The Windup Girl

13

Jaidee remembers when he first met Chaya. He had just finished one of his early muay thai bouts; he can’t even remember who he competed against but he remembers coming out of the ring, people congratulating him, everyone saying that he moved better even than Nai Khanom Tom. He drank laolao that night, and then stumbled out into the streets with his friends, all of them laughing, trying to kick a takraw ball, drunk, absurd, and all of them flushed with victory and with life.

And there Chaya was, closing her parents’ shop, propping up the wooden panels that secured the storefront where they sold marigolds and newly reengineered jasmine flowers for temple offerings. When he smiled at her, she gave him and his drunk friends a look of disgust. But Jaidee felt a shock of recognition-as if they had known one another in a past life, and were at last meeting again, fated lovers.

He had stared at her, stunned, and his friends had caught the look-Suttipong and Jaiporn and all the rest, all of them lost when the violet comb epidemic hit and they went into the breach to burn the villages where it had struck, all of them gone-but he remembers them all catching him staring, suddenly stupid with infatuation, and how they teased him. Chaya looked at him with a studied contempt and sent him stumbling away.

For Jaidee, it had always been easy to attract a girlfriend, some girl either pleased by his muay thai or his white uniform. But Chaya had simply looked through him and turned her back.

It took him a month to get up the nerve to return. That first time, he dressed well, shopped for temple offerings, took his change, and slipped out silently. Over the course of weeks he dropped by, talking with her more, establishing a connection. At first, he thought that she knew him for the drunken fool trying to make amends, but over time it became apparent that she had not made the connection, that the arrogant drunk on the streets that night had been completely forgotten.

Jaidee never told her how they first met, not even after they were married. It was too humiliating to admit to what she had seen in him that night on the street. To tell her that the man she loved was that other fool as well.

And now he prepares to do something worse. He puts on his white dress uniform while Niwat and Surat watch. They are solemn as he prepares to bring himself low in their eyes. He kneels before them.

“Whatever you see today, do not let it shame you.”

They nod solemnly, but he knows they do not understand. They are too young to understand pressures and necessity. He pulls them close, and then he goes out into blinding sunlight.

Kanya awaits him in a cycle rickshaw, compassion in her eyes, even if she is too polite to speak what is in her heart.

They ride silently through the streets. The Ministry appears ahead and they ride through the gates. Servants and rickshaw men and carriages clog the outer gates, waiting for their patrons to return. The witnesses have already been arriving, then.

Their own rickshaw makes its way to the temple. Wat Phra Seub was erected inside the Ministry in honor of the biodiversity martyr. It is the place where white shirts make their vows and are formally ordained as protectors of the Kingdom, before they are given their first ranks. It is here that they receive their ordination, and it is here-

Jaidee starts, and nearly jumps to his feet in anger. Farang are milling all around the temple’s steps. Foreigners inside the Ministry compound. Traders and factory owners and Japanese, sunburned sweating stinking creatures, invading the Ministry’s most sacred place.

“Jai yen yen,” Kanya mutters. “It’s Akkarat’s doing. Part of the bargain.”

Jaidee can’t hide his disgust. Worse yet, Akkarat is standing beside the Somdet Chaopraya, saying something to him, telling a joke, perhaps. The two of them have become too close by far. Jaidee looks away and sees General Pracha watching from the top of the temple steps, his face expressionless. Around him, the brothers and sisters that Jaidee has worked with and warred with are all streaming into the temple. Bhirombhakdi is there, smiling widely, pleased to have his revenge for his lost revenue.

People catch sight of Jaidee’s arrival. A hush overtakes the crowd.

“Jai yen yen,” Kanya murmurs again, and then they are climbing down and he is being escorted inside.

Golden statues of Buddha and Phra Seub gaze down on the assembling people, serene. The screens on the temple walls portray scenes of the fall of Old Thailand: The farang releasing their plagues on the earth, animals and plants collapsing as their food webs unravelled; his Royal Majesty King Rama XII mustering his final pitiful human forces, flanked by Hanuman and his monkey warriors. Images of Krut and Kirimukha and an army of half-human kala fighting back the rising seas and plagues. Jaidee’s eyes sweep over the panels, remembering how proud he had been at his own ordination.

No cameras are allowed anywhere inside the Ministry, but the whisper sheet scribblers are there with their pencils. Jaidee removes his shoes and enters, followed by the jackals who slaver after this rendering down of their greatest enemy. The Somdet Chaopraya kneels beside Akkarat.

Jaidee eyes the designated protector of the Queen, wondering how someone as divine as the last king could have been fooled into making the Somdet Chaopraya the protector of Her Royal Majesty the Child Queen. The man has so little that is good. Jaidee shivers at the thought of the Queen so close to someone so well-known for his darkness-

Jaidee sucks in his breath. The man from the anchor pads is kneeling beside Akkarat. A long rat-face, watchful and arrogant.

“Cool heart,” Kanya mutters again as she leads him forward. “It’s for Chaya.”

Jaidee forces down his rage, the shock of seeing the man. He leans close to Kanya. “That’s the one who took her. The one from the airfields. Right there! Beside Akkarat.”

Kanya scans the faces. “Even if it is true, we must do this. It’s the only way.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

Kanya has the grace to duck her head. “I am sorry, Jaidee. I wish—”

“Don’t worry, Kanya.” He nods toward the man and Akkarat. “Just remember those two. Remember that they will stop at nothing for power.” He looks at her. “Will you remember that?”

“I will.”

“You swear on Phra Seub?”

She has the grace to look embarrassed, but she nods. “If I could perform the triple bow before you, I would.”

He thinks he sees tears in her eyes as she backs away. The crowd hushes as the Somdet Chaopraya stands and steps forward to witness the proceedings. Four monks begin to chant. On happier occasions, they would be seven or nine in number, and consecrating a wedding, or blessing the laying of a new building’s cornerstone. Instead they are here to oversee a humiliation.

Minister Akkarat and General Pracha go to stand before the assembled people. Incense fills the room along with the monk’s chanting, a drone in Pali as they remind everyone that all is transient, that even Phra Seub in his despair recognized transience, even as his compassion for the natural world overwhelmed him.

The chanting of the monks dies. The Somdet Chaopraya motions for both Akkarat and Pracha to come before him. To khrab and make obeisance. The Somdet Chaopraya watches without emotion as the two ancient enemies pay their respects to the only thing that binds them together: their respect for royalty and the palace.

The Somdet Chaopraya is a tall man, well fed, and he towers over them. His face is hard. Rumors circle around him, about his tastes, about his darkness, but still, he is the one designated to protect Her Majesty the Child Queen until her ascension. He is not royalty, could never be so, and it terrifies Jaidee that she lives within his circle of influence. If it weren’t for the fact that the man’s own fate is tied so tightly to hers, he would probably… Jaidee stifles the nearly blasphemous thought as Pracha and Akkarat approach.

Jaidee kneels. Around him, whisper sheet pencils scratch frantically as he performs a khrab before Akkarat. Akkarat smiles with satisfaction and Jaidee stifles an urge to lunge at the man. I will pay you back in my own time. He stands carefully.

Akkarat leans close. “Well done, Captain. I almost believe you really are sorry.”

Jaidee keeps his features impassive, turns to address the people, the scribblers-his heart closes as he sees that his sons are present, brought to witness the humiliation of their father.

“I have overstepped my authority.” His eyes go to General Pracha, watching coldly from the edge of the dais, “I have dishonored my patron, General Pracha, and I have dishonored the Environment Ministry.

“All my life, the Ministry has been my home. I am ashamed that I have selfishly used its powers for my own benefit. That I have mislead my fellow officers, and my patrons. That I have been bankrupt morally.” He hesitates. Niwat and Surat are watching, held by their grandmother, Chaya’s mother, all of them watching as he humiliates himself. “I beg forgiveness. I beg an opportunity to rectify my wrongs.”

General Pracha strides toward him. Jaidee drops again to his knees and makes a khrab of submission before him. General Pracha ignores, him, walks past his bowing face, his feet within inches of Jaidee’s head. Speaks to the assembly.

“An independent investigating tribunal has determined that Captain Jaidee is guilty of accepting bribes, of corruption and the abuse of his powers.” He glances down at Jaidee. “It has further been determined that he is no longer fit for service with the Ministry. He will become a monk, and perform a penance of nine years. His possessions will be disposed of. His sons will be adopted into the care of the Ministry, but their family name will be erased.”

He looks down at Jaidee. “If the Buddha is merciful, you will eventually come to understand that your pride and avarice has brought this upon you. We hope that if you do not attain understanding in this life, that your next one will provide you with hope of improvement.” He turns away, leaving Jaidee still in his bow.

Akkarat speaks, “We accept the apologies of the Environment Ministry and the failures of General Pracha. We look forward to an improved working relationship in the future. Now that this snake has had its fangs pulled.”

The Somdet Chaopraya motions to the two great powers of the government that they should show one another respect. Jaidee remains crouched. A sigh runs through the crowd. And then people are streaming out, to tell of what they have seen.

Only once the Somdet Chaopraya is gone is Jaidee invited to stand by a pair of monks. Their aspect is serious, their heads shaven, their saffron robes aged and faded. They indicate to him where they will take him next. He is theirs now. Nine years of penance, for doing the right thing.

Akkarat steps before him. “Well, Khun Jaidee. It seems that you have at last discovered limits. It’s a pity you didn’t listen to warnings. All of this was so unnecessary.”

Jaidee forces himself to wai. “You have what you wanted,” he mutters. “Now let Chaya go.”

“So sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jaidee searches the man’s eyes, hunting for the lie, but he can’t tell.

Are you my enemy? Or is it another? Is she dead already? Is she still alive, trapped in one of your friends’ prison cells, an unnamed prisoner? Alive or dead?

He forces down his worries. “Bring her back, or I’ll hunt you down and kill you like a mongoose killing a cobra.”

Akkarat doesn’t flinch. “Careful with the threats, Jaidee. I’d hate to see you lose anything else.” His eyes stray toward Niwat and Surat.

A chill runs through Jaidee. “Stay away from my children.”

“Your children?” Akkarat laughs. “You have no children now. You have nothing at all. You’re lucky that General Pracha is your friend. If I were him, I would have turned those two boys of yours out into the street to beg for blister rust scraps. That would have been a true lesson.”