The flight is nonstop, and I spend much of the eighteen-hours in first-class catching up on the sleep I’ve lost the past couple of weeks. When I’m not sleeping, I’m obsessing over recent publicity photos. In one, Pravat has ripped open my shirt, baring one shoulder. In the foreground, his hand rests on my chest, long fingers pressed into the skin. If I concentrate, I can almost feel the warmth of it. But what really captures my attention in the photo is the expression on my face.Who is this man?I wonder, tracing my finger over my image on the screen. I’ve had the same thought when watching the final cuts of the love scenes we filmed. Edited together with music added, it feels like I’m watching Pravat with a stranger and find myself jealous ofmyself.
And that doesn’t make sense. Jealousy used to be a foreign concept to me. I’ve had girlfriends become irritated when they couldn’t get a rise out of me in that way, claiming my lack of jealousy as proof I didn’t have feelings for them. Maybe it was. Does that make me a bad person? Or am I just emotionally stunted? I’ve always told the women I date I’m not looking for anything serious, and they’re quick to assure me they feel the same way, yet sooner or later they expect me to have changed my mind.
If I really am emotionally stunted, what are these feelings Pravat stirs in me? Perhaps it’s because he’s the first true friend I’ve had in my adult life. That must be the reason I feel threatened when I see him with his friend Kiet. And the fact that my body responds to him—that must be due to the skinship we’ve developed. All of these things can be explained away if I try.
Thumb brushing over the image of Pravat and remembering how it felt to have him hold my head in his hands and press his mouth againstmine, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to sleep with him. Women have always been an accessory in my life, something I need on my arm because it’s expected. I could perform with them in bed, but in many ways, sex was just a task with no emotional connection, no meaning, just brief physical pleasure that left me wanting to push them away. But, although the lines between genders have blurred considerably for me lately, I’m not gay. I don’t look at men as potential sexual partners. My gaze roams over the cabin, fixing on the youngest of three men sitting nearby. He’s fit and handsome, but I don’t have any desire for him.
Yet I can’t deny my body responds to Pravat Benjawan. From the start, he’s had the ability to completely wipe my mind of all thought just by entering my personal space.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” the young flight attendant says, “but you played Atid inMy Doctor, My Love, right?”
Surprised, I take the dinner tray from her before answering, “Yes. You watch bl dramas?”
“Oh, yes. I love them. You and Pravat Benjawan are awesome together, even off screen. It’s hard to believe you aren’t really a couple.”
The warmth that envelopes me at her words catches me off guard. Stuttering out a “Thank you,” I watch her walk back to the food cart before turning away and popping in my ear buds, hoping some music with my meal will help take my mind off Pravat.
It’s late in the afternoon New York City time when the plane lands. After the long flight, I’m eager to get to my cousin’s house. Pete is the son of my father’s older brother, and we’ve always been close. It was Pete’s boyfriend, Alex, who arranged for me to join his theater group while I was stayed with them the last time.
As I wait for my luggage to come off the plane, I text Pete that I’ve landed and then dutifully text Pravat the same, although he’s probably forgotten he asked me to.
As I stand staring at our last text conversation, the almost nine thousand miles between us feels like a million. I don’t hold out much hope for the two of us staying in touch for long. We both have lives to lead, and soon the next actor will take my place as his co-star. I wince, the thought like a physical blow.
I’m surprised when, although it’s just past three in the morning in Bangkok, Pravat immediately messages me back that he’s glad I made it safely to New York. I smile when he adds to be sure to eat something and not to let myself get run down.
Despite how much I slept on the plane, my body struggles to adjust to the eleven-hour time difference. According to my phone, it’s four in the afternoon of the same day I left Bangkok.
As a red light flashes and the conveyor belt starts to move, I get a text from Pete saying he’s outside waiting in short-term parking. Spotting my bags, I step forward and drag them to the floor before heading for the exit at the front of the airport.
Pete looks much the same as he did when I visited him last year. As I do, he’s got the heavy brow of the Sathianthai family, but not the “resting bitch face,” as Chinda calls it. After a quick hug in greeting, Pete helps me load my bags into his black Chevy Tahoe and we get underway.
“You look good.” He glances at me before turning his attention back to the road. “Much more robust than when I saw you last year.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised because I haven’t been eating well lately. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “You were paler then. A little thinner.”
“Are you calling me fat?” I ask with a laugh.
“God forbid you could ever be anything less than perfect,” Pete teases. “Tell me all about the series you filmed. Your texts have been spotty at best.”
Leaning back, I stare out at the heavy traffic. “Sorry. My schedule was packed. It feels so weird to have free time now.” I tell Pete about the workshops, the long days of filming, the fan meetings, and the publicity shows.
“I have to say, Rama, I wouldn’t have thought you would succeed in this type of thing. Not that you aren’t a good actor, you are—just that this sounds like you had to play your part on and off camera for months on end.”
I consider his words. “It’s not really that bad. I’m fully aware that some of the production companies are exploitive and strict, micromanaging every moment of their actors’ time, but Hearts Productions isn’t like that. They’ve been nothing but fair and accommodating.”
“But you still have to play like you’re enamored with your co-star everywhere you go, right?”
Shaking my head, I say, “Yeah, but that wasn’t difficult. We’ve become good friends. Remind me to show you some videos of fan meetings and workshops.” I change the subject, asking him about his job and about Alex.
Pete and his boyfriend live in a condo in Manhattan overlooking the Hudson River. It reminds me of Pravat’s place in that regard.Stop thinking about Pravat.
When we arrive, Alex isn’t home yet, and Pete encourages me to rest before dinner. Stripping to my shorts, I lie on the bed in the guest room, gazing out at the complex’s Olympic-size swimming pool a few stories below.
Despite all the sleep I got on the plane, I drift off and awaken sometime later to the muted sound of Alex and Pete talking in the otherroom. Heaving myself from the bed, I slip into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt before seeking them out.
“Something smells really good,” I say when I enter the kitchen.