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It’s easy enough to ignore, at first: all the smiles Pran directs at the phone he precariously hides below the table; the laughter echoing through the house while he’s on a call even when he tries to be quiet; the scarce visits that grow rarer and rarer as the months go by.
It’s all helped by the fact Pran always has a perfectly reasonable explanation: Wai had texted him something funny; a friend was calling him for help; he had important tests coming up, study sessions he couldn’t miss. Dissaya would always smile and tell him she was proud of his hard work and that she understood, but a part of her mourned her son’s recoil.
She tried to tell herself it was normal, something all parents had to deal with as their kids grew into adults. For a while, she was almost convinced.
Her deception didn’t last long, though.
The more attention she devoted to Pran during his visits or their calls, the more she realized how little he revealed to her. He would answer her questions, tell her about his day, be perfectly polite, but never share anything meaningful.
There were no more complaints about his perfectionist side driving him mad. He no longer brought up his plans for the future or even the weekend. No fears were confided or hopes shared. The divide was crystal clear in Dissaya’s mind, her entire relationship with her son forever changed after the truth about Pran and Pat’s relationship came to light.
So, she resorted to watching – every time Pran came home, every time he called – to try and steal bits and pieces of information that could paint the canvas of who her son was now that he kept her at bay.
Soon enough, the evidence of Pat’s continued presence in Pran’s life became too loud for her to ignore.
Pran would whisper into the phone, “See you soon” and a grin would tug at his lips. Dissaya would walk by his room and hear a “Drive safe” in the distance, filled with so much warmth that it startled her. “Miss you” was repeated constantly, month after month, with devotion glimmering up in Pran’s eyes every time.
The days when Pran was stressed and overworked, face buried in his computer for long hours as he worked on his projects, she would notice a post-it note attached to his notebooks or pencil cases that never failed to make him smile. Those days, she would overhear Pran whispering a heartfelt “Thank you” into his phone, affection and gratitude dripping from his tone.
He would show up to the house in oversized hoodies that were not his and without the shirts he used to wear all the time – with no explanation of how he acquired the first or how he lost the second.
She never dared asking him about it, some part of her aware, however distantly, that any right to question had been lost long ago. Dissaya was trapped between the grudge that had been her sole companion for decades and the desperate urge to bridge the growing gap between her and Pran.
Her son was happy.
Against every fear she had harbored in her heart and all the anger she still held on to, Pran was blooming, alongside that boy.
She still didn’t think he could be trusted – how could anyone raised by Ming be?
Yet, life kept throwing her way constant reminders of how radiant Pran had become by Pat’s side. It was an endless battle of conflicting facts inside Dissaya’s mind, and she was becoming rather tired of it all.
Part of her still believed the other shoe would drop, that Pat would show himself to be Ming’s perfect mirror: selfish, treacherous, unreliable.
When Pran came to them with the news he would leave for an internship in Singapore once he graduated, Dissaya felt dread creeping up inside her heart for a lot more than just the distance.
That had to be it. That must be the moment Pat’s façade would break to reveal his true colors. He wouldn’t want to let Pran go after years of playing their cat and mouse game, after all the lying and scheming they had pulled to be together.
She supported Pran’s decision, helped him pack, bought him extra clothes, and told him he could call home anytime – all while she quietly waited for the dam to break.
Dissaya was surprised to find herself sorrowful. As little as she trusted Pat, she couldn’t bring herself to wish for Pran to suffer just so her point would be proven.
A mother’s heart never wishes to see her kid in pain, but it can certainly tell when it’s coming, right?
A mother always knows best.
Except she didn’t.
Dissaya was redundantly and completely wrong.
Pran remained confident and content in his choice, no sadness creeping into his smiles. The post-its kept coming up in the months before his travel, just like the texts and the calls and the giggles.
When Dissaya asked when they should pick him up to drive to the airport together, Pran told them not to worry because Wai would drive him, and his smile strained with a tiredness a boy so young shouldn’t have to carry.
And that’s when Dissaya realized.
There would be no Wai driving him to his flight, just Pat, who hadn’t tried to stop him, who was in fact the only person Pran wished to see during his last moments in the country.
Pran had made his choice, however discreet it had been, and that choice was Pat.
Even then, with the weight of that realization hanging between them, Dissaya did nothing.
Months turned into years, and by the time Pran came home permanently, he didn’t take his belongings back to his parents’ house but to what he described as an apartment downtown.
It was closer to the job he had fetched, he claimed, but made no mention of inviting his parents over to visit his new home.
It was yet another stance where Pran had silently made his decision clear.
He loved his family; loved Dissaya; but, as long as they refused to acknowledge who Pat was to him, there would forever be a limit to how much they were allowed to know and take part in.
The knowledge she had been cut out of her son’s new home – the place in which he would find the comfort he could no longer seek in her presence – broke whatever was left of her resolve.
“We’d love to see your new place, Pran.” She carefully brought it up on a Sunday afternoon. They had been watching TV together after lunch, and her husband’s eyes had been kind when he smiled at her in support.
They had talked about the elephant in the room many times over the years and had even recently agreed that it was about time something was done about it. Forever willing to make her happy, he had even offered to be the one bridging the gap and waving the white flag, but Dissaya had declined.
It had to be her.
Pran had swallowed dryly, wiggling his hands on his lap. “It’s still a mess right now.” He started carefully.
“Then we can clean it up together.” Dissaya had countered.
“It’s just… Well…” Pran struggled with his words, and her husband tilted his head at her, urging Dissaya to continue.
She did. “You have to ask Pat first?”
Pran’s eyes bulged out in shock, his whole body growing stiff. He looked ready to put up a fight if needed. The sight pained her deeply.
Dissaya quickly added, “It’s okay. We can wait. Just let us know what you decide, okay?“
She brushed a hand against the hair strands falling over Pran’s eyes as he nodded, still silent and astonished.
He pressed his head against her shoulder as they rested together on the couch, both of their eyes glued to the screen.
It was not the end, she knew. There was still so much she needed to learn about Pran – so much she had lost and perhaps even more she couldn’t get back – but it was a start.
A week later, Pran came to her and said they would be happy to have her and his dad over for dinner the next weekend.
Dissaya brought them dessert and willed herself to leave behind the image of Pat she had built up in her head to make room for who he had grown up to become.
She was perfectly aware a night spent together after years of indifference and hostility couldn’t undo all the harm she had done, but Pat’s behavior throughout the entire dinner almost had her convinced otherwise.
The man – she had needed to keep reminding herself he was no longer a boy – was kind and welcoming every step of the way: offering them more food, showing them around his home, talking about the common friends he and Pran shared.
When Pran forgot some detail halfway through a story, Pat was quick to fill in the gaps. His laugh was loud and startling, but it sent Pran grinning and blushing like a schoolboy every time it rang through the house – even though Dissaya suspected Pat’s laugh was no strange occurrence in that apartment. His hand was clasped firmly around Pran’s through the whole night, unwavering in its quiet support.
Dissaya couldn’t say she had learned everything about Pat when the night ended, and yet she had left her son’s home feeling like she knew all she needed to.
Pat could look after Pran better than anyone else – even better than Dissaya herself had in the last couple of years.
She would spend the rest of her days trying to fix what she had broken, but she was beyond happy to realize her son had remained whole through it all.
And the reason for that was the boy who no longer lived next door.