Page 7 of Mr Best Friend's Brother Grump

“Sure. Absolutely. We’ll be done here in… ooh, about an hour.” I don’t know why I say this when I know full well, we’ll be here for at least three. That’s the time slot I’ve booked anyway.

Rosa purses her lips together, bitter displeasure bristling. “Alright,” she says through gritted teeth. “One hour.”

The studio is a shared space and part of a photographer’s collective. The fifty-something members who set it up have access to rental equipment, darkrooms, and studio space. There’s a kitchen and coffee machine. It works out well for networking and professional support. All members are specialists in particular fields of photography. We have mutual respect. Sometimes I catch up with the others while I’m in New York, but this usually happens by accident here at the studio.

Rosa puts her phone away in her jacket pocket and rubs her head again.

“Do you want a coffee before we crack on?”

She nods with resignation and follows me down the hall.

Later in the afternoon… or is it early evening? It’s hard to say. Because of the lack of windows in the studio, it could be day or night. Sebastian and the Poolside reps seem happy with the end results, and I email the final file when I hang up the conference call. Rosa is coiling cables and putting away the last of the equipment that’s been checked, cleaned, and zipped up for the next job.

All we need to do now is print out the nine selected images OA size. This is a two-person job because when the print comes out, the paper is delicate, and the poster-sized photo needs to be laid flat to dry.

I’m also going to hang some black and white prints that I’ll start today and finish tomorrow. It’s amazing what you can do with digital photos and prints, but there’s nothing like getting in the dark room and mucking around with developing solutions.

When you see the ghostly picture appear on the paper, it’s like magic every time. I have huge respect for the pioneers of photography, such as Cartier-Bresson, Man Ray, and Ansel Adams. These people trailblazed the way forward. When I’m working in the darkroom with the same technology as them, I feel connected to the past and my heroes. You can always tell a darkroom print. There’s something in the light quality and depth of black, you don’t get with digital.

My phone rings. It’s Ingrid.

“Hi Nathan,” she says casually. “It was so great to see you today.” I don’t say anything but wait for her to fill the gap in conversation. “I was wondering if you’re going to the launch party.”

“Yes. Yes, of course, I’ll be there.”

“I’m so pleased. Maybe… well, we have a lot to talk about, so I guess I’ll see you then.”

She hangs up and I’m left wondering what she means. We do not have a lot to talk about. She walked out on me, as I remember. And I didn’t try to get her back. End of, in my books.

Ingrid is the picture of perfect girlfriend, but man, she’s hard work. When she left, I realized the effect she had on my life. It was as if she wanted my attention All. The. Time. It was exhausting. I have moved on. And I have filled any space in my life, vacated by Ingrid, with work. I literally don’t have time for a romantic attachment, at all. Even if the most perfect woman in the world walked through my door today, I wouldn’t notice. I am too focused on my career. Photography is my world and there’s no room for anyone else.

Chapter 5

Rosa

I want to sleep for a million years. It’s past ten p.m. and we’ve only just got back to the apartment. The day just went on and on. Nathan kept telling me we were just about done, and then there was something else that needed doing. Oh my. Then, instead of coming straight back here, we had to go to the event company office and drop off the prints for the launch party. And, of course, Nathan needed to chat with Sebastian about where to hang them and how the black and white photos were going to fit. And what was I doing this whole time? Standing there like a prize lemon.

I can’t wait to see Kendra and have a shower. And something to eat. I feel faint. My blood sugar has hit such a critical low, that an internal alarm is sounding, Danger. Danger. You are about to pass out. Danger. The emergency granola bar that I had found in my jacket pocket disappeared hours ago. Nathan ordered a takeaway in the taxi, and we picked it up on the way home. The tantalizing tangy smells of sweet and sour sauce are causing me to salivate. I feel as if I could inhale the entire contents of all the neatly packaged foil trays stacked in the brown paper bag.

When we get back to the apartment, I gently knock on Kendra’s door.

“Hi, it’s just me…” I hear her rustling about in her room. A muffled voice asks me something about my day. I push open the door, go in, and flop down on the bed beside my friend. “Kendra. Your brother is not human,” I say with a sigh. She laughs.

“Oh no! Look at you. Rosa. You’re broken.” I rub my head where I hit it on the light stand. I imagine a lump like a Tom and Jerry cartoon, red and pulsating.

“I feel broken.” My whole body aches. Then, remembering I am starving, I drag myself to the kitchen, telling Kendra, “We have Chinese food. I’ll bring you some.”

Nathan disappears into his room answering a call. I load up a couple of plates and take them into Kendra’s room. We eat in silence and I try not to shovel in the tasty fried rice and sweet and sour sauce, too quickly.

“I feel bad, Rosa. I should have warned you,” Kendra says, after a while. She hands me her plate and I finish off her leftovers. “He’s a bit of a workaholic.”

“Is that his only problem?” I put the empty plates on the bedside table.

“Well… It’s the main one…” Kendra leans back on her pillows. “I suppose, I’m used to him and his regimented ways. He’s that much older. He’s my big brother. You know, someone I’ve looked up to all my life. It's true, I idolize him. And he’s always been there for me… But, yes, he’s a nightmare.” Kendra laughs. “I wouldn’t want any of my friends going out with him. Imagine? That would spell disaster.”

“Well, don't you worry," I say falling sideways on the bed beside my friend. "There's no chance of that!”

We laugh too loudly, and I accidentally knock Kendra’s sore ankle, which makes her yelp and makes us laugh some more. I say good night to Kendra, and I head for the shower and bed. While I’m tucked up in the sofabed on the mezzanine, I check my messages. There’s one from the community center coordinator.

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