The White Sock

The unremarkable white cotton tennis sock had lain on the edge of the honey wood back deck for two weeks and two days. Paige knew because she had been counting and noting the faint ring of dirt growing around it. Shaking her head, she shut the back flyscreen with a snap then closed the glass slider against the suffocating heat trying to claw its way inside. Through barred vents, air conditioning swirled into the kitchen but sticky tendrils of heat still lingered. She took a cold can of sparkling water from the fridge, flicked it open and swallowed greedily. Leaning on the cool marble bench, Paige gazed through the dining room windows at the petrol brown river bouncing erratically under the control of a changing wind. Fists of darkening clouds met over the water, blocking out the sun.

“Coffee?” Levi offered, padding into the kitchen, rumpled from sleep, still in his striped pyjama shorts.

Paige’s brows drew down. “We’re going out for brunch.” She’d only reminded him three times and emailed him the booking confirmation.

“Are we? I don’t remember talking about that.” Levi scratched his chest, leaving red marks behind.

After fifteen years of marriage, she should have predicted this but a small locket of past memories still hung around her heart, hoping to be opened again. He used to plan outlandish dates just to make her smile. Things like axe throwing, hot air ballooning, midnight picnics on the beach surrounded by kangaroos. Laughter, shared jokes, eye contact…

Now, breakfast down the road was too much effort for him.

“I told you.” Paige blew out a breath. A couple of luxurious, boxy boats zoomed past, desperate to dock before this summer storm hit. No chance they’d be taking their little boat to brunch…

Levi nodded. “I’ll get ready…” he paused. “Where are we going again?” he grimaced.

“The Farm.” She spoke in a monotone, still looking out at the gathering mass of clouds. Two low-flying pelicans almost skimmed the surface of the water. “Oh and you might want to pick up that sock you’ve left on the deck for weeks.”

Levi walked toward the sliding door and peered at the crumpled sock. “Not mine.”

Paige snorted. “Well it’s definitely not mine.” The little superstitious voice sounded in her head: If he picks it up, it means he loves me. Her own version of the game “he loves me, he loves me not.” A twig of lightning flashed over the city buildings and distant thunder exhaled a long, tired breath.

Levi turned to leave the room.

“Are you serious?” Paige asked.

“Deal with it later.” Levi shrugged.

Paige clenched her teeth. “Thanks for caring.” She crumpled the empty water can in her hand and threw it in the recycling bin.

Levi said nothing, simply walked out of the room.

Welcome to marriage, she thought, a series of silent standoffs and dumb fights over socks. A strong wind bent the huge palm on the grassy riverbank into an unnatural angle. Their grey cat, Owl, appeared by the back door, scratching to be let in. Paige opened the slider again, scooping Owl into her arms. Immediately, a hot cloud of air grasped her. Breathing in felt like drowning in soup. The wind added another layer of writhing heat to the morning and fat splotched rain began to fall, leaving dark circles on the dry timber. And on the sock. Her white metal hanging chair spun dangerously as two punches of thunder rattled the windows. Paige jumped back inside.

Levi, now in linen shorts and a slightly faded navy tee, dashed into the kitchen, sliding across the floor in a pair of white socks. “Damn, that thunder was loud.”

Paige ignored him: hoping her silence would remind him to apologise for forgetting brunch, or to reach out to hug her, or to pick up the stupid sock.

The white picket gate leading out of their backyard down to the river was open and now swung drunkenly in the gusty, rushing wind, banging repeatedly against the white rendered boundary wall. Each bang louder than the last. Black thunder rolled through the sky. Sharp forks of lightning stabbed the river. Levi pushed past her, running outside to close the gate. A metallic clatter rang out. The latch had snapped.

“Get inside Levi!” Paige called through the open door.

“Can’t! The wall will crack if it keeps banging.” A rain-soaked Levi, still wearing his socks, began ferrying drills, screws and replacement gate parts from the garden shed to the gate.

Paige stepped outside, a thunder crack almost deafening her. Sheets of needling rain clattered on the tin roof. The air smelt of damp earth but still felt like a furnace. Not one boat was out on the water. “Leave it! It’s not safe out here.” Paige crept closer to the gate, still under the cover of the alfresco. The drill squealed to life.

She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Let’s go to brunch. Get out of here!” Only her husband would attempt to fix a gate in the centre of a hot electrical storm. Sweat bled into her makeup and she swiped a hand across her forehead. Levi, mouth full of silver screws, mumbled his dissent. Was every husband this stupid? The white sock on the deck flapped in the wind and her frustration bubbled over like water over a muddy riverbank. He never listened to her. “Okay, I’m leaving then.’ She yelled over the whirring drill,

The drill stopped and Levi’s face scrunched up. “What?!”

She threw a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m leaving! Brunch!”

He shrugged, turned back to the gate and began fitting a new latch, a puddle of rainwater spreading on the grey paving beneath him. She stared at the tiny rivers running down the back of his close-cropped hair and the muscles of his back pushing and straining as he drilled. Levi turned and their eyes met. His: determined. Hers: troubled. No words were said but the message was as clear as the baubles of rain clinging to the leaves: I’m not giving in. Paige folded her arms, mouth set in a firm line.

A second later, violent white light blinded her and a crack of ear ringing thunder hit. She squealed, covering her ears and ducking. Blinking to clear her vision, the next thing she saw was Levi. He had collapsed and lay eerily still. Her heart thrust into her throat as she scrambled to her feet. “No, no, no.” she chanted. “Levi!” she screamed over the storm’s anger.

No response.

Fumbling for her phone, she called for an ambulance and ran toward him. Thunder bounced off the houses, its bellowing laugh mocking her petty behaviour from the morning. Lightning split the sky again. She pulled up short. He was in a puddle. This was not safe. Her mind tried to compute the chaos of this. They had just been arguing over a sock and brunch plans and now...

“Emergency services how can I direct your call?” the tinny voice popped in her ear.

“Levi, my husband… I think he’s been hit by lightning.” A sob escaped.

“Is he responsive?”

“No!” Paige’s face was wet with tears and rain.

“Can you administer CPR?” the voice was even.

“He’s, he’s in a puddle!” she wailed.

“Is there active lightning around?”

A hand of lightning reached for the river. “Yes!” Paige stood limply by her husband’s side.

“Stay away from your husband ma’am. It is not safe. Paramedics will arrive shortly. Please confirm your address.”

She robotically gave her address, not even bothering to end the call. Knees sinking into the drenched grass by the paving, she stared at Levi, desperate to touch him and feel a sign of life. His dark lashes fanned out over his cheeks. Rain ran over the scar above his lip. She knew how to do CPR! Every year she made sure to do a refresher course but she couldn’t save her own husband who was mere centimetres away. Images began dripping into her mind until they were a flood. The coffee he gently placed on her bedside table every morning. The way he walked on the traffic side of the road to make sure she was safe. Making her laugh with impersonations of TV celebrities. Giving her the first bite of any dessert he ordered. Calling her at random intervals during the day. Putting artwork up in the house whenever she brought a new piece home. Opening the too tight pickle jar. These tiny daily moments were where love lived not in grand gestures and expensive meals. She was a selfish fool. Swallowing the tsunami of panic building behind her heart, she splashed into the puddle, daring the lightning to strike them again. He – Levi, her husband, her best friend, her sidekick - was worth any risk. Finally reaching to touch his pale skin, she tilted his head back and waited for the tickle of air against her cheek. It didn’t come.

“C’mon Levi! Levi!” She begged as she started compressions. Elbows locked, she pressed hard and fast, willing him to return to her. He could forget every date for the rest of time if it meant she could have him back. He could throw all his socks onto the lawn outside if it meant he would look into her eyes again. Please God.

Another bright burst of lightning illuminated Paige pushing the heel of her hand into her husband’s chest over and over and over again.

*****

The beeping of the heart rate monitor and rattling of a food cart rolling by preceded the swish of a doctor entering the sickly grey room. Levi’s eyes were half lidded and he shifted slightly in the bed. “Hey doc. Will I be okay?” his voice rasped and Paige lifted a cup of water to his lips.

“You had keraunoparalysis.” began Dr. Moyes -a balding, kind-eyed doctor – who stood by Levi’s hospital bed. Paige sat perched next to her husband, blue blanket scratchy beneath her thighs.

Within minutes of Paige starting CPR, Levi had been breathing properly and trying to sit up. Paige hadn’t even taken her hands off his chest before paramedics had burst in and taken over, making sure Levi was assessed properly at the hospital. She had ridden along in the sterile, too hot ambulance, clutching Levi’s hand. Sirens blared as they lurched through the lunchtime traffic and careened into the city hospital ambulance bay.

Dr. Moyes continued. “A lightning-strike caused you to be temporarily unable to move. You might still have some numbness and tingling. It resolves within hours but is shocking to experience.” He paused and smiled. “Pardon the pun.”

Levi chuckled softly. Paige hadn’t let his hand go and she squeezed it tightly. It was warm and rough as he squeezed back.

“We’ll keep you in overnight just to be sure there isn’t any cardiac irregularities. Tomorrow you might feel a bit stiff and tired but it won’t be long until you can get back to mending the gate eh?” The doctor patted Levi gently on the shoulder, scribbled some notes on his clipboard and left.

*****

Coffee in hand, Paige leaned against the open doorframe and surveyed the damaged from yesterday. Cooler air flowed into the house and a blanket of blue sky hung over a slightly ruffled river. She took a long breath and let it out slowly. Setting her coffee cup on the outdoor table, she walked over to inspect the gate. It was still hanging lopsided. The only reminder of yesterday’s accident was a tiny scorch mark at the top of one of the white pickets and a few silver screws around the drill on the grass. Securing her hair into a ponytail, she gathered everything up and took it back to the shed, making sure to put it all away carefully. The gate could be mended another day.

“Cleaning up the scene of the crime?” Levi, still damp from the shower he’d taken as soon as he arrived home that morning, stepped onto the deck, smiling wryly.

“Something like that.” Paige returned his smile. “I’m just happy to have you home. Alive.”

His gaze softened and he scanned her face. “Me too.”

“Coffee?” she offered.

“You read my mind.”

On her way back inside, she quickly stooped to pick up the still damp white sock from where it lay on the honey wood deck. She threw it in the kitchen bin and took out the coffee.