Free Cross Currents by John Shors

in there. And your mother and father, they’re just considering all the choices. And one of those choices is Bangkok.”
    â€œIt’s a bad choice.”
    â€œI agree. And that’s why I’m sure they won’t make it. Your mother’s too smart. And your father moves with too much care.”
    â€œExcept when he fell.”
    â€œThat’s right. Except when he fell. But otherwise he hasn’t missed a step. And don’t forget about me. You think an old woman like me could survive a move to Bangkok? Better to just set me adrift here. Let my big belly act as a sail and push me out to sea.”
    Niran smiled. “Maybe we could drift together.”
    â€œYou’re too skinny. The wind would only tug at your nose.”
    â€œI could make a sail and put it on my chest.”
    Yai leaned toward him, resting her free hand on his knee. “It’s a deal, then. If your parents lose what little sanity they possess and decide to move to Bangkok, we’ll just swim out and set sail. You and me. And we’ll bring some candy. As much candy as we can carry.”
    Picking up a handful of sand, Niran turned it over underwater, watching it billow outward. “I should go back. It’s so hot. I bet everyone’s thirsty for a Fanta.”
    â€œGood luck,” she said.
    â€œThanks.”
    She watched him depart, loving the sight of his small body and the thought of his wanting to sail away with her. She thanked Buddha for her gifts again, then turned her attention to Achara, kissing her forehead and smiling at the beauty of her dark eyes.

    USING AN OLD TROWEL, PATCH carefully smoothed out the layer of sand that he’d poured on the path. He worked on the area in front of him, leveling it perfectly. Satisfied, he picked up a brown brick and set it on the sand, aligning it next to a brick he had placed earlier. The bricks were thick and strong enough to support the baggage carts used by porters to transport backpacks and supplies from their pier.
    Turning around, Patch eyed the ten feet or so of the path that he’d finished. The surface was level and uniform, and even when he’d jumped on the tightly packed bricks, they hadn’t moved. He was certain that the path would remain useful for many years and was pleased by the notion of improving Rainbow Resort. Lek would be delighted, he was sure. As would Sarai, because until now any sort of rain meant that her guests would track mud and sand into the restaurant and bungalows. The paved path would make such messes a thing of the past.
    After placing another brick on the sand, Patch looked back toward the village, wondering when Ryan would arrive. Though he knew that they would argue about his future, he was increasingly excited to see his brother. Their paths hadn’t crossed in more than seven months, and only now, with Ryan so close, did Patch realize how much he had missed him. They’d been best friends for so many years—playing sports together, being bunk mates at camp, riding their bicycles around their cul-de-sac. Ryan had always been there when Patch needed him. And Ryan would be there again, only this time he wouldn’t be standing up for Patch against some bully or showing him how to throw a football. He’d be telling him to turn himself over to the American embassy, to imprison himself in a Thai jail.
    Several months earlier, Patch had hoped that Ryan would help him escape. But it became clear from Ryan’s terse emails that he had no interest in plans that might put Patch’s life in jeopardy. In Ryan’s opinion, an ocean journey to India wasn’t an option; nor was sneaking across the border into Malaysia or Cambodia. Any of those choices, Ryan had argued, could lead to a grim fate. And because of that possibility, Ryan wouldn’t discuss escape plans, no matter how much Patch wanted him to.
    Patch picked up another brick, positioning it carefully. He looked back toward the