Ba

A girl needs something she can hold on to

A kayak paddle or a man like you

Either one of them things would do...

-adapted, Ray LaMontagne, "Joelene"

I am woken by the gray light of dawn and Lahk standing beside the bed, cooing. I sit up quickly, comment on the light and say, "I need to get going."

"No, no, you stay, I make breakfast," Lahk insists, out the door before I can protest. I get up, take the Big Knife from under the mattress and return it to my dry sack. Then I pull out my camera and take a stroll around the grounds to stretch my legs. After two pictures, my camera's full; obviously not the 4 GB's I was promised when I bought it. Indonesia wins again. 

I am sitting at the table trying to sort through my pictures so I'll have enough free space for the remainder of my trip, when Lahk arrives carrying a meticulously arrayed teak serving tray laden with tea. 

"I will bring toast soon," he says as he places the tray on the table.

"Thank you, but I can't eat bread," I say, carefully selecting a tea bag from a plush lined tea box. He looks at me like I just fell out of a tree.

"Pancake?" He asks, worriedly. 

"Maybe, what kind of flour?" 

He shakes his head, he doesn't know. I follow him back to the gazebo but the bag of flour is not marked so I take a pass on pancakes as well. He hands me a box of Cornflakes which, fortunately have the ingredients in English as well as Thai and I tell him I can't eat those either.

"Barley," I say as I hand them back to him.

"I can't take care of you!" he practically wails in a fit of genuine distress.

I laugh, I can't help it. "Don't feel bad. I can't eat a lot of grains, allergy, it's not your fault. I'm a nightmare to try and feed. Do you have any fruit?"

At this his face lights up and he produces a pineapple. Pineapple tops the list of my least favourite fruits but I don't dare tell him that for fear it might break him. He sets up a juicer, cuts off the spiky peel and liquifies the sunny innards. He pours it into a tall glass with the flourish of a bartender before handing it to me with so much pride I almost think he invented it. 

"What about eggs?" he asks.

"Eggs are fine," I shrug agreeably, taking a tiny sip of my juice. It's fantastic. I return to the table intending to savour it while watching the tide inch towards shore but I can't resist. In the five minutes it takes for Lahk to fry an egg and serve it to me on a white plate with genuine silverware, I've gulped it down.

When he returns with his own breakfast and settles in beside me he says, "I am sorry about last night, yes?"

"It's okay, you were drunk," I answer distractedly, trying to calculate how much time I have to make it back to Coconut Corner and still catch the ferry back to Phuket.

"You don't like eggs," he says worriedly, watching me force down the last bite of runny yolk.

"Oh no, I like eggs just fine," I smile.

His eyes grow bigger. "You don't like my egg!" How does he do it? You could vomit on most men's shoes and they wouldn't think to ask if anything was wrong, but him? It's like he can read minds.

"No, no, no," I protest. "Your egg was great. I prefer my eggs scrambled or in an omelet that's all, but this was fine, great, I really enjoyed it. Honest. Don't worry."

But he pushes away from the table, his own eggs barely touched, and stands up saying, "I'll be right back." He crosses the yard, hops on his motorbike and drives away leaving me somewhat bewildered.

The sun has firmly planted itself in the sky now, the air growing thick with heat, so I get up to start loading the kayak. Having delivered my dry sack and bamboo mat beside the boat, I turn back to do a final sweep to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. I am almost to the fire pit when I stop mid limp. Something isn't right. I run through a mental checklist and am about to shake it off when it hits me. Ignoring the searing pain in my inflame foot, I run back to the kayak and curse when I reach it. My paddle is nowhere to be found.

Certain that Lahk hid it the night before I try not to panic but when he returns with more eggs and the gardener, who's carrying a giant box of pastry so fresh they're still steaming, he looks genuinely baffled. He follows me down to the kayak to see for himself.

We both stare at the gear littered ground around the kayak for a moment before we look at each other and say in unison, "The tide." We walk a few more feet to the water's edge and scan the sea but the paddle is gone.

"I will drive you there after breakfast," Lahk says, placing his hand on my elbow and steering me back to the table. 

He makes me a glass of dragon fruit juice which I drink, staring disconsolately out to sea. He soon returns with a giant omelet and we eat a second breakfast. The gardener tells Lahk that he would like me to teach him English but they end up teaching me Thai instead.

"Ba," he says pointing his pastry at me.

"Ba," I repeat dutifully. "What does that mean?"

Lahk translates for me, "This is the Thai word for crazy."