‘Well, we all finally went to bed. I lay awake for ages, wondering about those lights. Especially the way they just vanished all of a sudden. That seemed really strange.’ Mike takes a slow, laboured swig from his beer. ‘Maybe I should just leave it there, Stan. I don’t know if you should hear anymore.’
Chills creep up my back and the backyard once again feels peculiar and unsafe, but I now desperately need to hear the rest. ‘Oh, come on, Mike. You can’t stop now. That’s teasing.’
Mike looks at me with his eyebrows raised, as if he’s assessing whether I’ll be able to handle the rest of his story. He must think that I can. When he begins, his voice is a bit broken and brittle, and I imagine that he’s detaching himself from the experience as he tells it.
‘At about three in the morning, I was woken by a noise in my bedroom.’ The hairs stand up on my arms. ‘It was a hot night and I had just a sheet over me. When I heard the noise, I remember wishing that I had something more substantial covering me.’
I feel slightly nauseous. I’m conscious of the fact that what Mike says next may change me forever. What if Mike saw an alien that night? How the hell am I going to deal with that? Mike looks at me with a serious, unflinching expression; it seems to me that his mouth moves in slow motion, but I hear the words in real time. ‘I turned to see where the noise had come from. That’s when I saw it.’ Mike takes a swig. The beer moves slowly down the bottle’s neck and disappears into his mouth. He speaks again. ‘It was grey and it had the biggest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen.’
I jump up from the recliner and knock my beer to the ground. It rolls off along the paving, making a loud clatter before it’s lost over the edge of the pool. Mike is looking at me, shaking his head. Is he smiling? I’m backing away from him. My heart is beating fast.
Mike rushes up and grabs me by the shoulders. ‘Stan, it was a joke! I was joking!’
I hope and hope and hope that it was a joke. ‘Really? You promise?’
‘Yes. It was a joke. There was no alien in my room. I just wanted to scare you.’
I feel waves of relief wash over me. The reality that I’m used to, that I know so well, comes rushing back.
‘I’m sorry, dude. I saw how scared you were and I wanted to spook you out some more – that’s all. I honestly didn’t see an alien.’
‘You really promise?’
‘I promise. I didn’t see an alien.’
‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. That really scared the shit out of me.’ I bend forward and place my hands on my knees for support. I breathe deeply.
Mike pats me on the back with a good, steady, strong hand. ‘I’m sorry, Stan,’ he starts to laugh. ‘You should have seen your face! I couldn’t resist.’
‘Yeah. It was fucking funny.’
‘Come on, man. We’ll go inside and grab another drink.’
We turn to go. I’m glad to get inside, protected from the outdoors. ‘So you didn’t see any lights that night either?’
‘Yes, we did. We all saw the lights. But the next day, the paper explained it away as a satellite making re-entry.’
‘A satellite?’
‘Yeah, a fucking satellite. But I think that’s bullshit. I think it was something else. Something not of this world.’
Mike and I get another drink and decide to play pool to completely dispel the heebie-jeebies. We play five games and I win two and Mike wins three. Eventually, we decide to brave the backyard again and arm ourselves with strong mixes of Scotch and Coke. It’s not long before I start feeling drunk. I like it. It makes me feel reckless. I can see the funny side of Mike’s joke now and I start to laugh at myself. Mike imitates me backing away and I call him all the names under the sun. I consider telling Mike about Rhonda, but thankfully I have enough sense to stop myself.
‘You know, I had an ulterior motive for inviting you over, Stan.’
‘Really? What is it? Are you gonna kill me and boil me in a big pot? That wouldn’t be so unusual. Is your friend Beelzebub stopping by for a drink? That wouldn’t be so strange, either.’
‘Nah. There’s no way I’d cook you. I reckon you’d taste like shit, anyway.’
‘So, what’s up?’ All sorts of ideas go whirling through my mind. Does Mike have a crush on Rhonda? Has he done something bad? Is he planning to run away? I remember how upset he was on the night of the school social.
‘There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for ages. But I can never seem to go through with it. And lately, you’ve been spending so much time with Rhonda that I don’t ever get the chance anyway. That’s why I thought tonight would be the perfect opportunity. I thought we could get a bit drunk together and then I might actually be able to go through with it.’
‘I’m all ears, Mike. You know that anything you say will stay between you and me.’
‘Yeah, I know. I guess I’m just scared that you’ll disown me. That you’ll hate me.’
‘Why would I hate you? That’s ludicrous.’
‘Seriously, Stan, is there anything I could do that would make you hate me?’
‘Well, you could kill my sisters. But even that wouldn’t be so bad.’
‘I’m being serious here. I just don’t know how you’re going to take it and it scares the hell out of me. You’re the closest friend I have. The other guys are cool, they’re fun and all. But they’re not like you. You’re so much more … considerate. That’s why I really respect you.’
‘I honestly don’t think that anything you tell me could make me hate you, Mike.’
‘That’s great, but … I hope this doesn’t sound judgemental, but … oh, look, don’t worry about it.’
‘Judgemental? What is it?’
‘I don’t want to piss you off.’
‘You don’t want to piss me off? Well, it’s a bit late for that. What is it about me that you’re so concerned about? Come on, spit it out.’
‘It’s just that … you go to church, Stan, and that makes it difficult for me to tell you, OK? You might not like what I have to say.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ I get up and pace back and forth. ‘I only go to church because my family makes me. Don’t hold that against me, please! I don’t even believe in God, and it sucks that I have to keep going to church for the sole purpose of keeping my fucking parents happy.’
‘You don’t believe in God?’
‘Of course I don’t. You should know that. How long have we been friends?’
‘Stanley Kelly doesn’t believe in God! And here I was, thinking you were a happy little churchgoer.’ Mike laughs raucously and it grates on my ears.
‘Well, I’m not. And you can stop talking like that. I don’t believe in God and I never will ever again!’
‘So prove it.’
‘Prove it? How?’
‘There’s only one way of telling whether you’re a true non-believer.’
‘What’s that, then?’
‘Burn the Bible.’
‘Burn the Bible? That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?’
‘Oh! Too scared to burn the Bible, are we? I knew it! You’re a brainwashed Christian!’
‘Look, Mike, don’t speak to me like that! I’m happy to burn the goddamn Bible for you. I just think it’s extreme, that’s all. Burning books. It’s something the Nazis liked doing, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, don’t go turning this into a Nazi thing. I’m asking you to burn a particular book to prove to me that you’re a non-believer.’
‘Well, you’re obviously not willing to take my word for it.’
‘I’ve got a Bible in my room. You know, I was … curious. I picked one up from the flea market. I’ve been reading it and I’ve gotta tell ya, that book is full of crap. You should have no concern about burning it. I’ll go get it and then we can be done with this.’
‘Go on, then! If you insist!’
Mike disappears inside. I feel so resentful. Why is he behaving like such a cocksucker? It’s not like him. The alcohol must be bringing out the inner arsehole i
n him.
‘Why are you acting like such a pussy?’
I turn around and Bruce is standing there sneering at me. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’
‘I’m always here for you when you need a hand, Stan. You’re shaking in your boots over this piss-weak request and I’m here to see that you go through with it.’
‘Oh, you only show up when I need a hand? Is that right? So what were you doing sitting on Father Ryan’s fence when I was on my way to the chemist? AND WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DONG ACTING LIKE A FUNKING IDIOT ON THE MONKEY BARS WHEN I WAS WITH RHONDA IN THE PARK?’
‘You needed to get pissed off with that priest, Stan! And I made sure it happened! But everything’s always like water off a duck’s back for you, isn’t it? Do you ever feel anything, Stan?’
‘Yes!’
‘Really? And now you can’t even burn a Bible? Piss fucking weak!’
‘I don’t understand why it’s so important. Anyway, it’s a bit childish.’
‘“It’s a bit childish”!’ Bruce mimics me cruelly. ‘You don’t understand much at all, do you? You should be glad to burn the fucking Bible, given that your mother, the whore, is shagging a priest!’
‘She’s not shagging him.’
‘“She’s not shagging him”!’ Again, the nasty impersonation. ‘I thought you were coming to your senses. I thought that, finally, things were becoming clear to you. I was impressed with the dog shit in the church. But that was Rhonda’s idea, wasn’t it? You see, I can’t leave you to your own devices for very long. It seems I have to be around to keep you on track.’
I hear the sliding door open and I quickly turn around. Mike has his Bible in one hand, a lighter in the other.
‘Were you talking to someone? I thought I heard voices.’
I quickly spin around but Bruce has gone. Thank God for that. ‘I wasn’t talking to anyone. I was … er … singing along to the music.’
‘Oh. Well, here it is.’ Mike holds the Bible up in the air. ‘And here’s your instrument of destruction.’ Mike hands me the Bible and the lighter. ‘I can’t believe you’re going to do this! This is going to be awesome!’ Mike laughs a little hysterically.
I decide to go through with the deed just to keep both Mike and Bruce at bay. Especially Bruce. He was being a real fucking wanker. I squat down and place the book on the brick paving. ‘Will here do?’
‘That will do just nicely. Oh, wait, wait! We need something to mark the occasion.’ Mike dashes inside and comes back with two shots of Scotch. ‘Here’s to atheism!’
‘Cheers.’ I chink glasses with Mike, with less glee than he does, and down the Scotch. ‘OK. Here goes.’
I feel like I’m doing something really wrong. My Catholic guilt grips me like a vice. I tell myself that all I’m going to do is burn something made of paper and it really doesn’t matter. And then I realise that it really doesn’t matter. Why should I be so concerned about it? The burning of this book is just a demonstration of the free thought that my friend and I share. If I don’t believe in God, what possible harm could I be doing? It’s not as if I’m making a statement in public and putting others down for what they believe. This is just for us, to solidify our friendship and unite us in our non-belief. People carry out ceremonies all over the world to celebrate their beliefs, so why can’t Mike and I have our own?
I flick the lighter with purpose and set the book alight. Mike and I stand arm in arm as we watch the book burn. I feel a weight lifting from me and a tear falls down my face. I’m a person with my own thoughts and feelings, and I shall question everything as I see fit. I’m an atheist and I will no longer be controlled. I will no longer trouble myself about the expectations of some outdated institutionalised belief system.
As the flames dwindle, Mike, in a quiet but steady voice, reveals the secret that has been killing him, the secret that led him to drink himself stupid at the school social. For some reason, I’m not surprised to hear that he’s gay.
Mike cries a bit. I sense that these are tears of relief, and that this first step of sharing the truth with me will make him stronger. I tell him that of course we’ll still be best friends; I sincerely feel this. And I realise that a truth that has been buried deep down because of social or religious constraints feels like a drug when it’s unleashed. It’s like a high.
After we’ve been sitting in silence for some time, I make him promise he’ll tell me about anyone he’s got the hots for, even if it’s just a passing crush. Well, you’ve got to make some demands of your friends, don’t you? And besides, I’m curious about his type. I hope he’s not into shallow sportsmen or pretty-boys. I don’t know how I’d feel if he had the hots for someone like Brenton! Surely he wouldn’t be won over by a toned, manly body. Surely not.
17
Mike and I have a big fry up the next morning to alleviate our hangovers. I make sure there are no runny bits in the whites of the eggs. I’ve never understood how people can eat eggs that haven’t been cooked properly. And if I see someone eating eggs that have the runny white bits in them, I feel like puking up all over the place. Mia likes her eggs like that. It’s disgusting.
‘So, what are you gonna do today, Stan?’
‘Well, if I can manage it, I’m gonna ride home and try to have as short a conversation as possible with Mum and Dad and then hide in my bedroom for the rest of the day. Blinds closed. What about you?’
‘I dunno. I might go for a swim later up at the weir. Would you be keen?’
‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘It’s a good place to check out guys.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
This is going to take some getting used to. But I give Mike a big hug before I leave and reassure him that he’s my best buddy and his secret is safe with me.
I jump on my bike and pedal home at a leisurely pace. I wouldn’t be able to handle anything more than that. My head is throbbing and, behind one of my temples, a drill is gradually increasing the frequency and intensity of its boring. I close my eyes and lift my face to the sun, hoping that its warmth will sooth my fragile head. Images of Rhonda come to me and before I know it I have the urge to masturbate. I pedal home at a faster pace; my head protests but my dick wins the battle. I ride into the backyard and, in a well-practised movement, dismount my bike as I swing it to the ground. I jog to the sliding back door and pull it open. I ready myself for a quick greeting in the hopes that I can dash off to the shower straight away.
As I enter, my eyes adjust to the light and I realise that my family is sitting around the living room table. That’s not normal. I blink. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. Dad is sitting back with his arms folded, staring at me. Mia and Rose look up at me and then quickly look back down at their hands, which they are nursing in their laps. My eyes meet Mum’s; she goes bright red and I can tell that she’s furious. I also notice that she’s been crying.
I want to run out of there, jump back on my bike and ride to the weir. I want to lose myself in the water, float on my back and drift away with my eyes closed. I want to wake up somewhere entirely different. Perhaps an alien spaceship could land in my backyard and whisk me away. They could even perform their rectal probing on me if they like. Anything would be better than standing here right now! But I know that neither of these scenarios is possible. The look on Mum’s face alone tells me that I’m dreaming.
‘We had a visitor this morning, Stanley.’ Mum leans towards me, quivering slightly. She looks like a volcano on the verge of eruption. I can tell that fiery language is yearning to escape and pour forth from her red, glowing head, and it will all be directed at me. I hear David Attenborough narrating the event inside my mind, and, for a millisecond, I consider going to grab my camera to capture this moment in history.
I swallow loudly. ‘Really? Who came round?’
‘We had a visit from Mrs Parker.’
I look back at Mum blankly. It couldn’t be. There’s no way Mrs Parker would know. Rhonda would
n’t…
‘She had some interesting news to tell us.’
‘Did she?’
‘Yes, she did. Is there something you want to tell us, Stanley? Something that you feel we ought to know?’
‘Not really.’
‘Not really! Not really!’ The first eruption.
‘Mum, please, just cut to the chase.’
Mum slaps me hard across the face. The second eruption. It’s a powerful one. I go pink. ‘I’ll cut to the bloody chase when I’m good and ready!’
‘Peggy, don’t be so hard on the boy!’
I’m relieved that Dad has stepped in, but I can see that he isn’t going to have any effect.
The volcano that is my mother turns its fury towards Dad. ‘You can stay out of this, Trevor! If you’d been a better father, none of this would have happened!’
‘You’re telling him to be a better parent?’ As soon as the words come out, I know I’ve made a grave mistake.
The volcano’s fury is once again turned upon me. Mum’s eyes narrow and for a second I can see that she’s worried about what I’ve implied. She continues, ‘Mrs Parker came over today and told us that you may have got her daughter pregnant! Can you imagine how we feel? What have you got to say for yourself?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know! You don’t know! Well, these things don’t just happen. You must have been acting inappropriately with this girl for some time, for something like this to happen.’
‘Her name is Rhonda.’
‘Don’t tell me what her name is! I’m well aware of what her name is! You’re a bloody disgrace to this family! Do you know what people are going to say about us? Do you have any idea? I guess that was the last bloody thing on your mind, wasn’t it? You disgust me!’
‘I’m sorry, Mum.’ I truly am sorry. For the first time, I have a glimpse of the gravity of my actions. Having sex is a big deal, a mammoth-big deal. The drill behind my temple increases in intensity again.
‘Sorry isn’t good enough! Sorry can’t change the fact that you’ve sinned and that you’re a disgrace to this family! You’re going to burn in hell, Stanley! You’re going to burn in hell for all eternity! And for what? For a measly moment’s pleasure?’
Imaginary Foe Page 11