WESTTHESUNFROMANOTHERSTAR, Chapter 15: I’m Home
Daotok
We arrived at the hospital around two in the afternoon. Once we got to LA, the neighbor took me straight to the hospital. As we parked, I glanced around; it was a very large hospital. After getting out of the car, he took me for a walk around the hospital.
Normally, just using my senses around a house is exhausting enough, but having to walk around a hospital meant we needed to take breaks. Otherwise, I would have fainted before we could cover the whole place, making us spend hours there. But it was the same as everywhere else; we didn’t find his mother. Not in the room where she was once treated, even though we couldn’t go inside, I tried to focus my mind inside, but no one was there. Not in the areas where she used to spend time. We found nothing.
The neighbor sat down on a bench next to me after buying me water. He went to get water without even asking, as if he knew I’d want to drink. It was the second time, so he probably remembered. I drank almost the whole bottle in one go because my throat was very dry.
Now, I felt my heart racing and my mind in turmoil because I was being overwhelmed. Of course, in a hospital, there must be many spirits. And being in a foreign place where I had never used my senses like this before, the spiritual waves or energy felt alien compared to what I was used to.
It wasn’t the first time spirits had threatened me. I’ve encountered all sorts since I was a child, which made me somewhat accustomed to it, knowing they can’t do much more than try to scare us. I didn’t react to ghosts anymore.
But sometimes, when I encounter a lot of them, especially strong spirits, it does make me feel unsettled. Especially when I open up my senses like this, it’s like opening my heart to invite them in.
“Are you okay?” the person next to me asked. I nodded slowly, still not opening my eyes. The last image I saw was of a female spirit in a hospital gown standing right in front of me, staring intently. I didn’t know what she wanted; there are various reasons why spirits approach us. They might need help, follow us, or sometimes there’s no reason, they just want to prank or scare us.
“Are you cold?” He asked again, probably because he saw me shivering.
“No.”
“Then why are you trembling?”
“It’s…unsettling, there are a lot of spirits.”
“Oh, I see. Have you ever encountered violent spirits?” “Yes.” I answered with a hoarse voice.
“How was that, like in the movies?”
“Hurting someone physically.” I think Phii Donat is one of them because he once pulled my leg until I almost fell off the bed.
“Was it hard?”
“It hurt a bit.”
“And what did you do?”
“I got angry.”
“Just that?”
“I warned him first that I didn’t like it. If he doesn’t listen, I’ll retaliate.” “Does he even listen? I think most ghosts don’t listen. Like in your room, I’ve cursed and cursed, the noise was there.”
“But now it’s not loud anymore.”
“Yeah. After you moved in, it got quieter, the crying sounds also reduced.” “Phii Cream has gotten much happier since I started telling her about Korean music again. I threatened that if they make noise and disturb me, I won’t play
Korean songs or tell stories about artists anymore.”
“That Donat who always made noise to mock me has disappeared, is he with
Meen?”
“Must be.”
“Can humans and ghosts really live together?”
“By principle, they shouldn’t.” My grandma used to warn that it’s not right for the living and the dead to still be in contact for any reason. I actually wanted to warn Meen about this, but seeing how happy Meen is with Phii Donat, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.
“Let’s go.”
“To San Francisco?” I asked when I saw him get up.
“Evening flight, let’s eat first, are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I forced myself to get up, feeling a bit better already.
The weather is getting cooler as winter approaches; for me, good weather means not too hot or too cold.
We went back to the car and drove to a large red fried chicken restaurant not far from the hospital. I glanced inside; there weren’t many people. I followed him into the restaurant without saying anything, ordering fried chicken to eat together.
“Hey.” He said, looking surprised and frowning at my hand, “What happened?”
“Peeling the skin.”
“Huh!?”
“…” I didn’t react like I was seeing the strangest thing in the world from the person sitting across from me; both hands continued peeling the fried chicken skin off until it was completely removed, before picking up the remaining meat to eat.
“Why do you…wait, damn, don’t you like the skin?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Phii, seriously, why?” He still asked with the same surprised tone.
“It’s hard, pokes my gums.”
“…”
He furrowed his brow even more, then shook his head slightly, “No way, damn it, you’re disrespecting the fried chicken, they worked so hard to make the skin crispy.”
“…”
“Damn it. It’s not right, I can’t accept this.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why not order the soft chicken then?”
“Crispy chicken tastes better.”
“Damn.” He swore, “You’re a sinner, peeling the skin off fried chicken, I can’t accept it.”
“…”
“And you don’t dip it in sauce?”
“I don’t like sauce.”
“Is it good like that?”
“It’s good.” I said, “Chicken has its own flavor.”
“Really? No way, I think it’s like eating tissue paper.” He shook his head slightly, with disgust, “You peeling the skin off fried chicken is as sinful as drinking holy water from a spirit house.”
“That bad, huh?”
This isn’t the first time people have reacted like this to me not eating fried chicken skin. North did the same thing, he’d fuss like this, and he’d be even more shocked when he found out I don’t dip it in sauce, just eating plain chicken meat. I don’t eat any kind of skin because I don’t like it. Plus, the fried chicken skin is so hard it almost pierces my gums, making it annoying to chew, and I don’t like almost any sauce either, so my way of eating fried chicken is just plain meat, like this.
“Someone like me, who grew up with fried chicken, is heartbroken.” the person in front of me complained and shook his head again, “What do you do with wings?”
“I peel off the skin.”
“Shit, peeling the skin off wings, damn.” He furrowed his brow almost to the point of holding his head, “It’s heartbreaking, eating wings but peeling off the skin.”
“But North forced me to eat, so I managed.”
“Yeah, North did good.” He sighed, as if what I did to the fried chicken was damaging the heart of another fried chicken lover. North also said his heart nearly broke, “Then give me the skin, I’ll eat it myself.”
“Yeah.” I replied, he reached over to take the chicken skin I had just peeled off to eat, then handed me the completely skinless chicken meat instead, “Here, take the meat.”
“You don’t want it?”
“Normally, people like it because of the skin, right?” He answered. So I took the meat he just tossed over, ate just a little bit more until I was full, then sat waiting for the person across from me to finish eating for a while. Ter once amazed me with his huge appetite, but I was even more amazed watching the person in front of me eat.
After we finished eating, we went to the car and discussed where to go next since we still had a lot of time.
“Novels.” I said, remembering we had agreed to go buy novels. He nodded slightly before driving to a bookstore. I was lost in thought, looking out at the unfamiliar city; I’d only been to LA once when my aunt and dad brought me, but not in this area.
The car stopped at a large bookstore with a design that made me stop and stare until my roommate had to call out to me, asking what I was zoning out about. I raised my phone to take a photo before following him inside, only to be awed by the spacious interior filled with numerous books.
We went to the mystery novel section and found the book I wanted. I wandered around, picking up books that caught my interest.
“Have you read this?” He asked, picking up a book. I moved closer to look because sometimes the cover of the original and the translated book might not match. I shook my head in response, “Looks good.” He said but put it back where it was.
“You don’t want it?”
“No, I don’t have time to read it.”
I reached out to put that book in the basket; it looked really interesting. He didn’t have time to read it, but I did.
“Are you taking it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then read it and summarize it for me.”
“Uh-huh.”
After we finished buying, we walked out of the store. I didn’t buy much, just what I could carry since I had other things to hold, and we had to go elsewhere. He put the bag of books in the trunk before driving back to the airport.
We arrived at the airport well before our flight time, enough to check in and relax while waiting. I picked up the novel I had just bought and started reading it while waiting for the flight.
I don’t often read English novels. I can manage because I talk with my Dad, but not well enough to read a whole novel without difficulty, so I had to use my phone to look up words several times.
Unlike other person who read smoothly without any trouble.
When it was time, we boarded the plane to San Francisco, the last stop of our trip. It was just a short flight from LA to San Francisco, arriving around 8 PM. As soon as we got off the plane, I felt more exhausted than ever, probably because of accumulated fatigue from the hospital and the travel.
But I managed to get into the car. Once in the car, I fell asleep just like I did in Hawaii, only waking up when my next room neighbor shook me. I opened my eyes with difficulty; it was dark around, with lights shining in. I looked around and found we were already inside the house area. I saw a big, beautiful house not far from where the car was parked.
…
Arthit
I saw the short guy standing there, staring blankly at the house. I didn’t know why, but I convinced myself it was because my house was so stunning it left him speechless. In reality, I was very uncomfortable bringing someone here; as everyone knows, this place is full of my memories. It took me a long time to decide to drive in because, no matter what, it was necessary.
It was past 5 PM now. The short guy had been dozing off the whole way but didn’t seem much better, so he needed rest as usual. I stood in front of the house with the keys in my hand. It’s almost always like this every time I come back here; I’m hesitant to go inside, needing some time to gather my courage. The short guy, leaning against the wall beside me, didn’t say anything despite looking like he was about to pass out.
Once I steeled myself to unlock the door, I reached out to flick the switch by the door. After taking off my shoes, I said out of habit,
“Mom, I’m home.”
And like every time, there hasn’t been any sound answering back for years.
When the light in the house turned on, familiar images appeared. I grew up here. No matter which part of the house, it was all so familiar. Nothing has moved or changed even a bit; it’s always clean because Direk has people take care of it constantly, and the backyard garden is still maintained as usual.
I led the little guy up to the guest bedroom; he went and flopped down on the bed. What I had to do was carry his things and turn on the air conditioner like before, then close the door and head to my own room.
We only have two more days here. The first day we left Thailand and arrived in
Hawaii in the afternoon of the second day. The third day is today; we walked to LA in the morning, and by evening, we set off for San Francisco, arriving very late at night. It’s been a trip full of travel.
I went downstairs to take a walk. There’s no way I could sleep in a place like this, trying not to think about the past, where my mom used to be, and what she used to do, thoughts that always creep in when I return.
I walked out to the backyard where only the dim light from the exterior lamps glowed, pulling out a cigarette from my pocket to smoke.
Letting the gray smoke drift with the breeze. I didn’t forget the beer I grabbed earlier; I opened the can and took a sip.
It’s good that the little guy was so tired he needed to rest. I’ll have some time to prepare a bit more because this is the last place where there’s a chance my mom might be. If the answer turns out that she’s not here, then it’s time to let go as I’ve always thought.
If mom is really here, would she be lonely, being by herself? Normally, we only come back here at the end of the year. Is she watching now? If she knew I was smoking, would she scold me?
If you’re really here, come out and scold me…
Sigh, damn it, my mind is wandering again.
I called Direk. It wasn’t long before he answered.
(Do you know what time it is in Thailand, huh?)
“I don’t know, and are you free?”
(Yeah, I’m sort of free.)
“Then why complain?”
(Just complaining, so how’s it going?)
“Couldn’t find her, in Hawaii, LA.”
(Are you in San Francisco now?)
“Yes.”
(That’s the last one, right?)
“Uh-huh.”
(Isn’t it almost midnight there? How many beers and cigarettes have you had?)
“Just started smoking, just got here.”
(Oh.)
“Direk.”
(What?)
“Direk.”
(What?)
“What if we don’t find her?”
(…)
“I’m damn stubborn, I’ve come all this way here, and I can’t find him anywhere.” I said, my voice softening a bit, raising the hand holding the cigarette to rest on the table, lowering my head so my forehead touched my wrist, “Direk.” (You keep calling my name, uh, uh, when you’re at a loss, do you realize that?)
“Really? Maybe.” I said, “What should I do?”
(There’s nothing you can do, you know. The reason you’ve come so far is to convince yourself and to move on, right?)
“Direk, you moved on?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. Direk had accepted that Mom was gone a long time ago; it’s just me who hasn’t been able to move on, so that’s why I’m still like this.
(Uh-huh.)
“Why can you move on? I damn well can’t accept the truth, I’m such an idiot.”
(You’ve got me.)
“That’s quite touching.”
(I’m always interrupting when you try to feel touched.)
“Uh, uh, go on, let me be touched to the point of tears.”
(Annoying, I won’t talk to you anymore, damn it.) I heard Direk sigh heavily from the other end of the line, (Being annoying means you’re doing okay.) “Maybe a bit.” I shrugged slightly, “I’ll call you again once I have the final results.”
(Alright.)
“Work hard to make money, Direk.”
(Yeah, you bastard, I make money for you to drink booze and beer.) Direk grumbled before hanging up.
I felt better.
I put the phone down on the table, stubbed out the cigarette in my hand, and lit another one, staring blankly at the sky of my hometown. I felt an emptiness inside, so I kept lighting one cigarette after another, hoping it would help. On an ordinary night in San Francisco, I sank deep into my thoughts and memories. The smell of beer mingled with the scent of cigarettes, the bitter taste cutting through the sweet aroma.
And that night, I couldn’t pull myself out of my thoughts at all.
I woke up to the sunlight piercing my eyes. Last night, I remember getting so drunk I didn’t want to move, just passed out right there. Luckily, I was just a bit sore in the back and neck, nothing more. Seeing the empty beer cans scattered around made me wonder why I drank so much. Not to mention the cigarette butts; I’d have to take a break from drinking when I get back to Thailand.
I thought the little guy probably hadn’t woken up yet. It was past eight, and I was starting to get hungry. I wasn’t going to make him cook; I planned to go out to eat. I knocked on his door for a while but got no response, so I used the key to check on him and found him still passed out on the bed.
“Hey.” I called out, but he didn’t wake up. I shook him a bit and felt he was hot.
Oh, is he sick?
“Hmm?” He responded with a faint, throaty sound, slowly sitting up on the bed.
“Are you sick?”
“Seems like it.”
“Oh, what should we do then?”
“It’s fine, what time is it?”
“Eight.”
“Uh-huh.” He replied, then got up from the bed, telling me to leave first because he was going to take a shower and get dressed. Since he said so, I left the room to shower and dress myself. Once done, I waited on the sofa in the living room, hoping he wouldn’t collapse in my bathroom.
Just a few minutes after I had cursed him in my mind, he came out of his room looking not so great; his face was pale yesterday. Now, he looked like a boiled shrimp, wearing a coat and a hat.
“Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You can rest a bit if you want, I’ll go buy some food from outside.” I said, because if he was this sick, I was worried that whatever he was touching would be affected too.
“It’s fine.” He replied quietly as if he was perfectly normal. I raised my eyebrows in surprise because from his appearance, he definitely wasn’t okay. Anyone else would prefer to stay in bed, but this one seemed to like pushing himself.
Since it insisted, I let him be, took him out of the house to eat outside. During the journey, he kept dozing off, and when I woke him up, he slowly got up and walked like he had no energy, following me into the restaurant.
He ordered food but could only eat a little before pushing the plate away, probably because he wasn’t feeling well. Normally, he eats like he is inhaling food.
Honestly, it’s not surprising that he is sick; we’ve been traveling non-stop. With his exhausted appearance, it’s only to be expected.
“You think being sick won’t affect your abilities?”
“What do you mean?”
“Whatever you touch.”
“No, actually, it might even work better.”
“Why?”
“The mind becomes weaker.” He said. I nodded slightly, recalling something similar about how sick people might see ghosts more easily. After eating, we got into the car. I had intended to stop at one place, the cemetery where my mother is buried.
How could I forget this place?
I drove us to stop in front of the sign with my mother’s name on it. He stood still, then took off his necklace again and closed his eyes. I watched, anticipating, but was shocked when he suddenly fainted and fell down.
“Shit!” I exclaimed instinctively. Thankfully, my quick reflexes managed to catch him in time, otherwise, he would have hit the ground face-first. I looked at the feverish person in my arms.
Damn, is he fainting because he’s sick or because some evil spirit possessed him? Last time at the hospital, he said he was feeling something weird.
Bad luck, Arthit, did you bring someone here to die?
No way, I’m a doctor, you can’t die because of me.
I had to carry him and put him in the passenger seat of the car, then take him to the nearest hospital to be sure. The doctor said it wasn’t anything serious, just exhaustion and a fever; he should rest until he recovers.
I looked at the person lying in the bed with an IV drip in his hand and thought it would have been better if he had just rested at home. Now I had to bring him to the hospital again, and we’d have to pay for the treatment. Well, forget about that cost, but why did he have to push himself so hard?
If it were me, I’d stay at home and not drag myself out like this.
At most, he just fainted; a bit of hydration through IV would help, but if it were something sinister like a cemetery ghost from the movies, that would be a real disaster.
Not only did I bring him here causing trouble, but I also made him suffer. Damn, this makes me feel guilty.
Since there was nothing to do but wait for him to regain consciousness, I decided to call North to let him know how his concerned friend was doing. If the little guy tells North when we get back to Thailand, North might blame me for not informing him from the start.
(Hey, Phii.) North answered with his usual enthusiastic tone. He’s always full of energy, unlike the vegetable-like person lying on the bed now, who seems like a robot with a low battery.
“Your friend is sick.”
(Oh.)
“Why don’t you seem surprised?”
(He gets sick often, bro. Weak people are like this.)
“Oh, really? He passed out, he’s in the hospital.”
(Didn’t he eat?)
“He did eat, though not much.”
(Really? Normally, he faints and goes to the hospital often because his body is weak, he doesn’t like to eat.)
“But I saw him eating.”
(He eats out of necessity, he has a stomach condition.) North said, (And what did the doctor say? Just sick, huh?)
“He’s exhausted too.”
(Oh, that’s it, because it overuses its abilities. Just using them normally is exhausting, but going to many places with you, using them repeatedly, it’s become too much for its body to handle.)
“I feel guilty.”
(You feel guilty too?)
“Hey, I’m a good person, don’t you know?”
(It takes some courage to say you’re a good person.) North let out a small laugh, (he is sick but won’t rest, right?)
“How do you know? Is that its usual behavior?”
(Yeah, that’s how it is with that Phipungto, he never cares or worries about himself, like, ‘whatever, I’ll be fine.’ I think even if he were stabbed and on the brink of death, he would say it’s fine and go back to work.)
“Is it that bad?”
(Yeah, like that, doesn’t know if he thinks he is a robot or what, indifferent to everything, there are only a few things he reacts to.)
“You think like me, it’s like a low-battery robot, so damn sluggish. Share some of your energy with your friend, damn you, you’re too lively.”
(That’s normal. He was just exhausted, right, to the point of fainting.)
“According to the doctor, that’s all, but…”
(But what?)
“Yesterday, he said when he uses his senses, he gets harassed by ghosts, and just now, I took him to the cemetery, which is full of ghosts, so I’m thinking like,
shit…”
(Oh…damn.)
“Yeah, I’m worried that when he wakes up, he might come at me and strangle me.”
(Not likely, Phii, Phipungto has a strong spirit.)
“But he said when he is sick, his spirit weakens.”
(Yeah, damn.)
I chatted with North for a while before hanging up. In conclusion, it’s typical for that short guy to push himself too hard. I don’t really understand people who push themselves like this because normally, I’d be sick to death if I couldn’t even go to school from being constipated.
I was lying around until I dozed off, and when I woke up again, it felt much cooler. The little guy was sitting on the hospital bed, turning to look at me with his usual indifferent expression, looking a bit refreshed.
“Are you…okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you faint? Just because you were tired?”
“No.” He answered in a hoarse voice. I got up to pour water into a glass for him, turning into a water server, I guess, “The cemetery has a lot of spirits. Plus, being sick made everything worse.”
“So that’s why you fainted?”
“Someone rushed at me, and then I lost consciousness.”
“You got haunted?”
“Something like that.”
“So you weren’t possessed or anything, right?”
“No, he just had malicious intent, but it probably won’t cause any harm.” He answered without much concern. He must know well enough how he’s feeling since he’s sensitive to these things.
“Did he do anything more to you than just charging at you?” I asked while taking the empty glass back to its place, he nodded in response, “Why? I thought it would be like in the movies where you get possessed or something, but here it was just one jump scare and then gone.”
“He can only do that much because my spirit was weakened due to sickness, but not that weak.”
“Oh, and have you experienced this before?”
“Yes, but I’ve never fainted because of a spirit before.”
“Because you’ve encountered many ghosts?”
“Partly, and also because I was sick, making me weaker. Plus, like I said, he was malicious.”
“Wait.” I said, furrowing my brows while trying to organize my thoughts, “When you say this is the first time you’ve fainted because of some spirit’s malice, you mean this was the strongest you’ve ever faced, right?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything to guarantee that you’ll be safe every time? Because having a strong spirit doesn’t mean you’ll always be safe, right? There might be some spirit that can harm you.”
“Yes.”
“Damn, so if the ghost from the cemetery earlier did something to you, what would happen?”
“I could even die.”
“…shit.” I fell silent at the words of the person sitting on the bed, who spoke with an air of nonchalance, unlike me, the listener, who was left speechless.
If it had been unlucky back there, could that ghost have killed it?
Shit…
“Sorry.”
“…”
“Why didn’t you say it was dangerous? If you’re sick and your spirit is that weak, you should have just stayed at home.”
“When I realized I was sick, I decided to come out.”
“Why?”
“If the spirit is weak, the senses become sharper, allowing a stronger connection to spirits, making it easier to encounter them.”
“…”
he fell silent, not saying anything more. I furrowed my brows, looking at the person in front of me with confusion. Is this guy stupid or what? Because your spirit is weak, you can sense spirits more strongly, so they can harm you more easily. Why didn’t you think of this? And you could even die, you know. North said you like to push yourself, but I didn’t think it was to this extent. Do you see everything as important except for yourself?
Are there really people like this?
And you act so nonchalant, it’s annoying. If you died, what would happen next? Wouldn’t I feel guilty as hell? I was the one who asked for your help first, I brought you here, took you to the cemetery because you said you were fine, and you nearly died, damn it.
“I don’t understand.”
“What?”
“I don’t understand why you have to do this. If you just rested for another couple of hours until you felt better, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. I wouldn’t have gotten angry or anything.”
“Being sick is normal for me, so it’s nothing.”
“…”
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“I just wanted to help as much as I could.”
“…”
I walked out of the patient’s room, leaving the hard-to-understand guy behind.
You just wanted to help as much as you could…is that it?
Damn!
Yeah, you would try to help me without expecting anything in return, you would travel all the way to the other side of the world with me, your body is so weak but you still push yourself to help, you’ve turned pale and fainted who knows how many times, stayed up all night painting a portrait of your mother, and still wanted to help me even when you’re sick, saying you’re okay when you almost died.
Yeah, do whatever you want!
North said you’re always like this, huh?
Then go ahead and push yourself or be a good person or whatever!
What the hell am I even getting angry about, damn it!!
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