The Floating Market
Prompt: The Letter
Sarai Bunchu ducked under the awning poles of a nearby artisan’s stand to avoid a tuk-tuk full of tourists careening down the crowded street. She adjusted her sarong and sighed. The air was thick with humidity and always seemed to have the faint smell of fish sauce wafting about. She hurried through the streets to the floating market. The streets narrowed as she approached and then opened up into a slender canal, choked with ruea hang yao, the long-tail canoes of the vendors, weighed down with fresh shellfish, squid, and fruits and vegetables of every variety.
The crowds here were thicker than usual, even for a Saturday morning. But the floating markets were a tourist trap, and this was close to peak season. Sarai would try to avoid such a scene normally, but she worked her way through the throngs on the edge of the canal, listening to the sounds of haggling, laughter, and the gentle tapping of the wooden boats as they jostled together. Her eyes scanned the vendors as she went.
Finally, she spotted him. “Rama!” She shouted. Her brother’s head whipped around and he flashed her a toothy grin. He had ears like a hawk.
Rama’s canoe floated low in the water, weighed down with mangosteen, papaya, durian, langsat, guava, and lychee, each in their own piles mounted high. He nestled the scale for weighing the fruits between his legs. He had adorned his traditional straw hat with the long stalks of brightly colored gladiolas, making him look ridiculous. But Rama was always the showman, and balancing authenticity with eccentricity was a key to attracting foreign shoppers. Ridiculousness was a business tactic.
“Mae’s been trying to get ahold of you!” Sarai said over the tops of the other vendors between herself and her brother.
“My phone died.” Rama shrugged. “Is it important?”
Sarai sighed. “Would she have sent me here on market day if it wasn’t?”
Rama frowned. Their mother was not one to be trifled with. “Okay, okay. I can’t abandon my boat, though. Toss me your phone.”
“Not a chance.” Sarai snipped, picturing her phone falling between the edges of the canoes and disappearing forever into the murky canal.
“Come on Nong Sarai, what am I supposed to do?” Rama gave her his best pouty lip and puppy dog eyes.
Sarai rolled her eyes. “Excuse me, ma’am,” she said to the vendor nearest her. “Would you please pass my phone over to Rama Bunchu, with the gladiolas on his hat?” The woman smiled and passed the phone and message to the next vendor and the next until she saw it safely reach Rama’s hands.
Rama was on the phone only a moment, and then Sarai supervised as it exchanged hands again and came back to her. “Well?” She asked, looking at Rama pointedly.
Rama looked around, embarrassed. “It was nothing.”
“It’s never nothing with mae.” Sarai waited, arms crossed. “At least tell me why she sent me halfway across the tambon this early on a Saturday.”
“I…I left a bit of a mess in the kitchen. She was gave me a taste of the proper scolding I have to look forward to when I get home, and said I’ll be scrubbing every inch of the house after market.”
Sarai smirked, and several of the vendors between them, now with a stake in the conversation, laughed. “Serves you right for all those times you weaseled out of punishment by blaming me for your mistakes when we were kids!”
Rama winked at her. “I was just preparing you for the harsh reality of the world, Nong Sarai!”
“Well, after all this trouble, I look forward to witnessing your harsh reality this afternoon, Pêe Rama.”
Rama stuck out his tongue at her playfully, looking extra foolish with his gladiolas bouncing around his hat as he did so. Then he squared his shoulders and put on a semi-serious face. “Get out of here you little ninnyhammer, I have work to do!”
