The Lost Man(75)

He stood up too fast, and had to steady himself briefly against the wall as his head spun. He waited, blinking slowly, until the sensation passed. He looked around. Something felt off.

Nathan frowned as his gaze was dragged once more to Cameron’s painting. It hung there in front of him, looking the same as ever. Not quite though, somehow. He stepped closer, his head still pounding. The scene was fully familiar, with the same colours and shapes. The dark grave and bright sky swam in front of his eyes. The translucent smudge was still there, as unclear as ever. What was different? Was the horizon slightly tilted? He wasn’t sure, and reached out, instantly making things worse as the frame slid at an alarming angle too far the other way. He corrected it hastily, trying to judge a straight line.

‘Be careful.’ Liz was at the doorway. She was entirely in black, except her eyes, which were bloodshot red. ‘Cameron loved that.’

‘Maybe we should take it down for today? I can put it somewhere.’

‘What? No. Why would we?’ She came over, gently reaching out and straightening the frame. Much better, Nathan could tell immediately.

‘Stop it getting damaged,’ he said.

‘But everyone will want to see it. It belongs here on the wall. Cameron would have wanted that.’

‘I suppose. I just thought, you know, with the subject matter.’

‘It’s still a beautiful painting.’ Liz wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. Nathan hadn’t even realised she was crying. ‘And whatever was wrong with Cameron, he was always a beautiful painter. It reminds me of all the best things about him. I don’t want to hide that away.’

‘Yeah, all right.’ Nathan shrugged. ‘It was only a thought.’

Liz looked over. ‘How’s Xander coping?’

‘I haven’t spoken to him since last night. He’s still pissed off with me for being gone so long yesterday.’

‘Are you surprised?’

Nathan considered. He was, actually, a little. It wasn’t like Xander to hold a grudge. Or get pissed off in the first place, for that matter. ‘There was nothing for him to panic about. When I’m back at my place, I’m out on my own all the time.’

‘That’s exactly part of the problem, Nathan.’ Liz turned to him. ‘Listen, I want you to have a chat with Steve today. Get him to make you an appointment at the clinic.’

‘Why? What for?’

‘See if he can give you something to get your head straight.’

‘I don’t need –’

‘You do. Because if you think it’s all right to disappear like that, to the point where your son is scared about what you might be up to, then there’s something seriously wrong.’ Liz lifted her head to look at him properly. ‘Please, Nathan. Losing one of you is bad enough. Today is going to be the worst day of my life. I can’t go through this twice.’

He couldn’t bear the look in her eyes so he nodded. ‘All right.’

There was a noise in the hall and they both turned to see Bub in the doorway. He had a slightly unstable air that made Nathan suspect he’d already started drinking. Or perhaps not long stopped from the night before.

‘What are we doing?’ Bub leaned a supporting hand against the doorjamb. ‘Admiring Cam’s masterpiece?’

Liz flinched at the sarcasm. Definitely been drinking, Nathan thought.

‘We were talking about whether to take it down or not,’ he said.

‘Shit, no. You don’t mess with Cam’s picture. He’d bloody come back and haunt you for that.’ Bub almost laughed and Nathan felt Liz tense.

‘What do you want, Bub?’ he said.

‘Oh, yeah. Funeral guy just called.’

‘And?’

‘Body’s on its way.’

Nathan had to wear his dad’s old suit. Liz had dragged it out from somewhere and handed it to him without a word. It was twenty-five years old but had the stiffness of rarely worn fabric. It was black and fit well. Nathan put his hand in the jacket pocket and found a faded supply list written in his dad’s handwriting. He crumpled the paper without reading it and fought the urge to rip off the jacket.

Bub walked into the living room and dropped his beer when he saw Nathan.

‘Shit. I thought for a second –’ Bub took a step back before recovering. He bent down and picked up his bottle, swiping at the floor with a dirty tissue while he avoided looking at Nathan. ‘You seen yourself, mate? You look just like him.’

Nathan turned and stared at his dark and distorted reflection in the TV screen. He didn’t recognise himself. Carl Bright’s jacket was suddenly too tight and Nathan couldn’t breathe properly. He pulled it off and kicked it under the couch.

Xander wandered in dressed in Cameron’s only suit, then stalled in the doorway as Nathan and Bub both stared at him. The suit fit like it had been made to measure and Xander looked taller and broader and older than Nathan had ever seen him.

‘Grandma told me to wear it,’ Xander said, looking down. ‘But maybe –’

‘It’s fine,’ Nathan said. ‘Looks good, mate.’

Xander helped first Bub, then Nathan, fix their ties properly. Nathan stood face to face with his son, watching him looping the fabric around. Nathan could hear him breathe and see a tiny patch of dark stubble where he’d missed a spot shaving. He could see the small scar on his hairline where he had fallen off a horse when he was five. He watched the slight narrowing of eyes that had been blue like Jacqui’s when he was born, but had turned brown like Nathan’s within a year. Nathan suddenly wanted Xander to be small enough again that he could pick him up and hold him. Instead he stood there, feeling uncomfortable in his borrowed suit.