by John Shors
“He could—”
“No, Brooke. He couldn’t. He’s not going to escape in some old boat to India. That’s insane. For once he’s going to do what he has to do.”
“And you’re going to convince him?”
“We’re going to convince him.”
She nodded, shifting her gaze toward a group of distant islands on the horizon. The green clumps seemed to rise almost vertically out of the sea, serene and secluded. Good places to hide, she thought, then wondered if she’d do what Ryan wanted.
AS SHE DID MOST EVERY day, Yai sat in the shallows, washing Achara’s naked body. Yai wore shorts, a T-shirt, and a cap. She had never owned a swimsuit; nor had she ever wanted one. Staring toward deeper water, she watched a pair of topless foreign women who stood facing the beach. Even though Yai had seen thousands of such women, she could never get comfortable with the sight of so much skin. The display seemed boastful, and Yai wished that her grandchildren hadn’t seen so many naked breasts. Surely the experience would do them more harm than good. Breasts weren’t created for men, she thought, but for babies. Men had enough toys already without breasts bouncing around in front of them.
“Don’t you look over there,” Yai whispered to Achara, washing her privates, turning her away from the women. “That hot sun has baked their brains. Not that they had much to start with, but they’ve got even less now. You’ll never swim like that. Never.” Yai began cleaning Achara’s bottom, wiping and splashing. “Yes, it’s true, some Thai girls wear swimsuits these days, but not my little Achara. You’ll wear shorts and a shirt. And you won’t let men see your body like it’s some sort of advertisement for . . . Oh, never mind.”
Achara burped, causing Yai to smile.
“You agree?” Yai asked, scrubbing Achara’s feet. “I knew you would. You always agree with me. That’s one of the many, many reasons I love you so much. Here, do you want to practice standing? This is a good place to do it.” Yai lifted Achara upright, setting her feet on the sandy bottom while continuing to support her. “See? You can do it. But I tell you, sometimes it’s fun to sit too. Your shadow might not be as tall when you sit, but it’s so much wider. It’ll keep you cool from the sun.”
Leaning forward, Achara sagged against Yai’s hands. Yai bent down and blew on the back of Achara’s neck, prompting a toothless smile. “Let me see that belly of yours,” Yai said, lifting Achara up, blowing against her stomach, laughing at Achara’s grin. “Feeling better now? Is your gas gone? Your mother’s still eating too many peppers. I’ve tried, tried like we talked about, to get her to stop, but since when does she ever listen to me? Oh, don’t follow in your mother’s footsteps, Achara. She’s got the strength of ten men. Not that ten men are so impressive, but these days your mother can be overwhelming. She works too hard. Of course, she needs to cook and clean, which is actually good for us, because I get to spend so much time with you. I’m a lucky woman.”
Yai heard Suchin’s voice and turned toward Rainbow Resort. Suchin was running along the beach, giggling, pursued by her little brother. He didn’t look pleased, which made Yai smile. “Go get her, Niran,” she said softly. “But don’t kick sand on the tourists, or your mother won’t be happy. And you’d better sell some more drinks.”
Niran stopped chasing Suchin, who had darted between two bungalows. He walked to the water and sat in the shallows. Yai lifted Achara’s hand and waved. Niran shook his head, apparently angry at Suchin, but finally, after hitting the water, he waved back. Yai motioned for him to join her, and he stood up and waded toward her. Watching him move through the turquoise water, with the coconut trees behind him, Yai thought of her good fortune and thanked Buddha, as she often did, for her many blessings.
“What did your sassy sister do?” she asked, as Niran approached.
“A man gave her a piece of candy and she didn’t tell me about it until she’d eaten it! So I tried to get her back. But she ran and ran and ran and was laughing the whole time!”
“Here, sit by me. Keep your old grandmother company.”
“She should have shared it,” he replied, dropping to his knees beside her.
“Yes, she should have. But we all make mistakes. I gave birth to your mother, didn’t I?”
“Suchin makes the most. Much more than me.”
Yai set Achara on her lap. “Didn’t she catch you that glass shrimp the other day?”
“That was three days ago.”
“But isn’t the shrimp in your tank today? Weren’t you watching it this morning?”
Niran scratched at a mosquito bite on his elbow. “It’s almost invisible, except for its stomach and eyes.”
“Would you rather have the piece of candy, or the shrimp?”
“The . . . the shrimp.”
“So why don’t you consider the candy your return gift to her? Tell her that it was your gift. And every morning, when you see that invisible shrimp, remember how she gave it to you.”
Still scratching, Niran nodded. “Yai?”
“Yes, child?”
“This morning, I heard Mother and Father whispering. They were talking about moving to Bangkok.”
“They were?”
“We won’t have to move to Bangkok, will we? I won’t be able to catch crabs and fish if we live there. And how will I ever be a scientist?”
Yai looked toward the restaurant, certain that Sarai was cleaning up from lunch. “No, we won’t ever move to Bangkok. Your parents must have had too much sun.”
“But why were they talking about it?”
Yai put Achara against her chest, giving herself time to think. “Well, when you look at your tank, don’t you consider which kind of rock or shell will be best for your pets? You don’t just throw the first rock you see in there. And your mother and father, they’re just considering all the choices. And one of those choices is Bangkok.”
“It’s a bad choice.”
“I 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.”
“Except when he fell.”
“That’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.”
“You’re too skinny. The wind would only tug at your nose.”
“I 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.”
“Good luck,” she said.
“Thanks.”
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 wo
uld 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 village, noticing that the setting sun seemed to paint the coconut trees and the distant cliffs with amber. Suddenly he felt alone, almost as much as he had that night in Bangkok when he’d hidden from the police in some slums. That had been the worst night of his life. And though nothing on Ko Phi Phi compared to that horror, Patch needed to see his brother.
He stood up and started walking toward the pier, brushing sand from his chafed hands. On the beach in front of the adjacent set of bungalows, a Thai man was juggling burning sticks, a group of about twenty tourists around him. The fire sticks created glowing arcs as they rose and fell, moving without pause. The smell of burning oil drifted to Patch and he turned to his left, away from the beach. Though he knew that the evening ferry wouldn’t arrive for at least another hour, he wanted to be on the pier when Ryan and Brooke stepped ashore.
His pace quickened, and he passed by the wooden storefronts without a glance. Reggae music and laughter emerged from the village, and he wondered which of the many restaurants or bars had organized some sort of party. There was always a party being held on Ko Phi Phi. The only questions were where, when, and what theme.
As he walked beneath a massive banyan tree and turned a corner, Patch stopped. Ten feet away, a guidebook in his hands, stood Ryan. His older brother saw him, lowered his book, and grinned. Patch noticed an attractive woman by Ryan’s side, but his gaze quickly returned to Ryan’s face. They came together and embraced, squeezing each other, their grips firm and unrelenting. Patch leaned back, lifting his brother off the ground in a bear hug.
“You’re so thin,” Ryan said, his voice deeper than Patch remembered, almost out of place amid the reggae music and the echoes of foreign languages and accents.
“And you’re a rock,” Patch added, finally releasing Ryan. “It’s so great to see you.”
“You too.”
“I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“Brooke, this is my little brother, Patrick,” Ryan said, stepping back. “But we all call him Patch.”
Brooke smiled, extending her hand. “Hi, Patch.”
“Hi. Here, let me take your bag.”
“Thanks,” she replied, noticing the remarkable similarities between the brothers. They possessed the same blue eyes, prominent cheekbones, and angular noses. Ryan’s blond hair had been cut short, while Patch’s was below his ears and his eyebrows. A sun-bleached, tangled mess, it looked to have not seen a comb in weeks. The tropics had also left a mark on Patch’s skin, which was quite tan. A white line encircled his wrist where a bracelet had been recently.
As Brooke assessed him, Patch lifted her suitcase, surprised by her tank top and flip-flops. He’d expected Ryan’s girlfriend to be more serious-looking. Ryan had told him only about how the two of them had met in business school, how she was smart and strong and interested in the world. He’d never said that she would look right at home in a place like Ko Phi Phi.
Leading them toward Rainbow Resort, Patch asked about their trip and pointed out some of the island’s highlights. Ryan inquired with careful, guarded questions about Patch’s situation, while Brooke gazed about in apparent wonder. Patch followed her eyes, seeing what she saw, glad that the island seemed to enchant her.
He guided them to the best bungalow that Lek and Sarai had to offer. After they had settled in and changed clothes, they met him at the restaurant, where he introduced them to his Thai hosts. Sarai had prepared a feast of sorts—seafood soup in a lemongrass broth, fried rice, garlic shrimp, and vegetable curry. Just a few other patrons were seated, and after their plates had been cleared, only Patch, Ryan, and Brooke still ate. Suchin and Niran sat at a nearby table, laughing at the sight of 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.
“It 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.”
“Some squirt guns would be good,” Ryan said.
“Or some plastic dinosaurs. I’ll be the T. rex.”
“No 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.
“I 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?”
“It won’t be hell.”
“I hit a cop. His blood was on my hands. How do you think they’re going to treat me in jail?”
“You’re an American. That’ll help. And we’ll be checking in on you.”
“Why would being an American—”
“Jesus, 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.”
“I don’t want to relax. I want to get you out of this freaking mess.”
“Just 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.”
“I’m not being—”
“I 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.”
“I like it here.”
“Of 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.”
“What?”
“One mistake is going to cost me so much.” He rubbed his brow, glancing at Brooke, who was watching them intently. “Should one idiotic mistake cost me so much?”
“No,” Ryan answered.
“Then why should I go to jail? I’ll be in danger there. I’ll humiliate Mom and Dad.”
“Because you don’t have a choice. Because that’s how you’ll get your life back.”
“This is my life.”
“This is fantasyland. Or Fantasy Island. It’s not your life.”
“I’m helping these people. And they’re helping me. They took me in. They treat me like a son, and I want to repay them.”
Ryan shook his head. “These people? What about Mom and Dad? What about your family?”
“Mom and Dad will forgive me.”
Laughter drifted to them from a distant party on the beach. People were dancing around a fire juggler, shouting out encouragement. “A week ago,” Ryan said, digging into the sand with his feet, “I was in my marketing class. I had my laptop out, but instead of taking notes, I was thinking about you, worrying about you. Do you ever think about me?”
“All the time.”
Brooke looked from brother to brother, intrigued by the similarity of their faces, and the differences of their thoughts. “May I say something?”
