Imaginary Foe Read Online Free PDF Page A

told me that whenever she saw me walking around in my Winklepickers, I reminded her of a pixie in a strange land. I thought that was kind of cool. It made me feel different, and, for some time after that, whenever I slipped on my Winklepickers, I felt like I was slipping into a cooler, more carefree version of myself.
    Mandy was cool. We made out heaps. She was a great kisser. But, for some reason, I just lost interest in her. It was like this switch was on and all of a sudden it got switched off. She thought I was a cold bastard and she couldn’t understand how someone’s feelings could change overnight. I didn’t really understand it, either. When I told her that we could still be friends, she poked her tongue out at me and stormed off.
    Mum comes into the bathroom, unannounced. Privacy is something that doesn’t exist in this household, but I’ve learned not to complain about it. I’ve complained about it in the past, only to have absurd, accusatory questions flung at me: ‘What have you got to hide?’, ‘Is there something you’re not telling us?’, ‘What do you need to do behind closed doors? God sees all, anyway. Just remember that.’
    I can’t bloody forget it! Every time I go to the toilet or have a shower, I wonder if God is watching. I’m beginning to think God’s a real pervert.
    ‘Well, just look at you, Stanley Kelly!’
    ‘What do you think, Mum? Do you think the girls are gonna be impressed?’
    ‘Yes, I do. Gosh, this takes me back. You look like you just stepped out of the sixties.’
    ‘That’s a good thing, right? Guys looked cool in the sixties, didn’t they?’
    ‘Well, yes, they did.’ Mum blushes while fixing her hair in front of the mirror. ‘Your father was very stylish in his youth. He used to wear shoes like yours and he had a beautiful purple paisley shirt that he’d wear on special occasions. He had the most gorgeous sideburns. Why men don’t grow sideburns anymore, I’ll never know.’
    ‘Yeah, OK. Ease up. There are some things I’d rather not hear about, OK?’
    Mum doesn’t hear me. She has quite visibly succumbed to a daydream. A little smile creeps up the sides of her mouth. She looks at me through blank eyes, and then she says the weirdest thing. ‘You know, Father Ryan has sideburns.’
    I look at her, astounded. ‘No, he doesn’t, Mum! They’re hardly sideburns, and, besides, he doesn’t count because he’s a priest. He’s not a man!’
    ‘He is a man. Being a priest doesn’t change that fact, Stanley. Under those robes, he has the same hardware as every other man on the planet.’
    ‘Mum! Can we please stop talking about this?’ The conversation is quite clearly over, anyway, because I look at her and she’s off with the fairies. It’s quite disturbing. What the hell is she thinking? Does she have something for the local priest? I remember her in church, nodding along to Father Ryan’s sermon, captivated by his every word. It makes me want to puke.
    Mum lets out a deep sigh, which, to me, sounds like it’s filled with deep longing. I feel like shaking her back to reality, but she’s got a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes. It’s frightening. Looking at her like this reminds me of the Rolling Stones’ song that my parents play when they’ve had too much to drink – ‘Far Away Eyes’.
    ‘I think I might have a little whisky.’ Mum giggles and winks at me. ‘There’s some in the back of the pantry. You have a nice night, Stan. Knock ’em dead!’ She gives me an encouraging little pat on my arm.
    I watch as Mum walks away down the hall, still in dreamy mode. There’s definitely something going on with her. She often seems preoccupied these days. Sometimes I have to ask her the same question over and over before I get an answer. She’s taking better care of her looks lately, too. She won’t leave the house without at least applying a bit of lipstick, but she used to think that make-up was just for bimbos. She’s always said that