Good question. ‘Well, you saw – all my work is in close-up. And I like the small details with people, too. The buttons on their shirt, or the corner of their mouth –’
‘Go on then. I don’t care.’ He grins, gently teasing. ‘Put the pics in with your residency application.’
I consider. The tension of our first exchange has passed, and the light here reallyispretty… ‘You don’t think it’s weird? If I only photograph part of you?’
‘Depends on which part.’ His eyebrow kinks up.
I give him a look as I pull myself into a kneeling position. ‘Can you sit still?’
‘Sure. Long as you like.’ He settles back against the log with his ankles crossed. ‘Makes a change from draggin’ my arse around all day.’
Harris stretches his shoulders. He’s stripped off his hoodie and I can see how lean he’s gotten – he still looks strong, but he’s become streamlined, his muscles defined from lack of body fat. He’s trimmed his beard close, and ditched the cane: he limps, but his gait will get more natural as his leg fully recovers.
I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t photogenic, though, and now I’m intrigued by the possibilities. What the camera might show, withthislight,thissubject. I bring the camera up, sight through the viewfinder. This isn’t like the micro set-ups I’m used to: I have to find a different angle. I shuffle around, trying to find something that speaks its own language.
Then I see it – just a glimpse, at first. From Harris’s cheekbone, down the side of his whiskered jaw, further. There’s a long stretch of tanned neck to his collarbone where the edge of his T-shirt sags away. Over his shoulder, the rough log, and away behind that, the river is on fire: all glassy sparkling ripples. Harris’s hair shifts in the whisper of breeze off the water.
I broaden my field, open the aperture. Let my focus expand. Light is coming down through the gum leaves above us, spangling every surface. I take an experimental shot.
‘Is that okay?’ When Harris speaks I see his throat move.
‘Tilt your head to the left.’ I sight again, focus. ‘That’s it – stop.’
For about five minutes there’s only the sound of my shutter. I stare at this combination I’ve discovered in the viewfinder: fiery stars on the water, the grey texture of the log, the smooth length of Harris’s skin.
‘This is nothing like mugshots,’ Harris jokes.
I snort. There’s another pause, with clicking.
‘I heard you went in to bat for me with my dad again,’ Harris says. ‘I heard he objected quite strenuously.’
I wait a beat, clicking the shutter button on my held breath, before releasing. ‘How did you find out?’
‘Dad told me about it last time we spoke on the phone.’ His eyes glance at me, although the rest of him stays still. ‘I’ve been putting him off, finally had to let him know I was in Mildy with a sketchy job – told him best he wait for me to visit. He’d been whinging about it. He said he went to the hospital togive those bloody interfering nurse bitches a piece of his mind,and why wouldn’t they bloody pass on my new contact address?’
I sigh a little as I reframe. ‘I told him we weren’t allowed to give out that information by law.’
‘He said he tore strips off the young black-haired chick at the desk.’
I like how Dennis has only given him part of the story. ‘Did he tell you he grabbed me by the front of my uniform? Did he tell you I slapped him?’
‘What?’ The sight in my viewfinder changes, everything going wonky as Harris sits up. ‘Christ, what happened? Are you okay?’
I lower the camera. His expression has gone flat and pale, and his hands grip the earth either side of him. This reaction, more than anything else, gives me a true insight into what his relationship with his father is really like. I try not to show how much that shakes me.
‘It’s okay, Harris.’ I put my camera down in my lap. ‘I’m okay. He scared me, but I stood up to him.’
He schools his features immediately, but I think he knows it’s too late. ‘Well…good.’ He releases his hands, scrubs them together as he looks away. ‘Okay. Good on you.’
‘He’s been like that with you your whole life, hasn’t he? God, Harris, why do you put up with it?’
There’s a long pause. I’ve given up any pretence of using the camera, and now I watch his eyes move as he struggles to explain.
‘My mum and my sister.’ He slowly sits back against the log again. ‘I’ve wanted to get back in touch with them since…always.’
‘And your dad knows how to contact them?’
He nods. ‘That’s how he got me back home. But I think it was just bullshit. If he told me how to find Mum and Kelly, he wouldn’t have anything to hold over me, y’know?’
