Work Text:
Speaking a second language all day long is exhausting. Even when the words come easily, when he doesn’t have to zero in on the speaker and put his whole body and brain into making sure he doesn’t miss anything, Pran feels completely spent by the end of the day. His shoulders and neck are always tense by the time he lets himself into his flat. His brain is a tired dog that’s been running around all day and finally has the chance to flop down on the rug, tongue hanging out, limbs abandoned.
They have, haven’t they. His coworker, Marcella had said it. What does that even mean? Thankfully, it wasn’t about work. But when it’s not about work, it’s harder. The syntax and vocabulary make more sense when Pran is communicating in and about the subjects he visits frequently. Project proposal. Specs. Rough estimate. One cream, no sugar. All of that he can do. But Pran made the mistake of attempting small talk with Marcella as they waited for the elevators. They smiled greetings at each other. (No wai. Pran stopped early on when he saw the fond amusement it garnered). The elevator was taking its time to arrive, so Pran had gestured at the potted plants, recently in bloom. The flowers come he had said in English, knowing this was too simple. She’d smiled again (indulgently?) and said, they have, haven’t they.
They possess. They do not possess. The plants? The flowers? What do they possess and not possess? Was it a riddle? Have. Have not. They have. They have not. Have to means must, but don’t have to does not mean must not. It means you can choose. That one had caused panic when a team leader told him he didn’t have to review a particular packet before a meeting. What in the world did that mean?! Was he forbidden from reading the packet? He’d asked Max later, who had assured him he could if he wanted to, but it wasn’t required. The flowers have arrived, but they can choose not to? That doesn’t seem right.
Marcela had said, they have, haven’t they, and he wasn’t even sure if it was a question. Pran had smiled with his lips closed and said yes and hoped it was the correct response. It seemed to be. A half-hearted yes coupled with a half-hearted smile is the desperate flail of non-native speakers around the world. The ding of the elevator doors opening was as welcome as the bell at the end of a school day. Survived another one. Whew.
They have, haven’t they drifted into his mind throughout the day.
❤️💚
The flat has been his residence for a few months now. It’s small and attractive, and it has his things. He’s arranged it exactly how he likes it. Art on the walls that he carefully packed and shipped. A couch that is almost very comfortable. A bed that is not too big so that it doesn’t feel too empty. A small table in the foyer with framed photos of his parents, of the architecture gang, and of Pat, of course. Only three of Pat. More would feel too much like longing. Graduation picture with Junior held up between them. Pat in a tropical shirt and khaki shorts, flashing a big smile with small eyes. A candid shot of the two of them just looking at each other during a conversational lull. Ink had taken the last photo on the sly. Their eyes are shining, and their smiles are implied. It’s Pran’s favorite. He can feel the smiles on their faces rather than see them. They have smiles, haven’t they, he thinks as he looks at the photo.
The air in Singapore, in his flat, is different. The smells are different. The light that comes in through the window is different. The ambient sound is different. Not bad. Just different. Pran no longer feels he is in the uncanny valley, but sometimes he still wakes up and feels disoriented, a patient in a drama who wakes up in a hospital bed and says, “Where am I? What happened?”
Pran slips off his shoes and goes to the wardrobe to hang up his jacket. Call now while he is settling in, or shower and change so that he feels more at leisure to do a video call? Pat’s voice now, or Pat’s face later? His phone vibrates.
Please be home by now! Heart emoji. Big, limpid eyes emoji. Waving hand emoji.
Voice now. Finger pressed and held on the number 1 of the keypad. Immediate connection.
“Are you stalking me?” A snuffling sound comes into his ear. He laughs. “You can’t smell me over the phone, you psycho.”
“Mmmmm,” Pat responds, as if he can. “When you text that you are leaving work, it takes you 22 minutes to get to your flat.”
“You are stalking me!”
“You like it.” He does. He really does.
Pran walks the very short distance to his bed and flips his pillow up to lean back on the headrest.
“And how is Khun Pat? Has work eased up yet?” It’s so much more comfortable to slip back into Thai, but Pran can still hear it repeat inside his head, as if it’s going through the same filter as English. He knows the feeling will go away in moments.
“Hm,” is the noncommittal reply. “So what are you wearing?”
Pran smiles. He can see Pat’s eyebrows wiggle, just through his voice. He can, can’t he.
Pran settles against the headboard and allows his neck and shoulders to relax. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he teases, and gets an appreciative mmmmm in return.
”I’ll use my imagination.” More eyebrow wiggling.
They talk every day like this, or at least almost every day. Pran doesn’t have time to text much during the day. Pat doesn’t either, really, but when there is a lull, he’ll text eight times in a row.
Hello baby
Heart sticker.
I’m just thinking of you
I want to get noodles with you
What are you wearing
Are you thinking of me?
Two rabbits hugging, cartoon hearts popping out of them.
Can’t wait to talk to you
Pran takes photos of interesting things he sees throughout the day and sends them all at once on his way home. Once he paused in the middle of the day to send a selfie from his desk, head turned a little to give one good signature dimple and a saucy eyebrow quirk.
Fireworks emoji. Heart eyes emoji x 6.
These texts, voice calls and video calls are Pran’s lifeline. Sometimes they just chat and laugh and talk about nothing. Sometimes they get down to serious (but long distance) adult business. Ahem. Sometimes they have deep and intimate conversations into the night, not getting enough sleep, and not getting enough of each other. Sometimes they just breathe together, unable to put a voice to their loneliness. The time away from home while at the boarding school is nothing compared to this. This time he has Pat, but he doesn’t, because he is so far away. I have, haven’t I.
Pran collects the days and stacks them up behind him, waiting and waiting for it to be time to go home. He feels both guilty and relieved when his work engages him and when he is glad to be doing what he is doing. He learns what it means to be put on the spot and is able to tell his coworkers that staying out late is not his cup of tea. You have to take this call, but you don’t must to take this call. You had better revise the information; you don’t have better revise the information. Some things continue to not make sense. Some things will never make sense.
Pat, though. Pat makes sense. There is never a need to analyze what Pat says in order to put it into context. His words and his essence don’t need to go through any filter. Pran thinks that love is a language that functions outside of words and meanings. He lives in Singapore, but he lives in the ether between their voices and between their two phones. The are together, and they are not together. Someday, someday they will not be separate while their hearts are fused together. Someday they will be proud but not still secret. Someday it won’t be we have, haven’t we but we have, we have.
Pran holds Pat’s voice up to his ear, and it doesn’t matter what words they are using. The are saying, I love you, I miss you. You are mine. I am yours.
For now, they exist in the liminal space. We have, haven’t we, Pran thinks. But we love, we love.