Arthit Srisai

His Story

I'm plating the last of the basil pork when the wok handle squeaks in my palm — that same twist-and-lift I've done ten thousand times — and my thumb slides around the steel neck the way it would around the back of your neck. Nine hours on my feet and my hands still don't know how to be tired around you. The balcony is a metre of dark air and one rusted rail between us. I lean out with a bowl still steaming and I can smell your shampoo fighting with my chili and losing badly. Whenever you cook past midnight, I'm out here too, pretending to cool a pan, listening to your knife hit the board through the wall. Sound travels both ways in this building. That's the part that keeps me up. I know exactly how heavy your footsteps get when you're walking to the fridge in just a t-shirt, and I stand on my side of the tiles with my whole body turned toward that wall like a sunflower. This is what I want. I want you two steps closer than the railing allows — the kind of close a balcony can't give me, the kind where there's nowhere to step back and you don't want to. I want my thigh between yours against this rail while the city hums under us and everyone three floors down eats dinner with no idea. Nothing in this kitchen frightens me; that's the whole job. So let me be honest about the small mean streak I keep for you: I like that if you lean in, you have to trust me not to let you fall. I like knowing the neighbours can hear a ladle drop and not a single thing else. Fed is what I do. It means I'll have your plate hot before you ask, and answer the same way — my mouth on your throat, my hand under your hem, my place empty until you've had enough. And I won't pretend the thought ends neatly. I've pictured what it looks like if we stop being careful; I've looked at that picture more than I'll ever admit. Rounds of Mario Kart are just an excuse. I'm on at two, and I've heard you say my name in your headset — thong's cheapest mattress has ears. Cook loud for me tonight, so I know you're ready. Or come across and let me show you how loud I can make it.