‘Hey,’ I smile over at him. ‘They’re here somewhere…’
‘Mm.’ His eyes travel round the small space. ‘Your room, huh?’
‘Yeah.’ I see it through his eyes for a moment. ‘Uh, I guess it’s kind of bohemian in here.’
As in, it’s messy: there are clothes on the floor and over the backs of chairs. A gold-beaded, toffee-apple-red dubatta curtains the big window beside my bed, keeping the room rose-tinted. Satin cushions plop on my bed and multi-coloured saris are draped over the walls, adding to the theme, which I’ve elaborated on over the years with candles in bottles, a hat-rack near the door, a fringed shade over the ceiling bulb.
I like my room: it’s relaxing to be in, and has a sort of ‘lady’s boudoir’ feeling which has discouraged Dad from invading. I’ve staked out my claim to one room in the house that isn’t purely functional, that doesn’t contain spare car parts or utilitarian appliances. Although, admittedly, my own utilitarian appliances – my camera, the charge cords that go with it, the lenses and chips and other paraphernalia – occupy a dedicated shelf in my cupboard.
I gesture at the mess. ‘I think this room has been mine my whole life. We’ve always lived here. I was born in Ouyen hospital so I’ve never really strayed.’
‘Huh.’ I can’t quite read Harris’s expression: it’s a mix of quiet surprise, curiosity and some other emotion. It’s like he’s looking at the landscape of another planet. When he speaks, his words are halting, almost shy. ‘I was born in Adelaide. We moved here when I was a little tacker.’
‘Still in the same house, then?’
‘Yeah. But, y’know…it’s Dad’s house.’
I know straightaway what he means. His dad’s house. Not his. Not him and his father peacefully co-habiting, like Dad and I do.
Harris licks his lips. ‘Did a bit of couch-surfing before I went to Melbourne, when things got a bit…difficult.’
‘Was that when you worked at the quarry with Mark?’
‘Yeah. Dad wasn’t always on board with me working with Westie.’ He doesn’t elaborate. ‘Anyway, yeah, I squatted at Meary’s or at the old Watts place when I needed a roof.’
…and now he’s living on the couch at Mark’s house. Suddenly I know what the expression on his face is saying. It’s saying he’s never had a home. Not a home he can feel comfortable in, the way I do in mine.
The understanding strikes me like a blow. Why does so much shitty stuff happen to nice people?
I turn back so I can hide my face. My room reallymustseem like an alien planet to him. It must seem like Mars. ‘Sorry – one sec.’
I fumble around for the keys, fish them out of the detritus. There’s a moment’s silence, then: ‘Wow.’
Harris has listed over to the wall with my collage of pictures. I haven’t pinned them up in any order. I like seeing them scattered on the wall, angled here or tacked up randomly there.
‘What’s that?’ he asks, pointing.
I walk over to stand beside him. ‘Um, that’s Antelope Canyon. It’s part of the Colorado Plateau in the U.S.’ I scan the other pictures, nodding at the ones I look at all the time. ‘And that’s Machu Picchu in Peru. And that’s the Himalayas.’
‘In Nepal?’
‘Yeah.’ I smile at the picture. ‘I like that one a lot.’ I wave a hand at my pile of magazines under the tableau. ‘I cut them out and stick them up. Mostly from oldNationalGeographics– I gave you some of my stash when you were in the hospital.’
His eyes take in the stack at our feet. ‘Are those travel brochures?’
‘Huh?’
‘You got some brochures tossed in there with theNational Geographics…and is that a travel guide? Did you go overseas or something?’
‘Oh, those.’ I scuff the pile of old dreams with my boot. My inner voice wheedles:If you were accepted for the residency…I tell my inner voice to shut up. ‘Nah, I was gonna go after school. But I put it off when I got the CNA job. Dad and the family kind of need me.’
‘Right.’ His eyes pause on my face, turn back to the wall. ‘What about these pictures?’
He’s pointing at some of my prints now. I feel my cheeks warm. ‘Mm. The photos.’
‘Did you take these?’ Harris peers at them, leaning on his cane.
‘Um, yeah. I kind of go off with the camera sometimes, just walking around and finding stuff. That’s the gate near the Malcolm’s place. And that’s up near Pink Lakes.’
