At the Sunshine Guesthouse

In Phuket there stayed a deaf backpacker in my guesthouse. He was German I think. It was hard to tell. When he first arrived I saw him arguing with a tuk-tuk driver over the fare. He tossed his hands about and threw a tantrum, his eyes watering in frustration. Though he would smile when we passed in lobby, he never made an attempt to communicate. In the human evenings he shuffled through images of great Thai and Chinese temples, replaying video after video, each one of him and a group of deaf children, all with smiles and the hand sign for ‘I love you.” But one night, the man didn’t come back. Someone from the consulate collected his belongings the next morning. In broken, English the proprietor told me, “sneaker wave.” I imagine he was squaring up a photo, back to the ocean when it took him. The next night two English girls checked into the dorms; one slept in the same bed he did. I told her the story but I don’t know how she took it. She didn’t know him like I did.