Short story: Family in the middle of the road

Introduction to the next short story 'A family on the road'

This is one of the thirteen stories from the collection 'Khropkhrua Klaang Thanon', 'The family in the middle of the road' (1992, last year the 20th edition was published). It is written by 06, the pen name of Winai Boonchuay.

The collection describes the life of the new middle class in Bangkok, their challenges and desires, their disappointments and dreams, their strengths and weaknesses, their selfishness and goodness.

Born in southern Thailand, he was a student activist at Ramkhamhaeng University in the XNUMXs (like so many writers), spent several years in the jungle before returning to Bangkok. He is now a pragmatic journalist who has not given up on his humanitarian ideas.

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A family on the road

My wife is wonderfully organized. She really thinks of everything. When I tell her that I have an important appointment at 12 pm to meet a good client with my boss at a riverside hotel in Khlongsan, she replies that we have to leave home at XNUMX pm because she herself will leave at XNUMX noon. has an appointment in Saphan Khwai. Thanks to her planning, we can visit those two occasions on time.

There is more to be thankful for. Take a look at the backseat of the car. She has provided us with a basket of fast food, a refrigerator full of bottled drinks, all kinds of biscuits and other treats, green tamarind, gooseberries, a salt shaker, a plastic waste bag and a spittoon (or piss pot). There is even a set of clothes hanging on a hook. It looks like we're going on a picnic.

Theoretically speaking, we belong to the middle class. You can deduce that from where we live: in a northern suburb of Bangkok, tambon Laai Mai between Lum Luk Ka and Bang Khen. To drive to the city you pass through a number of housing projects, one after another and then more, turn off at Kilometer 25 on Phahanyothin road, enter Viphavadi Rangsit highway at Chetchuakhot Bridge and head for Bangkok .

Poor slums live in the slums in the center of the city next to the condominiums where the rich live and from where you can watch the golden sunset over the ripples of the river.

But even more important is the golden dream that lures them, the middle class.

The highest class is clearly visible, but how do you get there? That is the problem. We work our ass off and make all sorts of plans. Our hope for the future is to get our own business, an obsession no doubt. In the meantime we have achieved what we wanted to achieve: our own house and a car. Why do we need a car? I don't want to deny that it is to raise our status. But more important is the fact that our bodies are no longer able to be crushed and squashed in a bus. We hang on a noose for hours while the bus crawls inch by inch over the burning asphalt or stands still in a traffic jam. At least with a car you can sink into the coolness of the air conditioner and listen to your favorite music. That is an infinitely better fate, you must admit.

Kind of weird when you think about it. I am 38 years old. I come home around eleven totally exhausted, even the simple task of going to bed requires supreme effort, and that for someone who was called a 'dynamo' as a midfielder in the tactile team at the time. Now it feels like all the tendons and muscles in my body have gone limp, lost their tension, and become worthless.

Maybe because of all the overtime. But according to a radio talk in between all the music, it is because of the air pollution and its toxic properties. And of course all the stress in our lives eats away at our strength.

A car is a necessity and a haven. You spend as much time in it as you do in your home and office. And when your wife has filled the car with useful things, it is pleasant and comfortable to stay there, and it becomes a real home and a mobile office space.

Therefore, I am no longer frustrated in the traffic jams in Bangkok. It doesn't matter how many millions of cars fill the roads and it's perfectly normal to spend the evening behind the wheel. The car life makes a family more intimate and I like that. Sometimes we have lunch together when we are stuck on the highway. Very cosy. Funny too. If we stand still for more than an hour, we can even get a little playful.

"Close your eyes," my wife orders.

'Why?'

"Just do it," she says. She takes the potty from the backseat, puts it on the floor, pulls up her skirt and sinks behind the wheel. I put a hand over my eyes but peer between my fingers at her fleshy thighs. Something like that in the middle of the road gets me excited.

"Cheater," she says. She gives me a mock angry look after doing what she was supposed to do and punches me a few times to hide her embarrassment.

We married at a ripe old age, as the Ministry of Public Health recommends, and we wait to start a family until we are ready. We are provincials who have had to fight to make a living in the big city. I, who are 38 years old, and my wife, who is 35 years old, are not directly up to that task. It's a tall order when you get home all the way up and drag yourself to bed after midnight. The desire is there but the emotional bond is weak and because we do it so little the chance to start a family is very small.

One day I woke up with a very special cheerful and pleasant feeling, apparently I had slept well for a change. I woke up happy, let the sunshine caress my skin, I took a deep breath of fresh air, did some dancing steps, took a shower, drank a glass of milk and ate two soft-boiled eggs. I almost felt like the midfielder I used to be.

There was a traffic jam on Viphavadi Rangsit road, my favorite DJ announced. A ten-wheeler had just slammed into a lamppost in front of Thai Airways' headquarters. They were busy clearing the road again…

I felt healthy and strong.

In a car next to us, a few teenagers, or maybe twenty-somethings, were having the greatest fun. A boy fiddled with a girl's hair. She pinched him. He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. She bent him in his ribcage and…..

I came alive as if I was involved myself. I looked at my wife and found her more attractive than usual. My eyes wandered from her face to her swelling bosom and then to her thighs and knees. Her very short skirt was pulled dangerously high to make riding easier.

"You have such beautiful legs," I said in a slightly trembling voice as my heart raced.

"Don't be silly," she said, though not very seriously. She looked up from her manicured nails, revealing the soft hue and beautiful shape of her neck.

I swallowed and looked away to calm the unsettling sensations inside me. But the image continued to confuse me and refused any scrutiny. The animal in me had awakened and was looking for new and yet unknown pleasures that give free rein to desire.

My hands were clammy and sticky as I watched the other cars in the queue. They all had colored windows just like us. It was so wonderfully cool and cozy in our car. The radio piano concert flowed like bubbling water. My trembling hands drew the shadow curtains over the dark windows. Our private world was floating in light and sweetness at that moment.

This I know: we humans have destroyed nature within and without, and now we are entangled and suffocated in urban life, in smelly traffic; it has wreaked havoc with the rhythm and pace of normal family activities; it has suddenly turned off the music of life or perhaps thwarted it from the very beginning.

Perhaps because of that long abstinence, or maternal instinct, or other reasons, we have our objections, "You're destroying my clothes!" dropped from us to satisfy our burning desire to bring forth and enjoy our bridal bed here in the middle of the road.

Being together was always a hallmark of our marriage: the crossword puzzle, scrabble, and all those other games we knew. Now we knew them again and we were like when we fell in love. The radio reported that traffic was completely stuck on Sukhumvit, Phahonyothin, Ramkhamhaeng and Rama IV. Same everywhere, nothing moved.

For me, it was like lying in my own living room on my favorite couch.

 

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One of my plans is about my car. I want a bigger one with more room to eat, play, sleep and relieve ourselves. And why not?

These days I make important contacts with people who are also stuck in traffic. When the cars are stationary, there are passengers who want to stretch their legs. I do the same. We greet each other and talk about this and that, lament the stock market, discuss politics, discuss the economy, business, sporting events and whatnot.

My neighbors on the road: Khun Wichai, marketing director of a sanitary napkin company, Khun Pratchaya, owner of a seafood cannery, Khun Phanu, manufacturer of a solution to make ironing easier. I can start a conversation with all of them because I work at an advertising agency that gives me access to all kinds of data about consumer behavior and the like. I have acquired quite a few customers from these road relationships.

My boss appreciates a hard worker like yours truly. He considers me his right hand. Today we visit the owner of a new brand of soft drink called 'Sato-can'. Together we will promote his product, with a name that is pleasant to the ear, easy to read and melodic on the lips. We make a comprehensive, comprehensive and detailed plan for an advertising campaign. With an annual budget of 10 million baht we can saturate the media, do imaging and so on and so forth. Together with my boss, I will present our brilliant proposals to our client in an effective and convincing way.

 

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It's only a quarter past eleven. The appointment is at 3 o'clock. I have time to think about my job and dream about the new car that will be so much more comfortable and usable. I reassure myself that it is not an impossible dream.

The traffic grinds to a halt again… right where we spread our bridal bed on that memorable day in the sun behind the shade screens and the dark windows.

I lean back and close my eyes. I try to think about the upcoming appointment but my heart palpitates.

It is as if the spell of passion still hovers over this stretch of road. What happened that day, the feeling that we did something indecent, had something to hide, had to end something quickly. Then there was the difficult maneuvering of bodies in a limited space. It was daring and thrilling like climbing over a wall to steal mangosteen in the temple when you were a kid….

…… Her neat clothes were pretty wrinkled and not just from my attack. Because her reaction had made the car hotter also because we had neglected the maintenance of the air conditioning. Her hands had held mine in a stranglehold and then she had used her fingernails to force my shoulders.

I want to pull down the shade curtains again.

"No," she calls and looks at me. 'I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel very dizzy'.

I sigh, turn away and control myself. I take a sandwich from the food basket as if to satisfy my real hunger. My unwell-looking wife chews a tamarind and recovers quickly.

Bored after the sandwich, I get out of the car and smile a little gleefully at my fellow travelers who wave their arms, bow and walk back and forth. It's kind of like a neighborhood where the residents come out for some exercise. I feel like these are my neighbours.

A middle-aged man is digging a hole in the patch of soil in the median of the road. How bizarre so early in the morning but intriguing. I go up to him and ask what he is doing.

"I'm planting a banana tree," he says to his shovel. Only when the job is done does he turn to me and say with a smile, "Leaves of a banana tree are long and wide and trap many of those toxins from the atmosphere." He talks like an environmentalist. “I always do that when there's a traffic jam. Hey, do you want to do it too? We'll be here for a while. The radio says there's been two accidents involving seven or eight cars. One at the foot of Lad Phrao bridge and the other in front of Mo Chit bus station.

He hands me the shovel. 'Okay', I say, 'soon we will have a banana plantation here'.

I know this work. I used to do it as a village boy in my old county. The shovel and the earth and the banana tree relieve my boredom and also take me back to that long-forgotten time. I feel grateful.

"If this place is full of trees," he says, "it's like driving through a forest."

When we have finished our work and exchanged business cards, he invites me for a cup of coffee in his car. I thank him but apologize because I've been gone long enough now and have to get back to the car.

 

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'I can't do it anymore. Would you please drive?'

Her face is gray and covered with drops of sweat. She holds a plastic bag over her mouth.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask, surprised to see her in such a condition.

'Dizzy, nauseous and sick'.

"Should we see a doctor?"

'Not yet'. She looks at me for a moment. “I have missed my period for the last two months. I think I'm pregnant."

I gasp, feel shivering and go cold before shouting 'Hooray' inside 'Chaiyo! Chayo!'. She vomits into the plastic bag. The sour stench doesn't bother me at all. I just want to jump out of the car and shout:

'My wife is pregnant. Do you hear that? She is pregnant! We did it in the middle of the road!'.

I take the wheel as traffic slowly eases and I dream of the baby that will make our lives complete, and of the bigger car with room for the whole family and all the things a family needs for everyday life. worries.

A bigger car is a necessity. We must get one as soon as possible if we want to live happily ever after in the middle of the road.