Thai the Knot
“Hey Clarke, do you have our reservation number?” Lexa calls over her shoulder towards her best friend, who is admiring the traditional artwork in the lobby. Lexa grins awkwardly as she makes eye contact with the receptionist who is waiting to check them into their hotel outside of Phuket, Thailand. The two young women are determined to make the most of their summer after graduating college, before they both return to the states and begin their respective careers.
Clarke walks over and opens up her guidebook, which has become somewhat of a cross between a bible and a catchall during this trip; Clarke references it every five minutes for translation purposes and for navigating the city, but she’s also been stuffing some of their moderately important documents between the pages as bookmarks. She shuffles through the pages until she finds the confirmation email she printed for their accommodations on this leg of their trip, and finally hands it over to the patient receptionist.
“Yindī d̂wy.” The receptionist smiles brightly and bows her head ever so slightly before translating, “Congratulations!” Lexa and Clarke exchange curious glances with one another, but ultimately shrug off the odd coincidence. The receptionist is the third person just this morning to have congratulated them, but for what exactly neither is sure.
On the brief walk through the lush garden to their shared bungalow, Clarke stops dead in her tracks. She spins around in a circle and does a double take as she inventories their bags. “Shit! I forgot my toiletry bag in the tuk tuk!” The forlorn look that cascades over Clarke’s features has Lexa shaking her head playfully and taking pity. “Let’s take this stuff to the room and settle in, and then I’ll run back to the front desk and see if they have toiletries for purchase.” Clarke nods appreciatively and they make their way to their room.
Lexa follows through with her offer, and half an hour later she’s adding the cost of a toothbrush and deodorant to their hotel tab, figuring the two of them can share Lexa’s existing supply of other necessities. While she’s waiting for the kind receptionist to put the items in a decorative little paper bag (which Lexa assured her was not necessary, but the former had insisted upon), a thought pops into her mind.
“Can I ask why you congratulated us earlier?” The receptionist smiles again and points at Lexa’s wrist. “Ngān tæ̀ngngān!” She looks up and furrows her brow as if trying to remember the word she’s looking for in English, “the wedding!” Lexa legitimately laughs out loud, “No, no, Clarke and I are just friends.” She pauses to allow another chuckle to escape her lips before finishing, “Best friends, but definitely not married.” The Thai woman looks confused and again points to the red bracelets with rolled up currency woven into the threads on her wrist. In broken English she asks, “How you get these?”
Lexa recounts their trip to the ornate temple in a little village not too far outside of Bangkok two days prior. She tells the other woman how Clarke had read about it in her guidebook and really wanted to experience it in person. Lexa explains how when they had stopped to ask directions to the temple, some of the local women had gotten so excited they were visiting and outfitted them with some traditional clothing and accessories. She details how the monks welcomed them warmly, invited them to eat with them, and how random strangers had come up and tied the bracelets on their wrists all on their own. She finishes up the story with a blanket compliment on how nice everyone has been since they’ve been traveling in the country.
The receptionist nods for a long minute, taking it all in, before bursting out with, “That is traditional Thai wedding. You very married now.” The receptionists bows her head once more before she turns her attention to another guest who just arrived, leaving Lexa alone to pick her jaw up off the floor. After standing there looking awestruck for a while, she suddenly takes off in a rush towards their bungalow, having to double back halfway through to retrieve the little bag of items that she almost forgot on the front desk countertop.
Lexa bursts through the door, startling Clarke who is busy unpacking, and immediately asks for the guidebook. Clarke is hesitant and confused, but ultimately hands it over. “Just, please don’t misplace the bookmarks, okay?” Lexa agrees and begins to flip through the pages until she finds the part that references the temple they’d visited. She reads everything she can and then lifts up a bright pink post-it note with handwritten Thai characters on it that she remembers Clarke had shown to the monks.
The note had been covering up the caption to the picture above it, which depicts two smiling foreigners eating with the monks inside the walls of the beautiful temple. Lexa reads the tiny print of the caption silently several times: “Pictured Above: Monks celebrate with newly married couple. This temple is known for welcoming tourists and even performing impromptu wedding ceremonies for foreigners during their travels!”
Lexa swallows thickly, “Hey Clarke, umm, what does this note say?” She turns to take the guidebook, along with the post-it over to her best friend who’s sitting on the king sized bed. Clarke takes the note in her hands, her blue eyes warming with the memory of their wonderful experience at the temple. “I had one of the ladies in the village write it when we stopped for directions. It’s supposed to say ‘We want to experience what is in the picture, please.’ I showed her the guidebook for reference and they all treated us like royalty after that.”
Lexa envies how innocent Clarke is to the current situation. She’s about to explain everything from her conversations with the receptionist to the caption under the photo, when there’s a knock on the bungalow’s door. Lexa answers the door and is enthusiastically greeted by a young man holding out a basket with a bottle of champagne and two stemmed glasses. The young man bows after Lexa accepts the basket and says “Yindī d̂wy!” as he backs away smiling awkwardly. Lexa turns around to face her best friend, who looks both excited and grateful for the unexpected gift from the hotel. Lexa worries her brow and bites her lip before hesitantly stating, “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married.”
Clarke’s eyes brighten into a smile before her lips can even catch up. Meanwhile, Lexa stands shell-shocked at the door of their bungalow, still holding the gift basket, as she watches her best friend and probable wife double over in laughter. “That’s a good one, Lex! You’re totally selling it with the whole…” she pauses as she gestures with her hand in a circular motion towards her face, “…scared puppy facade.” Clarke wipes away the beginnings of tears from her eyes, brought on from the sheer ferocity of her laughter.
Lexa merely blinks as she waits for Clarke to calm down and hopefully catch on. It happens in very visible stages; first Clarke’s shoulders stop shaking with the last of her giggles, then blue eyes lock gaze with serious greens, and finally her jaw drops as the realization is made. “This is a joke, right? Lex?” Wisps of brunette hair flow side to side as Lexa shakes her head no. The room goes silent sans for the sounds of slow, heavy breaths that alternate from the pair. Their faces bear a strange mix of confusion and worry and a secret third thing; a confession neither is ready to admit to each other or themselves.
Lexa eventually opens up the guide book and pulls Clarke into the rabbit hole of matrimonial discovery she fell into earlier. They sit impossibly close to one another, so much so, that the book covers both of their laps. “So, what do we do now?” Clarke asks. Lexa sighs and shrugs her shoulders, “I don’t know. I guess we need to first find out if this is a legal marriage or not.”
She stands and walks over to the table, exchanging the guidebook for the bottle of champagne. Lexa pops the cork and some of the contents bubble over chaotically, fitting for the moment. “We’ll call the district office tomorrow and get clarification.” She takes a long swig directly from the bottle, before handing it over to Clarke, “Until then, care for a drink, Wifey?” They both giggle as Clarke accepts the bottle and takes a drink.
They blow through the bottle of champagne way too fast, but rather than call it a night, Clarke keeps them in good spirits by breaking open the bottle of Mekong spiced rum that she picked up at a floating market earlier in the trip. “I was saving this for a special occasion, but what’s more special than our honeymoon?!” Lexa nearly chokes on a mouthful of the amber colored liquid at Clarke’s words. Her wife’s words? A warmth settles in her belly and she’s really not sure it’s the alcohol.
Their debaucherous night consists of dancing to the music in their heads, drinking on mostly empty stomachs, and talking about anything and everything. They discuss their travels, their new careers that start soon after they return, and the unique predicament they currently find themselves in. They reminisce about the childhood that they’ve shared, lament about the ghosts of girlfriend’s (as well as boyfriend’s in Clarke’s case) past, and wonder what their future significant other’s might think when they hear this story. At the end of the night, there’s two empty bottles, two very drunk young women, and only one bed.
After miraculously remembering to brush their teeth, and Clarke profusely thanking Lexa for the new toothbrush, they finally tumble into bed well into the wee hours of the morning. They have shared beds during sleepovers since they were eight years old, and shared beds out of a sense of economy during this trip, but for some reason they’re both being a little awkward as they pull the shared blanket over their bodies tonight.
They lay facing one another, grinning stupidly, as minty fresh puffs of warm air flow in either direction. Their eyes grow heavy as they make light of their situation even as they say goodnight. Clarke opens with a playful, “Goodnight, Dear.” Lexa can’t keep a straight face when she responds with, “Sleep well, Darling.” The pet names continue to flow past their lips jauntily, until Lexa says “Sweet dreams, Love.”
Clarke pauses, her cheesy grin turning more earnest, the sleepiness suddenly gone from her eyes. She reaches up to tuck an errant strand of Lexa’s hair behind her ear, letting her hand linger at the base of her neck, her fingers toying with the baby hairs there. Lexa’s heart beats wildly, everything about this moment feels scary but right. She’s about to break the silence when Clarke beats her to the punch. “Can I kiss you?” Lexa closes the distance and gingerly presses her lips to her best friend’s, her wife’s. The answer to Clarke’s question, a very much implied “yes.”
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Clarke wakes up in the early afternoon to the peaceful sounds of the jungle that surrounds their bungalow. The bed is cold and empty beside her, but she’s thoroughly warmed by the memories of what happened during the night.
She had kissed Lexa, her best friend and most favorite person in the entire world, and Lexa had kissed her back. A lot. And it was amazing. But before it had gotten too far, Lexa disconnected their lips without pulling their body’s apart, and stroked her cheek softly. “We’ve had a lot to drink, maybe we can continue this tomorrow when we’re more sober? If, if you still want to?” Clarke leaned in close, close enough that her lips just barely grazed Lexa’s, and she whispered “Ok, tomorrow then.” They fell asleep with fingers laced together, legs intwined, and their noses touching.
As soon as Lexa notices that Clarke stirs from slumber, she heads over to the kitchenette (glorified coffee bar) and pours two cups of coffee. She adds a splash of cream to hers and a heavy pour to Clarke’s. A packet of sugar substitute to hers and a sickeningly sweet amount of actual sugar to Clarke’s. Lexa hands Clarke a mug as she climbs back into bed, “So I have news.” Clarke takes a sip of her brew and peers over her mug expectantly, urging Lexa to continue with an upward twitch of her eyebrows. “I called the district office this morning. It turns out we’re not legally married.”
Clarke sits crosslegged on the bed across from Lexa, and rests her coffee mug in her lap. She contemplates for a moment, ruminating over the right words to choose in response. “So you’re not my wife,” she pauses to take another sip and Lexa shakes her head “no” in confirmation, “but maybe you could be…my girlfriend?” Lexa beams and nods so enthusiastically Clarke worries for her neck. Clarke takes both of their cups and sets them on the table beside the bed. She takes Lexa’s hands in her own, already warm from the radiant heat from their coffees. “Hey Lex,” she scoots a little closer, “it’s tomorrow.”
This time they don’t stop kissing until they’re completely spent, sprawled naked on the bed, bodies glistening in the moonlight that seeps in from the window.