Aksorn's heart was pounding erratically. Sitting in this record store this time was not like every other time. The grandfatherly store owner was still brewing tea for him to drink and sitting together at the table with the music playing from the record player. The same machine, the same records. Only this time, they weren't making small talk about miscellaneous things. For since he saw that the store had reopened as normal, Aksorn had hardly prepared his mind to receive any truth at all.
He only knew he had nothing left to lose. So the stakes of this gamble were exchanged with everything he had.
“Hmm...” The grandfather made that sound for a good while after Aksorn, having mentioned the reason for his visit in a truncated manner, leaving only the necessary parts, finally showed him Picker's email.
The wrinkles on his face shifted and moved, signals that made the person waiting uncomfortable. Aksorn held the teacup so tightly the heat began to fade. The steam from the tea became a mass of air.
“I used to run a publishing house...” The hoarse, faint voice finally sounded.
"Pardon?"
“A long time ago, I had my own publishing house. And this email was indeed used at my publishing house.” He placed the paper on the table, his hands clasped together calmly while his gaze drifted distractedly towards the figure of a new customer standing and browsing records to kill time inside the store.
Aksorn followed his gaze. That young man had come with him and was waiting for him to finish talking with the grandfatherly store owner.
“You can pick a record and go play it on that machine, you know,” the grandfather called out before pointing to the capable record player. The figure, who had been standing quietly for a while, turned to look at both of them, then gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, slowly running his hand over the records to search for a song for a rainy Friday afternoon.
Aksorn averted his gaze from Khiao as the old man in front of him lifted his tea for a sip before looking at him with a puzzled expression.
“It’s strange that you are looking for someone from a publishing house that closed down years ago.”
“So, you really know the person who used this email, right?” Aksorn asked with wide eyes, feeling both happy and burdened at the same time as the other party gave a weary nod.
“Her name is Napha. She used to be an editor for my publishing house. But we haven’t been in contact at all since the publishing house closed down.” A certain sadness in his eyes, expressed more clearly than anything else Aksorn could perceive from this person.
"Are you alright, sir?”
“Hmm...” The old man closed his eyes, perhaps hoping the recollection would fade. “I’m just startled that I suddenly have to talk about that place. Even though there are good memories, thinking about the reason we had to close the publishing house makes my heart ache.”
Aksorn fell silent, waiting for an answer without pressing, which the old man then decided for himself what he could tell him.
“I feel guilty towards both Napha and the other staff, you know. But for me to endure staying with everything we built together without her... it was rather too painful for me.”
"Your wife...”
“Yes, my wife. After she died, I didn’t want to continue. I fled here, not daring to meet anyone again.” That forced smile was so bitter. Aksorn knew only that he felt sympathy.
Sympathy for the grandfather who had to endure swallowing his grief alone for so long.
Sympathy for the grandfather’s wife who must be watching worriedly from somewhere.
And sympathy for the others who didn’t even get to hear their boss’s reasons.
“I’m sorry you had to listen to the failures of an old man.” The words were mixed with a laugh, as if they had been well-filtered by the record store owner, intending to bury the stories and keep them that way.
“It’s really no trouble, sir.”
"I only know that Napha moved to a house upcountry. I might be able to help you somewhat.” The grandfather picked up a pen and wrote down a rough address, as much as an old man’s memory could recall.
“That helps a great deal, sir. I’ll try to go find her at this address.” The junior sat looking at the paper handed to him, breathing more easily as if he had finally put down a certain burden. Waiting for the grandfather all these days had been very worth it already...
“But I don’t know if it’s still her using that email now. Because it’s been so very long.”
Aksorn nodded, having prepared his mind to accept considerable disappointment already. He knew only that he must continue searching.
“Before this, your store...” the junior hesitantly asked, not knowing if it was appropriate as it seemed personal, but part of him was quite worried about the gentleman.
“I went to visit a friend upcountry. Closed for many days, right?” The old man laughed a hoarse laugh, pouring tea for himself with eyes that looked somewhat brighter now.
“That’s good then, sir. I thought you were unwell.”
“Me? I’m stronger than that young man over there.” The grandfather gestured with his chin towards the figure who was placing a finger on the currently playing record to take it out and put it in its sleeve, before gently placing the record he had chosen himself.
The suddenly changed melody drew smiles from both listeners. Aksorn didn’t know enough about music to tell whose song that was, even as the young man came to sit at the table and lifted the cup of tea, now cold, that the grandfather had poured for him earlier, and took a sip.
"Belle and Sebastian, right?” the store owner said first. Khiao nodded calmly, tapping his fingers on the armrest in rhythm to the music.
“Yes. ‘The Boy with the Arab Strap,’” the young man said. Aksorn didn’t quite understand what they were talking about, so he could only remain silent until the old man turned to him again.
“But why are you looking for Napha?”
The junior fell silent, listening to the sound of the pouring rain mixed with the music, which made falling into a trance happen easily.
For a long while, no one pressed him, but Aksorn chose to speak anyway.
“There is a certain necessity for me to talk to her, sir.”
“Is it important enough to search until you find her?”
“Yes, sir. It's that important.” The junior replied with a firm voice. However, when he turned to look beside him, the person who came with him was paying more attention to the music than his words, which made Aksorn feel relieved.
“The email Khun Napha used was used to upload a novel. I want to know who wrote it, sir.”
“A novel...” The old man nodded, but then frowned, concentrating thoughtfully upon hearing the junior’s question.
“Have you heard of the pen name Picker, sir?”
"Hmm.. That, well, that’s the pen name Napha used when she was an editor at my publishing house.”
Aksorn was growing confident that it was indeed her. Hope revealed itself, letting him feel somewhat relieved. So he decided to risk mentioning that novel.
“And do you know the novel ‘Aksorn in Memory,’ sir?”
Just in case, perhaps the grandfather who was the publishing house owner had heard of it.
The honey-colored eyes narrowed thoughtfully before finally shaking his head in response. “Doesn’t seem like I’ve heard of it. At this age, my memory is getting muddled. Sorry about that.”
“It’s really no trouble at all, sir. I’m the one who should apologize for disturbing you like this.”
They smiled at each other. At that moment, the store owner was staring at him with a strange look. “If you find Napha, could you apologize to her for me...”
To repay the gentleman, Aksorn could certainly fulfill the request. More than that, it was the look in the grandfather’s eyes that sincerely conveyed it.
“Yes, sir.”
The rain lightened but showed no sign of stopping soon. No one was in a hurry to leave the store. So spending time chatting and keeping the grandfatherly store owner company continued.
“May I use the restroom, please?” Aksorn asked for permission. The tea and the cool air during the rain were getting to him now. The other party gave a kind smile.
"Go ahead."
When the junior’s figure disappeared, the person who had been drinking in the music all along opened his eyes. His eyes revealed a certain feeling layered over a hard attempt to conceal it.
“Another cup of tea?”
“No, thank you.”
“That young man never brings anyone here.”
Khiao knew who the old man meant. He could only remain silent while turning to meet the gaze of the other who was already looking at him.
“You can tell he’s not versed in records.”
“Does he come here often, sir?”
“Quite often.”
The young man fell silent, letting the conversation hang for a moment, until the grandfather’s words called him out of his trance.
“He’s the type who imprisons someone in a song.”
"Him, sir?"
“Both him, and you.”
"You too,” Khiao replied flatly, easily drawing an amused smile from the elderly man.
“It’s not strange at all, young man. Everyone does it.”
“Do they, sir?” The young man smiled faintly, casting his gaze towards the shop door where the rain was drizzling, until Aksorn walked back and sat down at the table again. The rain had stopped.
“Thank you very much,” the junior said, raising his hands in a wai to the grandfatherly store owner, before turning to the tall figure sitting in the same spot. “Let’s go, Phîi.”
“Hmm.” Khiao nodded, bowed to the old man, then led the way out of the store, leaving Aksorn to quickly turn back to the grandfather and whisper in a faint, airy voice.
“I’d like to buy that record, sir. But could I leave it here for now? I’ll come get it tomorrow.” He pointed to the record that was currently playing the song. The one Khiao had chosen.
“Sure.”
“Here’s the money.” As he fumbled for the money, he had to glance periodically at the tall figure waiting outside the store. It wasn’t to steal the other’s music taste, but someday in the future, he wanted it to be a gift to repay the help Khiao always gave him.
“Is it this young man?” the grandfather asked first, making him startle. He turned to raise his eyebrows, not quite understanding.
"Sir?"
“The one you imprison in a song.”
“It’s not!” Aksorn’s eyes widened in shock, quickly denying it, to which the other party nodded and laughed in his throat.
“Is that so?”
“Really, sir!” The junior’s expression was serious before he hurriedly walked out of the store as Khiao had turned to look already.
The old man still sat in the same spot, listening to the song that the young man had played while sipping his tea in good spirits. His eyes watched the two young men standing outside his store, talking about something, before walking off together.
“Thought they were on the same page, but not quite,” the hoarse, faint voice sounded afterwards. He didn’t know what those relationships were, but the look in the young man’s eyes, trying to hide his feelings behind a composed demeanor, didn’t close him off [deceive him?] at all.
The two decided to walk to the Phîi’s store because from this record store where they stood, walking just a short distance away would bring them to that bookshop. Even though it wasn’t his intention, Aksorn would probably feel quite regretful if he didn’t use the time after the rain to choose a book to read.
The sound of their two pairs of footsteps walking side by side was a slow, steady rhythm. The air was cold, so they set a goal to brew a cup of coffee to drink as soon as they reached the store. People who had hidden themselves from the raindrops gradually returned to their normal lives. Even though damp, the scene before them now was quite beautiful.
“Which day will you go find the person named Napha?” Khiao suddenly asked midway. Aksorn, who had been scanning the roadside, had to turn his attention back to his companion.
“Next week, after exams are over, Phîi.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“But Khun Napha is in another province, Phîi. It’s quite a long drive.”
“That’s exactly why I can’t let you go alone.” It was that serious expression that made Aksorn unable to refuse. Actually, he felt relieved too that someone was going with him.
Especially this person....
The bright sky revealed soft sunlight shining onto the earth. Aksorn looked up and smiled at the colored line drawn in an arc across the sky. It was a painting that made people marvel in an instant.
"It's so beautiful, Phîi."
Khiao looked up following his gaze. He just realized this junior’s happiness could occur so easily, like seeing a rainbow after the rain. And that smile was brighter than all seven colors.
“Wait just a moment, Phîi.” Aksorn said before taking out his mobile phone to take a picture of the rainbow, smiling satisfied with his own work. “You and I are really not alike, Phîi.”
"Hmm?"
“I’m the type who likes to take pictures when there’s a rainbow. You are the type who stands and looks at the rainbow with your own eyes.” The speaker crossed his arms confidently, until Khiao’s sentence halted everything about that moment.
“But we both know the rainbow will disappear soon.”
We looked at each other openly for the first time. That is, Khiao could perceive the confused look in Aksorn’s eyes, and Aksorn could perceive the sorrowful look in his.
Under this fading rainbow, we did not hide our feelings from each other.
Comments
Post a Comment