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Authors: Brian Caswell

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I didn't know. All I knew was that somewhere inside that mind was the Cain I loved, and I wasn't going to stop until I found a way to set him free again.

Thirty
A portrait in pastels

‘How is he?' Abby places the bag of presents down beside her chair and ruffles Ty's hair.

T.J. smiles. The change in Abby is amazing. Three months of working at Images and she has become quite the young sophisticate: hair loosely curled and trimmed to shoulder-length, Dolce and Gabbana dress and Italian shoes. If she didn't totally deserve the transformation, a girl could get jealous.

‘No change. Sometimes I think I'm getting through, you know. I think I see a movement in his face, some hint of recognition, but Doctor Allen says it's a waiting game. So, I'm waiting. How's work?'

She smiles.

‘What can I say? It's a dirty job but someone's got to do it.'

‘Yeah, right. Maxine thinks the sun shines out of you.' She reaches out and touches her friend's face. ‘You deserve it, Ab.'

The smile wavers just a bit.

‘I guess it makes me feel … close to him. You know?'

‘He'll get better, I know he will.'

An indefinable emotion shifts across Abby's face. She tries to mask it, but when she speaks, her voice is unsteady.

‘Maybe. But not for me. I fell in love with a ghost, Teej. A beautiful, sensitive, creative … But he wasn't real.'

‘Of course he was! Look at all the wonderful things he created.'

‘It was all a dream. Chris died ten years before he met me, for Christ's sake. And he died again when he jumped off that bridge. That's the only way I can make it make sense. I loved him, and he died. End of dream. Otherwise, when he wakes …'

‘Who does he choose? Who knows, Abby? Who knows anything? We take things one day at a time and make the best of it. For now, it's almost Christmas, and you're a whole lot better off than you were this time last year. And so am I.'

‘Yeah, I guess we are …' As suddenly as it came, the mood lifts. Abby turns to Ty and claps her hands. ‘Hey, Tyke, what say we start Christmas early, eh? Auntie Abby never was much good with surprises.'

Reaching into her bag, she draws out a gift-wrapped box, which she slides over the table. Ty looks at his mother, who smiles and nods. He attacks the paper, tearing it from the box and dropping the pieces onto the floor of the coffee shop.

‘Never too young to start, I always say.' Abby runs a finger gently over the illustration on the box-lid. A set of children's pencils, crayons and pastels. ‘Every child is an artist, Ty. Picasso said that, so it must be true.'

‘It's perfect, Ab. Thanks. But what about me?'

‘
You
? You, my dear, will have to wait until Christmas, like all good mummies.'

As she leans across the table to hug her, T.J. pulls her close and whispers in her ear.

‘I love you, Ab. And Chris did too. Hold on to that. We all need love. And the memory of love. In the end, it's what it's all about.'

*

‘Abby sends a hug. She'll be in tomorrow. If Dusan doesn't ask her out, that is. The boy's got a huge crush on her. Pity he doesn't know as much about sweet-talking a girl as he does about adjusting the boost on his turbo-charger. When you get out of here, you're going to have to give him a few pointers.'

When you get out of here …

She sighs, then goes back to cutting his hair, holding the bowl under the scissors to catch the falling strands.

In the corner, Ty sits at the table, colouring matchstick horses and multicoloured trees. She looks across at him, then runs the tip of her finger over Cain's ear, tracing the gentle curves. She kisses him on the top of the head, then moves across to where her son sits.

‘Come on, Michelangelo. Time for lunch.'

Leaving the mess of colour on the table, she leads him to the door.

‘Back in an hour,' she says and blows a kiss towards the figure beside the window, turning away again before she can catch the movement that lifts his arm from the handle of the chair.

Ninety minutes later, when she enters the foyer, Doctor Allen is waiting.

‘I think you'd better come and see this.'

For once his professional detachment has deserted him, and he is grinning.

T.J. enters the room and looks towards the window, but the chair is empty. Cain is sitting motionless at the table.

‘I came in to check him and I found him doing this.'

The nurse picks up a piece of art-paper. On one side is a threelegged horse scribbled in red and blue, but on the other …

As she turns the paper over, she catches her breath, and her hand flies involuntarily to her mouth.

It is Ty. A portrait sketched in pastels, perfect, even to the wisp of hair that falls across his eyes.

Perfect …

She looks down at the man in the chair. For the first time in months, he raises his eyes to hers.

‘Ty,' he says.

And the long journey back has begun …

Epilogue
In the breathing dark

In the dream, the water surface is emerald green and glowing.

You watch the silver jewels of air rising and you are weightless. Weightless and rising.

Like the bubbles.

Like a prayer.

Like the melody that grows and swells inside your mind …

And as you rise, the green glows brighter. And warmer.

Until you break through the shimmering surface into sunlight …

*

Cain's story

The room is dark and I lie awake, breathing in the scent of her.

My daylight hours are peopled with memories.

Of people who were. Of a life lived twice over.

But they don't rule me.

I know them for what they are, and they know me.

But they don't rule me.

They are like the friends your parents warn you against.

Trouble. Don't listen to them …

Don't listen …

Only at this time, when the room is dark and quiet, do they sleep.

The memories.

The echoes of a past that never was -

That still is, in the part of me that remembers it so …

And only then can I dream of the future.

I reach across and brush away the hair that has fallen across her face.

She stirs, but doesn't wake.

I kiss her cheek, I mould my body to her shape. I close my eyes …

In the breathing dark, I know who I am …

First published 2005 by University of Queensland Press
PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia

www.uqp.com.au

© Brian Caswell

This book is copyright. Except for private study, research, criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any foram or by any means without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

Typeset by Post Pre-Press Group

Distributed in the USA and Canada by International Specialized Book Services, Inc.
5824 N.E. Hassalo Street, Portland, Oregon, 97213-3640

This project has been assisted by the Commonwealth Government through the Australia Council, its arts funding and advisory body.

Cataloguing in Publication Data
National Library of Australia

Caswell, Brian
Double Exposure

For upper primary and secondary school students.

I. Title.

A823.3

ISBN 978 0 7022 3533 4 (pbk)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5669 1 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5670 7 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5671 4 (kindle)

BOOK: Double Exposure
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