The Happiness of Kapi

Dear Kapi

I know you will find this letter one day. You must be grown up now and probably lead a happy life in a hi-so condo in Bangkok. I think you must now be grown up enough to stomach the whole reality. What you've just seen in the film in which I am both the co-director and the main financial supporter is just one side of the story. Of course I decided to make the film so that you can better learn about our special relationship. It's meant to be used in conjunction with the big cabinet full of drawers that I managed to categorise and catalogue my life for you. (Do I need to tell you that I'm a very neat person? My neatness is part of the OCD syndrome that I've long been suffering from. One of the symptoms is my need to make sure all drawers in that cabinet are full of rubbish that I want to give to you. Don't throw any of them away. Even though I have died, I'm still keeping my eyes on you.)

Kapi, I think I'd better come clean with you. The reason that I needed to leave you with Grandpa and Grandma that day is not because I needed to do what I had promised. I know you probably believe that the accident that day made me feel too guilty to raise you up and that I needed to do what I promised -- not to be near you or to touch you again because I was such a careless lady. No, even the dumbest person would probably find my reason weak and lame. Of course, I could've jumped into the water to help you, but because I was wearing Coco Chanel that day so I just couldn't. Also, because to be honest, I somehow wanted to get rid of you that day but you survived. You were too lucky, Kapi.

That day was very significant. I just talked to your father, Ant Thin Summin, a Burmese janitor with whom I fell in love whilst I was in Burma. Of course, my parents disagreed with our romance and said that I could've found a better person who were from the upper-middle class, not this low life whose salary was not even enough to support my lunch. Have I told you that I worked in the Burmese embassy as my father (yes, your grandpa) helped support the Junta in legal matters? I couldn't help but fall in love with Ant Thin Summin at first sight while he was cleaning the embassy toilet. I got pregnant soon after and you, Kapi, were the product of our class-free romance. However, Thin Summin later betrayed me. He found himself a British gay sugar daddy who promised to take him to the UK. He didn't hesitate to fly with that big fat old farang of course. I felt sad and suicidal. The accident that day was, I need to say, partly intentional. I just wanted to get rid of you Kapi. You just reminded me of my miserable relationship with that Burmese guy who was confused with his sexuality.

I couldn't kill you that day because Thong, the little twat, found out. With guilt, I just couldn't face you anymore. I decided to give you to Grandpa and Grandma and leave for the UK to look for Thin Summin. I found him and he changed his name to Anthony Summers. What a shameless guy! Of course he spurned me for the second time. I didn't have enough money to buy my flight back. Grandpa and Grandma were so furious that they didn't give me money anymore. I had no choice but to prostitute myself and found myself infected with HIV. That's when I thought I needed to fly home and spend the last days of my life with you Kapi. Also, I needed to make sure you would get what you should -- that hi-so condo and a holiday home in Hua Hin. These I bought with money I saved from my 'trip' to the UK. Don't tell anyone, Kapi, but the real world is not as clean as what you saw in the film. (Do you remember Pierre? He's one of my customers. I sent him to see you to check whether you're OK.)

By the way, Kapi, could you do me a favour? Can you promise me that you'll not show this film to other people, especially those with red shirts? They will surely not be happy with our hi-so lifestyle. Our misery is so light and pale in comparison with theirs. Here we're concerned only with whether you'll want to see your father or not, but there they're probably concerned with what to eat or where to sleep tomorrow. Do I need to tell you that not everyone have in an immaculate traditional Thai pavilion, a holiday home in Hua Hin, a duplex condo in the city centre, and a Grandma who can speak French? This film should be kept a secret between you and me ok?

I love you so much Kapi and I still remember the days when we were sleeping together in a little seaside bungalow with white curtains overseeing a white horse. The whole setting was so fashionable and seemed like it just came fresh out of a music video. Or was it a music video that I remember?

Au revoir,

Your Mom xx