When the Tables are Turned

Chapter 6

Gun's POV

Mark and the staff member stood by my side and waited with me until my grandfather came out of the gate.

"Thank you for bringing my grandson home," my grandfather said to Mark as he took out his wallet from his pocket and handed some bills to him.

I watched in amusement as Mark vigorously shook his head with a horrified expression on his face.

"No, sir, no!" he said, "I'm a friend of P'Gun. I'm not charging anything for taking him home."

"Gunnapat!" my grandfather scolded me, "why did you not tell me that he is your friend?"

"But grandpa," I protested, "you were already handing him your money before I could introduce him to you."

"What's your name, young man?" my grandfather asked Mark.

"I'm Mark, sir," Mark replied.

My grandfather turned to the staff member.

"I'm Derek, sir," said the staff member. (A/N: fictitious name, does not exist)

"Would both of you like to come in and have some tea and some apple turnovers?" my grandfather invited Mark and Derek.

"Thank you, sir" said Mark, "but I'm afraid we have to hurry back because the director is waiting for Derek."

"Alright, then," said my grandfather, "tell you what, next Saturday is my birthday. I would like to invite you to my birthday party."

Mark looked at me.

"If it's okay with P'Gun, I would love to attend," Mark replied.

"Why would it not be okay with Gunnapat?" my grandfather asked, "you will be my guest, I am the one inviting you, not him."

"I will accept your invitation then, sir," said Mark, "what time should I be here on Saturday?"

"It will be a dinner party so you can come anytime after six in the evening," my grandfather replied.

"Thank you, sir," said Mark, "you can expect me here on Saturday evening."

After Mark and Derek left, my grandfather helped me inside the house.

My grandmother was all over me with concern over my sprained ankle. I kept up a brave face so that she would not think that I was in pain.

She made me lie in bed and told me that she would bring dinner in a tray for me later.

For the first time in my life I realized that she had never stopped treating me like a little boy even after I had become a young adult. Maybe it was time that I reminded her that I was already twenty one and old enough to take care of myself.

I tried to understand my grandmother's position. My mother was her only child and when my mother died from a heart condition when I was five years old, my grandmother took over my care. I was told that my father had died a year before my mother did. My grandparents never gave me details about my father. They always changed the subject each time that I asked about my father. I did not want to upset them so I did not insist on knowing anything more than what they were willing to tell me.

During the middle of the week, there was a fan meeting that I had to skip because of my sprained ankle. Title sent me several pics from the event. He included a close up of Mark looking sad and lonely. Title teased me in his text below the photo saying that the fans were asking Mark where his husband was and Mark had answered that I had a sprained ankle and could not make it to the fan meeting.

My grandmother told me that as long as I kept my weight off my injured ankle and continued the treatment of the tincture of arnica and kept it wrapped with an ace bandage, my sprained ankle should heal by the time my grandfather's birthday came around.

True enough, by Saturday morning when I woke up, I found that I could put my weight on my sprained ankle without feeling any pain.

I was able to walk around the house and helped my grandmother in the kitchen. She told me not to worry about the food for the birthday party because my grandfather had made arrangements with a Thai restaurant to cater for the party.

"How about the birthday cake?" I asked my grandmother.

She did not answer but gave me a mysterious smile. She looked at the kitchen clock.

"It should be here any time now," she replied.

Sure enough, in less than fifteen minutes, there was a buzz at the gate.

I went to open it.

A very pretty young lady who looked about my age was standing outside carrying a big box.

"Good morning," she said, "I am here to deliver this birthday cake to Mr. Hatrakul."

"That's my grandfather," I said.

"May I come in?" she asked.

"Of course," I said, opening the gate wider. I had not realized that I had just been standing there staring at her lovely face.