"BL World, I am finally here..."
I exclaimed the minute my feet touched the pavement outside Bangkok International Airport. The only positive thing that has lately occurred to me is boy-love dramas. I am so into it that I often have concerns about my sexuality, despite the fact that I haven't really had the chance to explore it.
"Not all males like each other, River."
Lorraine laughed at my unusual flash of enthusiasm. It was ten o'clock at night, and everyone looked ready to hit the bed, except for me. I have traveled to Thailand before for official purposes, but never after having my soul surrendered to hot men. I don't believe I will be able to go around the country without having my vulture eyes follow every guy's movement. Perhaps I have finally gone insane.
It was close to 03.00 a.m. when we arrived at the village a few miles outside of Bangkok, and there wasn't much to see owing to the darkness. Our production team rented several houses in the area and built an entire set in the last month, which was not an easy task, but they pulled it off pretty well.
Lorraine and I were given our own house, equipped with two bedrooms, a bathroom, a foyer, and an open kitchen. It was basic but soothing, and I enjoyed the fresh air and the constant sound of crickets, assuring me that I had escaped from the sky scrapers and the clutches of city life.
"We have a meeting at 11 a.m. tomorrow."
Lorraine, who was in the middle of a conversation with Matt, yelled from the hall. I gave her a thumbs up as I walked into my bedroom after taking a hot bath.
I texted my family to let them know I had arrived and set the alarm before slipping into a deep sleep.
.........
I opened my eyes with a slight smile on my lips. I haven't felt this rested in a long time. My nose savored the scent of freshly fallen leaves, while my ears rejoiced in the sound of chirping birds. I expected that the abrupt change in location wouldn't allow for much sleep, yet despite feeling a little cold at twilight, I had a great night's sleep.
Lorraine's door remained closed while I got dressed, confirming that she was still sleeping, and I decided not to disturb her. It was only an introductory meeting, and even if she came, she wouldn't have much work. We were simply going to organize the shoot for the following week, and I was certain I could manage this briefing on my own.
Our cabin was a bit farther away from the others, something I requested from the management staff. The greater the distance, the less I will have to interact with people. I was dressed casually in a loose, plain white shirt and faded denim, with my shoulder-length black hair pulled back in a messy bun. Anyone could conclude from my appearance that I just got out of bed, but I doubt they would give a damn. It was too much trouble to put on cosmetics and get dolled up this early in the morning, so I only had moisturizer and lip balm on my face. I use makeup when necessary, but I don't think I will have to wear it 24/7.
"Good Morning, writer. You look like a zombie."
Carla, the female protagonist in this film, came out of her house and waved at me warmly. She looked ready to attend the gala, and I was in awe of her beauty. Compared to me, she seemed really elegant.
"What time did you get up to look that perfect?"
I playfully remarked as I waved her back. She was a fine woman who was probably in her late 20s or early 30s and was not much older than I was. We frequently ran into one another at award ceremonies and several venues and shared a mutual liking for each other.
"Six in the morning."
She rolled her eyes and crouched down to strap on her heels. I was ready to comment something about the uneven path and the disadvantages of wearing high heels in such surroundings, but I bit my tongue after watching how effortlessly she handled it.
"I'd rather look like a zombie."
I stated, while her manager and stylist followed closely behind us while we walked.
"Me too."
Carla acknowledged it frankly, and I smirked at her genuineness.
We discussed the shoot until we arrived at the enormous tent that served as our makeshift meeting space, when I saw that half the seats were already occupied. Fortunately, we arrived on time.
I was assigned a spot next to Nathaniel, and the producer seated himself beside me. The huge rectangular table was set with script printouts, water bottles, and steaming mugs of tea. I contacted one of the helpers and asked for a cup of coffee instead.
The following two hours sped by with script reading and setting up a rough timetable for the next week, and by the end, I was starving.
"Thank you for your effort, everyone. The meeting is dispersed."
Nathaniel started to gather his papers and rose to his feet, joined by the rest of us. When the tent began to clear, I pulled out my phone and saw three missed calls from Lorraine, along with two messages.
'I am sorry I didn't wake up. (Perplexed emoji)'
'There is food on the table. Brenda and I are out shopping. I need some sunscreen!'
Brenda was Carla's stylist, and from what I have heard, she was not bad company. I headed back to our house after responding to her texts and giving her permission to take the day off.
On the way, I ran across a few crew members and actors and spared a moment to exchange pleasantries. I was about halfway through when I noticed a small crowd gathered near a tree. They were primarily locals, and I approached them out of curiosity.
I stood on my heels to get a clear view, and after I saw the sight, my heart tightened in pain. There were a half-dozen puppies close to the tree, all of which were dead.
"It's a shame none of them survived."
I heard a random person say, but the voice seemed more distant than it should have. My thoughts were preoccupied with Happy, my very first puppy. He died when I was ten, and it was my first encounter with death. The unexpected surge of recollections was intense, and I hardly noticed one of the puppies' small movements at first.
My thoughts jolted back into focus as I once again glanced at the pile hesitantly. I was right. Hastily bending down, I separated a dead puppy's head from the live one cautiously. It was barely breathing, and I glanced frantically at the group.
"We need to take it to the hospital."
"I will take the car."
I am not sure who said it, but I wasn't in the mood to find out. My heart was racing as I trailed behind the individual. It was just a dog. Why was I getting so worked up?
For the next fifteen minutes, I cradled the pup close to my chest in the passenger seat of a stranger's car, hoping to keep it warm.
"Don't die just yet. Not when you've been given a second chance."
I could hear myself talking to the scarcely breathing creature, and most of the time, I made little sense. Thankfully, the driver was calm and said nothing. The female voice of Google Maps was the only speaker other than me, and soon we were at the clinic. I hurried inside, not caring if I should have made an appointment.
"He is dying."
The receptionist was a native, and I was convinced that she didn't grasp what I was saying, but the dog in my arms and the concern in my eyes were enough for her to comprehend what was happening. She snatched the little bundle from my hands and dashed inside. I didn't follow her and instead sat outside, praying for the best.
It took nearly thirty minutes for the receptionist to emerge from the other room, and as she approached me, a young male doctor who was removing his gloves followed her. He spoke to me, but I didn't understand a word.
"I don't get it."
I said, gesturing with my hands to let him know that I didn't speak his language.
A figure walked in beside me, and I turned around to see the guy who drove me here. Was he with me this whole time?
While I was desperate to know if the animal had survived, I refrained from interfering as he started speaking to the doctor in flawless Thai. He must have sensed my worry, because he shifted his gaze to me for a second and nodded enthusiastically before returning to his conversation with the doctor.
I released a shaky breath and asked if I could go inside and see the animal. The guy translated, and the doctor gave me a green light. I thanked him briefly and rushed inside.
The puppy was sleeping quietly on a table covered with a paper towel. He had a tube linked to his leg and looked much better than he had previously.
"You made it."
I sat down next to the table and closely inspected the living thing.
"Ha, what shall we call you? Brave? Considering how courageous you were and how hard you battled for your life?"
His paw made a little movement as if to agree with my suggestion, and I watched him in amusement.
"Brave it is."
.......
We were ready to leave two hours later, and the doctor handed me a slip of paper. I assumed it was the bill at first, but it was simply a note.
'I paid the bill. I've got an emergency. The doctor will drive you back. He is familiar with the location.'
I felt horrible for not properly thanking him and for not even asking his name. For the sake of God, I couldn't even recall his face, with the mask and all.
I thanked the doctor with hand signals after he handed me a modest basket to put Brave in. Once we arrived back at my place in the evening, Lorraine shrieked after meeting her new roommate.
"I left you for a few hours, and look who you brought home."
She joked while caressing Brave.
That night, I did all I could to remember the guy's face, but I simply couldn't. The only details I knew were that he was tall.... and nice...
............