Imaginary Foe (13 page)

I knock on Mike’s door and he opens it, beer in hand. ‘Come on in, Stan-my-man!’

‘Hey, Mike. You’ve started without me?’

‘Yeah. This is my first, though. You don’t have much catching up to do.’

Mike’s parents are rich and their house is fucking awesome. He lives on the other side of the railway tracks, away from all the riff-raff in town. The living area of the house is tiled in dark slate and it joins on to a massive games room. There’s a huge billiards table in there, as well as a dartboard and a massive stereo. A TV hangs on the wall in the corner of the games room so you can watch it while you’re shooting pool. Mike tapes a lot of music videos off
Rage
, so there’s endless video clips to watch and mime as you’re strutting around the table, cue in hand, doing your best Tom Cruise impersonation from
The Color of Money
.

Mike chucks Depeche Mode on the stereo and turns it up. We amble outside and lay back on the poolside recliners. We nurse our beers on our bodies, like it’s something we always do, and look up at the stars. There are so many of them. I love clear nights like this in Middleton, when all the stars you can’t usually see fill the night sky. As I sweep my eyes across the expanse above me, I think of Rhonda’s fear of aliens. I wonder how far away our nearest alien neighbours are and in which direction they live. I don’t think that many people living in Middleton would believe in aliens. They’d sooner pass them off as stupid imaginary creatures from bad science fiction. But it’s amazing how many people do think they exist. No one thinks that Godzilla could stomp into town, do they? Yet people out there believe that aliens, for some reason, are plausible beings. But if you’re going to rule in aliens, you have to rule in Godzilla, King Kong and even gremlins. That’s my argument.

‘Do you believe in aliens, Mike?’

‘Now, there’s a question. It’s weird you’re asking me this. I’ve been thinking a lot about that sort of stuff.’

‘Really? How come?’

‘Oh, only because I watched
Alien
again the other night. It just got me thinking. I reckon that if aliens actually existed, they wouldn’t look anything like Ridley Scott’s version.’

‘Why?’

Mike takes a swig of his beer. ‘I dunno. I just think they’d be more humanoid. That’s what’s makes the thought of aliens so scary. Imagine what it would be like coming across a being that sort of resembles you but is different in some ways.’

‘Yeah, I see what you mean. They’d still have two eyes, two arms and two legs but their features would be fucked up.’

‘Yeah. Those big freaky bulbous eyes and that grey shiny skin. It’s the subtle differences that make them really scary.’

‘Yeah, and add to that their ability to do things to you with their mind. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to come across one of them in a dark alleyway.’

‘Dark alleyway? Phhhfft. I wouldn’t want to come across one of them in broad daylight while I’m playing cricket!’ Mike drains the dregs from his bottle. ‘Up for another?’

I’m surprised at how quickly Mike has downed his beer. ‘Sure thing.’ I try and finish my first while Mike goes inside to get us more. It tastes horrible but I force it down.

This is great, sitting out here with Mike. It’s so good to have some time away from my parents. Even when I’m in my bedroom listening to music, I still feel smothered by Mum and Dad. I can’t wait to leave home and get my own place. So what if I’m poor and living on tins of baked beans? It’ll be worth it. My parents’ place has its own set of unspoken rules. Whenever I’m there, I feel trapped. I’m surrounded by their things and I’m expected to think in a certain way, act in a certain way and fit into the box they’ve created for me.

It’s not all bad though. It could be a lot, lot worse. I’m lucky that I’m not being abused by anyone. I’ve only had to put up with a bit of harmless religious brainwashing. And that’s a given for the majority of children throughout the world. If Rhonda and I ever have children – and that may be sooner rather than later – we’re not going to impose any religion upon them. If they grow up and decide they want to join the Orange People, then so be it. But they’ll get to decide all that for themselves. They’ll be tough little titties.

Mike’s backyard is huge. I look beyond the pool at the dark corners of the yard. A dense layer of tropical plants masks the back fence and I tease myself by pretending there’s an alien sitting in the shadows watching me. Before I know it, my imagination has got the better of me and fear starts edging its way in. I feel exposed. The moonlight, which blankets the entire yard, looks sinister. A sharp blue light gleams off the surfaces of leaves and blades of grass. The water in the pool laps against the sides to the rhythm of the words playing in my head, ‘You are not alone. We are here.’

The blue light on a shiny, rubbery leaf catches my attention. Was that a large, almond-shaped eye looking out at me? I think about this for too long and end up spooking myself silly. I make a deal with myself not to look at the garden while Mike is absent. Why is he taking so long? In my peripheral vision, I see a plant move. I can’t help but look. There’s nothing there. I hear the sliding door open and I feel instant relief.

‘There you go.’

‘Cheers.’ We settle back into our recliners and I feel my body relax. ‘So, then,
do
you actually believe in aliens, Mike?’

‘Yep.’

‘Why is that?’

‘I have a very good reason to. I’ve experienced something that I can’t explain.’ Mike takes another swig from his beer and glances sideways at me. ‘And ever since then, I’ve questioned my own perception of reality.’

‘Shit a brick. So, what happened?’ I sit up on the recliner, pulling my knees to my chest so I’m in a protective position, ready to face something that might crumble
my
perception of reality.

Mike looks from side to side to check whether anyone is around. The coast is clear. ‘Stan, you’ve got to promise me that what I’m about to tell you will never, ever be repeated to anyone.’

‘OK. Sure. You’ve got a deal.’ A chill runs up my spine and I’m not sure I want to hear what Mike has to say. But part of me can’t wait for it either.

‘You can’t even tell Jeremy or Steve – or Rhonda!’

‘OK, OK. I promise.’

‘All right. Well, last year, some lights passed over the paddocks about a mile beyond our back fence there.’

I look to where Mike is pointing, which happens to be in line with the tropical plants. I push this distraction aside and picture the expanse of the paddocks beyond. ‘You saw some lights?’

‘Yep. It was about nine in the evening and I’d come outside to hang my sports uniform on the line. Over there, you see?’ Mike points towards the Hills Hoist.

‘Yeah.’

‘So, I go to peg my shorts up and I see seven lights moving horizontally across the sky in a V-formation.’

‘No shit!’

‘No shit. They were evenly spaced white lights and they had tails like a comet, but their tails were made up of all the colours of the spectrum. It was fucking crazy.’

We both take generous swigs of our beers. Part of me doesn’t really want to prompt Mike for more details, but the words come out before I’m even aware of it. ‘So, what did you do?’

‘I called for Mum and Dad and they came running out. I must have sounded pretty freaked out, because they were out in the backyard quick smart. We didn’t say anything. I just pointed to the lights and we all stood there staring. It was an incredible feeling – all of us witnessing this thing that we had no explanation for. I was so glad Mum and Dad were there. It wouldn’t have been the same if it was just me who saw the lights. My story would probably have been dismissed as stupid make-believe and I reckon I would’ve been the subject of ridicule for generations.’ Mike puts on a grandma voice. ‘“Remember that young man who said he saw UFOs from his back garden? He wound up in Graylands, didn’t he? Still, he deserved it. He was insane.”’ I’m not impressed by Mike’s impersonation of a granny. Clearly the alcohol has lessened his comedic ability, not enhanced it.

‘And then what happened?’

‘We stayed up for ages that night talking about those lights. None of us wanted to go to sleep because we were so excited about seeing something so unusual.’

‘So – what happened?’ I prompt Mike again.

‘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.’