Rule No. 1: Don’t be too emotional : Chapter 33

“The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is a duty of the living to do so for them.”

Lois McMaster Bujold

···

In the end, it was just a make-out session. By that, I mean it was strictly external. Of course-his pelvis was still injured. Expecting him to move violently or quickly would have been asking too much; he would have ended up relapsing. The next day, I asked him how he knew where I’d run to, but he refused to answer. To this day, I haven’t been able to pry a single word out of him. He’s stickier than glue. Good grief, how smart can one person be? His brilliance scares me as much as it impresses me. After that, P’Jane kept his word. He tried his best to keep me in the dark about his business. When we were together, he’d walk far away to take phone calls and stopped taking me to see the terrifying things he did. But in my heart, I always knew the nature of his work. Now, it’s like I’m choosing to keep one eye shut. Even though I’m still uneasy, frightened, and uncomfortable, I consider the fact that he’s already compromised a lot for me. The rest is my responsibility-to endure and adapt. Time passed until about two months had gone by. I was amazed at how P’Jane recovered from the gunshot.

Now, he’s back to walking normally as if nothing had ever happened. Beyond that, he can perform ballroom dance as gracefully as ever-even better than someone like me who isn’t injured. I guarantee that if I were the one shot, I’d be bedridden for a long time. Because his recovery was so miraculous, I couldn’t help but ask P’Ram why.

P’Ram gave me a straight anatomical answer: the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs, and P’Jane’s body was incredibly fit to begin with. It was pure luck. Currently, he and I are practicing our ballroom routines intensely in the university’s mirrored studio along with other couples. In just a few weeks, we’ll have our finals.

And yet, I’m still…

“Ouch!”… stepping on my partner’s feet. P’Jane shook the foot I’d just stomped on, his face contorted in pain. Usually, he doesn’t show much emotion, but if you count every time I’ve stepped on him today, his feet are likely swollen. A moment later, his face returned to its usual calm, while I couldn’t stop looking stressed.

“Don’t stress too much.”

“But the finals are coming up! So many subjects, including this Social Dance class, and I’ve stepped on your feet a dozen times already.”

“It takes practice. It’s hard. This is an advanced class; you have to express emotion while dancing. Other couples make mistakes too.” The rhythmic Latin music continued to blast through the room as other students practiced just as intensely as we did. It was the Tango rhythm we had learned before, but it had been adapted with so many additional moves it made my head spin. Plus, Professor Raphee kept telling us to look “Alive” people at all times!

“Alright everyone, remember! Ballroom in this class is different from previous ones because of the emotion. You’ve already learned the steps. What matters now is your facial expression and body language-be sexy, powerful, elegant! It has to come from your inner self! Think of the movie Shall We Dance? with Richard Gere and Jennifer Lopez. Do it like that!” Gosh, Professor, you make it sound so easy.

“Five, four, three, two… Spin, students, spin!” P’Jane immediately spun me like a top. We moved together, stepping and rotating rapidly. Finally, we reached the beat where l had to drop into a one-legged split (since I’m dancing the female part-if you can’t picture it, it’s the move from the hook of Aespa’s Black Mamba). I then had to arch my body and sensually slide up against P’Jane like a majestic swan. Right as I was sliding up, I got dizzy and lurched forward.

“Ow! Dammit!” I shouted, barely catching myself with my hands. It wasn’t loud enough to draw attention from anyone but my partner, as other couples were struggling too-some girls face-planting, some boys dizzy from the spinning. Some couples looked a mess as they tried to catch each other from falling. Professor Raphee looked completely dissatisfied.

“You’re all hopeless. Fine, class dismissed. Go practice! If you’re like this for the final, the whole class is failing.” Everyone filed out of the room, complaining the whole way. I was one of them. P’Jane didn’t say anything until someone shouted for him from the stairs.

“P’Jane! Our group presents first today! Hurry up and get ready!”” Jane, I have to go,” P’Jane said.

“Okay. See you at the condo.” His large hand ruffled my hair gently, and we went our separate ways. I checked Line and saw Sherry was summoning me to a group meeting at the library. Everyone was there except me. Ever since Putt left the group, we’d had issues because professors prefer groups of five. Before, our group was perfect, but now with only four, we always had to wait for the leftovers in class, and our preferred topics were always snatched up by faster groups.

“Jane.” I jumped. While lost in thought, a male student had suddenly appeared from the corner of the building to block my path.

“Putt, what do you want?” I asked sharply. After everything that had happened, I knew I could never be friends with him again. If others wanted to be, fine, but not me. Even though I’d seen Namkhing secretly copying notes for Putt, I didn’t care. Seeing my expression, Putt scoffed.

“You really hate me, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Now that you know, get out of my sight.”

“But you don’t seem to hate the one who’s even worse than me.”

“What is wrong with you? These are my feelings. I have the right to feel whatever I want about whoever I want. Do I need you to tell me how to feel? You’re not my parents. I’ll say it again: Back off! Stop messing with my head. I’m not your victim anymore.” I shouted in a fit of rage and shoved past him. I was already stressed about the dance exam; I didn’t need this lunatic ruining my mood. But Putt followed and grabbed my wrist.

“Don’t touch me! Get back!” I yanked my wrist away and pushed him so hard he hit the wall. I rubbed my wrist where he’d touched it, feeling utterly repulsed. Putt took a breath and spoke.

“You’re falling in love with a bad person.”

“Heh. Coming from the guy who tried to rape me and then tried to drag me back to ‘give’ me to that ‘bad person’? Go to hell.”

“P’Jane is a criminal.”

“Shut up! Don’t call him that!” I looked around immediately, terrified someone might hear.

“I’m speaking the truth. He’s a criminal, and you know it in your heart.”

“I told you to be quiet!” I rushed over to cover his mouth, but he pushed me away and spoke rapidly.

“I don’t owe P’Jane anything anymore. I’m free.” I raised an eyebrow.

“So? Why are you telling me?”

“I’m going to make you free, too. I’ll help you get away from P’Jane.” I recoiled, looking at him with a gaze I couldn’t even define. Putt saw my hesitation and pushed on.

“You haven’t forgotten why you have to stay with him, have you? Because you owe him a ‘favor.’ If it were so good, if you were so happy, you wouldn’t have driven all the way to Phetchaburi to escape.” I couldn’t say a word.

“I ‘Il get you that freedom myself,” Putt cut in, looking at me firmly.” I ‘Il make him let you go.”

“Can I just be responsible for my own life? Don’t get involved.”

“But I know you’re suffering!” Putt shouted over me.

“I won’t watch you suffer anymore. I promise.”

“Stop rambling.”

“And if l can’t do it, I’ll take you and run away myself.”

“Jane. Jane.”

“Yes, P’Jane?” I snapped back to reality. I’d been spacing out so much P’Jane had to snap his fingers. He stared at me with eyes that seemed to X-ray my soul before placing his hand on my forehead to check for a fever.

“Is something wrong? Are you tired? Or sick?”

“No… not at all. I’m just thinking about finals.”

“I told you not to stress too much.” P’Jane smiled softly, ruffling my hair.” Want to go one more round? To get it perfect?”

“Sure… that’d be good.” I paired up with him again. We’d booked the practice room since noon. After days of practice, I’d improved significantly. At the very least, I should pass with a B. About ten days had passed since Putt cornered me. They were ten days of non-stop anxiety. Amidst the internal chaos, I still had to clear projects and study for finals. Is the world ending yet? I want to scream my lungs out.

“You’ve been spacing out a lot lately. Is something on your mind?”

“Nothing. You know I take school seriously. I’m always like this near exams. Don’t you remember?” P’Jane stared at me for so long I thought my heart would jump out of my chest. Then he looked down and went back to sipping his vegetable juice. I let out a silent sigh of relief.

“If you have anything you want to talk about, you can always tell me.” His sharp eyes shone, looking deep into my soul until I had to look away.

“There’s really nothing. I tell you everything.” He nodded just as his phone rang. P’Jane looked at the screen, answered, and got up from the table, walking a long distance away so I wouldn’t hear anything about his work. I sighed again. !admitted that the reason I was shaken by Putt’s words was that, deep down, I didn’t truly accept P’Jane’s work. But I promised him I wouldn’t run. So, fleeing was out of the question. Besides, history proved I could never escape. Even if there were ten Putts helping me, he of all people should know better-he’d seen with his own eyes how many people are under P’Jane’s command. P’Jane returned in less than five minutes.

“You’re done at 2: 00 PM today, right? Going to study with friends after?”

“Oh, we’re actually going to a movie. I don’t really want to go with finals so close, but Gap nagged everyone until we gave in.” P’Jane gave a small, handsome smile.

“I think it’s good. You’re too stressed. Go relax with your friends.”

“But I’m afraid I won’t have time to study.”

“If you don’t have time, I’m right here to tutor you.”

“You have to study for your own too. It’s your last semester.” He gave a mocking smile and a short laugh.

“Right. Sure.” I narrowed my eyes. This guy. He thinks he’ll get straight A’s without even trying. He thinks my worrying is pointless, doesn’t he? Ugh, what a waste of feelings. I really can’t stand geniuses. When is he going to stop that smirk?

“I was born with this face. What can I do?”

“No! You choose to make that face!”

“Alright, alright. I won’t say or laugh at anything else. Shall we go? I’ll walk you to your classroom.” I checked my watch and nodded.

“Okay.”

“GAAAAAAH!” I nearly dropped my popcorn when a ghost on the screen let out a piercing, blood-curdling scream. Damn you, Gap! Why did you drag us to a horror movie right before finals? This movie was just a non-stop slasher. My mind was fraying. This was not relaxing at all. Every jump-scare made me flinch. Namkhing and Sherry were screaming in unison, making me feel even more frazzled. By the time the movie ended, I had a headache that felt like a migraine.

“Ugh, I can’t take it. Will I even sleep tonight?” Sherry rubbed her chest as we walked out of the theater. I noticed everyone coming out looked dazed. Some people looked annoyed-understandable, after listening to three hours of screaming.

“Seriously. What did Gap drag us to? I’ve forgotten all my accounting notes,” Namkhing complained. Everyone started turning on their phones. Sherry looked surprised when she saw an unexpected missed call. She called back immediately.

“Hello? Putt’s mom? Is something wrong?” We all whipped our heads toward Sherry. Why would Putt’s mom be calling her?

“Wait, Putt’s mom called me too,” Namkhing cried out, seeing the missed call on her own screen. Gap and I checked our phones immediately.

“Is it this number, Khing? I don’t have his mom’s number.”

“Hey, it’s the same one that called me!”

“Yes, that’s it. Putt’s mom’s number,” Namkhing confirmed , looking between our screens.

“What?!” Sherry screamed. Her face went pale, her lips trembled. Her response to the person on the line was barely coherent. I turned to her immediately.

“What happened, Sherry?”

“Putt… he was in a car crash. He’s in critical condition. His mom said we need to go say goodbye to him now.” Sherry drove the fastest she ever had to the hospital. We rushed to Putt’s room, where we found his parents and older sister, their eyes bloodshot, standing outside.

“Auntie, what did the doctor say? They can help him, right?” Namkhing asked , her eyes welling up.

The two adults didn’t answer; only the sound of sobbing remained. It felt like being pushed off a cliff.

“Are the relatives of Khun Puttiwong Saetasuk here?”

“Yes, we’re here,” we all answered the female doctor together. Putt’s mother rushed forward.

“How is my son, doctor? He’ll be okay, right?” The doctor looked troubled. She scanned our faces before shaking her head solemnly. Putt’s mother and sister wailed, while his father turned ghost-white. The doctor spoke softly again.

“Please, go in and see him. We’ve done everything we could… ” Before I knew it, I was drifting toward the bed where Putt lay. He was unrecognizable. If no one had told me it was him, I might have walked right past… Putt’s mother took her son’s hand.

“Putt… my baby. Does it hurt a lot?”

“Mom… don’t… cry… ” But that only made her sob harder. Putt’s sister, Namkhing, and Sherry were all crying. I was sobbing too. Even Gap’s eyes were bloodshot. Putt’s mother gently stroked his head.

“Rest now. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore.”

“Jane… ”

“Putt, what is it?” I moved closer to the side of the bed where his mother wasn’t standing. With his last bit of strength, Putt reached out to grab my hand. He looked at me with swollen eyes.

“I love you… really.”

“I… I know, Putt. I know. Rest now.”

“I’m sorry… ” I knew he was talking about what happened in Japan. I stroked his hand, trying to stifle my sobs.

“I forgive you. Rest in peace, Putt. Let’s let go of all the bad blood between us.”

“Stay… away… from P’Jane… ” We were all crying. Putt’s breath hitched as he spoke one last time.” Mom… Dad… P’Pat… ”

“Yes, son?”

“Putt… can’t see… anymore… ” Sob, wail…

“Mom… ”

“Putt! Putt!”

“Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for l am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11: 29-30) “I didn’t know Andrew, or Puttiwong Saetasuk, personally. But I have heard he was a kind person, though perhaps a bit impulsive at times. Overall, he was brave. He was a devout Christian, attending church every Sunday he was free. Every Christmas, he would donate to needy children in remote areas. Furthermore, he was a beloved son to the Saetasuk family and a generous friend. It is said that only the good die young, and Andrew-known to most as Putt-was one of them. He has gone to be with the Lord before us… ” The only sound was the sobbing of people in black standing on the grass listening to the priest. Gap and I held Namkhing and Sherry. The four of us had cried until we had no tears left, but it couldn’t compare to the pain of the family losing their precious son at age twenty. In front of us was the open grave. In the end, this is human life… once dead, we return to nature. Putt’s mother took a handful of dirt and scattered it over his coffin, her face drenched in tears. Then it was his father’s turn, then P’Pat’s, and then us-his closest friends in Thailand. Since he’d studied in Australia from elementary through high school, he didn’t have many other friends at the funeral besides university mates. I scattered dirt over my former friend’s grave. Not a sound escaped my mouth. I stepped back. Two warm palms touched my shoulders gently, as if comforting me. I breathed in that unique, cool scent mixed with the smell of freshly cut grass. It was P’Jane. Yes, he had come to the funeral too. He hadn’t joined in scattering the dirt; he’d just stood quietly behind me and my friends since the ceremony began. When everyone was done, the priest blessed the grave with holy water and incense, inviting Putt’s soul to leave the coffin and go to God. Then the undertakers came with shovels and began to bury him for real. I watched as they packed the dirt into a neat mound. I couldn’t help but think of Putt lying there holding a bouquet of white flowers. Would he feel cramped in that perfectly-sized coffin? Unable to even turn over? No… Putt was at peace now. It was the rest of us who had to keep struggling. Many people went to offer their condolences to the family, while Gap, Sherry, Namkhing, and I walked to the grave with P’Jane following behind. We al knelt on the green grass. Namkhing, as our representative, placed a beautiful bouquet on the fresh mound, her voice cracking.

“I don’t know if you’ll like these flowers, Putt, but we all wanted to give them to you. Rest well, dear friend.” Sherry leaned against Gap and wailed. Gap patted her shoulder like a robot; he didn’t say a word. I hugged Namkhing from behind, my eyes blankly staring at the headstone. Mr. Andrew Puttiwong Saetasuk Passed away: June 13, 2021 Born in Christ: March 21, 2001

Age: 20 years

“I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” (Psalm 23: 6) We were friends for years, Putt, but I never knew you were a Christian or that you had a saint’s name like Andrew. I didn’t know so much about you… and just as I started to find out, you went to the God you love.

“Shall we go?” P’Jane’s deep voice whispered in my ear. He pulled my hand to help me up. I don’t remember how I got to the car, or if I even said goodbye to my friends. The next thing I knew, I was in the car on the way back to the condo. ‘I love you… really… ‘ ‘I’m sorry… ‘ ‘Stay… away… from P’Jane. I.’ Putt’s final words before he became a lifeless body haunted my head. As I was spiraling, P’Jane’s phone rang. Since he was driving, he took it via Bluetooth. The caller’s voice filled the car.

[Hello? Is this Jane Patrick?]

“Yes. You can call me P’Jane. I’m very approachable,” he said, his voice sounding like a demon tempting a virgin into a trap. I whipped my head to look at him. Even at a time like this?

[Yes, P’Jane. I’m… my name is Per. I’ll speak English, my Thai isn’t great. I want to ask you a favor, but l do not know if you can do it for me or not. Maybe it is too rough. ]

“Well… ” P’Jane smirked.

“Try me. Most of the time, I can do every favor.”

[Yes. I want-] P’Jane whipped his head to look at me as I reached out and hit the “End Call” button on the screen.

I spoke immediately, my voice sharp and full of emotion.

“Enough! I don’t want to hear anyone asking you for favors right now!” P’Jane didn’t say a word until we reached the condo. He didn’t answer the calls from the guy named Per, even though the phone rang repeatedly. Once we were inside, I washed my hands and feet and sat on the bed. P’Jane followed ten minutes later, loosening his tie. He asked softly: “Want something cold to drink? I’ll get it for you.” I didn’t say a word. I just stared at him. He stared back. In the silence, only our eyes were locked, conveying a wordless message. Finally, I couldn’t take it and exploded.

“I can’t take it anymore!”

“Jane, calm down. Sit down first.”

“No! I won’t calm down and I won’t sit! I can’t take it anymore! Do you hear me?! I can’t take it!” I screamed, clutching my head, thrashing on the floor, and frantically tearing the duvet and sheets off the bed. I let out a series of screams, venting my emotions until P’Jane came and pulled me into a hug. He was shocked. I was like a car whose brakes had failed, driven to madness.

“What is it, Jane? Calm down. Talk to me!”

“I can’t stand it! I don’t want to be a witness to your dark life! Why do I have to know all this? I know what this world is like now, but do I have to be part of it? I’m done! I’m done!”

“I’ve already adjusted! I’ve adjusted as much as I possibly can for you! What more do you want? Do you want me to quit?!”

“And can’t you? You have everything. You’re so rich you couldn’t spend it all in this lifetime. Why do you have to do this? What are you trying to conquer the world for?”

“Jesus, Jane! Calm down! What’s wrong with you?!” I pushed him away and screamed the question that had been stuck in my heart.

“You killed Putt, didn’t you?!”

“What!?” I rushed at him, pounding his chest, crying hysterically.

“You killed Putt! You staged that crash, didn’t you? Or you messed with his engine? Cut his brake lines? Tell me the truth!”

“Jane! Listen!” He grabbed me and shook me, looking deep into my eyes.

“Putt crashed head-on into a truck on his way to class. He always drove too fast. It was an accident. I had nothing todo with it! The truck driver and his boss even came to the funeral to apologize to Putt’s parents. You saw them!”

“I don’t believe you weren’t involved! Liar!”

“Fuck! I swear I have nothing to do with his death!”

“How can I believe you? You’ve lied and kept things from me so many times! You never tell the whole truth!”

“This time, I’m telling the truth. Can you believe me just one more time?” I shook my head, tears streaming down. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe him so badly. But everything was too much. Even today, as we buried Putt, he was still working, offering ‘favors’ to tempt others without stopping, without empathy. He’s cold-blooded. I couldn’t endure it anymore. I had to stop lying to myself. Putt’s death was the final straw. ‘Stay away from P’Jane… ‘ Putt’s voice echoed in my brain. That final image was burned into my mind.

“You knew Putt said he’d help me run away from you, so you killed him!””… ”

“Stop acting like you don’t know what’s going on!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“I’m not acting! I didn’t know a thing about that!”

” You said… if anyone tried to take me from you… you’d kill them!” He went silent, cornered by his own words.

“You’ve sent people to jail, you’ve blackmailed people, you’ve helped a killer dispose of a body. How can I possibly believe you didn’t stage Putt’s death?!”

“That’s a completely different matter! Jane, what is wrong with you?!” he shouted, the veins in his neck bulging as he shook me. I sniffled. When someone has lied and been suspicious for so long, even when they speak the truth, it’s hard for anyone to believe them-even if they have an innocent or genuinely confused look on their face like he did now. From the second I heard Putt had crashed, the first and only person who appeared in my mind was him. And anyone who knew who he was and what he did would think the same thing.

“Do you admit you have the potential to kill someone?”

“I admit I might have that potential. But I didn’t kill Putt.”

“There! You revealed the truth!”

“Fuck! I said I didn’t do it! Trust me, if I did it, I would take the credit for sure!”

“You son of a bitch! You’re a fucking psychopath!”

“Do not speak to me like that!” We screamed and clashed so loudly I’m sure the neighbors could hear, but no one dared knock. Finally, I let out the loudest scream of my life, drowning out P’Jane’s voice.

“I don’t belong here! I don’t want to be here anymore!”

“But you have to stay!”

“Why should I stay?!” I beat his chest, tears flooding my face.

“I don’t belong here! And you don’t love me! You’ve already had my body. You’ve had it countless times-aren’t you bored yet? I don’t love you either! Let’s just end this. Let me go!” He grabbed my arms with force and stared into my eyes.

“I don’t care if you don’t love me. You have to stay with me! We made a contract! Rules are rules.”

“I’ll find the 1. 2 million to pay you back!”

“I don’t want the money! You have to stay with me. You can’t go anywhere, understand?!”

“No! Aaa… ” He shoved my arms away. I slumped to the floor, sobbing, as P’Jane turned his back to me. The tall figure walked over and punched the wall with a loud thud, swearing.

“Damn it!”

“You’re the man who can grant any favor, right… ?” P’Jane turned to look at me as I lay weak and sobbing on the floor. My voice was quieter than a whisper, but he heard every word. He stood still as if frozen. I thought I saw tears welling in his eyes, but I didn’t know why he would cry. What would a heartless man like him have to be sad about? I wiped my tears and looked up.

“In that case, I have one more favor to ask.””… ”

“Please… just disappear, Jane Patrick.” “… ”

“Just disappear… give me my life back.” “… ”

“Give me my old life back!”