"Good grief! Did you two fall into an oil drum?"
Since she was little, Pundara has been familiar with her mother's panicked voice and her father's booming laughter. Well… sometimes, her father's laughter could also turn into a thunderous scolding, depending on the situation. Overall, though, she grew up in a boisterous and lively family filled with strapping young boxers. This environment made Pundara not afraid of people and unafraid to do risky things she saw the adults around her doing.
Everyone said she only had a few years of innocent childhood. When she hit three years old, she became as mischievous as a goblin... more naughty than a monkey.
"Who started this? Tell me at once, who did this?"
As her mother finished her question, she stood with arms akimbo. The girl's small finger immediately pointed at the boy whose body was covered with boxing oil.
"Wan dhid dit," the little girl said.
The owner of the innocent smile beside her was Pongtawan, the boy whom she'd known since memory served.
"Go get yourself clean, both of you."
Tongdum decided, even though the bottle of boxing oil was the incriminating evidence in the hands of the real culprit, his daughter.
No sooner had Kanokpohn left to grab a towel than she was faced with another test of patience.
"Oh, for heaven's sake! Who told you to bathe in the jar like that?"
The two five-year-old children had plunged into the same earthen jar, with the oil slick on the surface indicating that the water in it was no longer usable.
"Now, who should I punish first?"
"Wan!"
Pongtawan turned to look at the girl's face and then at the mother's ready hand before grimacing and crying out loud, knowing what was coming.
Their home was two-story on over four hundred square meters of land. Just looking through the fence, one could see the boxing ring on the ground floor of the house, the exercise benches, and the punch bags. Further in were the boxers' quarters, extending to the kitchen at the back of the house, while the upper floor was the owner's and family's rooms.
Although the surrounding land was empty, this place was never quiet or lonely. Whether it was the sound of boxers training, the melodies of Thai country music, or the noise of children playing and squabbling,
"Dad, could you buy me some chicken blood from the market? I forgot."
Even though Tongdum was the head of the family, a former Muay Thai boxer at Rajadamnern Stadium, and the coach of the training boxers, everyone still respected his wife, or 'Mother' as everyone else called her, as the one responsible for feeding everyone here.
"Tawan, do you want to come with me?"
As soon as the boy heard the question, the little lad dropped his stick and climbed onto the front of the motorcycle.
"I'm coming too!"
That shout came from a little girl who ran straight over to them and tried to push the other boy out of the way.
"Move. I wanna sit in the front."
"But I came first."
"So what? I wanna sit here, move!"
Pundara raised her arms, and the father, not wanting to be the referee of this battle right now, resolved the issue by telling the boy to ride on the back instead.
"Go sit at the back, Tawan. If you two are going to fight, then neither of you will go with me."
"But you invited me first," Pongtawan said in a whiny voice, but he willingly moved to sit on the rear seat.
The boy regretted losing the front seat, feeling slighted that his dad always seemed to side with Pundara, but he would've been more upset if he missed out on the chance to ride and feel the breeze. Even though on the way to the market, Pundara was the one chatting away.
"Are they twins? They're exactly the same size," a vendor asked, prompting the two similarly sized children to look at each other before quickly turning their faces away in opposite directions.
"They just look the same," Tongdum often replied to anyone who misunderstood.
"Wan was found in a trash can," a small voice piped up, causing the adults to look shocked.
"That's not true," Pongtawan argued.
"It is."
"It's not."
"It is."
Seeing the potential for a fight between the two children to break out in the middle of the market, Tongdum decided to take them home. Once they arrived, the boy immediately ran to his mother, crying, to tell her what the girl had said.
That evening, Pundara was punished by her mother for saying nonsense. The young girl threw herself on the floor, threw a tantrum, refused to eat her dinner, and cried until bedtime. Pongtawan could only watch her with guilt.
"Ugh, I have no idea where our daughter picked up such language," Kanokpohn lamented to her husband in the middle of the night.
"She probably remembers it from those TV dramas," Tongdum replied nonchalantly.
"Do you think it was a mistake to adopt Tawan?"
"Come on, they'll grow out of their squabbles eventually. Even if they're not real siblings, we've taught them to look after each other."
"Hey, maybe she learned it from your students."
"She didn't mean it. She just wanted attention like a jealous sister."
Their laughter-filled response echoed in Pundara's subconscious as she lay awake, straining to hear her parents' conversation. Her little heart swelled with anger upon hearing the word, 'jealous.' She didn't understand what it meant, only knowing it as the term used to describe the villainous woman in dramas, which made her truly dislike the word.
In their first year of primary school at a private institution near their home, Pundara and Pongtawan ended up in the same classroom. Although the two were often at odds at home, amidst new classmates, they chose to stick together, sitting at the same desk.
And it was Pundara who could adapt to the new environment better. Before long, she had a small group of close friends, with Pongtawan included almost automatically. He was tasked with stringing rubber bands for jumping games or assembling plastic chains for playing jackstones for her. Meanwhile, Pundara was always there to protect and stand up for him whenever he was taken advantage of.
"Donut, why haven't you sharpened the colored pencils you borrowed from me?" Pongtawan asked a classmate who had used his colored pencils down to nubs.
"It's not a big deal. You have a sharpener. Why don't you just sharpen them yourself," the classmate retorted.
Pundara saw Pongtawan's frustrated expression, then snatched the box of colored pencils from him.
"Go sharpen these right now!" She demanded.
"I'm not doing it. They were already like that when I got them. Why am I the one who has to do it?"
"You Pig! If you don't do it, you'll be in big trouble."
The bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch break. Pundara could only fume with frustration that Donut had managed to escape his responsibility. Still, she wasn't about to let that guy get away with it.
The girl whispered her plan to Pongtawan, but it only made him more anxious than before.
"No, we can't. If the teacher knew about this, we'd be punished."
"Nobody's gonna know about this. Just watch," Pundara said confidently, raising an eyebrow.
During the afternoon class, the girl asked the teacher for permission to go to the restroom. Only Pongtawan knew that this was just a cover for her real plan.
Part of him feared doing something wrong, but another part was curious, as children often are, and his curiosity won out. The boy asked the teacher to go to the bathroom as well, and as soon as he opened the door, the person who had been sneakily looking around the shoe racks at the front of the classroom jumped with surprise.
"That scared me," she whispered in annoyance before her eyes sparkled with triumph. "Found 'em Pig's shoes."
Pundara made a disgusted noise as she picked up her classmate's shoes. Instead of heading to the bathroom as she had told the teacher, the two kids hurried down to the very bottom floor of the school building.
"Wait, Ploy," Pongtawan called out quickly.
"What now? We're gonna get caught 'cause of you."
"What about Donut? How will he get home?"
"Who cares? He didn't care when he used all of your colored pencils to nubs."
Even though the colored pencils belonged to Pongtawan, anything that was his was also considered Pundara's property. The girl took her revenge by dropping the shoes into the trash can.
"Serves him right," she said with an evil smile. "From now on, don't let him borrow anything again."
The boy looked bewildered. As Pundara flipped her braided hair and walked away, he peered into the trash can at the discarded shoes, his eyes wide with shock.
When the school day ended, students hurried out of the classroom, except for Donut, who looked left and right for his shoes. Pundara and Pongtawan exchanged glances and smiled knowingly as they walked past the big boy.
The friendship between Pundara and Pongtawan was different from that of typical classmates. Others couldn't help but wonder why they always went to and from school together, shared the same last name, and had the same parents. Moreover, an incident made them the center of attention when they both developed rashes all over their bodies.
"Tawan has AIDS. Ploy has AIDS," Donut taunted. "Tawan has AIDS. Ploy has AIDS."
"I do not!" Pundara shouted back, her heart aflame with anger.
The girl returned home in a fury, telling her parents about her fears of the dreadful disease she'd heard about in the news. It was said that those infected often had disgusting abscesses, some suffering severely and even dying.
"I don't want to have AIDS! I don't want to die! You have to scold and punish Tawan. Tawan got it and gave it to me."
Pongtawan welled up in tears. He was just as scared and confused.
"You're making a mountain out of a molehill. You two just have chickenpox. It'll go away soon," Kanokpohn said, scolding and comforting them.
"Next time someone teases you, don't let it get to you. Stand up for yourself, got it?" Tongdum instructed.
After staying home for a few days, Pundara and Pongtawan recovered and returned to school, only to find that Donut had caught chickenpox and had to take sick leave as well.
Nevertheless, the children were often questioned about their siblinghood. Pundara confidently clearly denied that she and Pongtawan were twins or even siblings.
"Why do you have to tell them that?" Pongtawan directly asked her while sitting on the wooden bleachers, waiting for their father to pick them up.
"'Cause it's true."
"If I weren't of Mom's and Dad's son, why would I be living at home?"
"You were taken in and raised by them."
"How do you know that?"
"Of course, I know. Aunt Eed, the grilled pork seller at the market, was pregnant for nine months. You were born just five months after me. How could you be my brother? Only a dog can give birth that quickly," Pundara said with a deadpan face.
"You might be the one who got adopted," the boy stood up and retorted angrily.
"What did you just say, Tawan!?"
"And what did you just say, Ploy!?"
It wasn't often that Pongtawan talked back to her. Pundara stomped her foot in annoyance.
"If you don't believe it, go ask Mom and Dad!"
The boy didn't know where Pundara got such confidence. Deep down, he wished it was Pundara who had been picked up from a trash can and adopted. But better yet, he hoped no one had been picked up at all, that it was all just something Pundara had made up.
That evening, the ride home from school was quiet without Pundara's chattering, and Pongtawan just sat in silence as usual. The two kids didn't look at each other until they got home, where Pundara slammed the truck door shut with a challenging raise of her eyebrows at Pongtawan.
"Got any homework? If not, go for a run with me."
The boy looked at his father. Every morning and evening, the man in his early forties would run with the boxers from the gym, covering a round trip of over fifteen kilometers from the alley by their house to the main road. It was exhausting for a kid like him; his lungs nearly burst with exhaustion, but his father encouraged him to drag his feet back without help.
Pongtawan didn't answer but followed Pundara into the house.
"Ugh, what's with two of you today?" Tongdum pretended to complain loudly.
The war of nerves between the kids went on all evening, each determined to win, even when Kanokpohn asked about dinner.
"I want egg drop soup," said Pundara
"I want soup with an omelet," said Pongtawan.
"Mom, please make egg drop soup. I don't like greasy omelets." Pundara said.
"But I do," Tawan insisted.
"Alright, alright," the mediator had to decide. "No need to argue. We'll have tofu soup with minced pork."
"Fine, egg tofu soup and egg drop soup that I like aren't that different," the girl quickly claimed her small victory, sticking out her tongue at the person who dared to beat her.
Pongtawan turned his face away, suppressing his feelings of hurt. He didn't touch the soup, only eating the fried Chinese sausage and Chả lụa[1], tears welling up as he ate.
"What's wrong?"
The mother's question only made the boy's tears brim more. Pundara saw her rival wiping his tears with the collar of his shirt, causing her to pause mid-bite and observe with a spoon in her mouth.
"Are you upset because you didn't get to eat the omelet? I can make you one."
Pongtawan shook his head. The kinder his parents were to him, the less he wanted to believe what Pundara kept repeating to him. His small, fist-sized heart felt so tight and suffocated that he blurted out,
"Am I really not your son?"
Kanokpohn shot a sharp look at her mischievous daughter. Hearing voices from the front of the house, she knew her husband must've returned from his run.
"Go call Dad for me, Ploy."
"Why?"
"Just go call him."
Pundara got up reluctantly but couldn't help turning back to look at the crying boy once more before leaving the kitchen.
"Dad! Mom's asking for you!"
Her shout reached the kitchen. Kanokpohn wrapped her arms around the boy's shoulders, stroking his head with love and pity, but it was time to tell him the truth.
"What's going on?" Tongdum unzipped his windbreaker, revealing his sweaty body. "Don't tell me you two are fighting and giving your mother a headache again. I'll spank both of you."
"It's not me," Pundara quickly countered loudly.
Pongtawan wiped his face with his shirt collar again. He didn't want to cry in front of his father, who was his role model of manhood.
"Tawan was asking about his parents," Kanokpohn told her husband.
The hand on the boy's shoulder gave a gentle squeeze, and another warm, large hand was placed on his head. The tall figure sat down on the adjacent chair.
"Tawan, my boy, whose child could you be? You're living here. You're our son."
"But Ploy said that I'm not her sibling because I was born only five months after her," Pongtawan said with a shaky voice.
"Listen to me, Tawan. You're grown enough for this now. Even though you're not our real son, your father and I love you just as much," Kanokpohn decided to reveal the truth. "We never intended to keep it a secret. You were bound to find out someday, and knowing this should finally put your doubts to rest."
The young boy raised both hands to cover his face, hiding his tears. His small shoulders trembled with sobs he struggled to control. Deep down, he'd always suspected that Pundara might've been right all along.
"Then who are his real parents?" asked the young girl who had been quietly listening to the story for a while.
The couple exchanged glances before Tongdum let out a heavy sigh.
"It must've been some former boxer in the camp. Who else would have the guts to leave a baby at the doorstep of our gym?"
Pongtawan wiped away her tears and asked hesitantly, "And what about Ploy?"
"I'm their daughter, of course. What kind of a question is that?"
The confident reply was affirmed by their parents' nodding. Pongtawan suddenly stood up and ran to his bedroom, burying his face in a pillow as he sobbed uncontrollably.
The boy lost track of time, unaware of what his parents and Pundara might've discussed after that. He didn't want to know anything. Suddenly, he felt the mattress beside him sink and a hand placed on his shoulder.
"Stop crying now. It doesn't matter if you're not Mom's and Dad's real son. You still belong here, and I'll protect you."
Pongtawan turned to face the young girl smiling confidently at him. He could hardly believe that these reassuring words were coming from Pundara, the person who had always seemed to oppress him.
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[1] Chả lụa is a type of sausage in Vietnamese cuisine. It is made of pork and traditionally wrapped in banana leaves. In Thailand, it is commonly called "mhoo-yor" (หมูยอ).