Carta Visa Chapter 26

Bold: The characters are speaking in English.

Today's morning at the editorial department was the same as every other day. The fragrant aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, its source, the coffeemaker in the mini kitchen at the far corner of the forty-by-forty meter workroom. Pop music could be heard from the desk adorned with tiny adorable decorations belonging to Mild, the one and only maiden who viewed P’Pun as an obstruction to her love life. The crumpling sound of a newspaper from Meuk’s desk was accompanied by the dismayed mumbling of the desk owner as the football match results once again failed to meet his expectations. Furthermore, the sound of a radio news broadcast could heard emitting from their boss' desk.

As for Punnaphob’s desk… what should have been the profile of its owner, was replaced by a kitty sitting deathly pale in front of the white Mac computer.

“Hey Haru, what’s wrong? Why the worn out expression?” The owner of the desk arrived with a beaming smile and a set of cute dimples.

Haru raised his head to meet his senior's eyes and forced out a smile. “Good morning P’Pun.”

“You don’t look so well.”

Haru looked over at the white BlackBerry phone and pa.s.sed it to its owner who was smiling cheerfully. “Ah, I thought it was lost for good.”

“It was in Haru’s refrigerator.”

Pun’s eyes widened as he laughed abashedly. Normally, Haru would enjoy seeing his senior react like this, but as it happens, his world had been completely shattered last night. There was not a single thing which could alleviate his mood at this point.

“Have you eaten yet?”

The heartbroken kitty shook his head. “I’m not very hungry.”

“Come on… let’s go find something to eat. I have work scheduled at eleven, you’ll be accompanying me.”

Being forced as such, Haru could only comply, sighing inwardly at himself. Except, right then, the sound of the white BlackBerry rang out abruptly (and how very fortunate it was that despite lying in the freezing depths of the refrigerator for several hours, it still hadn't yet died from pneumonia). Peeking slightly, he saw the words ‘Unknown Number’ displayed and immediately knew who the caller was.

But to his surprise, P’Pun unexpectedly disconnected the call, dragging Haru by the arm as they exited the office without any explanation. Furthermore, what was even more curious was that… today, P’Pun had driven a Nissan to work instead of a luxurious BMW.

Oh… so this was P’Pun’s actual car. Haru had been wondering all along how a magazine cameraman like P'Pun–albeit one that accepted freelance work as well–had enough money to purchase an expensive car worth several million baht.

Aside switching from a BMW to a Nissan, Haru also caught sight of an old iPhone which had been released two years ago lying inside. Its appearance was littered with scratch marks evidencing a considerable period of use, thus completely dissimilar to the brand new white BlackBerry.

So it was Sasha… who's been constantly taking care of P’Pun. Perhaps he was starting to get serious about his relations.h.i.+ps for once.

However, the fact that P’Pun had begun to take out and use his own belongings meant that there was definitely some drama brewing, and it was likely related to the absence of the infamous golden retriever.

…

The bowl of pork congee with piping hot eggs released such a fragrant scent that Haru started to feel his appet.i.te returning. Although he was hungry, he was forced to blow each spoonful cool, taking each bite slowly and steadily.

“Haah, haah… Haru doesn’t do well with hot food.”

“Cat’s tongue.” P’Pun smiled and shared one his shrimp har gow with Haru. “I was wondering… why didn’t you decide to study university in j.a.pan?”

“Why does it have to be j.a.pan?” He reversed the question back at P’Pun. “During high school, Haru studied at an international school in Bangkok. Father transferred here for work so Haru had to move with him.”

“Oh, it's no wonder you can speak Thai so fluently.”

“Huu… but Haru was disobedient. Haru hated studying, so taking the entrance exam for j.a.panese universities was a no-go. Not to mention, there was a point when Haru didn’t want to study anymore, so Haru decided to flee overseas and tour Europe, falling in love with the continent and eventually calling to tell father that… if he didn’t send over money for Haru to attend university in Germany, then Haru won't attend university full stop. Of course, father scolded Haru for two weeks straight but ultimately caved in.” Once set on telling his story, the boy spoke lengthily without any sign of stopping.

“You’re quite the feisty one aren’t you?” P’Pun's lips curved as he ate his congee.

“That’s because… Haru is an only child… no matter what Haru does, father doesn't object.”

“And what did you study?”

“Biophysics.”

“Hah?” What’s that? Biophysics… is that something like Biohazard?

“Uhuh.”

“Then how did you end up pursuing photography?”

“It's because Haru was sick and tired of the lab… and besides, it started with the neighbour next-door…”

That day was the first day Haru crawled out of the university’s physics laboratory after permanently setting camp inside for nearly three weeks. His escape from the lab room that sunny Sunday morning was a very solitary and desolate experience when considering the fact that he had to go back to clean his house instead of going out to relax in the park like everyone else.

It turns out, upon cycling back to his apartment, he discovered that the neighbouring house which had been on sale had a new owner already. They were a husband and wife couple with two twin children still sleeping in their prams. Furthermore, the house following theirs had also been bought by someone as well. How could it not be eye-catching when the car parked in front of the house was one of the most luxurious cars in the entire neighbourhood, a black Maserati that was even more blinding when coupled with the man Haru had recognized before on large urban billboard advertis.e.m.e.nts and leading fas.h.i.+on magazines. The aura of the newly arrived man gleamed brilliantly from the moment he stepped out of the backseat. Moreover, the large-bodied chauffeur quickly got out as well and took the travel suitcase off his employer's hands. In this day and age, who still had servants like this?

These people did not speak the German that Haru was familiar with… but rather Russian… and sometimes English. Initially, the landlord of the apartment that Haru was renting had muttered complaints about the Russian mafia finally invading this peaceful community. However, as weeks pa.s.sed, there were still no signs of trouble or conflict. Furthermore, the two little twins were very adorable and endearing. Thus, with the arrival of these lives, they had integrated seamlessly into the happy community.

And it was because of those two twins that earned him the nickname Kitty! Following that, all of the Russians began to call him Kitty or Kitty Cat, without even recalling that his real name was Haru.

Haru looked at P’Pun’s face, seeing two large eyes stare back with immense interest, seemingly enthralled and eager on listening to what comes next, a smile also plastered on his face. Haru didn’t have the heart… to tell his senior that this husband and wife couple was Sasha and Vivian…

He didn’t have the heart to stain P’Pun’s cheerful morning with tears of grief–like what Sasha had done to him, shattering his world into a thousand pieces this morning at half past three.

Over time, Haru learnt that the owner of the Maserati travelled very frequently. Wherever he went, there would always be a group people parading him around. They would often leave the house early in the morning… disappear for a few days… and then return late at night. If not his army of people, there would at least be one person accompanying him around everywhere, a tall man who spoke German with a Dutch accent.

As Haru liked children, he would often come around and greet the lively twins before heading off to university. However, he began to notice something out of place… Every morning, the husband would open the window of the room beside his apartment, but the wife would open one in a different room of the house. So he came to his own conclusion that the two were surely divorced. He wasn't trying to be nosy, it was just that the houses in Frankfurt were built very densely together, things such as fields or yards did not exist.

While the husband was not well-known in the public eye, the wife had a name to herself… the landlord of Haru's apartment was a big fan of operas and had secretly mentioned to him that the wife was a rising star opera singer from Russia. She was very skilled and immensely popular, however, one day she abruptly decided to take a break from the industry, later announcing to the media that she was pregnant. From then on, a scar-faced man with a deep-set scowl was always there to look after the mother and her two children, conveniently escorting them from place to place without the husband having to lift a finger.

“You sure know a lot of gossip about your neighbours Haru.” The person chewing on a steamed bun in his puffy cheeks teased.

“Well… we were somewhat close.” Haru justified… hoping to G.o.d that P’Pun never finds out that all of this is related to him. “Haru liked to play with their children, so they ended up hiring me as a babysitter.”

“What are their names?”

“Kiril and Nikolai, they’re twins.”

“Twin boys. It must be quite hectic, were they naughty?”

…Haru wanted to answer that their father was several times more naughty, but stopped his mouth just in time.

“Like all kids… they were total monkeys.”

“And when are you going to get to the point of explaining how you came to like photography?”

“Hold on, I’m getting there now.”

The photography club was a small room situated on the same floor as the lab room that Haru worked in as a professor’s a.s.sistant. In actuality, the room was an old laboratory that was not in use anymore, therefore a group of science students who were fed up with their miserable lab lives had asked to repurpose the room as a photography club. Nevertheless, Haru still had no interest in photography. That was, until he saw a small photocopied poster in front of the room, announcing that a small photo exhibition was being held in a certain art gallery not far from the university. The small writing below the poster was a long stretching script of Cyrillic letters, and it was what ultimately sparked Haru’s curiosity. So on impulse, he grabbed his bicycle and headed straight for the gallery without any second thoughts.

“And what did you find at that gallery? Did you find the owner of the exhibition?”

Haru shook his head and smiled. “Nope… actually, it felt like the owner wasn't even willing to show his photographs. If Haru had to guess, the owner of the gallery had begged on his hands and knees for him to hold this exhibition since they were friends or something like that… The photographs were part of a series… if recalling accurately… it was a journey from Siberia into east Europe which ended in Amsterdam… and in those photographs was a single model, the owner of the Maserati, Haru’s neighbour.”

“Oh wow…” Pun exclaimed at the reveal. From Siberia, north of Russia all the way to Amsterdam. To travel this far, if not a seasoned photographer, they would be incapable of doing such a feat unless they had an investor funding the project. Just imagining the visa application process for each country already had him feeling exhausted. “How was their work?”

“Like a dream… it was like I got to go on a journey alongside them. Standing by their side, I viewed the morning sunrise from the tallest cathedral in Amsterdam, waited as darkness fell over a field of dense fog, and watched as a caravan travelled through the gra.s.sy steppes of Siberia… it's an indescribably wondrous feeling.  Haru remembers s.p.a.cing out in the gallery till eight in the evening, so late that the owner of the gallery ended up inviting Haru for dinner. These Russians were kindhearted and very good at cooking."

Upon hearing this description, Pun felt his hair raise, he understood well what Haru had experienced.

“And when did you get to meet the photographer?”

“Right then and there… the owner of those photographs sat on the same dinner table as us, he was the last to arrive and therefore ended up sitting beside Haru.”

“And what next?”

“The guy was constantly glaring at Haru… his eyes were cold and very menacing, like he was considering which section of meat to slice off first. You can bet that Haru lost appet.i.te immediately. When the owner of the gallery introduced him as the photographer behind those photographs, Haru was utterly shocked…”

“And did you finish your food?”

“I did… uh… pack the rest back home.” This guy went to eat at someone else’s house yet still had the b.a.l.l.s to pack the rest of the food home with him.

“Did you manage to talk with him?”

“Yes, but only when Haru went to retrieve the bicycle… Haru accidentally sc.r.a.ped a long mark down the side of the Maserati, so he heard Haru’s voice and came over to look…”

“And?”

“He smiled at Haru… or rather… it was more like a sneer, and ordered Haru to mow the owner of the Maserati's lawn for a consecutive eighteen weeks as a way to pay for the paint repairs.”

So was this guy mean or kind exactly (?) Pun was confused. “In the end?”

“Haru obeyed of course… Haru had no money to pay for the paint repairs.”

“He's mean on the outside but kind on the inside then.”

“You've got it wrong… if there's a day Haru does a messy job, he would send the man with the Dutch accent to yank Haru out of bed and mow the gra.s.s again… regardless of whether it's two or three in the morning, or any other time for that matter, being subjected to it once is enough to make Haru regret it for life! Furthermore, how he managed get the key to Haru’s bedroom, is still unknown to this day.”

“Sh*t!” P’Pun cried with surprise, was this a specialized mafia gang for breaking and entering or what?

“What does that ‘sh*t’ mean?” Haru’s expression was clueless as always.

“Uh, nevermind… and did you get to work with him?”

Haru smiled. “P’Pun, you forgot about the story Haru mentioned the other day again, he’s the owner of the photographs in Haru’s room… the number one photographer in Haru's heart.”

“You really respect him don’t you?”

“Of course, but in the end he never taught Haru anything. Even after offering to work for him for free, Haru had to find a way travel to the locations on my own. He’s very mean… although… Haru did learn a lot by simply observing him.”

The look in Haru’s eyes when he spoke about this photographer, Pun couldn’t help but feel strange. Not strange because Haru admired someone else, but strange because he now fully realized the boy's astounding dedication towards photography. He was ashamed to say that he did not have even a sliver as much dedication as Haru had towards photography.

Suddenly, the smile dimmed.  “But as you know… he disappeared all of sudden, never to return again. The only thing Haru could do was run around and buy up all of his work so they could be imprinted into Haru’s memory… P’Pun, let’s wrap up the bill, we don’t want to keep the photoshoot waiting.”

Pun flinched upon realization, quickly paying for the meal and driving straight to today’s destination; becoming so caught up in work that he completely forgot about everything the Kitty had told him…

In the quiet silence of the car, Pun had no idea what Haru was thinking to have such a downcast expression of his face. The only consoling gesture he could provide to his junior was to gently rub his head, perhaps in this way, his endearment could be communicated through the touch.

Deep inside, Pun admitted that Haru's appearance was disrupting a certain something in his own life. At the very least however… he got to know a boy with very exceptional skills, one that never realized how amazing his own self was…

If the situation continued like so… it was certainly bound to have a negative impact on Pun.

…

Haru thought everything went smoothly today. When P’Pun was driving them back into Bangkok–with Haru acting as a doll adorning the front seat–he was in a fairly good mood to tell Haru stories about himself and P’Petch, sparking the boy's antic.i.p.ation in meeting this absent senior.

P’Petch was a P’Pun’s junior in both Thammasat university and at this workplace. Currently, they were in equal positions as photographers, however, P’Petch had a knack for fas.h.i.+on photography while P’Pun was often dispatched to events or a.s.signed to cover social news.

“Petch is simple-minded… or you could say he's somewhat dumb if you want, he has difficulty following other people's train of thought. Not to mention, if you praise him, he will wag his tail and grin widely as he comes over to befriend you, absolutely while suspecting nothing.”

“Your comparison makes Haru think he's like a puppy.”

“He really is like a puppy. But… you see… I truly love and care for him like he were my real little brother.” Speaking about P’Petch, P’Pun smiled softly. “Whenever I buy him his favourite snack or treat him to a delicious meal, he always acts like a begging little puppy.” The look in his eyes seemed unusual… Haru wasn't imagining it but P’Petch might be the only person capable of cheering up P’Pun in his current state.

“This morning, Petch called to brag about how he was getting to ride a helicopter and take photographs of the lake at the base of the Altai mountains, how enviable…”

“Enviable?”

“Who knows… his voice was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with happiness… overly-excited like a kid. More importantly… who knows who he’s with. With a level of English that loses out to a fourth grader, there’s no way Petch could find a helicopter able to enter a Kazakhstan national park on his own.”

Upon the name of the country being brought up, Haru’s cheek twitched. “Where?”

“Kazakhstan…”

“And where are you going P’Pun?”

“Uzbekistan… I was planning to only visit Tashkent, the capital city… but I haven’t discussed it with him in detail yet.”

Rewinding back to the sentence… ‘Haru thought everything went smoothly today’… peace was broken when an unknown number dialed into the white BlackBerry phone that P’Pun was deliberately trying to ignore. The person who had been driving the car leisurely so far clenched his jaw tight.

“Haru, can I bother you to turn off my BlackBerry for me?”

“You’re not going to pick it up? They’ve called twice now.”

Eyes glanced at Haru from the corners suspiciously. “And how do you know who’s calling? There’s no name displayed.”

Haru hastily rectified himself by claiming to have guessed that the unknown number was the same one as last time and most likely a call from PCT…

Many thanks to True Corporation for giving Haru the chance to sidestep this predicament.

(TN: True Corporation – A telecom company known for insistently calling their customers. One of the services they provide is called PCT.)

The moment they stepped past the gla.s.s door to their office at half past four in the afternoon, a tense heavy atmosphere was practically pouring out of the room. P’Chid looked at P’Pun through the gla.s.s pane of his personal office and waved him inside.

In that very same instant… Haru had glanced over to spot a gleaming aura which prompted Mild to clasp a hand over her mouth and exclaim ‘oh!’ sorrowfully.

Oh my G.o.d! Sasha Gilliseva, what are you doing here!?

…

P’Pun had disappeared into P’Chid’s room for fifteen minutes and forty-eight seconds to be precise. Haru saw the both of them exchanging photographs, information, and doc.u.ments inside, but not a single sound escaped from the gla.s.s room. Eventually, P’Pun pushed open the gla.s.s door, exiting with a pale complexion on his face. In his hand was a file of doc.u.ments. Haru couldn’t read Thai, however, he was certain that… if someone entered the boss’ office and came out with an expression that resembled having been sucked lifeless, the verdict was surely not good.

Upon seeing the tall figure waiting patiently on the guest sofa, P’Pun anxiously swallowed his saliva with much difficulty. This man had appeared at the most inopportune time… and place.

“Pun.”

“…”

P’Pun’s body almost floated towards the source of the voice. However, it was surely not a good thing… when P’Chid poked his head out of his office, as if forgetting to say something, and flinched upon spotting the uninvited guest. Haru followed P’Chid’s line of sight… it was a look coalesced with something indescribable but definitely repressed.

P’Pun turned to meet his boss’ eyes and asked warily. “Did you have something else to say P’Chid?”

Everyone in the office went dead silent immediately, for what followed was a sentence by P’Chid which would cause the sound of the buzzing crowd to ring out like bees.

“It seems… you haven't understood what I meant earlier… Haru, listen up too… and Pun remember this well, there are only two photographer positions available here… and right now, we have three photographers, ranging from one who puts the most effort into his work to the least…”

Blood drained from P’Pun’s face… what was already pale earlier now looked near translucent, like he could vanish at any second. “P’… P’Chid…”

“Don't worry, the vacation days you requested won’t be redacted, go wherever you want to go, and send in terrible quality work if you want… but I won’t guarantee that you’ll be returning here.”

“P’Pun stared at P’Chid’s face… then turned to frown at Haru… “I thought you said… Haru was the director’s son, he's here for an interns.h.i.+p is he not?”

“Have you read your own quarterly performance evaluation report yet?” P’Chid who held the upper hand did not yield easily. “Why would I let Haru intern with someone that does a poorer job that him, Pun?”

“Petch hasn’t been evaluated yet.”

“Petch has sent his photos and writing for the columns to me on time ever since the day he left for his holiday.” This explained the roll of paper in P’Chid’s hand. “Although his Thai is a catastrophe, the other aspect of his work is much better than I antic.i.p.ated. The photos he sent were interesting as well, you’ve seen them for yourself… I just refrained from mentioning that they were Petch's.”

P’Pun was speechless at the fact P’Chid had revealed.

Three people and two positions… this meant, one person had to go.

This is bad… Haru had no idea about any of this, he swears it!

…

“Pun.”

There was no reply from the person sitting behind the wheel. Punnaphob gripped the steering wheel so tensely that his blood vessels bulged, his lips pressed together in a straight line. “I’ll send you off at the condo first.” Waiting until the traffic lights turned green to switch lanes and enter the condo. “So you can rest.”

“I want to talk with you a bit more, we haven’t seen each other for so many days.”

Did Sasha realize that his words would cause the twisted feeling in Pun’s chest to strain tighter?

“I still have work to do, we can talk some other day.”

Pun deliberately parked the car at the front entrance of the condo, using his gaze to pressure the person who had just stepped foot into Bangkok no more than two hours ago out of the car.

“The key to your car, it's hanging in the same place.”

Sasha agreed to exit the car but clutched the frame of the door firmly. “Pun, why are you angry at me? Please say something.”

“I’m not… I have work to do now.”

Glancing briefly at the camera bag as if meaning to threaten it, Sasha then looked back at the gloomy face etched with stress. He felt extremely uneasy. Pun should have been smiling gleefully with dimples on his cheeks when they reunited.

Upon entering his apartment, the man could somewhat understand the other party’s feelings to a certain extent now…

Post-it note drawings were stuck onto the face of the refrigerator door, each accompanied by tiny numbers which stated a specific time. It seems like every time Pun had called him, he would draw a round sad face on a post-it note and stick it to the refrigerator with the time.

Ten post-it notes…

Before departing, he told Pun that the time in Europe and Bangkok would be apart by roughly six hours. Pun had probably waited for him until morning every day… waiting for him to wrap up his day duties and call him…

But he had so many things to do and think about that he was in no mood to pick up his phone.

He found the eleventh post-it note, stuck to the hook with the remote key to his BMW dangling on the end. There was no timestamp, no message.

Sasha was far too exhausted from travelling to confront Pun at the moment… he made the decision to lay his back down on the bed, and shut his eyes…

If, before his departure… he had told Pun about his secret, what would the result be? Heads or tails?

If heads… it meant Pun would fully understand that his trip to sign the divorce papers, attend his ex-wife’s return concert, as well as take care of his two children, were correct things expected of him.

If tails… then everything would fall in the opposite direction.

Knowing the truth, would Pun be able to bear it?