Distant Signals: The Definition of Us

Chapter Five

"This is what I was looking at earlier," said Arthit, sliding his phone across the table. "That's my nephew. He's due around mid-March."

Kongpob's smile widened. "You never told me you were going to be an uncle," he said, looking down at the image. "Are you excited?"

"A little..."

"Nervous?"

Arthit nodded awkwardly. "Actually, when I asked you to help me buy a gift for P'Tum and P'Fon, I wanted to buy a gift for Puen too. But his wife is picky, and I didn't think she'd like it if I bought her vitamins."

"Did you ever get anything?"

He shook his head and finished off the last of his noodles. After dropping off their bags and changing out of their school uniforms, they'd decided to come to his favorite noodle shop at the mall. Satisfied, Arthit pushed his bowl to the side.

"What about a card?"

"No way. What is with you and cards?"

Kongpob laughed. "Cards are nice."

"For you, maybe." Arthit scooted to the edge of the booth. "I'll be right back."

"Okay."

Arthit stood up and left, heading in the direction of the restroom. But instead of going there, he stopped the waitress and handed her his debit card, asking her to charge their meal to it.

Anxiously, he stole a gander at Kongpob, who was waiting patiently at the table eating the last of his noodles. Was it dishonest to sneakily pay for the meal? It was just that Kongpob never let him pay, and he wanted to treat his boyfriend to a meal. Was that so wrong?

"Here's your card," said the waitress, holding it out for him. Arthit smiled at her and politely took his card back, quickly slipping it back into his wallet as he walked back to the table.

"I'm sorry," Arthit heard Kongpob say in English as he approached. "He stepped away from his phone. Is this an emergency?"

Puzzled, Arthit sat down. He'd never heard Kongpob speak English before, and was surprised by how confident and at ease he was with the language. But why was he speaking English? Who was he talking to? Did he have foreign friends?

But then Arthit realized that the phone in Kongpob's hand wasn't his own—it was his. A chill ghosted over Arthit's skin. There was only one person in his contacts who couldn't speak Thai.

Kongpob pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at Arthit apologetically, like he wasn't quite sure what to do. Arthit held out his hand for the phone, glancing briefly at the caller ID on the screen.

Fuck.

"I'm sorry," whispered Kongpob. "He was calling over and over so I thought it might be an emergency."

Arthit smiled, but his insides were twisting into horribly tight knots. "It's fine," he said before bringing the phone up to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, switching to English.

"Hey there, Sunshine. Why's it so hard to get ahold of you?"

"What do you need, Sam?" He glanced nervously at Kongpob. "I'm busy."

"That's what you always say." There was a pause. "Who answered your phone? He sounded like a pretentious asshole."

Arthit bristled. The only 'pretentious asshole' here was Sam, but instead of telling him that, Arthit swallowed thickly, his body tense, and said, "He's my junior."

"Junior? What's that supposed to mean? Like at school?"

"Hold on." Covering the microphone with his hand, Arthit tilted the phone away from his mouth. "I'll be right back," he whispered, already scooting out of the booth. He didn't want to talk to Sam in front of Kongpob. It was uncomfortable enough already.