Chapter

Tuk -Tuk

Thomas W. Konkol

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ISBN: 1-4137-3716-1

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Baltimore

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Chapter1

Bangkok. The largest city of Thailand, a place where many millions of people live, work, and play. Amongst all of those people is a certain one and, once again, as he does most mornings these days, he is rushing out of the house while saying goodbye to his mother. The act of scrambling to grab his briefcase and put on his shoes almost causes him to run into the door before he has the chance to open it.

“The door!” his mom warns him.

Spike turns the knob and swings the door open just in time for his momentum to carry him outside.

“Thank you,” Spike says.

She hears these words fading while the door closes behind him. Such a good boy, she thinks, always stopping by and helping out every morning before he goes to work. She really appreciates the fact that he has been coming to her house for the last year to take care of her before her caregiver arrives.

So this typically hot and humid morning with the sun beating down and no clouds in sight is just like all of the rest except this time he is later than usual for work. Bright and early he makes this trip from his house after getting himself ready to see to it that his mom is doing well and is taken care of. He feels that the night is too long for her to be alone, but they cannot afford twenty-four hour care for her. He does the best he can. She is at an age now where it is hard for her to get around and do life’s daily chores. She took care of him growing up and it is now his turn to take care of her. This makes for even more chores that he has to finish before he starts his workday at the office.

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Lately he is noticing that as time goes by her condition gets worse and worse. These days it seems like everything hurts her and keeps her in this weaken state. And this bothers her, for she wants her son to have his own life and not have to be burdened with her problems all of the time. She insists that he should not worry about helping her so much, but he is a very good son and it does no good to try and persuade him to stop. He will do anything for his mom.

Who is this model citizen? His nickname is Spike, last name Keunmai. It seems that every Thai person has a nickname and he is no different. So when he was born his father decided this name was fitting for him. Spike is an average Thai man— he is in his early forties, single, and has been at the same job for many years. He owns his own house and lives alone. A few years ago his father died and he was an only child growing up. His parents raised him well, raised him to be good mannered and always polite. He will do anything to help out others without expecting something in return.

With his father gone there is no one else to take care of his mom. Her name is Sahlee and even though she is elderly she is still sharp as a tack. His mom has a quick-witted mind and will always speak her peace without a second thought. And, of course, as she gets older she cares less and less about what a person might think about her. But for the last year or so she has had many complications that have forced her to be mostly house-ridden. She hates this, and everyone knows it because she is not one to pretend to like sitting around all day. She was once a very mobile woman, always taking care of herself, but now with these sicknesses she gets she can barely walk on certain days. So it is her only child Spike to the rescue.

“That’s the last of the morning chores,” Spike says. “Is there anything else you need before I go?”

“You have done way too much already,” Sahlee replies and then looks at the clock. “Oh. Look at the time. I’ve made you very late again.”

“Don’t worry Mom, you know you come first,” Spike says and afterwards gives her a smile. “But you’re right, I am late.” He quickly looks over at the clock. “Very late!” He rushes over to his mom to give her a hug and kiss goodbye.

“Hurry up now,” Sahlee tells him. “But be careful.”

He dashes to the door and turns to take one last look at his mom. “I will,”

Spike says.

Then he puts his hands together, fingers pointing up with palms together,

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and bows his head with his hands in front of his face. This is the traditional way of greeting and saying goodbye with the words “Sawasdee krup.” Now the mad dash begins, out the front gate and down the soi (alley) to catch the bus. As he rushes outside he can hear the bus in the distance and he stumbles through the small front yard to the gate and fence that protects his mom’s row house. With briefcase in both hands he stretches it out in front of him and pushes the gate open bursting out into the street. He looks both ways for cars. The coast is clear. Good, because now he starts to run like crazy for the bus stop that is located down and around the next corner.

Many cars are parked along the sides of the soi, making it barely possible for even the smallest car to drive down. As he rounds the corner he sees the bus taking off, spewing a cloud of black smoke from its back exhaust pipe.

“Stop! Please stop!” Spike yells while now trying to pick up speed in a desperate attempt to catch the bus that still continues to go.

This, of course, is not the first time he has missed the bus. He stands there in the middle of the soi looking in desperation at the bus while it turns a corner, driving out of view. It has become a regular event and so he has learned to find other routes to the many stops the bus will be making in the area.

No time to be looking pitiful in the middle of the street, he must now hightail it to the next stop. He will be cutting it close, but it is possible to take somewhat of a shortcut and get there before the bus leaves. Turning around, he now sprints down the next soi for a few blocks and turns left at the next intersection, past a small food stand that has been open all night.

The owner of the food stand watches Spike run by. Looking ahead, Spike sees his next turn, which will put the bus in view. He can barely hear it at this point and, not knowing if it is stopped or not, he tries to listen carefully during his all-out sprint. Either way, with the next right turn he should catch it no problem. But he forgets what day it is. He is more worried about catching the bus than anything else. So he rounds the corner and almost runs into the front grill of the garbage truck that is blocking the entire soi.

“Tuesday!” Spike says as he skids to a stop. “Why does today have to be trash day?”

Now he is trying to see if there is a way around this metal monster. To the left is a long wall and to the right are parked cars. Spike rushes to both sides to see if there might be a way around. The only way is to run over the top of the cars, but he would never do that. Being able to see over the cars brings into view

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the now leaving bus. Not to worry though, this happens every Tuesday. He taps his chin and thinks, I have one more chance to catch the bus at the next stop. His eyes light up at this thought. Again he turns around and starts running. Having to backtrack a couple of blocks he passes the food stand again and the owner looks at him in wonderment.

“Every Tuesday, just like clockwork,” the food stand owner says to himself. And after Spike runs by he goes back to his business.

Racing down the soi at the speed of light, or so it seems, Spike really feels like he will make it this time. A few more blocks here, a few more turns there and whola! The bus is in view and it is just stopping at the end of the block where many people are standing in wait. It is a miracle, if you ask him.

Not wanting to take a chance, Spike runs as hard as he can and reaches into his pocket with his right hand to pull out the baht (Thai money) so as not to waste time and have it ready for boarding.

The bus door is opening and Spike yells, “Wait!”

His fingers grasp the baht and he quickly pulls his hand out of the pocket, causing him to stumble while trying to do too many things at once. His right hand opens as he throws it forward to catch his balance and the baht flies into the air. With astonishment in his eyes Spike watches the bill begin to slowly sail to the ground.

“No!” Spike says in disgust while running past the falling baht. Then, coming to a sudden stop, he yells to the bus, “Hold on a second!”

Spike runs back a few steps and bends over to pick up the baht while trying to still keep an eye on the bus. He sees the last of the people getting on board.

“Wait!” Spike yells out, trying to get the bus driver’s attention.

Standing up, Spike watches the last person step through the door as it closes behind her. With the doors now closed the bus starts to go into motion. If only he had more baht with him, then he could keep going and leave the dropped baht lying there on the pavement. If that were the case he would now be on the bus. But that is not his life. He stands defeated once again in the middle of the street, this time catching his breath.

It is time to worry, for this has never happened before. He always makes it to this one and is never this late. With frustration he looks at the baht in his hand, crumples it up, and stuffs it into his pocket. Bowing his head he begins his long walk to work.

Late for work again. Spike walks into the insurance office and sees all of his fellow employees quietly working at their desks. What makes this day seem

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out of place is that many of them are packing their personal belongings into boxes. And many of them are missing, as if they have not yet come into work today.

As Spike steps through the entrance one of his coworkers walks by and says to him, “Glad you could finally make it.”

“Ha! Ha! Very funny,” Spike replies in a sarcastic manner.

This being a small company, everyone knows each other and there is sort of a close bond between them all, so joking like this is a common thing and no one really takes offense at it.

Just in front of the entrance is the receptionist desk and as usual Dottie sits there with hardly anything to do but greet everyone who comes in. Dottie is barely out of high school and works this job so she can afford to take night classes at a community college. Only she treats the job like she doesn’t care if she loses it or not, showing up when she feels like it and not giving any notice for when she does not. The boss doesn’t care either, because he really doesn’t have much for her to do and she comes at a cheap rate.

Flipping through one of her fashion magazines Dottie looks up at Spike and says, “Morning, ah, is it still morning?” Then she looks down at her watch then back at him. “Anyway, Mr. Tyrant wants to see you.”

“Okay,” Spike says to her and continues to walk to his desk, figuring he will put his briefcase away first.

“I wouldn’t bother going to your desk if I were you,” Dottie says and points towards the boss’s door. Spike stops and turns towards her with a questioning look on his face. “He wants to see you right away, as in pronto.”

This doesn’t look good, Spike thinks and he gets a very bad feeling that makes his stomach go queasy. Looking at Dottie, he pauses. Off to the right side the boss sticks his head out of the office door and looks around to make sure everyone is working. Seeing everyone abiding by his rule of always keeping busy he spots Spike standing there.

“Spike! Get in my office, now!” Mr. Tyrant yells.

This startles Spike and he quickly looks over to his boss’s direction.

“Well!” Mr. Tyrant says to Spike. Then he looks out at the employees to make sure this commotion hasn’t distracted anyone, and it hasn’t, so his head disappears through the doorway back into his office.

Spike begins to walk to Mr. Tyrant’s room and when he gets to the door

Dottie says smug like, “Told you so.”

Spike looks back at her unhappily and then opens the door before walking in, ready to face his fate.

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Spike enters the boss’s chamber, his office, which is an average room with nothing fancy. In fact, there is nothing fancy in the entire company office. Maybe he did this so the two would match. Who knows? This makes a person wonder what he does with all of his baht. He sure doesn’t spend it on the company too much. Best example—his idea of taking everyone out to lunch is forgetting to bring his wallet and making all of his employees chip in and pay for him. In the room there is his desk, a couple of chairs, some filing cabinets, and a small table up against the wall.

Mr. Tyrant is sitting at his desk waiting and says, “Close the door, but don’t slam it.”

Obeying the boss’s orders, Spike gently closes the door behind him. Oh, he is so not looking forward to this. He looks out at his coworkers before the door is closed, wishing he could be out there with them instead of in here, because behind him and sitting at his desk is his boss, who is still waiting. Boy is he a piece of work. He means well by employing all of these people but has a very hard time showing it. Mr. Tyrant talks down to everyone as if they were children. Maybe it is because he doesn’t have any children of his own and this is his way of making his employees his family. Either way, none of them like it, but they are all too afraid to say anything that will lead to them losing their jobs.

Turning now to face his fate, Spike walks over to the center of the room and can feel a slight breeze coming from the slow turning ceiling fan.

“Have a seat,” Mr. Tyrant says and he motions to one of the chairs on the other side of him.

So Spike, thinking everything might be okay, pulls the chair out and starts to sit down.

Then, as if he has changed his mind, his boss says, “Oh, don’t bother, you’re not going to be here for very long.”

Just when you put your guard down Mr. Tyrant comes back with something to belittle you with. That is always the case, and Spike should know better.

Spike then asks in puzzlement, “Sir?”

“No sense in you sitting down,” Mr. Tyrant replies. “This will only take a minute.” He looks up at Spike. “In fact, maybe I should stand.” He thinks about it for a second, and then as if it is a great idea of his he says, “I think I will.”

Spike slowly pushes the chair in and takes a step back while this tyrant stands up and starts to pace back and forth behind his desk. With each pace he

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glances over at Spike and eyes him for a second. This goes on for a few paces but in Spike’s mind it seems like more. First he brings you down, then he makes you wait, causing your mind to play tricks on you. Mr. Tyrant stops and looks at Spike.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Mr. Tyrant says and begins pacing again.

Spike isn’t sure why he is here but, figuring it is because he was very late, begins to apologize. “Yes, I was late again. But I assure you it will not happen again. I’m very sorry, sir.”

Mr. Tyrant stops pacing, squints his eyes, and looks at Spike. “Hmmm,” he mutters.

This makes Spike even more nervous and Mr. Tyrant begins to pace once more. “What do you think makes this company work?” he asks.

Spike searches his mind for the answer but cannot find one. This is okay because his boss isn’t really expecting an answer.

Tired of waiting, Mr. Tyrant continues, “Don’t know, eh? Well, I’ll tell you.” And he keeps pacing. “Pride and responsibility.” He looks at Spike and stops pacing. “Do you have those qualities?”

Spike doesn’t say anything and Mr. Tyrant walks over to a table where glasses and a pitcher of ice water sit.

While pouring some water into one of the glasses Mr. Tyrant asks, “Thirsty?”

Spike, figuring he has been quiet too long, says, “Well, I, ah—” then is interrupted by his boss.

“Well I sure am, especially since I have been doing all of the talking,” Mr. Tyrant says. He looks at the water in the glass. “As a matter of fact, the rest of the company should also, since they have been doing all of the work.” And he takes a swallow of water. “Ahhh, that is good.” He puts the glass down. “Now where was I? Pride, yes, yes, and responsibility. You know what those words mean?”

That is another thing Mr. Tyrant always does, ask you a question and not give you any time to answer as he continues to talk in the same breath. “Long story short, my friend, the people who are packing up and the ones who have already wandered out of here sure wish they possessed them.”

Looking at Spike he shakes his head and walks over to the window. Looking out to the city he continues with his speech, “You see, without every one of my employees having these qualities it is hard to compete. And if we cannot compete, we lose business; we lose business, we lose baht; we lose

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baht we lose—and that’s where you come in.” Then he turns to point at Spike. “I’m sort of like a parent and you are all of my children.”

I knew it! Spike thinks. He does think we’re his family.

Mr. Tyrant starts pacing again, “Remember when you were young and you wondered how your parents knew about every little thing that you did? Say you were in the next room, and even though they could not see you they still knew what you were up to. I know everything you do, from the time you wake up in the morning until the time you go back to sleep. I know.”

He walks across the room to the door and Spike slowly spins around so he is always facing his boss.

“It is well known that for the last three weeks you have been coming in later and later,” Mr. Tyrant says, “and that, my son, is a lack of responsibility. Your responsibility is to get here on time like the rest of them.” He opens the door and points out towards his employees in a sweeping motion. He looks again to make sure everyone is working and closes the door. “Am I forgetting something?” Looking up at the ceiling he thinks for a moment then looks at Spike. “Pride! Taking pride in your job and doing it correctly, so you will not lose it. Which is the real reason why we are talking today.”

He walks over to the side of Spike and puts his arm around Spike’s shoulder. Spike flinches, then goes into a frozen state, thinking his boss will notice him trembling.

Mr. Tyrant then explains. “Times are tough, my friend. Business is becoming scarce and the competition is killing us. So I have to make some cuts and I have to evaluate each of you. And at this time you are not showing the qualities I am looking for.” Mr. Tyrant pats Spike on the shoulder. “Sorry to do this to you kid, but as of now I have to let you go.”

Spike responds with sorrow. “I understand, it’s business.”

“Business!” Mr. Tyrant says in disbelief. “Haven’t you been listening to a thing I’ve—Awww, go on, get out of here you knucklehead.” He puts his hand on Spike’s head and messes up his hair. “It’s been nice having you around, wish things could be different,” he says while putting out his hand, and they shake.

The whole time Spike is puzzled by this and says, “Me too.”

“Stop at the receptionist and she’ll give you your pay,” Mr. Tyrant says. He then turns and goes over to the window. Spike, while fixing his hair, walks out the door. “We’ll miss you,” his boss adds in a low voice.

Should I feel glad or be sad? Spike thinks.

Glad to finally be out of the same room as that man but very sad to have

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lost his job. As he walks past the receptionist’s desk Dottie hands him an empty box to put all of his personal belongings in.

Spike grabs the box and says, “He said you have my pay.”

Dottie now turns her attention to the fashion magazine and flips through the pages. “Look in the box,” she says and looks up at him.

Spike looks into the box and thanks Dottie. From there he starts the long painful walk to his desk, where he will see it for the last time. Seeing his fellow coworkers busily doing their jobs takes on a whole new meaning as he moves slowly past many of them. It is as if he has become numb to it, seeing the same thing day after day. What he hadn’t noticed before, he is now noticing in great detail. Like the little knickknacks some have on their desks or the articles of clothing each and every one is wearing. Some of them, when he walks by, look up and give him a smile. They then either wish him luck or say they’re sorry to lose him.

Arriving at his desk, the fact that he has just lost his job hits him and he now starts wondering what he will do.

“The damage is done, nothing left to do but move on,” Spike tells himself.

So with that he starts to put his own personal stuff into the box. He doesn’t really have too much here, so the one box will be more than enough.

While going through one of the desk drawers he overhears Mr. Tyrant call out, “Dottie, get in here! And bring something to write on, and with!” Spike looks in her direction and sees Dottie slide back in her chair.

“Coming right away,” Dottie says.

She scrambles to his office but turns back and grabs the pen that she forgot from the front desk. From inside the boss’s office she and the entire office can hear, “I’m waiting!” Dottie rushes into the room and closes the door behind her.

After getting his attention back to the packing he sees an envelope in one of the drawers and takes it out. Opening it up he pulls out a card that is signed by most of the people who have their jobs and a few who don’t. Spike reads the good luck card and all of the special messages that everyone has written on the inside of it. He smiles while reading these and his smile gets bigger and bigger with each message he finishes. Looking up and around to all of those in the office he tells them thank you. In return most of them say, “Your welcome,” and wish him the best. He tells them he will be fine and that he will miss all of them.

Even though Spike has just lost his job, he feels good inside. It makes him feel special that everyone did this for him. Just moments before his feelings

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were down, but now, because of this, his spirits are up. As he puts more of his stuff in the box some of his coworkers come up and personally share their feelings with a shake of the hand or a pat on the back. With these interruptions it takes Spike longer than expected to pack up all of his things. He doesn’t mind though, he isn’t in any rush to leave just yet, because it wasn’t his decision to have to leave his friends and work after seventeen years.

In the midst of his packing he hears the door open and close and sees Dottie scurry back to her desk. He really doesn’t know what to think of that girl. Maybe she was always short with him because of their age difference. They are probably at least twenty years apart, he would guess. But he still doesn’t understand why she pushes him away when he tries to be nice and get to know her.

After putting the last of his stuff into the box he slides his chair in and looks around to everyone. He says goodbye and waves his right hand while holding the box with his left. In return they all say goodbye and tell him to take care. With the box in both hands he walks towards the elevator and Dottie rushes out from behind her desk and stops in front of him. This causes him to step back and try to figure out what is going on. He can see, though, that she is shy in what she wants to do as she stands there with her head bowing down.

“Spike, I’ve always liked you the best,” Dottie says in a quiet voice.

Then to his surprise she moves in closer to him and hugs him around the box and his body. Not knowing what to do he checks to see if anyone is watching, but he doesn’t see anyone looking their way.

After a moment of this embrace Dottie tells him, “I’m going to miss you.”

He would hug her back if he could, but he is holding the box and is in a state of shock that will not wear off until she lets go of him. All along he thought that she didn’t like him, but in the end it seems it is just her way.

“Thank you,” Spike says. “I will miss you also.”

Letting go, she steps back to where she can now see Spike smiling at her. This makes her happy so she smiles back in return.

With one hand free Spike pushes the elevator button and waits for the door to open. He looks back in Dottie’s direction and watches her walk over to her desk. Ding! The elevator chimes and the floor number lights up as the elevator door opens. There is no one inside so he walks in and presses the lobby floor button. Waiting for the door to close he sees Dottie sit down and she looks at him, so with a couple of his fingers free he waves goodbye. She notices this and waves back just before the door closes.

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Now that makes his day—never in a hundred years did he think that would happen with her. It makes him think that if he is her favorite, then how does she treat everyone else in the office? Or is it because she likes him that she is mean and distant, in a way similar to when children hit the person they like to put up a guard and not let their real feelings be known. But now he feels that she is another friend he can add to his list. There is now an instant trust he has with her. And to him that is a big deal because friendship is something he does not take for granted.

Ding! This time he is a bit startled by the sudden sound since he is in such deep thought about the morning’s events. The elevator doors open and he walks out into the lobby past a few people who are waiting to get on the elevator. He exits the building out into the hot humid air, carrying his box. Looking about, he makes his way to the bus stop where many people are standing.

Spike stops amongst them and sets the box on the ground in front of himself, then he checks his watch and sees that it will be many minutes before the bus arrives— and that’s if it is on time, which is rare. Figures, when he is ready for the bus it will show up late, but if he is not there then it will be on time. Standing there in the extreme heat he begins to sweat. He reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a handkerchief, and wipes his forehead.

“Why stand here and wait for a bus that may never show up?” Spike asks himself quietly.

The bus doesn’t wait for him, so he decides he is not going to wait for the bus. Spike puts the handkerchief back into his pocket, picks up his box, and starts to walk home. As Spike leaves, some of the people in the area look at him, wondering why he does not wait for the bus.

It is early afternoon and the sun is at its highest, making it the hottest part of the day. Can his day get any more imperfect? Spike finds out that it can. He has such a long walk home while carrying his box, which is sort of heavy, that it makes the trip that much more unbearable. Not too many shadows to walk in where it might be a bit cooler. No, that is not his kind of luck today.

During the last part of his trip home through the heat, struggling to keep the box in his hands, he thinks about what just happened this morning. He lost his job. How is he going to provide for himself and for his mother now? Should he tell her? Maybe he can wait awhile and see if he gets a new job. But what if he doesn’t tell her and he isn’t able to find a new job and the baht runs out? His mom counts on him and never before has he let her down. Who is he kidding? He

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can never hide it from her. His mind made up, he continues to walk in the direction of his mom’s house. How do I tell her, though? He thinks. And now he goes over the situation and the many different ways of breaking the bad news to her.

Spike stops for a second to put the box down and to wipe away the sweat that is dripping down his face. He looks out into the distance and notices that he is now only a few blocks away from the row house. He checks his watch again and sees that it has been a couple of hours since he left the office.

“Where did the time go?” Spike says to himself.

He has to think fast of what he is going to tell her. Spike picks up his box and marches on. But before he knows it he is at the front gate and opening it up with one hand, balancing the box on his knee with the other. As a matter of fact, he has been in such deep thought that he cannot remember anything about walking here.

Time to go in. First he thinks about leaving his box outside so as not to startle his mom, but then he decides that he should take it in, that way she will ask about it and he will have no choice but to spill the beans.

Entering the house Spike shouts, “Mom, it’s me. I’m home early.”

He shouts this out while opening the front door to warn her that it is he who is coming in and not some stranger. Spike figures this is the proper thing to do since she is not expecting him to be back so soon. Closing the door behind him he turns to see his mom sitting in the front room in her chair with a bright happy smile. The light is coming through from the front windows and lighting up the room. Spike now stands in front of the door holding his box of belongings. Sahlee sees him there and notices that he does not look all that good. His hair is messed up and he wears a shirt half soaked from all of the sweat he produced on the hot walk home. Sahlee is happy to see him but she is also very curious as to why her son is home now and looking the way he does.

Sahlee puts the book down in her lap and says, “Sawasdee ka,” (which is hello for females), “it is good to see you, but why are you home so early?”

The smile fades away from his face and he looks down to the box. He thought he was prepared for this, but he is not. He doesn’t know if he ever will be. How many times did he work this out in his mind? He thought he had a plan, but now the situation is real and he is standing in front of her. He doesn’t say anything and his mom sees that something is wrong with her son as he holds his box.

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“Is everything okay?” Sahlee asks. “Why do you hold your office stuff with you?”

Busted! Or so it feels, like when he was a child and was caught doing something bad. He shakes his head and still does not look up at her.

“It’s okay, you can tell me,” Sahlee says, trying to sooth his worries. “Whatever it is we will work it out.”

Spike takes a deep breath and raises his head to look at her and says, “I lost my job today. I am so sorry to have to tell you this.”

“There, there, son,” Sahlee says. “We have been through much worse and we have always been able to get by. We are still doing well. Look at a few years back when your father died. Those were hard times, but we made it through.”

“Yes,” Spike replies, “but you were not sick and didn’t need caring for.”

“You are right,” Sahlee says. “But your father, he cannot be brought back. As for your job, you will find a new one. I know you will.”

“I worry it might not be that easy,” Spike says. “The economy is bad and many people besides myself are loosing their jobs everyday. We may run out of baht before I am able to find anything.”

“We will think of something,” Sahlee says. “It is only the first day. We have some time and we will do whatever it takes to save baht.”

Knowing that she is right and that he has to stop feeling sorry for himself Spike says, “I know. Tomorrow I will start to look for a new job.”

Sahlee smiles again and tells him, “That’s my boy. I have faith in you. You know, you have always been a good provider and will continue to do so.”

Spike places the box down and says, “Thank you for being so understanding. First I am going to get a drink of water, then I will go upstairs and get to work.”

“Good for you,” Sahlee says.

Spike walks into the kitchen and gets a drink of water. Drinking the cold liquid feels and tastes so good after being in the extreme heat for so long. After gulping that one down he pours another glass to take upstairs with him and then goes out into the front room.

“I’ll be back down in a bit to check on you,” Spike says.

“I won’t be going anywhere,” Sahlee tells him with a smile, and she continues to read her book.

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