Bangkok Haunts

he said almost inadvertently one day repeats itself over and over in my mind:
When you tear away the last veil, you know with certainty that love is the foundation of human consciousness, that there really is nothing else. It’s our constant betrayal of it that makes us crazy.
Hard to live by, but I guess you have to try.
    There’s one other little thing I ought to mention. Damrong came to me a few nights ago, and I found no strength to resist her; but in the dream (it is comforting to call it that) a figure in saffron robes, with a machine gun slung over his shoulder, held up a Buddha hand of peace, and she disappeared. When I awoke with a jolt, Chanya was sleeping peacefully beside me.
    It’s Vikorn, of all people, who keeps reminding me that I have a loving pregnant wife waiting for me at home. Who would have guessed that he was capable of worrying about my mental health?
    But what of the FBI, whose sudden passion was quite eclipsed by events? Seduced, in my turn, by the sickly temptation of do-goodery, I took her last night to Don Juan’s, because I knew Lek was rehearsing there for a
katoey
cabaret they were planning. I sneaked her in surreptitiously and had her sit with me at the back of the bar while Lek and his chums laughed, screamed, ad-libbed, and made wicked jokes about how Pi-Lek would soon go under the knife. I took Kimberley’s hand by way of comforting her, but she removed hers very quickly. I thought she was angry because I was showing her just how perfectly Lek fitted into his
katoey
world, and how impenetrable that world was even for me, let alone a female
farang.
Wrong.
    Afterward, sipping drinks at a bar in Pat Pong, she said, “That was sweet of you, in a way, Sonchai, but you’re behind the curve. A week has passed, and I’ve grown up. I know that different cultures produce very different human beings. Americans find that hard because the empire that dare not speak its name doesn’t like us to know there are alternative cultures on earth—but I’m not stupid. I know he can’t love me. Hell, maybe he
is
a spirit in human form. I also know that if I deny love one more time, I’ll turn into just another drone with no life outside of work. That’s a trap in the States, especially for a single woman over thirty-five. Bizarre it may be, incompatible we may be, but I have to see this through. We’ve done a deal. There’s no way he’ll be able to remain a cop after his operation, and I can’t stand the thought of him selling his body in a bar on Soi Four. I’m going to be like one of those lovelorn white men—I’m going to send money every month from the States to keep him off the Game, and he’s going to come visit me from time to time, except he’ll be a
she
then, of course. It finally dawned on me that money is something I have that he needs. And guess what, I made him laugh the other day—so some communication is possible between alien species, right? I think we’re going to be good friends. Don’t underestimate the glamour of my country—he can’t wait to see Hollywood and the Grand Canyon. If you want to be useful, keep an eye on him and send me reports.” She smiled.
    Well, that’s it,
farang,
save for one loose end: I never did find out who sent me the Damrong DVD.
    I am yours in Dharma, Sonchai Jitpleecheep.

Appendix
    Erotica Inc.—A Special Report:
    Technology Sent Wall Street into Market for Pornography
    By Timothy Egan
(The New York Times),
4297 words
    Published: October 23, 2000
    Correction Appended
    The video-store chain that Larry W. Peterman owned in this valley of wide streets and ubiquitous churches carried the kind of rentals found anywhere in the country—from Disney classics to films about the sexual adventures of nurses. Mr. Peterman built a thriving business until he was charged last year with selling obscene material and faced the prospect of bankruptcy and jail.
    Just before the trial, Mr. Peterman’s lawyer, Randy Spencer, came up with an idea while looking out the window of the courtroom at the Provo Marriott. He sent an investigator to the hotel to record all the sex films that a guest could obtain through the hotel’s pay-per-view channels. He then obtained records on how much erotic fare people here were buying from their cable and satellite television providers.
    As it turned out, people in Utah County, a place that often boasts of being the most conservative area in the nation, were disproportionately large consumers of the very videos