The Ties That Bind

by Lexi Landsman

‘I’m all ears,’ he said, thinking that his lazy left foot might have just scored him a date.

  ‘Do you mind watching my things for a few minutes? I’ve got to go to the bathroom.’

  It wasn’t the offer he had been hoping for but she obviously thought he looked trustworthy, which was something, right? While he waited for her to return, he thought of romantic ways he would ask her on a date. He thought of scribbling his name and number onto a page in the textbook she had earmarked, but she seemed like the type who wouldn’t dare deface a textbook. Then he thought he’d buy her a coffee and write his number onto the cup, but then it occurred to him that she wouldn’t appreciate the coffee if her things were gone when he returned with it. So, instead he waited.

  After thirty minutes and no sign of her, he was sure she either had serious digestive problems, had met up with her boyfriend, or had simply forgotten to come back for her stuff. People started to head back to their dorms. It was late, edging closer to 3 am. So, he did the only thing he could think of and took her stuff, leaving a note with his dorm number stuck to the nearest palm tree.

  He went to sleep wondering what had happened to her. At 6 am he got his answer when he woke to a cautious knock on his door. He opened it to find her looking dazed and exhausted, her hair now untamed. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said. ‘This is so embarrassing. I got locked in the bathroom and the janitor only found me this morning.’

  He quickly wiped sleep from his eyes and willed them to make a speedy adjustment to the strong morning rays.

  ‘Seriously, thank you so much. That laptop cost me an entire summer of high-school tutoring,’ she said, smiling. ‘Oh, and I’m so sorry it’s so early, it’s just I have an exam today and the toilet lid wasn’t a very comfortable cushion, so naturally I haven’t slept and I need to go over my notes before it starts at nine.’

  He walked into his room and handed over her things.

  ‘I can’t thank you enough,’ she said and he thought he saw her giving him the once over, which is when he became aware that he was wearing the Spiderman boxer shorts his mother had bought him. Was she grinning?

  ‘Hey, do you wanna go out some time?’ he asked, while attempting to hide his lower half behind the door.

  She smiled, her deep blue eyes shining. ‘Sure,’ she said.

  ‘How about tomorrow night?’ He immediately regretted coming across so eager.

  ‘I’ll meet you by the palm tree outside Starbucks at seven,’ she said and motioned to leave. ‘Thanks again.’ She hurried down the corridor.

  David found himself smiling as he recalled those carefree university days. His memory was awash in snapshots of his time with her on campus: the hot summer nights they squashed onto a single bed with the foam mattress that creaked on the wire frame, their shared lattes with an extra shot of coffee, those late evening strolls along the lake and around the gym, the way he used to sit at the back of her art class while she painted and how she would wait for him on the ledge outside his lecture hall.

  He thought about how much his life had been defined by that one misguided soccer kick. It had led him to his future wife and to having a son who now shared his passion for the game. His injury might have forced him to give up on his soccer dreams but, by then, he was happy with his medical path. It was failing at the very thing David wanted most that ending up steering him right where he was meant to be.

  8

  WHEN Jade woke up, searing pain shot through her right arm and her throat felt like it had been scratched with sandpaper. Her lungs were tight and her head was heavy. She forced her eyes open and saw the blurred figure of her grandmother beside her, her fingers stroking Jade’s hair. ‘YiaYia,’ Jade croaked. ‘Where am I?’

  Her father came into her field of vision and he kissed her forehead tenderly.

  ‘You’re awake, agapi mou,’ Helena cried. ‘You’re in hospital. We thought we’d lost you.’

  ‘It’s okay, YiaYia. I’m sorry,’ she said, trying to soothe her grandmother.

  ‘Just rest, my girl. You have some bad burns to your arm but it will heal. And you suffered from the smoke in your lungs.’

  ‘Where are the dogs?’

  ‘We left them with Aunt Zoe.’

  Jade drew a deep, strained breath. ‘What about the alpacas? Did they survive?’

  Her grandmother looked down and shrugged feebly. ‘We don’t think so.’

  Jade felt a pain in her heart that hurt far more than the burns in her lungs. She could hear sounds of moaning and she looked around to see that she was in a hospital room filled with burns patients. Some had whole limbs covered in bandages, others were asleep with loved ones pacing beside them. She felt such a heavy sadness that she couldn’t keep her eyes from welling up. She didn’t want to know what had become of Somerset and all the people she had known her whole life. The reality of the fires caught in Jade’s throat and she coughed heavily, startled to see her palms covered in black soot.

  Her father sat on a chair and covered his face in his hands. ‘I should never have let you stay behind. I should have protected you,’ he sobbed.

  ‘Dad, it’s okay. I’m fine. It’s my fault. I should have left with you.’

  Helena went over to him and patted his back. ‘She’s okay now, Paul,’ she whispered. ‘We mustn’t upset her.’ She stood up and handed Jade a glass of iced water. ‘Have this, it will help your throat.’

  Jade felt the coolness of the ice soothe her chapped lips. ‘How did I get here?’ she asked and as she did a rush of fragmented images came over her with such intensity that she felt her chest tighten as if she were living through the fires again. She remembered the oxygen filling her lungs, the firefighter carrying her, his kind eyes, the terrifying sound of the earth burning beneath them. The monitor she was hooked up to echoed the pulse of her racing heart. ‘Who was the man who saved me?’

  ‘The hospital staff said you were brought in by a firefighter. But enough questions, you must sleep now, agapi mou.’

  ‘No, I need to know who he was. He saved my life.’ Every word was a strain through her burned vocal chords.

  ‘Good to see that you’re awake,’ said a nurse as she walked in. She attempted a forced smile but it seemed her lips could barely move into any sign that resembled happiness. She appeared exhausted and, judging by the number of patients in the room, Jade knew it had been a long night for her. She went to Jade’s arm to take her blood pressure and record her pulse and oxygen levels.

  ‘A man brought me here last night, a firefighter. Do you know how I can find him?’

  The nurse took some tablets off a tray. ‘I’m sorry, I have no idea. As you can imagine, this hospital was, is, chaos. There was no time for formalities last night. You were dropped here and I imagine that whoever brought you went straight back out to battle the blazes.’

  All Jade could remember was the glow of his pale-blue eyes and the faint scar above his eyebrow.

  ‘Now, how about some morphine for the pain?’ the nurse asked, brushing aside Jade’s question.

  ‘No, thanks,’ Jade said. ‘I’m ready to go home.’ She coughed again and tried to hide the black particles left in her hands.

  ‘You need to relax and allow yourself to recover,’ the nurse insisted. ‘You inhaled a lot of smoke. You were very lucky it wasn’t worse. We have to monitor you to make sure you don’t go into respiratory distress.’

  Jade fell silent. She didn’t want to think about the emergencies and the burns being treated all around her. The word lucky made her uneasy when she knew there were people who had been on the other side of luck.

  ‘Surely someone else needs my bed,’ Jade said, forcing her body up.

  ‘Give yourself at least a few more hours of rest, and if we do get short of beds I’ll let you know.’

  She looked at Jade’s hospital band on her wrist so she could remember her name and paused. ‘Actually, there is someone here who has been looking for you.’

  A grain of hope bloomed. Had her mother com
e back at last? She watched the nurse walk off at speed down the rows of patients. She tapped another nurse on the shoulder, who then ran towards Jade.

  ‘Jade,’ the other nurse cried when she reached her. ‘It’s Cathy Miller,’ she said, registering Jade’s confusion.

  Jade’s heart felt like jelly. She had no idea what had happened to Cathy’s kids, Sarah and Tyler, and her parents-in-law. ‘Are they okay?’ she said, afraid to hear the answer.

  ‘Yes!’ Cathy cried. ‘Chris called me a few hours ago. It was the worst night of my life. I couldn’t get hold of anyone. I didn’t know what had happened to them. The phone signals have come and gone. I couldn’t get to my house.’ She wiped her eyes and Helena came over and gave her a hug. She swallowed heavily and then continued. ‘Chris told me what happened. How you got them out of the house and insisted he drive them to the school. They sheltered by the school oval overnight. If you hadn’t gone there and done what you did, they wouldn’t have got out of the house in time, they wouldn’t have –’ She couldn’t finish her sentence. She took Jade’s hand. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you. They’re my whole world.’

  Jade forced herself to sit up fully. ‘What about everyone else on our road? Are they okay?’

  Helena sat on the edge of the bed and put her arm on Jade’s shoulder. ‘You must rest, agapi mou.’

  Cathy looked down and Jade turned to her father, whose face was buried in his hands. ‘What happened?’

  Cathy shook her head. ‘They’re all gone except for the Dysons and Mayfields, who left in time. Lucky Chris’s wife and kids weren’t in town. And if he’d gone back to his house after dropping my family off at the school, he wouldn’t be here either.’

  Jade suddenly felt dizzy. She lay back down and rubbed her temples. Everyone in Somerset knew each other. It was small, tight community. There were no words for this kind of grief.

  ‘Cathy,’ one of the nurses called out, ‘we need you.’

  Cathy turned to Jade one more time and kissed her forehead. ‘I owe you my life,’ she said and hurried off.

  Jade looked out the hospital window and drew her breath when she saw the battered and beaten countryside. It looked like a war zone. She got up slowly and went to the window. Houses in the distance had been completely flattened. The landscape was black and broken and lifeless.

  ‘So much is gone,’ Jade said in disbelief. She didn’t want to ask but she had to know. ‘Which towns were hit?’

  Her father sighed. He put his hand gently on her shoulder. ‘Four of the five towns in the area. Ours was the worst hit.’

  Jade rubbed her eyes. Her palms were sweaty and she felt short of breath. ‘How many people died?’

  Helena jumped in. ‘Jade, why don’t we get you something to eat?’

  ‘Tell me, Dad? Please.’

  His voice was soft and cautious. ‘Fifty-eight so far, but more are still missing. Twenty of them who died were from Somerset.’

  Jade’s heart felt heavy. She couldn’t keep the tears from falling. ‘Do you know who they are?’

  Her father shook his head. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘What about everyone who lost their homes? Where are they staying?’

  ‘The school hall. They’ve made it into an emergency shelter.’

  ‘Is that where we’ll go?’

  Her dad sat back down and wiped his eyes. Jade remained at the window staring at the unrecognisable countryside that, from the height of her room, looked like it was covered in black snow.

  ‘My friend Maisy has offered us her cabin in Fairmont,’ Helena said. ‘The town wasn’t damaged by the fires. We’ll be safe there.’

  Jade had always thought fire was something beautiful.

  Fire was nature dancing.

  But not anymore.

  When they drove from the hospital in Clendale to Somerset later that day, Jade couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Somerset looked like it had been hit by an atomic bomb.

  Greystone Street in the centre of town was a mess of burned power poles, tin roofs, steel and endless piles of ash. The church was destroyed, the butcher, the supermarket, the motel. Everything.

  The houses were reduced to rubble and twisted metal. Some were still smouldering. Only a few walls of brick homes were left standing; copper wires had melted and roofing had collapsed. Trees and power lines were lying across the roads and police and firefighters were doing their best to remove them. The emergency services had worked through the night without rest and continued to battle the spot fires and water down the embers in the debris.

  Jade had to look away when her father drove past burned-out cars on the roads or dead cattle. The three of them sat in silence, afraid to see the wreckage of their home and their once beautiful olive groves.

  When they got to their road, it didn’t resemble anything they remembered. It was like being somewhere else entirely. All the houses were gone, replaced by piles and piles of rubble. It looked like a moonscape. If not for the miraculously unscathed letterbox, it would have been hard to know if the ruins they saw before them was really their property. Jade got out first and then helped her grandmother. Her dad walked ahead. The machinery shed was gone; even the shells of the car and tractors looked like scrap heaps of metal. Her father went to what had been his shed and shook his head incredulously.

  When Helena reached their home she let out a wail. She had built that house with her husband in their twenties and had spent most of her life lovingly caring for it. Jade came beside her and rubbed her grandmother’s back, unsettled by her uncharacteristic show of emotion.

  ‘It’s all gone. Everything. All my memories of your grandfather. Why didn’t I think to take anything? Some photos at least. I have nothing now.’

  ‘We’ll rebuild, YiaYia,’ Jade said, fighting to control her own emotions.

  The top floor of their double-storey home had collapsed into the bottom level. A brick wall was still standing but nothing else was recognisable. Jade’s chest tightened. She swallowed hard. It seemed so unfair, so cruel, that the fires had swept through their town and destroyed everything in it. But she had to keep reminding herself that they were the lucky ones. They had only lost their home.

  From the top of the hill, Jade looked down at what had been her neighbour Chris’s property, which was now flattened. She scanned across the fields and flushed with relief when she saw him in the distance by his dam, surrounded by his cattle.

  Jade then turned her attention to her father, who was walking under the scorched pecan and chestnut trees when he suddenly collapsed to his knees.

  She felt her throat close as she followed his gaze to see the charred remains of around 600 trees at the top of their property that had burned away. Most of the trunks still stood but their once proud green canopies were nothing more than skeletons, with shrivelled olive pips on the black ground beneath them. A further 400 trees by the dam hadn’t burned but the fire’s radiant heat had left them dry and lifeless. In the far distance she could see snatches of green in one of the larger groves and she hoped that at least some of the trees remained unscathed.

  Jade went to her father’s side and rested her hand on his shoulder. ‘Dad, it’s okay. They’re just trees. We’ll plant more.’

  He covered his face in his hands so she wouldn’t see him cry. ‘They’re not just trees. They’re our livelihood. What will we do now?’

  A hot wind lifted and scattered the ash. Jade picked bits off her arm. ‘We haven’t even seen if the fires hit the largest orchard. Some of the trees might have survived. And hopefully many of the damaged trees can be salvaged. Olive trees are incredibly resilient, Dad.’

  He opened his mouth to speak and shut it again but Jade still heard what he couldn’t say. But I’m not.

  9

  ‘A BLIND spot is the area on the retina without photoreceptors. Photoreceptors are cells of the retina which function by responding to light,’ David explained to the full lecture hall at Miami University. He was using diagrams on a PowerPoint pres
entation. ‘An image that falls on the blind spot is not seen. The optic nerve exits the retina at this location on its way to the brain. In other words, this point is not sensitive to light, so if an image hits this area,’ he used the back of his pen to point to the screen, ‘it is invisible to the eye. But when you look at the same object from a distance, your brain fills in this blind spot and you see a total picture.’

  David was cramming in the Friday lectures on top of his already full week at his ophthalmology clinic. He initially took on the teaching gig to earn a bit of extra money, but with his busy practice he no longer needed more work. Yet he couldn’t seem to extricate himself from the university. His love of teaching was a factor, but more so was his inability to accept that he was ageing, and part of him hoped that surrounding himself by the pulse of youth would somehow sustain his own by osmosis.

  ‘Okay, we’re all going to do a little experiment,’ he announced. ‘Pick up a blank piece of paper and draw a cross on the left corner of the page and a circle on the right. Now cover your left eye and stare at the cross with your right eye. Now slowly move your head towards the page while still staring at the cross with your right eye. At one point somewhere around ten inches from the page, the circle will disappear completely. This is your blind spot.’

  A student who looked too young to be studying medicine raised her hand. She was short with red hair and rectangular glasses. ‘Does everyone have the same blind spot? I mean, do you have to find a patient’s blind spot?’

  A young man in the back row interjected before David could answer. ‘He’s not talking about the G-spot.’

  The lecture hall erupted into laughter and David had to immediately think of how to respond. He wanted to be liked, and that was an easy trap that some lecturers fell into: Be their friend and you’ll win them over.

  It was a balancing act: he needed to earn the students’ respect by being authoritative, yet too much would make him unlikeable. He had to be amicable and relatable, but not a pushover.