. Danny thrashed the mattress, beating at it in blind swipes. Jaws clenched so tight the grinding of teeth could be heard above the shrieks.“Jesus fucking Christ.”This couldn’t go on.Aiden ignored the thoughts ricocheting through his mind as to whether night terrors were like a sleepwalker’s trek—and if they were, was premature waking a bad idea?—and shook his partner as hard as he could. Danny flipped over, scream cut short, and snatched Aiden by the ne
House of Sighs Thirty-six
THIRTY-SIXJuly 11, 2018“What in the buggery is going on over there?” asked Danny’s mother. She leaned close enough to the camera for her face to fill the entire Skype screen, which sometimes froze and kaleidoscoped into squares. “You’ve lost so much weight!”“It’s t-t-the he-heat, Mum.”“Humidity’s a killer over here, Bev,” Aiden added. “All you do is sweat day in, day out.”“Don’t go getting heatstroke, boys,” Danny’s father said, fighting for airtime. “It happened to me once on Chinaman’s Beach. Thought my head was going to explode. I came over all shivery, too. It knocks you about, for sure.”“I’m b-b-be-being s-safe,” Danny said, the last annunciation coming out pained. His words were more barbed than usual today, not that Aiden blamed him. There was something about these two old people that churned their anxieties. It was odd, too, Aiden thought, that he considered them as being more advanced in years than they were. Something about the way they fussed and contorted their
House of Sighs Thirty-five
THIRTY-FIVEAiden didn’t tell Danny about that stabbing sensation.Not then.He kept this information to himself and crawled into bed fifteen minutes later, shame-faced, clutching the novel he’d been attempting to get through since arriving in Thailand. Not that he was reading it, mind you. His thoughts were a jumble of diagnoses and rationalizations.If it’s a urinary tract infection, I’ll bloody scream.Wait ’til tomorrow. It could be a one-off kind of thing. That happens.What if it’s a kidney stone?Mate, just stop.Aiden placed the book down on the bedside table and rolled over to spoon Danny, who was still playing on his phone with his back to him. “Tell me how much I should be worrying about you,” Aiden whispered. “Please, just tell me.”The phone clicked off.“I’m j-just guh-going through a r-rough patch is all.” Danny’s stutter, as was always the case post-beer, was less pronounced.“I want to keep you safe.”“I know. I ap-preciate it.” A gecko sounded from somewhe
House of Sighs Thirty-four
THIRTY-FOURJuly 19, 2018“Sir, you have tested positive to chlamydia,” said the nurse on the phone.Aiden imagined her face glancing up from her clipboard, the curve of her cheek catching the afternoon light seeping through the windows of the sexual health clinic he’d been sitting in eight days earlier, a place the doctor at the hospital referred him to, ‘just in case it’s not a UTI’. Aiden couldn’t tell if the woman on the phone was the same person who had run the procedure, although she sounded familiar.Green eyes. A deadpan tone.He sat back in his office chair, the imitation leather creaking. Aiden blinked, leaned forward again, volume dropping. “I don’t really know how that could be.”“Excuse me, sir? I don’t—”“I mean, are you sure?”Aiden laughed.“Sure? Yes, sir.”“Right then.”“Treatment is easy. I’ll prescribe you a course of antibiotics. Take two pills a day for three weeks. It’s a bigger course because you have tested positive in your penis and in your throat.
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