Imaginary Foe

by Shannon Leahy

  ‘Where’d you get that?’

  ‘I rolled it during rehearsal. Stashed it away in my pocket, thinking it might be nice to have on our walk back. Shall we?’

  ‘We shall.’

  Mike and I pass the joint back and forth. I start to feel weightless and I’m aware that my legs are propelling me forward somehow. My movement is automatic, as though a button marked ‘Walk’ has been pushed.

  ‘I … ah … I’ve got some news,’ Mike begins.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I’ve sort of started seeing someone.’

  ‘Really? Who is it?’ I’m amazed. Images of boys’ faces from school whizz through my mind. But I just can’t think of anyone who might be gay. How can you tell anyway? Are they better looking than most boys? Most of the good-looking guys at school are the macho-type, the kind who like having a pretty girl hanging off their arm. None of them seem very gay to me.

  ‘He’s a year younger than us. He’s in Year Nine.’

  ‘Wow! Really? And he thinks he’s gay?’

  ‘He doesn’t just think he’s gay; he is gay.’

  ‘I wanted to ask you, actually, when did you first realise? You know, that you’re gay?’

  ‘When I was about twelve, I realised that I liked the way boys look. I thought that some girls were pretty, but that was that. I didn’t feel like kissing girls. But I felt like kissing one or two boys.’

  ‘That’s amazing.’

  ‘No, it’s not. You just don’t get it because you’re boring and straight.’ We start laughing.

  ‘Boring and straight. Yeah, that’s me! Add to that “heartbroken” and we’re really getting somewhere. But this is killing me – who is it?’

  ‘His name is Blake Paige.’

  ‘He sounds like a poet.’ In my marijuana-addled mind, I picture a guy dressed in a brown nineteenth-century suit. He clutches a book, and a scarf hangs neatly around his neck. He wears an expression that suggests he knows more than the average man.

  ‘Well, he is interested in writing. He writes short stories.’

  ‘How did you guys meet? I mean, how did you know that…’

  ‘I didn’t know at first. But I was walking past some lockers and he was hanging out with a group of his friends. As I passed, he said “Hi Mike”. And he looked at me with so much confidence and conviction that it almost bowled me over.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘I couldn’t get him out of my head. I’d see him around, and he’d always be looking my way. Then one day after school, he caught up with me and gave me a short story that he’d written.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He just said, “I’ve written a story and I’d like to share it with you. I think you might find it interesting.” And as he gave me the story, he sort of stroked my hand.’

  ‘Wow! He’s brave.’

  ‘Yes. He’s incredibly brave.’

  ‘What was the story about?’

  ‘It was about a little boy whose father is a drunk. The boy copes by losing himself in picture books. It wasn’t a gay story or anything. But it was really touching. It was beautifully written.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘I saw him at school and told him that his story was beautiful. And he said, “You’re beautiful.” Anyway, to cut a long story short, I went back to his place after school and we hung out in his room. We talked for ages and we kissed for ages too.’

  ‘Holy shit! That’s amazing.’

  ‘It’s incredibly amazing. He’s amazing. He’s so strong-minded, I can’t believe it. He doesn’t care what other people think about him. He asked me if anyone knows that I’m gay. I told him that I’d talked to you about it and that you were supportive of me. He was impressed by that.’

  ‘I can’t believe it. You’ve got a boyfriend!’

  ‘Yeah. I’ve got a boyfriend!’

  ‘So, when do we get to meet him?’

  ‘I’ll introduce you on Monday. But I don’t know what the other guys are gonna think, Stan. I’m not sure if I’m ready to put up with any shit from them.’

  ‘Hey, we can deal with it together. If they give you any shit, they’ll have me to answer to.’

  ‘Thanks, dude.’

  ‘You’re welcome, lover boy!’

  Mike punches me playfully and we continue our walk home.

  Everything is bathed in moonlight. I love the blue light that comes from the moon. It seems supernatural. The hills that slope up from the road look eerie; I think of the scene at the start of An American Werewolf in London, when two American backpackers are walking through the Yorkshire moors in England, completely unaware of the danger nearby. I start looking at the darker patches around us, hoping a werewolf isn’t hidden there, salivating at the thought of having two fifteen-year-olds for dinner. But I’m kind of excited by my own fear in my stoned state – because I know that there is no way we could be attacked by werewolves. But there could be a mad person lurking in the shadows. That’s not so far-fetched. People are capable of doing atrocious things to each other. As I start to entertain the idea that a psychopathic murderer is about to leap out in front of us and ask us some innocuous question (as they always do to being with), I decide to force myself to focus my attention elsewhere.

  The stars are so very bright tonight and I find comfort in the immensity of the night sky. Feeling insignificant always calms me. I think of Rhonda, and the pain that comes with it is a little bit less than usual. Things can get better. Mike starts singing the line “There’s a bad moon on the rise,” and it immediately takes me back to the Yorkshire moors. But I greet the fear face on and join in with Mike, singing the song loud and proud all the way home.

  24

  I’m sitting in the sun on the lawn in front of our school. Jeremy and Steve are goofing around and rating all the girls who pass by out of ten. Mike and Blake are having an intense discussion about metaphysical poets. I have no idea what they’re banging on about.

  ‘Hey, Mike. Who do you think you are? Some kind of poofter? We’re trying to rate girls here and you’re raving on like a queer! Just keep it down, would you?’ I look up in horror. It’s Jeremy.

  Mike looks at me briefly before responding. ‘Actually, I am a queer and that’s something you’re just gonna have to get used to.’

  ‘What?’ Jeremy is shocked. He looks at Mike and Blake, and then he looks at me.

  ‘Yeah, Jeremy,’ I say casually, ‘get with the program.’

  Jeremy looks at Mike and then looks at me again. He pauses and I wonder for a minute where this is going to go. ‘All right. I’ll get with the program, but you owe me a packet of smokes, Stan.’

  ‘Whatever,’ I say. Jeremy and Steve return to their rating game and Mike and Blake resume their conversation as if nothing happened. I’m flabbergasted that, all within the space of a short conversation, a huge hurdle was overcome. Human beings can be so strange.

  Mandy and Susan are hanging out with us. Mandy has forgiven me for breaking her heart. In fact, she’s been very consoling since Rhonda and I split. It’s no secret that she still has the hots for me. She makes it pretty obvious. I find a long blade of grass and entwine it into a skinny plait in her hair. She’s enjoying the close proximity of our bodies and she’s also enjoying being seen with me. I sound like a doofus, I know, but it’s true and I like it. It helps take my mind off Rhonda.

  In fact, things are a lot easier for me now in that regard. Rhonda has maintained a strict distance from me. If she even detects that I’m in the vicinity, she’ll walk the other way. It hurt a lot at first, but now I can see that it’s the most sensible course of action. Being rejected outright has helped me. I’ve suffered a broken heart and I’ve come out the other end feeling stronger for it. It’s the most painful experience I’ve ever had in my life. It envelops and imprisons you. It tags along with you everywhere you go. It’s in every song you hear sung, it’s in every word you hear spoken, and it’s in every act you perform each day, w
hether you are doing something as mundane as washing dishes, washing a car or washing your own body. It’s with you when you’re walking; it’s with you when you’re sleeping; and it’s with you when you’re crying like a baby before falling to sleep for the fiftieth time in one night. Having your heart broken is a pain that transcends all others. That’s why so many people have written songs about it. But the one consolation I have is that it’s me fighting this fight – it’s not me and Bruce. It’s me versus heartbreak. It’s me versus the world, and I’m persevering. And now here I am, flirting with a girl who’s obviously head-over-heels for me. Am I going to break her heart? Probably. But I won’t let her know that I’m not in love with her. I’ll string along this flirtatious thing we’ve got going for as long as possible. It’s nice and it’s easy. And anyhow, she’s really cute. The bold black eyeliner she wears is a real turn on.

  ‘Stanley?’

  It’s her voice. There’s no mistaking it. Hearing her say my name takes me back to the night of the social, when she came and sat with me and we talked a whole lot of crap together. And then we danced. Now, here we are, worlds apart. As if nothing ever happened.

  I look up at her. She’s standing between the sun and me and I have to hold an arm up in front of my face so I can make her out. I let go of Mandy’s plait.

  ‘Have you got a minute?’

  ‘No, he hasn’t.’ Mandy is not pleased that Rhonda has made an appearance, and gives her daggers. For a moment, even Mike and Blake’s back and forth about the work of John Donne ceases. Steve and Jeremy fall silent too; it’s like that hackneyed movie moment when a stranger swings open the doors to a saloon and everyone stops what they’re doing and stares. All eyes are on Rhonda.

  ‘Sure. I’ve got a moment.’ Blake resumes his rant on the complexities of John Donne’s work and I’m pleased that he’s trying to smooth over the awkward moment. I get up and brush myself down. Rhonda takes a few steps away from the group and I follow, like a dog on a chain. What does she want? Does she want to get back together again? I can smell her perfume. It has infused with her body odour; it’s the most heavenly scent on the planet. Why am I so weak? Why am I so easily overcome by her?

  We wander down to the oval. For a minute, I think she’s going to lead me out to the cricket pitch where we had our first conversation. But she stops abruptly at the edge of the oval, where the free-moving love grass meets the forensic line of the mowed lawn.

  ‘We’re leaving.’ The words are said and it’s clear that she wants to hurt me. It’s not fair. After all that we’ve been through, she still wants to hurt me.

  ‘What?’ I act as if I don’t understand or as if I haven’t heard properly.

  ‘We’re leaving town. We’ll be gone in a few weeks.’ I feel like screaming or slapping her or something.

  ‘Well, don’t you have anything to say, Stan?’

  I’m angry. ‘What do you want me to say, Rhonda? Thanks for the memories? Thanks for breaking my heart, jumping up and down on it, squishing it into the ground and then spitting on it? Thanks, Rhonda. Thanks for being my girlfriend and thanks for sharing the most amazing moments that I’ve ever experienced. And thanks for then acting like I don’t even exist. Thanks, Rhonda.’

  ‘You’re so juvenile and you’re so stupid!’

  ‘And on top of everything, I’m stupid too!’

  ‘You jerk. You think I’ve kept my distance from you because I wanted to? You’re an idiot! I kept my distance from you so that it would be easier for me to leave. I did it for myself. Anyway, I can see that you’ve quite comfortably moved on.’ She motions back to where I was sitting with Mandy. ‘How do you think that makes me feel? It’s like you think nothing ever happened. And, for some reason, I didn’t expect that of you.’

  ‘I’m not like that. I’m not interested in her.’ I reach out to her, but she moves away.

  ‘It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? I’m leaving. You’ll go on with your life and I’ll go on with mine. I did have silly thoughts about us meeting up at some stage. You know, when we’re seventeen or eighteen and a bit more independent. It’s so stupid.’

  ‘It’s not stupid at all. I can wait till then.’

  ‘But that’s the point. I don’t want you to wait. I don’t want us to be a burden on each other.’

  ‘You would never be a burden on me.’

  ‘Well, you say that now. But let’s not kid ourselves. It can’t work. We’re at that age. We have this in-built mechanism that allows us to pick up and move on. And we’re like that for a reason – we’re like that for times like these.’

  I huff and kick at the love grass that’s moving gently in the breeze. I kick out again, angry at its easy-breezy existence and our heart-breaking reality.

  ‘Well, can’t we just make out a little then?’

  Rhonda laughs and I laugh too. We don’t make out, but that’s OK. We’re laughing together. But the gravity of the situation hits me. She will be gone. I will probably never see her again.

  ‘Why are you leaving?’

  ‘Well … after what happened … Mum thought it would be a good idea to move on.’

  ‘You’re leaving because of me?’

  ‘No, it’s not just because of that. It’s other things too. Mum didn’t think it would be as hard as it has been to fit in. But there’s not much going on and I think she probably needs a bit more support. People here are very settled in their friendships and it’s hard to break through.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re going … it sucks.’

  Rhonda takes my hand. Our fingers fit together so well. ‘You’ll be fine, Stan. You’re stronger than you think. I’m the one you should be worried about.’

  ‘Look at you. You’re beautiful. You’ll meet Prince Charming in your next school and I’ll be a fading memory.’

  ‘You won’t ever be a fading memory.’ Rhonda squeezes my hand. ‘Don’t forget me. If we want to find each other in the future, we will.’

  ‘Sure.’ I’m not convinced though. We walk back to the lawn. Will this be the last time we walk side by side? ‘Don’t say goodbye. Let’s just walk away and pretend this isn’t goodbye.’

  ‘OK.’ She takes a big breath. ‘See you around.’ She turns to walk away, but I have her hand and I don’t let it go. Our eyes meet and then I finally release her. She walks away.

  I use all my strength to hold back the tears.

  Mike approaches me from behind. He places a calm, steady hand on my back. ‘You OK, buddy?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m OK.’ I head off to my next class.

  25

  After school, Mike, Blake, Steve and Jeremy are waiting outside.

  ‘We’re gonna meet Mandy and Susan in town and we’re gonna ride the mystery train. Wanna come?’ Jeremy says. Despite my sadness, this obvious show of support brings a smile to my face.

  ‘Why not? What else am I gonna do?’

  ‘Well, nothing, I guess. So you may as well come.’

  I love it when friends are there for you. I love it when they come and surround you and give you support. Relationships are what this world is all about. If there’s a meaning to life, surely it’s in the relationships we have with others.

  ‘So, what’s aboard the mystery train this time, Jeremy?’

  ‘Oh, you know. Liquor of varying types – wine, Bundy, tequila. The usual hotchpotch that will turn your stomach into a cesspool of toxicity.’

  ‘Sounds great.’

  Mike pats me on the back and then walks ahead with Blake. Blake turns and offers me a sympathetic smile. I don’t know if it’s for what’s happened with Rhonda or for the toxic cesspool that is yet to form in my stomach. Steve and Jeremy fall into step beside me.

  ‘So Rhonda’s leaving town, huh?’ says Steve.

  ‘How did you guys find out?’

  ‘Mike overheard you two saying something about goodbye, so he went and spoke with Rhonda about it. He was really worried about you.’

  ‘What did she say?’
/>   ‘She confirmed she’s leaving and that she’d just told you. Mike said that she’s pretty cut up too.’

  ‘Yeah. She’s leaving.’

  ‘Well, I suggest you let yourself get a bit distracted, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘A bit distracted?’

  ‘Stan, you’d practically forgotten about her anyway. You had your hands in Mandy’s hair earlier on and it looked to me like you were seriously enjoying yourself.’

  ‘You don’t get it, Steve. Mandy is no substitute for Rhonda. Rhonda was one of a kind. She had this thing … you know.’ I put my hands out in front of me like I’m holding a globe of the earth, but I can’t find the words that would do Rhonda justice. How do you explain to others how much someone means to you?

  ‘So, are you guys gonna see each other again, do you think?’ Jeremy asks.

  ‘I doubt it. I think she’ll move away and that’ll be it.’

  ‘Well, if I were you, I’d just drink myself silly. It helps.’

  ‘It doesn’t help, Jeremy. It makes things worse. But just for tonight, I’m going to trust in you and ride that mystery train.’

  We reach the football oval in town. Steve and Jeremy heft me up by grabbing a leg each; we race along the grass to the middle of the oval where the others have formed a small circle. Mandy, Susan, Blake and Mike are drinking from plastic cups.

  ‘Well, it’s about time, you guys. What took you so long?’ Mandy hands us each a cup and displays the drinks on offer. I go for tequila. It’s an easy decision. It tastes bloody awful, but it never disappoints. Tequila knocks you about in a way that other liquors can’t. It leaves you wondering what the hell has happened. And right now, that’s the sort of thing I’m looking for. I want to disengage from reality. I want soar to heights that allow me to act and feel like someone other than myself. I want to run around like an idiot and lose myself under the wide expanse of stars above. I want to feel insignificant. I want to teeter on the cliff edge of reason and then fall into the abyss of irrationality.