Kissing in a Dream

Keeper of the Demons

Sitting in the front seat of my car, staring at the modest home across from me, I realized where Mongkut got his calm intelligence from. The house wasn't much, a car was parked in the driveway and to the left of that was a meal cart. A man was hunched by the cart washing down the exterior of it with a hose. I supposed that was Mongkut's father.

I had taken the trouble to wrap the box. Mongkut couldn't have since airport security would have to check it. After taking in a deep breath, I unlocked the door and closed it behind me. I looked both ways then jogged across the side street and approached him.

"Khun?" I greeted him with one hand up to my face in a sort of half of wai since the other held a box. "Sawatdee-Khrap. I am Gamon Channarong."

"Yes?"

"Um—Wolf?"

"Ahh, yes." He smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm well. I take it Mongkut is having you check on me?"

"Not exactly, P." I told him while smiling.

"Come inside." The man said. "It's hot out here."

I nodded and followed him up the path and into the house. After I removed my shoes, I continued after him into a small but clean dinning room. He offered me a seat, washed his hands then poured us lemonade into glasses that were stored in the fridge.

Clever.

"Mong wanted me to store the glasses in the fridge." He said, walking over to hand me one. "He said they help the lemonade stay cool for longer in the glasses that way." He sat.

I thanked him, sipped then handed him the box. "He was very sad he couldn't come home for Christmas." I reported. "But he didn't want you to think he forgot about you."

"He calls me almost every day." Pa told me. "He's a good kid—"

"I agree." I tilted my head. "You love him—don't you?"

"With all my heart." Pa smiled, a smile that spoke volumes of how much pride he had in Mongkut. "When my wife and I met, we had this grand plan. We would work hard, save a little something, build a home and when the time was right, we'd have kids. She wanted as many as she could have—I wanted two."

I laughed softly and so did he.

"We were happy. Life was good and we were following a plan. A year and a half into our marriage, she complained of a headache. Three days later it hadn't gotten better—in fact, it had gotten worse. I finally talked her into going to see a doctor..."

My heart broke into a million tiny pieces. "Cancer."

He nodded. "Two months later, she was gone. When I met Mongkut, I knew, I couldn't just walk away. Maya would not have been very proud of me. She loved children, wanted them—it was as if she tapped me on the shoulder and told me I had love to give and this child could benefit from it."

"I'm sorry about Maya-Khrap."

He offered a tight smile.

"Have you ever regretted it?"

"Taking Mongkut in?" He laughed. "Never. Like I said, he's a good kid. Having him here was good for me too—I never remarried. After a while, with Mongkut I realized it didn't matter where the son came from—he was here, and I needed to raise him into someone better than his situation."

I nodded, understanding precisely what he meant.

"Did Mongkut want you to take anything back for him?" Pa wanted to know.

"No. But I can ask before I go back to school."

"Very well."

We talked until I finished my drink before I told him I had to go. He walked me to the door.