Read Online Imaginary Foe by Shannon Leahy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shannon Leahy
Tags: Fiction
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extension in the study. I freeze as I recognise Father Ryan’s voice.
‘I can’t stop thinking about you. I know God is disappointed in me, but it’s a force so strong that I just don’t know what to do. I need to see you. Can you come over right now?’
‘Oh, Jerome, I don’t know. I’m scared.’
I replace the receiver and steady myself on the breakfast bench. I feel dizzy and short of breath. Hearing Mum’s voice was like a swift punch in the guts. Jerome? His name is Jerome? What a slimy old bastard. What a hypocritical old fuck! I hear movement from the study. I decide to busy myself by making a sandwich. Mum emerges a couple of minutes later.
When she sees me, she gives me a big guilty smile. ‘Oh! Hi, Stan. I didn’t realise you were home.’
‘Yeah, I just got in.’
She turns a conspicuous red.
‘I-I was just talking to your Aunty Gaynor. She’s coming soon … to Middleton … to visit … for a while.’
‘Oh, cool.’ This is the first time I’ve ever witnessed my mother blatantly lying. It’s horrifying. She’s not meant to lie – she’s my mother, for Christ’s sake! She isn’t any good at it, either.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m making a sandwich.’
‘Oh. That’s nice.’
I wish she would just leave the room. She’s talking gibberish and I don’t like it.
‘I’m going shopping in a minute. Is there anything you want?’
‘Not that I can think of.’
She finally leaves the room. I sit at the breakfast bench and eat my sandwich. I’m not hungry, I just don’t know what else to do. Considering all the shit that’s gone down, it’s a surprisingly good sandwich. As I’m taking the last bite, Mum comes back into the room. She’s changed her clothes and is wearing a revealing top, which sits tightly around her breasts. She’s applied fresh make-up too.
‘So, there’s nothing you want from the shops?’
‘No, Mum.’
‘OK. I’ll be off, then.’
‘OK, Mum.’
The minute she leaves the driveway, I race outside, jump on my bike and peddle like crazy to the shops, using every possible short cut. I find a spot behind a tree, where I’m concealed from the shopping centre car park. Mum has parked her beige Commodore near the entrance. I’m instantly relieved. But she doesn’t get out of the car. I creep closer, moving from tree to tree. I try to focus on what she’s doing. She’s talking to herself in the rear view mirror. She places her head in her hands and then she straightens up. She fixes her hair and gets out of the car. She takes her time closing the door. She’s clearly struggling with making a decision. But then, instead of walking towards the shops, she backtracks and makes her way briskly towards the presbytery next door. I dash to another tree to get a better look and watch as she approaches the front door. She knocks and is let in.
I’m trembling. Bruce places his hand on my shoulder. ‘Your mother is turning into a real slut.’
‘Don’t talk that way about my mother!’
‘She’s fucking the priest !’
‘Shut the fuck up, Bruce!’ I tear myself away from him and ride off with a jerky recklessness.
I arrive home and raid my parents’ liquor cabinet. I find a bottle of port, take it into my room and start hoeing into it. I spill a bit on the carpet and rub it with my foot. The stain spreads.
‘I can’t believe that fucking arsehole!’ Bruce is very opinionated. He rarely holds back. ‘What is it with Catholic priests? They can’t keep their dicks in their pants. They think they can go around screwing whomever they like and get away with it!’
‘Just shut up, Bruce. I can’t hear myself think.’
‘I won’t shut up. He’s meant to be a model citizen. He’s meant to be setting an example of how to live a pure life. But what does he do? He lets his dick lead him down a satanic path. He breaks one of the ten golden rules!’
I swig from the bottle, dripping port down my chin. Bruce is worked up, pacing about
‘I can’t stop thinking about you. I know God is disappointed in me, but it’s a force so strong that I just don’t know what to do. I need to see you. Can you come over right now?’
‘Oh, Jerome, I don’t know. I’m scared.’
I replace the receiver and steady myself on the breakfast bench. I feel dizzy and short of breath. Hearing Mum’s voice was like a swift punch in the guts. Jerome? His name is Jerome? What a slimy old bastard. What a hypocritical old fuck! I hear movement from the study. I decide to busy myself by making a sandwich. Mum emerges a couple of minutes later.
When she sees me, she gives me a big guilty smile. ‘Oh! Hi, Stan. I didn’t realise you were home.’
‘Yeah, I just got in.’
She turns a conspicuous red.
‘I-I was just talking to your Aunty Gaynor. She’s coming soon … to Middleton … to visit … for a while.’
‘Oh, cool.’ This is the first time I’ve ever witnessed my mother blatantly lying. It’s horrifying. She’s not meant to lie – she’s my mother, for Christ’s sake! She isn’t any good at it, either.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m making a sandwich.’
‘Oh. That’s nice.’
I wish she would just leave the room. She’s talking gibberish and I don’t like it.
‘I’m going shopping in a minute. Is there anything you want?’
‘Not that I can think of.’
She finally leaves the room. I sit at the breakfast bench and eat my sandwich. I’m not hungry, I just don’t know what else to do. Considering all the shit that’s gone down, it’s a surprisingly good sandwich. As I’m taking the last bite, Mum comes back into the room. She’s changed her clothes and is wearing a revealing top, which sits tightly around her breasts. She’s applied fresh make-up too.
‘So, there’s nothing you want from the shops?’
‘No, Mum.’
‘OK. I’ll be off, then.’
‘OK, Mum.’
The minute she leaves the driveway, I race outside, jump on my bike and peddle like crazy to the shops, using every possible short cut. I find a spot behind a tree, where I’m concealed from the shopping centre car park. Mum has parked her beige Commodore near the entrance. I’m instantly relieved. But she doesn’t get out of the car. I creep closer, moving from tree to tree. I try to focus on what she’s doing. She’s talking to herself in the rear view mirror. She places her head in her hands and then she straightens up. She fixes her hair and gets out of the car. She takes her time closing the door. She’s clearly struggling with making a decision. But then, instead of walking towards the shops, she backtracks and makes her way briskly towards the presbytery next door. I dash to another tree to get a better look and watch as she approaches the front door. She knocks and is let in.
I’m trembling. Bruce places his hand on my shoulder. ‘Your mother is turning into a real slut.’
‘Don’t talk that way about my mother!’
‘She’s fucking the priest !’
‘Shut the fuck up, Bruce!’ I tear myself away from him and ride off with a jerky recklessness.
I arrive home and raid my parents’ liquor cabinet. I find a bottle of port, take it into my room and start hoeing into it. I spill a bit on the carpet and rub it with my foot. The stain spreads.
‘I can’t believe that fucking arsehole!’ Bruce is very opinionated. He rarely holds back. ‘What is it with Catholic priests? They can’t keep their dicks in their pants. They think they can go around screwing whomever they like and get away with it!’
‘Just shut up, Bruce. I can’t hear myself think.’
‘I won’t shut up. He’s meant to be a model citizen. He’s meant to be setting an example of how to live a pure life. But what does he do? He lets his dick lead him down a satanic path. He breaks one of the ten golden rules!’
I swig from the bottle, dripping port down my chin. Bruce is worked up, pacing about
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