Paper Chains

by Nicola Moriarty

  I saw that look in the faces of the doctors when they told me that the chemo hadn’t worked. I wanted to scream at them, ‘Stop looking at me like that. Stop feeling sorry for me. Don’t you know you’re sucking the life out of me with your eyes?’

  I changed my name, can you believe that? India’s not even my real name, it’s Lily. But I kept thinking it was Lily who got cancer. It was Lily who tried to fight but failed. It was Lily who lied to her grandmother. I didn’t want to be her any more. I wanted to be someone else, someone stronger, braver. I became India and I ran from my home town and I started travelling the world and meeting new people and I had this strange sort of confidence, where I could talk to anyone, say whatever was on my mind. Do whatever the fuck I wanted – because I wasn’t me, I was a new person; being India, it liberated me.

  And then I met you.

  Sorry, that sentence required its own space. Because you see, meeting you changed the game. I fell for you and I loved being with you and I loved fucking you and laughing with you and lacing my fingers through yours. But that wasn’t part of my plan. How could we be together when I know that there’s a finish line up ahead? I could see the way you were looking at me; your eyes had future etched in them. And a future with me just isn’t possible.

  Hey, maybe we’ll meet in another life and this time I’ll be healthy and you’ll be a rock star and we’ll have fifteen plump little babies and we’ll settle down in Texas once you finish touring and you’ll take up knitting and you’ll knit fifteen scarves for our fifteen babies to keep them warm in winter and I’ll learn to do acrobatic horse-riding.

  See you there.

  India-Lily

  xxx

  P.S. You see what I did there with my name?

  Simon finished reading out the letter and then folded up the piece of paper to return it to his pocket. He looked to see what everyone thought. They were all suitably shocked and upset – but it was Hannah’s reaction that took him by surprise. She looked as though she had been winded; her mouth was gaping as she tried to speak. Finally the words came out.

  ‘Simon,’ she said, leaning forward across the table, ‘I know where she is.’

  Simon stared at her in confusion. ‘What do you mean? How could you possibly know that?’

  ‘Because I know her. I met her in London. She . . . she looked after me, helped me out while I was over there. But here’s the thing, she sent me a letter a week or two back, and I think I know exactly where she is now.’

  Simon stared at Hannah. ‘You really know where she is?’ He pushed his untouched plate away as though ready to sprint from the table as soon as Hannah gave him a destination.

  Liam looked over at her. ‘I didn’t know she’d told you where she was in her letter?’

  ‘She didn’t – not precisely, but I could tell. She said she wanted to spend some time by the river with the little girl who used to cry for her parents. She’s talking about what she did as a child, and she used to live by a river in her home in WA. Gingin Brook, that’s where she is.’

  Now Simon really did stand from his chair. ‘She’s back in Australia again?’

  ‘Yes. I think so.’ Hannah looked hesitant now. ‘I mean, I’m pretty sure anyway.’

  ‘Goodness, Simon!’ exclaimed Carol. ‘Sit down. It’s not as though you’ll be able to get a flight this minute. Have dinner, and then when you get home you can book a flight for tomorrow.’

  ‘One step ahead of you, Mum,’ said Riley. She had pulled out her iPhone and was swiping her thumb across the screen and frowning. After a few seconds she turned to Simon. ‘Last flight tonight is at 8 pm; if you leave straight away you can make it. I’m booking it now.’

  Carol looked flabbergasted. ‘Can you do that?’

  ‘Of course I can. Pass me your credit card, will you,’ Riley added, looking up long enough to smile sweetly at her mother.

  Carol begrudgingly passed it across. ‘It’s for love, Mum,’ Riley reassured her as she tapped in the details.

  ‘Yes, well, I suppose so.’

  As they waited for Riley to confirm the booking, Hannah looked across at Simon. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘India actually told me that the guy she was writing to was called Simon, and that he was working in the Greek Islands. God, she even described you to me. But I never even thought of you. Had no idea you were over there. What a terrible step-sister.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. How could you have known?’ said Amy crossly. ‘And even if you did, how many Simons do you think there are in Greece? There’s no way you would have thought of the connection.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter anyway,’ said Simon. ‘Main thing is you’re helping me out now, big time.’

  Riley suddenly looked up from the phone and stared across the table at Hannah. ‘What is it?’ Simon asked impatiently.

  ‘I was just thinking,’ said Riley, her eyes boring into Hannah. ‘If you had never run away from your family, Simon would never have been able to find India again. It’s like your family had to suffer for their love to have a chance.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Amy. ‘Sorry, Hannah. This whole family can be a bit blunt sometimes. You’ll get used to it now that you’re going to be hanging around a lot more,’ and she looked pointedly at Carol.

  ‘Oh!’ exclaimed Riley. ‘Is Hannah going to be Mum’s new project? Wonderful. You know I was always so jealous of you growing up, Hannah. You had your own room in your own house, no annoying little sister and brother to share with. I was sort of in awe of you, wished I could get to know you better. It’ll be nice to start seeing you more often.’

  ‘Yes, yes, that’s all very nice,’ Simon interrupted. ‘But have you booked the flight, can I go?’

  ‘All right, here you go,’ Riley replied, glancing back down at her phone. Riley gave Simon the booking number and he jumped up from his chair. ‘Sorry to race off from dinner, guys, but if I lose her again, I don’t know what I’ll do.’ He looked over at Hannah. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you. And I’m sorry to be the one to give you the bad news about India’s cancer.’

  Hannah nodded. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Will you just hug her for me, and maybe tell her I’m here for her, if she needs anything?’

  ‘Will do,’ he said, pushing his chair into the table and grabbing his wallet.

  ‘I guess it was considerate of you to order the oysters,’ said Carol. ‘Makes it much easier to split your dinner between us. Let’s see, how many are there . . .’ and she began muttering to herself as she calculated how many oysters each of them should get. Simon turned and raced off through the restaurant and out the front to catch a taxi.

  Simon willed the taxi driver to hurry up.

  He willed the line at the check-in desk to move.

  He tried his best not to become impatient as the woman at Virgin Air questioned him on why he was travelling with absolutely no luggage.

  He did his best not to sprint down the corridor onto the plane.

  And then he willed the pilot to take off, now, now, now.

  India was willing Simon to come and find her.

  She wished that she had told him the truth sooner.

  She wished she had never left him.

  She sat on the back veranda of her grandmother’s home – her home – and she wondered where he was right now.

  She wondered if he was thinking of her, if he was missing her, if he had ever received her letter.

  She watched the water rushing by, fuelled by a heavy downpour, and willed the racing currents to bring Simon to her, now, now, now.

  When the plane landed in Perth, Simon was thankful he had no luggage to wait for. He bolted out of the airport and jumped into the first cab he spotted. It was a fair drive and the ride would be expensive – but it was worth it; he needed to get there now. God he hoped Gingin was a small town, because if he had to, h
e was going to knock on every door of every house in it.

  When the driver let him out on the main street it was teeming with rain. Simon strode straight into a pub across the road and over to the bartender. ‘Hi, can you tell me which way to Gingin Brook?’

  ‘Ah sure, but it’s probably better to take a look at the river in the day . . . and maybe when it’s not pouring rain.’ He was tall and pot-bellied, with a friendly face.

  ‘I’m sure it would be, but I need to find someone. She used to live by the river and I’m hoping to track her down.’

  The bartender frowned. ‘You realise it’s past midnight, son?’

  Simon kept his irritation in check; he didn’t want to look like some sort of crazy stalker. ‘I know, but I just flew here from Sydney and it’s important I find her straight away. She’s sick.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘India . . . well, but her name used to be Lily; she grew up here with her grandmother.’

  The bartender raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Lily Calder? I know who she is, but she left here almost a year ago, a little while after her grandmother Caitlin passed away. Poor kid must have been devastated to lose her. Just took off. I haven’t seen her back though. But if you really think she’s here, just head down Clara Street and you’ll come to the river. Turn left, follow it along for about a k or so and the first house you come to was theirs. Just been sitting there empty since she left. Little redbrick cottage.’

  Simon grinned. ‘Thank you,’ he said, turning to leave.

  ‘You want to borrow an umbrella?’ the bartender called after him.

  ‘Nope, I’m good,’ Simon yelled back as he disappeared out the door.

  He headed down Clara Street at a jog, dismayed to realise that the bartender had failed to mention that Clara Street was in fact several kilometres long. God, how could he be so close and still so damn far from her? He was terrified of losing her again. What was he going to do if she wasn’t there? He finally reached the river and turned left. He picked up the pace now he was getting closer.

  When he saw the redbrick cottage up ahead, he broke into a sprint.

  India stood up from the white wicker chair and stepped down the stairs from the veranda, towards the river. The rain had slowed to a soft patter and she wanted to stand in it for a few minutes before she went inside to bed. Coming back here had been the right choice. Each moment she spent here made her feel more and more at peace with herself, with her destiny. It was right to die here, in her home, and not in some strange country where she had no connections to anyone or anything.

  Simon reached the front door and started knocking. He could see just one light on inside, but no movement. No one answered. He paused to draw in some ragged breaths; his run here had taken it out of him. Then he stepped back from the front door and jogged around the side to check the back of the house, near the river. She had to be here, had to.

  India spread her arms out, closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sky, enjoying the sensation of the rain on her skin, savouring the peace around her. She had a feeling she had only just made it back home in time.

  ‘India!’ At the sound of her name, India’s eyes flew open.

  That sounded like . . . It couldn’t be. Could it?

  Simon?

  When Simon saw her she was standing in the rain, her arms thrown out wide and her eyes closed, her face tilted to the sky. He stopped to gaze at her.

  God, you’re beautiful, India.

  Then he called out her name.

  When she saw him, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. How was this possible? How had he found her? But then again, who cared? She let her arms fall by her side and smiled at his rain-soaked form. ‘Simon,’ she whispered. ‘You got my letter, didn’t you?’

  He nodded and stepped towards her. ‘Of course I did,’ he replied, reaching a hand up to wipe raindrops from her face. Then he cupped her face in his hands, leaned in and kissed her gently.

  They stood in the rain, kissing for several minutes, until eventually a crack of thunder interrupted them and they finally broke apart, laughing. India took Simon by the hand and led him up the stairs, inside the house and straight to her old bedroom.

  That night they made love, and it was slow and tender and intense. And then they slept together, wrapped up in one another’s arms.

  The following morning, Simon couldn’t wake India up.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Simon was sitting in the hospital waiting room, his head resting in his hands. The image of India’s face when he had woken that morning crept into his mind again and he tried to shut it out. Tried to remember her how she had looked the previous night instead, standing out in the rain.

  When he’d seen her that morning, he had known almost straight away that something wasn’t right. She was too pale. Too still. He’d woken up, and before opening his eyes, he’d taken a second to relish the moment. He had found her. They were together at last. And he was going to convince her to fight for her life; they were going to fight together. Then he had rolled over, opened his eyes, and seen her face. Blue tinged lips. When he touched her, her skin felt cool.

  ‘India? India!’ He’d gripped her by the shoulders and tried to wake her. But her head just lolled to the side. Was she breathing? Was there a heartbeat? He didn’t know. He needed to calm himself enough so he could check. He needed to stop his own heartbeat from drumming in his ears. He leaned in close; she was breathing, but it was fast and shallow.

  He had sprinted to the phone and dialled triple zero. The wait for the ambulance had been agony. He cursed himself for not knowing any first aid. As he waited, he begged her to wake up, a poor replacement for CPR.

  When the ambulance arrived, he did his best to explain her situation, but he didn’t know enough about her condition. He felt inadequate, like he was failing her in her time of need.

  At the hospital, it took hours before someone would speak to him. And even then he had to lie and say that they were engaged for them to agree to discuss her with him – but they needed to do tests before they could really tell him what was going on.

  A nurse stepped in front of him. ‘You can go back in now,’ she said, not unkindly.

  Simon tried to give her a smile, but the expression felt more like a grimace so he just nodded and followed the nurse to India’s room. He scrubbed his hands outside her door and then headed inside. The sight of her pale face, the tubes criss-crossing around her, her slack jaw, made his stomach lurch and he had to turn away and jam his fist against his mouth. When his stomach had settled again, he walked over to her bedside and pulled a chair close. He gently took hold of her hand and then he began to talk.

  ‘Hey, Indi, how’s it going? Is that okay by the way? Me calling you Indi? Sometimes you used to call me Si, but I never used a nickname for you, did I? Don’t know what made me call you Indi just now. It kind of just came to me. You ever watch Indiana Jones as a kid? One of my favourite movie series. Indiana Jones, awesome guy, right? Anyway, he had Indi as a nickname. Thought it was kind of cool. Do you like it? I like Lily by the way. Didn’t get the chance to tell you that the other night. But it suits you – just as much as India does. India-Lily, beautiful name.’

  Simon paused to self-consciously wipe his cheeks; he hadn’t realised that tears had started to fall.

  Later that night, a doctor came to give him a rundown on India’s condition. She had been hit by an infection that any healthy person would have easily fought off, but because her body was weakened by cancer, it had completely knocked her out. She was being pumped with antibiotics that should bring her around, but the doctor warned that long term, the prognosis wasn’t good. Simon resolutely ignored this part of the doctor’s speech. This doctor didn’t know India, didn’t know how strong she was. When she woke up, Simon was going to work everything out. He would convince her to start treatment again.
They would fight the cancer together. This time she would win.

  When India opened her eyes she had to blink several times – the lights up above were so bright. Slowly she became aware of the feel of tubes, so many tubes – coming out of her nose, pinned to the back of her hand, constricting her breath. She had to think hard to figure out where she was, to remember what had happened last. It came back in pieces. Standing out in the rain. Seeing Simon. Kissing Simon. And then . . . what? Was that a dream? Surely it must have been, because it was impossible that he could have found her. But then she realised that there was a hand in hers, and she squeezed it hard, almost in fright. Who was that? Where was she?

  And then Simon’s face was above her.

  ‘It’s okay, India. You’re in hospital, you got sick . . . but you’re going to get better. I’m here for you, okay?’

  India tried to respond, but her throat was dry and she couldn’t form the words. Two or three people had come rushing into the room then, doctors and nurses, and as they gathered around her, Simon pulled back and she couldn’t see his face any more. From there things seemed to happen in flashes as she kept drifting in and out of consciousness.

  She wasn’t sure how much time passed when she finally woke again, but sunlight was streaming in through the window. Gingerly she rolled her head sideways and she saw Simon sitting in a chair by her bed, arms folded, head lolling to the side as he slept. She tried her voice again, and this time it came out in a dry croak. She coughed to clear her throat and spoke again.

  ‘Simon?’ she said.

  His eyelids flickered as he woke up, then he sat forward eagerly. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘You’re awake again. That’s good.’

  ‘What happened?’ she croaked.

  ‘You’re in the hospital . . .’ Simon began.

  ‘No,’ she interrupted. ‘Before. How’d you find me?’

  ‘Oh.’ Simon smiled. ‘It was Hannah,’ he said.