Cross Currents (30 page)

The corners of Lek's lips rose, and he reached for Sarai's shoulder with his free hand. “Maybe later, after your smile is back, we can—”

“Wait. Before you start romancing me, I need to tell you something else.”

“What?”

“Before dinner, I went to Patch's room, and I asked him. I asked him why he was hiding.”

Lek frowned, then blew a mosquito from Achara's arm. “What did he say?”

Sarai started scrubbing again and retold Patch's story. She left nothing out. When all the dishes were clean, she started to wipe the countertops. “I like Patch,” she said. “I like him a lot. And I don't blame him. But he has to leave. His presence endangers our family.”

“Maybe—”

“We'll help him. We'll support him. But he has to leave.” Lek started to speak again, but she shook her head. “Open your mouth only if you agree with me.”

“I . . . I agree. He has to leave. But I still need his help to rethatch a few roofs. Give us ten days.”

“Five. You have five. Tomorrow is Christmas. And he shouldn't have to work on his holiday. But after that, you have until the first of the year. Then he has to go.”

“Fine, if you insist. But I'll need to hire help for a roof or two.”

She rinsed out her rag, hung it up to dry, and then began to sweep the floor. She thought about telling him how she had taken the nine hundred baht and hidden it, starting a fund that she hoped would someday allow him to visit a doctor on the mainland. But until then, he would have to endure the ache in his hip. No other choice existed. “I want to laugh,” she finally said, her broom creating a pile of sand and debris. “I was born to laugh. Not to force a friend from our home. If he wasn't in trouble, he could stay forever. He could become a part of us. But I can't risk our family. Now that I know the truth, I can't risk our family.”

Lek put his foot in front of her broom. “Could you still laugh tonight?”

“I don't know. I'm tired. Let me finish.”

He didn't move. “Wait. Just wait and watch.” With his free hand, he reached for one of Achara's bare feet and gently tickled her toes. She pulled her foot away, but he continued to tickle her, and a smile spread across her face.

Sarai bit her lower lip, setting her broom aside. Suddenly she needed to hold her child. She reached for her, soon cradling her, soon tickling the same toes. Achara smiled again, dreaming perhaps, unaware of the tears she brought to her mother's eyes. Her father caught one such tear from her cheek, rubbed it between his fingers, then picked up the broom and began to sweep.

Bending down, Sarai kissed Achara's forehead, praying for her health and happiness. She imagined her daughter running along the beach, laughing with other children, playing in the waves. The promise of such days, as well as that very moment, filled Sarai with love and wonder and joy, filled her like the sun pours light into the sky.

She's a miracle, Sarai thought. Our own little miracle.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 25

Not long after first light, when Patch was adding the final touches to the tree house, Lek sought him out. The two walked along the beach, and Lek said that despite their bond and Patch's wonderful work, he had to leave by the first of the year. Lek told him about the police flyer, about how he'd taken it down, how Patch's presence was a threat to Lek's family. Patch apologized profusely and informed Lek of his plan to sneak aboard a freighter. Though the plan worried Lek, and he told Patch as much, there was little he could do. The two thanked each other, walked in companionable silence, and then decided to start applying fresh thatch to a vacant bungalow.

It was difficult to bind and tie the thatch. Lek was an expert at the process, though, and as Patch stood on a bamboo ladder and worked, he tried to mimic the older man's movements. He made many mistakes, for he was consumed with conflicting emotions. A part of him was dominated by joy, by the bliss of the most passionate and electric moment of his life—kissing Brooke. But that kiss came at a price—turbulent feelings of betrayal and guilt. Ryan had never betrayed him, always protecting him, always doing what Ryan thought was right. But now, after Ryan had traveled around the world to help him, Patch had put his own feelings before his brother's. He'd acted passionately, but also selfishly, disregarding how his actions might hurt Ryan.

Lek saw Patch's clumsiness and misinterpreted it, believing that Patch was upset about having to leave. He leaned closer to the American, putting his hand on a cord Patch was using to tie up some thatch. “Happy Christmas,” he said. “A most happy Christmas to you.”

“Thanks.”

“I want you to have happy Christmas. You my friend. And my family's friend. Please . . . do not leave this place unhappy. You blessing for us.”

Patch stopped working, and thanked Lek in Thai. He then added in English, “You've all been the blessing. And I won't ever forget you.”

“Someday you come back?”

“I . . . I don't know. I'd love to. But it won't be easy. Maybe someday . . . you could all visit me in America.”

“That impossible. We never get visa. Not enough money. Americans can come to Thailand, but we cannot go to America.”

A dragonfly landed on Patch's sweaty arm and he brushed it away. “Maybe someday . . . if I have some money I could sponsor you. Maybe Suchin and Niran could study in America. I think it's a lot easier to get a student visa. And if you were serious about it, if they were serious about it, I'd really try to help.”

Lek's mouth opened, but no words came forth. He'd dreamed of such opportunities for his children but never dared to hope that they might come true. He bit his bottom lip, his eyes glistening at the thought of Suchin and Niran at an American university. Suchin might not want to leave Ko Phi Phi, of course. She was so happy here, and Lek would never do anything to disrupt that contentment. On the other hand, Lek was certain that Niran was serious about becoming a scientist. And where better to become a scientist than at an American university?

“You too kind,” Lek finally replied. “You make me happy. You make a father happy. And a mother.”

“I want to keep in touch. I want to help you.”

“You already help. For sure. More than you know.”

Patch started to reply but saw Ryan jogging down the beach. Guilt flooded back into Patch, and his smile faded. Though Lek had just called him kind, Patch didn't feel anything of the sort. He felt dirty. He wanted to step back in time and not take Brooke out in the boat. Though he had fallen for her, and though he had wanted to let her know about his feelings, the kiss had been too much. Words would have been just as effective, and infinitely less harmful.

The longer Patch watched Ryan, the worse he felt. He thanked Lek again for everything, and then asked if he could go down and speak with his brother. Lek smiled, nodding, still thinking about how someday his children might be able to study in America.

Patch hurried down the ladder and over to the beach. Ryan was at the far end of the curving stretch of sand. Walking toward his brother, Patch tried to settle his emotions. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say or do, but he had to say something. He couldn't escape the island and spend weeks hiding in a freighter without somehow honoring his relationship with his brother.

After a few minutes, Ryan and Patch approached each other in front of a small hotel that was being renovated. Ryan slowed his pace, stretching as he moved, holding his hands up and behind his head. He pulled out his earphones. His body glistened with so much sweat that he might as well have stepped out of a shower. The brothers greeted each other warmly, touching fists and exchanging wishes of a merry Christmas. Patch thought Ryan seemed in unusually good spirits and was happy for him. “Is she so great?” he asked as Ryan began to stretch his legs.

His older brother looked up, smiling. “Yesterday I went to her home.”

“Seriously?”

“She laughed at me. Said that her mother thought I'd come to propose.”

“Of course she did.”

“Well, thanks for warning me.”

Patch shrugged. “I didn't know you were going to look for her house. I wouldn't have guessed that in a million years.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . . because that's something I'd do. Not you.”

Ryan lifted his right knee toward his chest and held it in place. “I told Brooke all about her.”

“I know.”

“She told you?”

Patch hesitated, glancing away. “She's . . . she's told me a lot. You've been gone so much lately, and we've just become . . . close.”

“How so?”

“Really close. I didn't plan it that way, but it just—”

“What do you mean, really close?” Ryan stopped stretching. “What do you mean, Patch?”

“I swear, I didn't—”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ryan asked, his voice no longer friendly.

Patch took a step backward. “We . . . I made a mistake. A huge mistake. You guys had broken up. You were with Dao. And I . . . I just got caught up in the moment.”

“Jesus. What happened?”

“We . . .”

“What happened?”

“We kissed. Just once. And that was it.”

Ryan's hands rose up, pushing Patch toward the sea. “You kissed her?” Another shove sent Patch stumbling. “You kissed my girlfriend?”

“Ryan, I'm trying to be honest here. Just listen. We were—”

“You kissed her or she kissed you?”

“It wasn't . . .”

“Open your mouth or I'll open it for you.”

“I kissed her. Just for a second. It was a mistake. We both know—”

The punch came fast and hard, striking Patch on the side of his jaw. The pain was instantaneous and almost blinding. He fell with a grunt, his palms and knees driving deep into the sand.

“That's what I get?” Ryan asked, towering over Patch. “I come halfway around the world to help you, and that's what I get?”

“I—”

“Shut up, you worthless piece of shit.”

The world spun around Patch. The inside of his mouth was torn, and he spit blood. “I'm sorry.”

“You're sorry? Great. That's just great. You're sorry. That makes everything fine. That makes the world perfect. You and your goddamn apologies. I bet you weren't sorry when you were kissing her, were you? Did you say sorry then? What else did you do with her? Did you sleep with her?”

“No. And you'd left her.”

“So? You think that gives you the green light to kiss her? Just because I met a girl, and I was happy, you thought you could kiss Brooke?”

Blood dripped from the corner of Patch's mouth. He tried to stand but couldn't. “It . . . just happened.”

“Brooke and I might be done, but that doesn't mean that I don't have feelings for her, that I don't want to be her friend. You think I want to hear about . . . about you kissing her? Why can't you ever think of me? I've always tried to be like you with women. I've sucked at it, and have always been jealous, a third fucking wheel. And now you have to move in and take Brooke from me? To show me once again how you're so much better than me?”

“That's crazy, Ryan.”

“No, it's not.”

“You're way better than me.”

“Bullshit.”

“Then why . . . why have I always looked up to you?”

An image of Patch and Brooke kissing unfolded in Ryan's mind. He remembered touching her for the first time, remembered the feel of her lips. “I'm finished here,” he said, his voice flat, drained of strength. “You . . . you can rot in jail or go jump on some ship. I really don't give a crap.”

Patch grabbed his brother's leg. “Wait. Just wait. Please.”

Ryan stepped away, stumbling toward his bungalow. He'd seen Patch spit blood, and though he was so enraged that he wanted to scream, the sight of his little brother's blood and the memory of his fist striking Patch's face were almost as painful to him as thoughts of Patch's betrayal.

He had to leave the island. No matter how much he cared about Dao, or how happy he'd felt an hour earlier, he had to leave. Beauty and promise existed here, but so did confusion and sadness and angst. Though the island had put him at ease, had made his stresses and responsibilities seem so far away, he'd been deluding himself. He wasn't like Patch. He couldn't escape into a new world and forget where he came from. And though Dao was tempting, though he didn't want to walk away from her, he knew he had to. His feet needed to be more firmly planted. Only then would he be able to go where necessary, to create a place where he would feel at home.