Date: Wed, 1 Mar 2000 04:28:10 -0800 (PST)
From: The Alienist <alienist_hk@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Holding On For Dear Life, Part 2"

"Holding On For Dear Life"
Part 2

By  Alienist_hk@yahoo.com


Disclaimer: This story is a work of erotic fiction involving teenage boys.
All the usual rules apply.  If you shouldn't be reading this, then don't
continue on.  You might go blind or something!

Copyright Notice: This story is copyrighted by the author, who retains all
rights.  You may distribute or copy this story however you like.  PROVIDED
that this copyright notice remains intact, due credit is given to the
author, and you do NOT make any changes to the story.  You may not charge
any fee to distribute or access this story.  After all, I didn't charge
you, did I?

This story is dedicated to the first writer who ever encouraged me to take
the leap of faith and write something myself.  Thanks for everything,
Eggman.  You're the greatest!  Check out his tremendous story series at
www.teenboyauthors.org/theeggman

NOTE: All Thai words and phrases have been spelled to help the reader
pronounce them correctly.  Standard transliteration methods may vary.

____________________________________________________________________________
"Holding On For Dear Life"
Part 2

Sakjai was concentrating on managing the armload of books and papers he was
buried under as he tried to walk back to his auntie's house.  She always
calls it her house, so it's not his home.  Not really.

He hadn't even thought the phrase, "Going home" for months.  That's not a
strange thing.  After all, he hadn't had a real home to go to in almost a
year.

And after today, it wouldn't matter anymore.  He didn't plan on being at
that house after tonight, so it wasn't an issue either way.

Sakjai didn't think much anymore about how strange everything looked and
felt here, either.  When he'd arrived in this up state New York town last
month, he felt like he wasn't in the world anymore.  Well, his world
anyway.

Which was true.  Bangkok, Thailand was a place nobody here had ever been
to.  He doubted that anybody would be able to find it on a map, either.
His auntie was the only Thai person he'd met since his arrival.  Certainly
nobody spoke his language.  How strange it is not to hear your own language
all around you.  Not from people, not from TV or the stereo, no Thai
anywhere outside his own head.  Even his auntie insisted on English at her
house, for the practice.  So he didn't talk much.

When he's been asked by his Social Studies teacher to get up in front of
the class on his first day there and tell everybody about where he came
from, he'd been stunned by shock and frightened into stumbling gibberish.
He'd stood up on quivering legs that moved him by sheer habit to the front
of the class.  He'd grabbed onto the teacher's desk like grim death and
tried to smile while he thought about what he would be able to say that
wouldn't make him sound stupid or merely incomprehensible because of his
English.

He'd smiled and stared at the class for what had seemed like an eternity.

They had all stared back.

Gulp.  And then, ever so softly, he had said, "I come from Thailand."

The teacher had made helpful inquiring noises, so he said, "My home was in
Bangkok.  Bangkok is bigger than New York City, and is the capitol of my
country."  That came out a little bit proud, and not so softly.

He'd been careful of the pronunciation, and had tried to speak each word
clearly and distinctly.

He began to think that he'd done OK, when some girl turned to her friend
and said, "Thailand?  Where's Thailand?" and giggled.  A boy's voice from
the back of the class had said, "Bang! Cock!"  and some of the other boys
had sniggered.

The teacher had made shushing noises, and Sakjai didn't understand the
boy's remark, except that he hadn't said "Bangkok" correctly.  So he tried
to reply to the girl's question, hoping that it had been a serious one.

"Thailand is a country about the same size as France.  It is located in
Southeast Asia.  It borders on Burma, Laos, Cambodia, and Malaysia."

The teacher had tried to make "Isn't that interesting" noises and
encouraged him to say more.

But the class had started gabbling among themselves.  "Burma?  Where's
Louse?  Is that a `lousy' name or what?!  Is that where the bugs come from?
Cambodia, I've heard of that one.  Where's Asia?  I thought China was in
Asia..." and it seemed to go on and on.

He was still holding the teacher's desk up.

She had shushed everybody again, and nodded to Sakjai to take his seat,
giving him an apologetic smile.  He'd sat down, or rather collapsed into
his seat.

He was shocked and very puzzled. These students were so immature, so
profoundly rude and misbehaved.  Thai schools are orderly, students utterly
silent in presence of a teacher, and even asking a question of the teacher
was considered rude.

After all, if a mere student was implying that the teacher hadn't been
clear in what he'd said, couldn't a question about the teacher's comments
be construed as insulting?

A totally different world it was, indeed.

His feeling like an outsider had already developed before he'd come to
America. But nothing that had happened here had led him to hope that his
situation would ever improve much.  He was 16, going on 17 years old. That
made him 2 years older than some of his classmates here.

Thai school systems aren't the same as America in determining the age of
different grade levels.  And Middleboro's school counselors decided to put
him in Ninth Grade to improve his English skills and adjust to living in a
new place, rather than immediately placing him in the High School, where he
should have been.

It was a well-intended decision, but he'd resented it.  He'd been in High
School for two years, by Thai measurement.  Of course, he wouldn't dream of
complaining to anybody about it.  That was unimaginable.

Thank goodness he didn't really look any older than his average
classmates. So everybody just assumed he was their age.  He wouldn't have
told anyone anything different if they'd asked.  It was too humiliating.

After all, he's a good student, top third of the class at his school in
Bangkok. And it had been one of the better private schools there, too.
He'd enjoyed soccer and occasional Thai kick-syle boxing matches.  He'd
managed a few good friendships, although not a real "best friend" because
of embarrassment about his home situation.

All of his friends had been boys.  He went to a boy's school, and there
weren't a lot of opportunities to meet girls in the life that he'd had
constructed for him.  That wasn't something he thought about, because he'd
never thought about sexual things very much anyway.

He'd never seen a girl he was attracted to physically.  He'd never played
around with any of his guy friends either.  That wouldn't have been an
unusual thing in Thai life, but he never thought about it.

He knew that his dick was there, sure enough.  And he was developing
normally, as far as he knew.

Sometimes he got hard-ons in the shower or something.  But he'd never
developed masturbation as a habit.  He did it occasionally, every two or
three weeks or so. But it wasn't anything he thought about between times.

And when he did do it, he thought only about the pleasure he felt in the
act itself.  He never fantasized about anybody else, boys or girls.  He
didn't fantasize at all, actually.  It was just a pleasant diversion from
an otherwise depressing and isolated life.

His regular wet dreams were just something he had to clean up so the maids
wouldn't giggle about it too much.

So he'd been sort of getting through life, despite all the things that got
him down and depressed sometimes.  He would have survived there.

But he'd had to come here.

He hated having to come here, but he'd had no real choice.  The adults in
his life had always told him what he was going to do.  He'd always tried to
get on with it, and didn't want to cause anybody any bother.  The
individual's rights to choose were not encouraged in Thai society, and
certainly not teenaged boys' rights.

Sakjai was his mother's only child, and he'd lived alone with her all his
life until last year.  She was a low-level Bank employee.  She had a
respectable middle class career and the required Bachelor's degree to prove
it.

His father had never lived with them, he knew the man only vaguely from a
distance.  His mother was his father's mistress, called "mee-ah noi", or
"Minor Wife" in Thai.  It wasn't anything unusual in Thai culture, but it
wasn't openly discussed either.  The man had visited regularly, paid for
the apartment and living expenses, and also paid all his son's expenses,
including very good private schools and many other advantages.

But he also had a "Major Wife" who was the only one that was publicly
acknowledged.  She knew about Sakjai and his mother, of course.  She had to
put up with the situation because all her own children were girls.  Sakjai
was the only son, even if he was born of a minor wife.  That fact gave
Sakjai's mother a certain amount of leverage and security.

Sakjai could have grown up, gone to college and gotten into a good career
path, if that had all remained in place.  Even if he wouldn't ever have
been terribly happy.

But his father had died in a car accident.

He left a large sum of money to be used to care for Sakjai and his mother,
and his mother had always handled all that. She did work in a bank, after
all.  He didn't think of it as his own inheritance.  He hadn't objected to
what his mother had said, that she was deciding what to do with it by
right.  That was Thai custom as well.

And then his mother had fallen in love.

She wanted to be married to her new love, and was completely consumed by
this new relationship in her life.

The new man was always nice to Sakjai, but insisted that if he and Sakjai's
mother were to be married, then Sakjai would be an embarrassing reminder to
him of her former life.  They wanted children of their own.

So all of a sudden, Sakjai was superfluous.  His presence was a bother.
Practically overnight, he was in the way.  He could do nothing about it.
He even agreed with the assessment.  He was obviously a nuisance, and
hadn't ever been clever enough to get his father's attention.  And now, his
mother had found a love more important to her than Sakjai.

So it was pretty plain that there was something not good enough in himself.
Why else did nobody seem to love him or want him around?  It must be some
deficiency in himself. There really wasn't any other logical conclusion,
and Sakjai had always tried to be a logical person.  He was proud of his
reasoning powers.

So, in the usual Thai way, relatives were polled to determine who might be
willing to take Sakjai until he was old enough to be on his own, only
another few years at most.  Sakjai's mother even let it be known that she
would help pay his living expenses from the money left by his father.

He had gone to live with a distant cousin on his mother's side, with his
wife and family.  At first, Sakjai had been relieved about that decision.
At least it was still in Bangkok, and he could keep attending the same
school and seeing his few friends, and visiting his mother if she ever
called him.

He wouldn't have dreamed of calling her first.  That would be rude of him.
That wasn't necessarily Thai custom.  It's just something he believed about
himself.  Don't intrude yourself.  Don't be a bother to anybody.

His mother had never called.

And things didn't work out with his cousin's family.  The children needed
lots of looking after, and Sakjai was supposed to be kind of a Cinderella
relative, unpaid help.  They told him that he'd have to drop out of school
in order to get all the work done.  Sakjai was heartbroken.  But he never
thought that he could actually protest.  It didn't even feel like an
injustice being done to him.  It just felt awful, and inevitable.  And he
didn't want to be a bother to anybody.  That was never a question in his
mind.  It was an absolute belief.

So he had stopped going to school.  He simply put away his school uniforms,
which he had been a bit proud of, and tried to get on with the work in the
house.  Without showing any sadness about it.  That would have been rude,
and his cousin's family would have called him surly and ungrateful.

After two weeks absence, the school had called Sakjai's mother and asked
why he wasn't there.

His cousin told her that Sakjai was shiftless, and wouldn't go to school,
so they'd put him to work.  She called Sakjai and told him that he would be
moved to another place that would make him buckle down and study.  Nobody
had asked Sakjai for his side of the story.

He was so relieved that he would be leaving these people and get back to
school at the same time!  He was seeing possible light at the end of his
tunnel!  He never thought to mention that his cousin had lied about him.

That would have been terribly impolite.  At least he thought so.

The only other person who was willing to take Sakjai was an older sister of
his father's, living in the States.  Sakjai had never really met anybody
from his father's family.  Nobody amongst them had really ever known her
that well either.  She had never kept in touch with most of them.  She had
married well above her station in life, and had left the rest of them
behind.

But that was a much smaller problem than having Sakjai around, and this
relative had a very good name.  In Thai society, good names mean higher
status.  Higher status was always better, no matter what.  And she had
agreed to take him!

So the decision was made for him.  Yes, he'd get to be in school again.
And be living with a high status person, who had even declined the money
his mother had offered for his support.  She didn't need the money.
Sakjai's mother was very happy about that!  All she did for Sakjai himself
was set up an auto pay account for him, US$500 per month.  He never really
thought about whether it was a lot or a little.  He didn't use much anyhow.

So here he was.  A stranger in a strange land.

He hadn't believed it was all happening to him at first.  It was that big a
shock.  He felt like he was watching somebody else's life on a video.  The
brief hopeful light had guttered out.

His life was even less in his own control than it had ever been before. He
was living (if that was the right word for this existence) in a totally
incomprehensible environment. The weather was strange to him.  His eyes
sought out familiar cues, and saw none.  Nothing smelled the same as at
home.  The quality of the light wasn't even the same.  Nothing was.  He was
a complete and utter outsider.

Nobody seemed able to understand him, let alone befriend him.  His Auntie
was OK, in a distant way.  She let it be known that he was old enough to
take care of himself, that as an aging widow she had no knowledge of or
interest in young people.  He was expected to do well in school and not get
in anybody's way.  Same theme, everywhere he had ever been able to look.

Auntie's house was clean and tidy and impersonal.  Even his room was still
in HER house, and neither of them saw it as his private space.  His new
caretaker wasn't even home half the time.  She had a spacious apartment,
lot of friends, and a social life down in New York City.  That was almost
two hours drive away.  And Auntie had never imagined that she would make
any major changes in her own life, simply because of the addition of a lone
teenage boy to the household.  That's what domestic staff is for.

The housekeeper fed Sakjai and did all the chores.  He was deprived even of
some familiar activity like that.  The housekeeper was pleasant, but she
was a servant.  It would have been considered rude for her to try and be
his friend.  And she didn't live in.  So she felt sorry for him from a
distance.

Sakjai had practically nothing to do and nobody to do it with, anyway. He
hadn't even been out exploring.  He called the town "Middle-boring" instead
of Middleboro.  And then giggled to himself, as he realized that he'd made
his first joke in English.

And then he'd cried, knowing that he had nobody he could share the joke
with.

All these things were drifting through his mind as he trudged toward his
auntie's house, his arms heavy with the entire contents of his school
locker.  But he remembered all these things sort of from a distance, far
removed now from feelings about any of it.  If he'd tried to feel more
about his plight, he would have felt nothing more than out of control and
desperately sad and alone.

He'd never been much of a worrier, he wasn't the type.  Perhaps it was that
he'd never advanced to the worrying level.  His bad days were more hopeless
and overwhelmed than they were anxious.  It was difficult for him to muster
any feeling much more than coping with the day at hand, and hoping that
tomorrow wouldn't be awful.

He didn't allow his hopes to amount to much.  He was pretty sure that
tomorrow would generally be bland, at best.  The past month had proven to
him that even his pessimism wasn't as bad as this reality had become.

He was totally alone, isolated in a cocoon of other people's making, and he
was quietly and politely smothering in the darkness and despair that had
become his life.

He didn't want to be a bother to anybody.  He didn't even believe that he
was really worth bothering about.  Nobody had ever taught him that he was
worth it.

Last night in his bed, he'd tried to think of something that he could do
for himself, since nobody else was ever going to reach out and help him.
If nobody cared about him, then he had to do something for himself,
something that he could control on his own without any bother.

The small comfort that school provided (at least it was something to do and
somewhere to go) was now over.  It seemed like an endless age before
classes would start again. And even then, why should he think that being at
school would ever be a really good reason to stay here?

So he'd decided last night that he wasn't going to stay, trapped in the
spider's web that was his life.

Sakjai was going away.  Tonight.

He knew how he was going to leave, and never occurred to him that anybody
would care.

If only he could struggle through this one last day somehow.

Then tonight he could be gone.

"I'm almost finished," Sakjai told himself.  "Almost to her house.  Only a
few more blocks.  Not long until tonight."

"Then I can go.  Not long..."

"Books are so heavy.  Just a few more blocks.  Never mind...."

"Just think about getting there."

"Get" (puff).  "To" .

"The". (puffing more) "House."

"Hot today, finally it's warm enough here...  It's been cold ever since I
arrived.  Never been so cold."

"Stop thinking, mustn't think now.  Just get to the house".

"Lay down until it's night.  Then you can go".

"You can go soon.  Just lay down for a few hours..."

"Get to the house.  Then you can go."

"Lay down.  Then go"

"Go.  Can go..."

He'd stopped walking.  He didn't notice, but now he was just standing on
the sidewalk in the middle of the block.  More like swaying actually.

"Lay down...Go..."

In his mind, he felt like a huge dark hole had just appeared in front of
him, getting bigger, it's edges crumbling the concrete he was standing on.

As the sidewalk crumbled, Sakjai felt himself about to fall into the
darkness of some vast depth below him.

He wasn't alarmed, only a bit surprised.

"Going?  Going now?"

" Now?"

"Oh....  Now."

Outwardly, had he been aware of himself physically, he would have seen what
Jimmy saw.

________________________________________________________________________

End of Holding On For Dear Life"
Part 2
To be continued!


Constructive criticism comments or questions GLADLY accepted!  Please email
me at alienist_hk@yahoo.com I answer ALL emails.

All flames will automatically push flamers into the Pit of Darkness...

The term "Alienist" was the first professional title used by psychiatrists
and psychologists in the 1890's.  These pioneer counselors and therapists
were thought to be working with people who were "alienated" from others and
from themselves.  That's still true today, isn't it?