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Good Reading : February 2014
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GOODREADINGMAGAZINE.COM.AU GOOD READING FEBRUARY 2014 26 flattened the page, smoothing it under the palm of her hand. ‘Didn’t you do something with the camera in a bag?’ ‘That’s removing the film. I’ve already done that. There are two rolls; did you know that? I must have taken a whole roll and got it out of the camera without waking up. The film is probably ruined.’ She closed the folder, her forehead wrinkled into that old-woman’s worry that he found so adorable. He watched as she set up the room, helped her string a piece of twine up in her drying closet, filled a tray with water when she asked him to. The red light from the safe-lamp set off her dark hair. She looked like an actor from a movie and Brendan loved her more, if that was possible. He suspected it wasn’t. ‘Nothing.’ She held the str ips of cellulose up to the red lamp and shook her head. ‘Blank. Maybe the film was too old. When did I buy it? God. Of course it would be f ***ed by now.’ ‘Or maybe it was dark. I didn’t turn the light on till you had been up for a while.’ ‘What did I look like? Walking?’ ‘Nor mal.’ She lifted her hands in a parody of sleepwalk. ‘No. Not like that. Just with a blank expression, or more like unfocussed.’ He opened another bottle of beer and handed it to her. She waved it away with her gloved-hand. He felt a drip of chemicals on his arm and wiped it quickly away hoping it wasn’t toxic. The room was infused with a sour reek. Brendan knew it probably should be better ventilated. He thought about cancer. His mother had died of it. It was in his genes. He moved away from the trays of chemicals and sat in a corner of the room. ‘Let there be light!’ she said, holding a str ip of film up. ‘Here.’ She pointed. Brendan moved reluctantly into the halo of fumes. He remembered his mother arching up on her death bed, her thin skin tearing and the poisoned blood leaking out. He held his breath as he leaned in to look at the strip of film. Little patches of light in darkness, the edge of a lamp? A couch? It was hard to tell. ‘Shouldn’t you wear a mask when you do this stuff?’ He asked and she ignored him. ‘Don’t suppose I’ll win any awards with these.’ ‘Sure you don’t want another beer?’ ‘After.’ And she removed a sheet of card from out of its thick black plastic sleeve, set it on the enlarger, timing the spill of light. It was like riding a bike after all, she tipped the trays of chemicals back and forth, agitating the print, lifting it with tongs and dropping it into a second tray and a third. She clipped one print after another to the drying rack. Emily had hit her stride. He stood behind her and slipped his fingers under the edge of her shirt. He liked to watch her work. He kissed the nape of her neck, lifting the spill of her hair and breathing in that sweet mix of perfume and soil and skin. ‘Brendan?’ He let her hair back down and leaned his head on her shoulder. This is how he saw it first, resting against her skin, feeling the sudden tensing of the muscles in her neck, the sharp stillness. Would you like to read more? Part 2 of ‘Sleepwalk’ will be published in the March 2014 issue of gr so make sure you grab a copy. The Great Unknown edited by Angela Meyer is published by Spineless Wonders, rrp $27.99. BOOK BITE 1 The red light from the safe-lamp set off her dark hair. She looked like an actor from a movie and Brendan loved her more, if that was possible. 24_26_bookbite1_c.indd 26 11/12/13 10:25 PM
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