You won’t forget me?

“You won’t forget me?”

Partly a question. Partly a plea. She said it with wide eyes rimmed in black eyeliner and the provocative playfulness of a 17 year old, though she was, in fact, a woman of 30 years.

I met Ti on the last night of my honeymoon in Bangkok. My husband, Ron, and I had gone to visit the red light district, hearing from most of our friends that it’s something you just have to do once in your lifetime.

Our flight back to New York was at 7am. Since we aimed to sleep on the long flight home, we figured it better to stay up all night. That being said, our day had been spent laying out in the beautiful sun of West Railay Beach and our night, thus far, had been filled with Thai fried rice, Tiger beer, flashing lights, and endless solicitations for ping pong sex shows. It was only 12am or so, but I was fading fast.

After walking past bar after bar with the same smoky red lighting and bright neon lights, we came upon an open air lounge with pool tables, outdoor seating areas, and waiters. It was a welcome change from the scantily clad women serving sexual services alongside cocktails, so we ordered drinks at the lounge and set about playing pool.

Not long after we arrived, they joined us. They were dressed in short miniskirts and tank tops—Ti wearing flats, Nik wearing tall studded black heels. First, it was a cheer in support of my sinking the solid in the right-hand corner pocket. Then, they were doling out advice on the ball I should aim for, and the angle from which to approach the shot. It started to become more clear that our seemingly innocuous pool lounge was just a deceiving front for the sex trade. And next thing I knew, I had returned from the bathroom to find that we had started a game of doubles. Ron and Nik versus me and Ti.

Ron and I understood their approach—keep us playing (40 Baht per game), keep us ordering drinks (140 Baht per cocktail)—but it didn’t bother us. As long as they were playing with us, they weren’t responsible for finding another mark. Earlier, I had heard a different girl in the bathroom stall with a customer. Or, I should probably say, I had heard the customer. The girl didn’t say much as he asked her what her mother would think of her lifestyle… He groaned, and I grimaced, flushing the toilet and slamming the stall as I left.

Nik was the first one to hug me. A few minutes later, it was Ti. They started off as tentative, timid squeezes, and I would check my pockets as I remembered the warnings I had received. As the night went on, the hugs became more intense and I stopped checking my pockets. I felt they were looking for love, were reaching out for a different life. We laughed and we hugged as we played.

Ti liked to talk, liked to learn about my life. She wanted to know where I was from, if I had kids, if I liked Thailand, if I would be back. A tightly wound ball of surprisingly positive energy, her sadness was most evident in the scars that lined her arms and the look of deep concentration she would get as she stared at the cue to haphazardly line up her shots. In those moments, with the sharp angles of her figure, and her shadowed face with hair falling forward, I couldn’t help but think of the dark and awkward appeal of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. Later, Ti told me about her scars, told me she had killed herself once. She said that was then though, that she wouldn’t do it again.

Nik and Ti would watch, enthralled, as Ron and I interacted with one another. They expressed surprise that I, not Ron, would pull out the money to pay for each round of drinks, and they giggled in shock when Ron let me cheat so that I could win. Ti told me that her men had not been like him.

I wasn’t tired anymore.

I wanted to change something for them, anything for them, but I knew better than to advise them on a life of which I knew nothing.

We bought them a round of drinks and Ti told me she had two daughters, ten and eight. When I asked if they lived with her, she told me she had sent them to live with their grandmother. “I don’t want them to know what I do.”

Ti told me she had worked there for years, that her boss was responsible, tested them monthly “down here” (pointing to her vagina) and every three months “right here” (pointing to her arm). I hugged her and said that she needed to be sure she took very good care of herself, that her little girls were counting on her. She nodded solemnly, telling me she was trying to be a good mother. I told her she was one.

We sang karaoke… the two of them trying to teach me Thai, but with very little success. Still, I would stutter along to their encouraging nods of approval. They requested Zombie by The Cranberries, and as I sang beside them, I could barely breathe with the deep understanding that this is the only life they must know.

There are many ways I could choose to regard my evening in the Patpong Night Market… Was I perpetuating a societal issue by spending money at the bar that I did? Was I supporting a part of Thailand that the Thais themselves reject in shame? Was I trying to get a closer look at the illegal sex trade, a human rights issue I’ve wanted to actively fight worldwide? Was I being manipulated, knowingly or not, by trained professionals? Was I a source of comfort to two women in need? I don’t know. Perhaps all of it’s true. What I do know is the love that I felt for each one of them that night. The love that I still feel.

I asked Ti for her email before I left.

“You won’t forget me?”