Free Cross Currents by John Shors Page B

Patch’s big brother, joking in English that their mother must have given Ryan all their food. Suchin asked that the brothers roll up their sleeves, and couldn’t stop giggling as she compared Patch’s thin arm to Ryan’s muscles. Niran brought the trio three beers and explained how Patch was building a brick path, how they were friends.
    After more than an hour of eating, Ryan thanked Sarai and paid their bill, leaving her a substantial tip. Brooke had changed into a bikini that she wore under her shorts and tank top. She wanted to swim, and the brothers followed her to the shoreline. The sky glowed, alight with the energy of countless stars. Several fires burned along the beach. Music seemed to echo off the sea and the mountainous, shadowlike cliffs. Several idle longboats had been beached, miniature waves breaking against their hulls.
    Brooke removed her top and shorts, and stepped into the water, which was warmer than she would have imagined. “It’s like a bath,” she said, gesturing for the brothers to join her.
    â€œIt is a bath,” Patch replied. He took off his T-shirt and sandals, moving deeper into the water, avoiding the sight of her body. “All we need are a few toys.”
    â€œSome squirt guns would be good,” Ryan said.
    â€œOr some plastic dinosaurs. I’ll be the T. rex.”
    â€œNo way. He’s mine.”
    Smiling at the beauty around her, Brooke walked farther into the bay, the water rising to her knees, waist, and finally chest. She dropped below the surface, ran her hands through her hair, and tasted the sea. Though she heard Ryan and Patch talking above and behind her, she didn’t resurface until her lungs tightened with want.
    Brooke swam underwater again, felt the sand with her fingertips, tried to do a handstand, and then rose to the surface and realized that Ryan and Patch’s conversation had shifted to more serious matters. She stood up.
    â€œI called the American embassy again,” Ryan said quietly. “Just before we left Bangkok. They’ll help you with the police. They say you’ll do a year of time at most. More likely nine or ten months. That’s not so bad.”
    Patch closed his eyes, the water up to his chin. “A year in hell isn’t so bad?”
    â€œIt won’t be hell.”
    â€œI hit a cop. His blood was on my hands. How do you think they’re going to treat me in jail?”
    â€œYou’re an American. That’ll help. And we’ll be checking in on you.”
    â€œWhy would being an American—”
    â€œJesus, Patch. The guy at the embassy said it would help. I think he knows a lot more about it than you do.”
    Patch reached out toward his brother, finding his elbow. “Relax, Ry. Just for a minute.”
    â€œI don’t want to relax. I want to get you out of this freaking mess.”
    â€œJust look at the sky. You’ve come halfway around the world to a really beautiful place. Will you just look at it for a minute?”
    Sighing, Ryan turned slowly in a circle, aware of the beauty, but thinking that for Patch, the beauty was an illusion, an escape from reality. His little brother had always sought out such escapes, and he was irritated that Patch wouldn’t just face his fate. “Listen to me. Even a year in hell is better than getting caught trying to run. Then it’ll be two years. Or something worse could happen. You think you’re going to be safe as a stowaway on some ship? Don’t be naive.”
    â€œI’m not being—”
    â€œI promised Mom and Dad that I’d talk some sense into you. They were going to come, you know, but I wanted to talk to you first.”
    â€œI like it here.”
    â€œOf course you like it here. It’s paradise. But that doesn’t change things. Really, it doesn’t.”
    Patch gazed at the stars again. “One mistake.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œOne mistake is going to