A Thai Encounter

Walking down the streets of New York was young Thomas of Manhattan: green top hat on his head, red flowers in hand. Walking with a purpose, he redirected himself to the local bus stop just a few blocks from his abode. 

He was tired: drained of his words and hollow due to lack of sleep. His nights spent fantasizing about a distant world where he felt understood and where he himself could truly understand others. People themselves had always had a mysterious side that Thomas never seemed to fully understand, but he was hoping that today he could at least get to know one. 

Once reaching the stop, he sat down on the far right side of the bench, careful to not make confrontation with the older man and woman sitting all the way to the left. He looked down at his flowers, and immediately began to doubt his abilities that he would be able to settle this heap. Noticing a small brown petal looming amongst the others was enough to drain all the hope from his body that she would now accept these.  

He glanced across the street at the Thai place just in his line of vision. 

“I’ll take the Miso soup please.”

They had always loved that Thai place, especially her.

“Let’s go to the Thai place on 19th tomorrow.”

Sat at the corner booth, they’d spent countless hours talking about everything and nothing, the ups and downs, the ins and outs. 

“I went to the supermarket just yesterday and noticed that they didn’t have sourdough.”

“Weird.”

They would stuff their faces with delicious Thai food until their bloated stomachs couldn’t take it any longer, and fill their ears with tunes from the speaker coming from the ceiling above.  

Sat at that same corner booth that they would soon call their own, Thomas first laid eyes on her. In a room full of regulars, she seemed to stand out: long brown hair reaching just above her hips, a presence reaching the tops of the sky, and the most hazel green eyes he had ever seen. She seemed to have been arguing with the cashier, a damsel in distress if he really did see one. 

Without thinking, Thomas got up and took charge of the situation.

“I’m sorry, is there a problem here?”

Ah yes, the classic knight in shining armor ready to save the princess. Is this truly what Thomas wanted to make of himself? A corny first impression to impress this random girl? 

“No thanks, we’re good over here,” said the woman. 

“Her card is getting declined, and she’s refusing to leave her food!” exclaimed the clerk. 

Something came over Thomas that day, because without thinking once again, Thomas pulled out his own card and with one swift swipe, her meal was paid for. He glanced to his side and saw that the woman was now staring him down, a look of pure awe on her face. He then felt a sharp pain glide across his face, and a hand make contact with his left cheek. 

“How dare you,” she said, and just like that, took off.

The streets of New York were cold that winter night, leaving Thomas with no choice but to ditch his coat and hope that he could catch her in time. 

The air was thin, and all Thomas could see were small fragments of white crystals falling onto the sidewalk, blinding his view from the task at hand. The specs of sleet penetrated each line of view, blinding poor Thomas of Manhattan as they took home on his eyelashes. The icy road caused for a difficult pursuit, as he slipped and slid in every direction whilst frantically searching for his damsel in distress. 

After maybe kilometers, gosh, miles even, he spotted the back of her bright red winter coat: Thai bag in hand, and each strand of her hair perfectly in place down her hood. He called out to her, his words howling through the wind as they blew themselves towards her. 

The dark New York sky acted as a blanket for the two of them, possessing them in its grasp, holding them while blocking out the commotion of the city around them. Enabling the beginning of a Thai encountered love story. 

“What do you want?” she yelled from a few yards away. 

“I just wanted to buy you dinner. Will you sit with me?” he pleaded.

That night, one would have spotted a small Thomas of Manhattan with a beautiful woman talking through all hours of the night, feasting on a delicious Thai dinner. Sat at the small corner booth, discussing the courses of their lives along with their past, present, and future. 

Thomas’s attention returned to the Thai place in the present, shut down and no longer in business. Just like them. He guesses that they were the ones who must have kept the business running, for having been there so often. He turned his head to admire the older couple sitting just across from him on the stop bench. The woman’s head rested on the man's shoulder, and their fingers intertwined with each other. 

He’d fantasized about growing old with her: getting married, having kids, the whole shebang. She might have been there with him sitting on this very bench, having there been different circumstances to their lives. 

As Thomas fantasized about how things could have been different, one of his roses broke off of its stem and wilted onto the ground. He watched as it rolled off of the sidewalk and onto the road, until a car finally drove by and over the flower. Thomas stared at the squashed flower, much symbolizing the current state of his heart at the moment. 

“Get a crash cart!” 

How his heart has rolled out of his chest onto the ground. 

“1..2..3.. Clear!”

Now coated in dirt and soot, never to be the same again. 

“Time of death, 4:32 am.”

He placed his heart back into the hole in his chest, feeling a terrible ache from all the grime.

In the distance, he made visible the outline of a massive blue and white bus heading his way. The pit in his stomach told him to turn back, as something inside of him told him that he didn’t want to face her after all these silent weeks. No. He gathered up his flowers along with his courage and stood up to wait for the bus.

He soon found himself standing in front of a massive vehicle as the doors opened directly in front of him. Cypress Hills Cemetery read the words above the door.  

“Good luck, son,” Thomas turned to his left and noticed the older man on the bench watching him. He climbed onto the bus, and once sat, he couldn’t help but notice that the woman next to the man was gone. 

60 years later

Walking down the streets of New York was old Thomas of Manhattan: green top hat on his head, hand in hand. Walking with a purpose, he redirected himself to the local bus stop just a few blocks from his abode. 

He was happy: he had lived a fulfilled life up until this point and was walking alongside the woman that he loved. Although people were no longer a mystery to him, he felt as though he was misunderstood in the eyes of others, starting from the point in which he lost her. 

Once reaching the stop, they sat down on the far left side of the bench, careful to not make confrontation with the younger man sitting all the way to the right. Thomas looked down at the hand in his, and marveled at the fact that they were now reunited. Walking alongside her he felt complete, after so many years of feeling half-empty he finally felt full. 

He glanced across the street at the now Chinese place where they once had their Thai encounter, and thought back to an event that took place just yesterday. It was the reopening of the restaurant after having been closed down for several decades, and Thomas knew he had to be there for her. He had imagined that they would have been there together, but the circumstances of their lives had prevented that. Slowly but surely, he dragged himself, along with his walker, up to the front door, and stepped inside. 

That familiar ring of the bell was enough to bring back each memory that came along with this place: the homey smell of pad thai noodles, the ambient music coming from the speaker in the ceiling, and of course, the corner booth. He could still imagine the imprint of their bodies from having sat there so often, the feeling of the seat being molded to fit them perfectly. The smell of the noodles filling his nostrils reminded him of all the good times they had. 

Except, it was different. 

In place of the corner booth was a simple round table, occupied by a family of five. 

In place of the speakers was a live band. 

In place of the scent of pad thai was the scent of egg rolls (not a nice smell). 

The sight stunned poor old Thomas, causing him to stumble, catching himself with his walker. Carefully, he walked up to the register. 

“Table for one, please,” he asked, as the hostess grabbed her menus and led him to a singular table all the way on the other side of the corner booth.

He felt so close yet so far away from her, as if her memory had been left where the corner booth lay. He knew that he could never feel close to her without it, yet there was no longer a way of getting to her. 

He decided that ruminating on this wasn’t going to do him any good, so he decided to glance at the menu instead. The Thai place never required him to glance at the menu because he knew it like the back of his hand. He always started with the grilled pork, marinated pork Thai style, he then went on to the red curry with mixed veggies and beef, and finished off with a side of miso soup. 

Nothing on this menu seemed to draw his attention, and simply the thought of all the changes made to this place was overwhelming enough to cause him to leave. He got up, and grabbed his walker. 

They say that love isn’t something you find but rather something that finds you, and old Thomas of Manhattan believes that love found him that very day. He was found as soon as he began to feel a sharp pain in his chest, or when he collapsed to the ground. Clutching his chest, he reached for his walker as an audience started to emerge, crowding around poor Thomas as he struggled to find air. He was found when the air in his lungs became too little to sustain a man, and when the hand grasping his walker became slightly limp. His eyelids started to become heavy, and everything around him seemed slightly brighter.

Coming back to the present, old Thomas held onto his love as he watched young Thomas make his way onto the bus. Cypress Hills Cemetery read the words just over the door into which he was entering. 

“Good luck, son,” he exclaimed, and as the bus drove farther and farther, Thomas only held on tighter and tighter.