Broken Flags by James Sunday

Author:James Sunday [Sunday, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-01-03T00:00:00+00:00

26

NOW

THE SATCHEL STRAP dug into his shoulder, the skin between his neck and shoulder blade feeling thin and raw. The blood beneath circulated slowly after fifteen hours of international travel. Andy stood with his bag on one hip and his suit’s garment bag over his shoulder. His red eyes were fixed on the two black suitcases making their tenth trip around the conveyer belt.

Arrival information squawked over the airport speakers, the woman’s bright Aussie accent giving Andy some comfort that he was indeed on home soil.

Even now, though, thousands of kilometres from China, he wondered whether he’d made the right choice. Fear had chased him from a place he’d fallen in love with. Again.

Sure, he was safe from shifty Shenzhen cops. But what about Taylor? If he discovered that Andy was back in town so soon, he might panic and pin the whole skimming operation on him.

He’d just have to face the music. At least he wasn’t alone. He had Ruby, as well as his mum, who was ecstatic about the return of her only child. It was just the fear that remained.

While waiting at the luggage carousel, Andy finished replying to Lucy’s message. He apologised that he couldn’t hang out and said he’d decided to go home for personal reasons. He’d love to stay in touch, though. He messaged the same to Alex.

Wow, he thought. This is how you terminate friendships? With bloody text messages?

Andy was tempted to message Liene, but wasn’t ready for another rejection. Instead, he texted Ruby to say he’d arrived. She replied that she’d been caught up and was leaving home now. He rolled his eyes and then closed them for a moment, barely staying upright on his spaghetti legs.

Andy hadn’t slept during the long haul to Sydney International Airport. He’d hardly eaten, either, having spent more time juggling his way through Southern China Airlines’ liquor selection. When the soft-cheeked hostess’s smile had turned to a frown, he’d known the booze was showing. At seven in the morning, he now swayed half-drunk and exhausted in the arrivals terminal.

“Scuse me, are there more bags coming? I’ve been here for half an hour.”

“Shouldn’t be long, mate,” the sharply dressed Qantas attendee said, walking past Andy. “Be patient.” He winked and continued past.

“Asshole,” Andy said as the staff member exited earshot.

The line for customs was growing. Most passengers seemed to have returned from their Bali vacations, the Bintang singlets and post-hangover buzz wafting in the air like leftover smoke from a fireworks display. He was jealous of their smiling faces and guessed that none had brought home many troubles aside from a sunburn or jellyfish rash.

“Bloody finally,” he said as his luggage entered the carousel.

Andy waited in line with his yellow customs declaration card. Ahead of him was a heavyset bloke wearing a Hawaiian shirt that pulled the man’s fat rolls together like the string on a pork roast. The shirt made Andy question the decision-making of some people. He was forced to listen to the bloke’s conversation with his son while the queue slowly moved.

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