Imaginary Foe

by Shannon Leahy

  I lean in close to Mike so that only he and I can hear what I’m saying. ‘Well, to tell you the truth, I thought Rhonda was gonna break up with me and it was doing my fucking head in.’

  ‘But now?’

  ‘Now, I know she’s still into me. It’s all good.’

  ‘That’s cool.’ Mike grabs some books from his locker. ‘Hey, do you want to come over to my place on Saturday night and hang out? My parents are going to be away and I thought we could drink some of Dad’s piss and play some pool.’

  ‘That sounds like a bloody brilliant idea. Should I steal some of my dad’s grog?’

  ‘If you like. What’s he got?’

  ‘There’s some Scotch and other bottles of spirits in Dad’s cabinet – I’m not sure what they are, though. There are a few bottles of red wine, too. I wouldn’t dare lay a finger on his beer, though. He knows exactly how much beer he’s got.’

  ‘OK. Well, just bring what you think you can get away with. I’ve never had red wine before. What’s it like?’

  ‘It tastes like shit. It’s so bad, it’s almost painful to drink.’

  ‘Cool. Bring some. We can have some shots to kick us up the arse.’

  I smile at Mike. I like it when he’s in a bit of a cocky mood. We go into the classroom and take our seats about two-thirds of the way back. It’s a good position to be in; you can get away with not paying attention because the teacher won’t be watching you like a hawk, the way he or she would be if you were seated right up the back.

  I’d better be on the ball, though. Mr Fraser made it clear that my lacklustre behaviour isn’t good enough. But, during the lesson, although I try my hardest to pay attention to him, my mind drifts between nonsensical daydreams and worrying about Rhonda. I look out the window and watch the needles on the big old pine tree in the yard bend in the wind. Its hypnotic motion pulls me deeper into daydreams and I come up with a really sweet layering of guitars.

  As the lesson ends, Mike jabs me in the side. I’ve been creating the video clip to my song, which consists of a continuous blur of trees. Like when you’re driving fast and the trees and bushes that rush by become dancing lines of greens, yellows, greys and browns. I can spend ages looking out the window from the back seat of the car, getting lost in those lines.

  Rhonda is waiting for me out front. Even from a distance, I can tell that she’s both nervous and excited. One arm is folded across her waist, supporting her elbow so that she can chew on her fingernails while sort of hugging herself at the same time. I’m pretty nervous, myself. I’ve never gone into a chemist to buy anything embarrassing before. Not that a pregnancy test is embarrassing, it’s just that the sales assistant is immediately going to know more about my sex life than my own friends.

  I’ve come up with various ideas about how I’m going to respond if the assistant questions me about the test. So far, none of them beats the one about the guinea pig. I’ve also entertained the idea of acting all macho – going into the chemist wearing dark sunglasses and chewing gum, giving off a vibe to the assistant that if you question me about what I’m buying it’ll make for an unpleasant scene. But the person behind the counter is bound to know me, so I can’t really pull that one off.

  Rhonda walks towards me, unable to wait that extra little moment before I reach her. She’s beaming. ‘Oh, isn’t this exciting?’

  ‘Exciting? I don’t know if I’d say it’s exciting.’

  ‘I’m nervous. Are you nervous?’

  ‘Shit, yeah. I’ve been running through different scenarios in my head all day. I hope I don’t get my lines mixed up because that could be really bad.’

  ‘I think you’ll be perfect. I’ve got a good feeling about this. Before we know it, I’ll have a test in my hand and I’ll find out that I’m not pregnant after all, and this whole nightmare will be over with!’

  I frown at Rhonda, conscious of what I have to go through before that happens. We walk along the footpath hand in hand; Rhonda has a bounce in her step. The fact that she feels so good makes me feel better, but I’ve got butterflies and I can’t wait to get this thing done and dusted.

  We reach Apex Park, which is just up the street from the shopping centre. The plan is that Rhonda will wait in the park while I go and get the test. Then I’ll meet her and hand over the test. She’ll go straight home, do the test and call me with the good news. That’s what we’re hoping for, anyhow.

  Rhonda decides that she’ll wait on the swing. ‘OK, Stan. Good luck. Remember, this will all be over before we know it!’ Rhonda kisses me and entwines her fingers in my hair. ‘Thank you for doing this.’

  ‘That’s OK.’ I stand back from her. ‘How do I look?’ I brush myself down in an effort to make myself as presentable as possible.

  ‘You look fine. You’ll be fine. I know you can do this.’

  ‘OK. All right. I’ll get going then, before I change my mind. I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘See you soon.’ Rhonda gives me her biggest, most encouraging smile and I turn and make the dreaded journey to the chemist’s.

  I run through my lines again. I’ve got them down pat. This should be OK. Suddenly, I feel quite confident. I can do this. I start whistling to myself. This should be a breeze. I cross the street and I’m just about to enter the shopping centre car park when I see Bruce sitting on the presbytery fence, swinging his legs back and forth like a little girl. I feel my chest constrict; all the positive feelings I’d just nurtured are replaced by a rush of anxiety that courses through my body. What the fuck is Bruce doing? Why would he be sitting on the presbytery fence? Is he trying to piss me off? I wonder if he’s thinking about going through with his plan of burning Father Ryan’s house down. Isn’t that what he said in his fit of rage?

  He turns his head my way and smiles at me smugly. I experience an internal struggle: part of me wants to go over there to confront him – to push him off the fence and tell him to fuck off – and part of me knows I should just keep walking. I’m on a mission. I have to buy a pregnancy test for Rhonda. I can’t let her down and I can’t let Bruce distract me. But I’m going to give him a real serving later on. He’d know that sitting there like that would piss me off. I don’t know what he’s playing at.

  I force myself to continue on down the slope of the car park, towards the looming doors of the complex. I can’t resist glancing back, though. Sure enough, Bruce is still sitting there. It’s quite strange seeing him from behind. It’s not a view of him that I often see, and it somehow makes him seem sinister. A chill passes through me.

  I burst through the entry doors. The shops are ridiculously busy. Mothers are doing the mad after-school rush, buying food for dinner. My heart pumps fast. With every step I take, I feel more and more anxious but I make myself continue on. I curse Bruce for having screwed with my confidence.

  Taking a deep breath, I walk in through the chemist’s doors. I walk down each aisle, searching carefully, but I can’t find a pregnancy test anywhere. What section would it be in? I panic. I am going to have to ask for assistance. The rehearsed lines will have to be used after all. I go right up to the counter, determined to get this over with. Sally Ferguson is there and straight away I feel better. Sally’s the kind of person who wants everyone to feel good all of the time. I’ve never heard her raise her voice or say anything nasty to or about anyone. She’s always super polite and friendly. She’s the most ideal person I could hope to be greeted by at the chemist counter. I finally feel like everything is going to be just fine. Why had I been so worried in the first place?

  Just as Sally is about to ask if she can help me, I hear a familiar voice coming from my right. It pummels over me like a tidal wave.

  ‘Oh, hello, Stan!’

  I turn my head slightly, not wanting to believe that he could really be here. But there he is, standing up straight in his stiff black uniform, complete with dog collar, a taut smile stretched across his vile face.

  ‘Hi, Father. How are you?’ I didn’t think it was possible to h
ate someone like this, but at this moment I hate Father Ryan so much that I wish I could kill him and get away with it. He’s a despicable, repulsive person and he’s screwing things up for me. He’s screwing my mother and now he’s screwing with my plans. What is it with this guy? As I look at him, I imagine him as a form of pure evil, like Damien in The Omen. And, like Damien, he has an innocent disguise to hide behind. I wonder where he lived before coming to Middleton. Does he work his evil on someone until they snap? Being a priest would be helpful in that regard. You’re not considered a threat and you can pack up and move on to a new parish every four years or so.

  ‘I’m quite well, thank you. Except that I have a nasty little cold that just won’t seem to go away. I’ve come to get something for it.’

  ‘So, even priests get colds! You’d think God would look after his own, wouldn’t you?’ I can’t believe these scathing words have escaped me, but I’m pissed off and I want really badly to piss him off.

  ‘Unfortunately, God doesn’t discriminate.’ He holds his head back slightly and laughs. It’s a hideous, guttural laugh that seems to come from deep within, as if there’s an empty chamber inside him that goes on and on forever. I want to smash his brains in right there and then.

  ‘What brings you here? Is everyone in your family well?’

  How dare he mention my family, the slimy fucking prick! ‘They’re just fine, Father. Thanks for asking. It’s me – I’ve got a killer headache.’

  ‘I gather you’ve been working hard at your studies. High school can be tough.’

  ‘Yeah, it can be.’ It’s a tough time not being able to punch your fucking face in, shit-for-brains.

  Thankfully, Sally interjects. I wonder if she can see the blood boiling away beneath my skin. ‘Well, I can recommend these, Stan.’ She hands me a packet of something and I barely look at it as I whip my wallet out. I want to get the hell out of there. ‘They’re very effective. I use them myself.’

  I wish that he would just disappear. I wish I could shove every single one of these tablets down his throat right now, then sit back and watch him convulse on the floor, frothing at the mouth. I hurriedly pay for the tablets. ‘Thanks, Sally. See you later.’

  I wave quickly at Father Ryan, leave the chemist’s and storm through the complex with the exit doors in my sight. Rhonda is going to be really upset. I race out into the car park. Bruce is no longer sitting on the fence. That’s a good thing, because I would have gone over there and smashed his fucking brains in. I wonder, for a moment, if Father Ryan’s presence at the chemist’s was something that they had colluded. But I know I’m being paranoid. Surely Bruce wouldn’t make himself known to anyone else. I know that he’s been frustrated with my inaction recently, but he wouldn’t turn against me like that, would he?

  I can see Rhonda sitting on the swing in the park, swaying gently back and forth. She watches her feet as they scrape the ground. I slow my pace and stuff my hands in my jacket pockets. How is she going to react? She looks up, sensing my approach. She’s looking at my pockets, hoping one of them contains a box that will obliterate all her worries. I quicken my pace a little and ready myself.

  Just then, I notice that Bruce is in the park. He’s sitting on the monkey bars, watching us. What the hell is that arsehole playing at? How dare he appear in front of Rhonda! I look at her. She’s still looking at my pockets, hoping that I’m about to produce a little box. I shake my head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘What happened?’

  I kick at the ground in frustration. ‘Father Ryan was there.’

  ‘Father Ryan?’

  ‘Yeah. He was standing right next to me. I couldn’t ask for a pregnancy test with him right there.’

  ‘Oh, no! Can you go back? Please? I really need to know.’

  ‘Rhonda … I’m sorry. I can’t go back there now. It would be too obvious.’ I look over at Bruce. Now he’s hanging upside down on the monkey bars, still watching us. I make myself continue my conversation with Rhonda as normally as possible, while exploding with anger on the inside. ‘I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. But I promise I’ll go back tomorrow. You have my word.’

  ‘Goddamn it! Why was that arsehole there?’ Rhonda jumps up off the swing and paces back and forth.

  I steal another glance at Bruce. He’s now doing the ‘skin the cat’ and his head is turned at a weird angle so he can keep watching us.

  ‘What a pain in the arse. God, I hate that man! He’s upset you by what he’s doing with your mother and now he’s upset the both of us, by ruining our plan!’

  ‘I know. That’s exactly what I was thinking when I was in the chemist’s. I mean, of all the fucking people that could have been there…’ I so want to go over and bash the shit out of Bruce.

  ‘Oh, Stan! What are we going to do?’

  ‘Don’t worry. We’ll do this again tomorrow and it’ll be OK.’

  Rhonda hangs her head. Then she looks up suddenly, with a new look in her eyes. ‘Well, we can’t let him get away with this. It would make me feel better if we did something to really piss him off!’

  She sounds like Bruce. What could sweet Rhonda possibly have in mind? I look over at the monkey bars again; Bruce has disappeared. Where did he go?

  ‘Well, what sort of thing are you thinking of?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She paces back and forth some more and then turns to face me. ‘We could put dog shit on his chair in the church. He has a special chair doesn’t he?’

  ‘Well, yeah, he does. But are you serious?’

  ‘Yep.’ She is serious. She has a determined look on her face.

  ‘Well, I don’t know if the church will be open now. It’s probably locked up.’

  Rhonda looks disappointed and turns away.

  ‘But … I guess we can always try.’

  She turns back and smiles.

  Our second plan goes smoothly. We’re lucky enough to find some relatively fresh dog shit in the park. Using sticks, we put it in the paper bag I got with my headache tablets. We go to the church and Rhonda drops the dog shit on Father Ryan’s chair. I grab a little prayer candle from the back of the church and use it to smear the shit in so it can’t be easily removed from the fabric. I throw the shitty candle on the floor. The stench soon becomes overwhelming and we leave. For the first time in ages, I think it might actually be fun going to church on the weekend. Miracles do happen.

  15

  I can hear muffled voices. They bleed through my bedroom wall. The conversation is animated; the voices rise and fall and come in short, sharp bursts. It’s Mum and Dad. Mum and Dad having a lively conversation. I push it out of my mind.

  I’m in no hurry to get out of bed. I love waking up on Saturday mornings, knowing that I can sleep in if I want to. There’s no rush. There’s no alarm. I can lie here as long as I like and get up when I’m ready to. That’s a luxury. So, I indulge that luxury. I lie here and think about the day ahead of me. I’m looking forward to going round to Mike’s place tonight. We haven’t had a chance to hang out in a while. I’m also looking forward to getting a bit drunk. I could do with some relief from all the crazy shit that’s been happening.

  I start thinking about plum jam on toast, so I amble out to the kitchen in my Astro Boy pyjamas. That’s when I realise that Mum and Dad aren’t having a lively conversation – Mum is, in fact, livid.

  ‘Who would do such a thing?’

  ‘I don’t know, Peggy.’

  ‘It’s probably those atheists who live on Harwood Street. I’d bet you anything it was them!’

  ‘What’s going on?’ I yawn and stretch.

  ‘Oh, you’re not going to believe this, Stan!’

  ‘What? What’s happened?’

  ‘Well, someone – some despicable human being – has put dog excrement in the church!’

  ‘Really?’ I hope I’m looking convincingly surprised.

  ‘Yes! But not only that – it was left on Father Ryan’s chair!’

  ‘Holy shi�
��’

  ‘Stanley!’

  ‘Sorry!’

  ‘It was smeared in with a prayer candle and the candle was left on the ground, near the chair, as if the culprit threw it down in some hideous, mocking gesture!’

  ‘Oh, my God! Really?’

  ‘Stanley, don’t take the Lord’s name in vain!’

  ‘Sorry!’

  Dad starts laughing and I’m so surprised that I start laughing myself.

  ‘Trevor and Stanley, stop laughing this instant!’ Mum stamps her foot to emphasise each word. Her frustration makes us laugh even more. ‘You think this is funny, do you? Well, go ahead and laugh! You’re just as bad as the sick person who did this! Perhaps I should invite him round for dinner so you can enjoy each other’s crude sense of humour.’

  ‘Him? You said invite “him” round to dinner. Was it a man who did it?’ I was enjoying watching Mum get worked up about this un-Christian incident. It was bliss.

  ‘Of course it was a man. You don’t think a woman would be capable of such a shameful act, do you?’

  ‘I guess not. That’s another reason why the Catholic Church should allow women to be priests! They wouldn’t go smearing crap on chairs, would they?’

  ‘What do female priests have to do with this, Stan? Sometimes you talk such utter rubbish.’

  ‘Well, it’s just an observation, Mum. You just said yourself that only a man would be capable of such a despicable act. And perhaps if there were more women involved in the church, these sorts of things wouldn’t happen.’

  ‘Stan, shut up!’

  I think about Rhonda and the way she suddenly conceived the ingenious idea. I feel an immense pride in her.

  ‘So, has it been cleaned up?’

  ‘Yes, it has. I went down there first thing and took care of it. The parish has agreed to chip in and replace Father Ryan’s chair. We did consider reupholstering, but in the end we decided it would be best to get a new chair altogether. Father can’t be expected to sit on that chair after what’s happened. It would be a constant reminder to him of this hateful act against the church.’