Imaginary Foe Read Online Free

and he had laminated pictures of both cars. He also had a cardboard diagram of the pyramid and he used a wooden pointer to highlight the different levels of the foolproof scheme. Dad watched, impatiently, as Uncle Tom delivered his spiel and then said, ‘You’re a dickhead, Tom.’ Then he turned and casually left the room. Uncle Tom looked at me, completely mortified by his brother’s statement. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head, feigning incredulity, while trying my damnedest not to burst out laughing. Uncle Tom packed up the diagram and pictures into his tattered brown briefcase and left without saying another word.
    I enter the kitchen. Dad is seated at the table, reading the daily newspaper, happily absorbing all of its biased opinions.
    ‘What’s up?’
    ‘Sit down, Stan.’
    I choose not to sit across from Dad so that he can’t recreate the dynamic of a formal meeting in an ‘old school’ environment, where, say, a superior might intimidate a subordinate across a meticulously ordered desk. While continuing to read the paper, Dad starts speaking, his expression hidden.
    ‘Tell me about this dance that’s on tonight.’
    ‘The school social?’
    ‘Yes, the school social. Who’s going to be there?’
    Dad knows very well who’s going to be there. He’s obviously prepped to give one of those routine lectures that he dishes out every now and then to reinforce his authority. I look down at the kitchen table and notice the perfect placement of the salt and pepper shakers, the Royal Albert teacup and saucer, and the knife and fork that lie face down together across Dad’s fastidiously clean breakfast plate. I panic at the meticulous order of everything. He is my superior. I am the subordinate.
    Dad is waiting for an answer. He prompts me, his face still hidden behind his precious newspaper. ‘Hmmm?’
    His nonchalant authority infuriates me. I’ve got to turn the situation around. I’ve got to squash his authoritarian game into the ground. I do it with the most reliable weapons available to me – indifference and humour! ‘Well, Mike said that he’s definitely going and Jeremy wouldn’t miss it for anything because he loves to boogie.’
    Dad finally lowers his newspaper slightly, raises his head and looks at me like I’m some sort of moron. ‘I’m not interested in your crackpot friends! Will the teachers be there? That’s what I’m asking!’
    ‘Why? Are you interested in one of my teachers?’
    ‘Stanley!’ Dad swiftly raises a forearm as if he’s going to give me a backhand, but he stops himself from following through and places his arm back down on the table. ‘Don’t get smart with me, Stanley.’ He pauses, having lost his footing in this game of intimidation. He puts the paper down and then continues to expel the usual words of encouragement that a loving father offers a son. ‘Your mother and I have decided to let you go tonight. But if I hear there’s been any funny business whatsoever, I won’t hesitate to pull out the strap again. You hear me?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Good. Well, then, with that in mind, try and enjoy yourself tonight.’ He picks up the paper again and snaps it into place in front of him. He resumes reading, bringing our conversation to an impressive close.
    I leave the kitchen feeling pissed off and deflated. Gee, thanks a lot, Dad. So, he has decided to let me go. What a crock of shit! If my parents had decided that I couldn’t go, I would’ve found a way to go anyway. I would have snuck out of my bedroom window.
    For a while, I entertain unrestrained thoughts about what I’d do to my father if he ever did strap me again, but I soon tire of inventing gruesome weaponry. The first time he ever strapped me, I was so shocked. Just seeing the belt in his hand terrified me. I was about ten years’ old, and I’d been playing down near the railway line with some older kids. They’d been placing a dead cat on the railway line, which was now in four pieces.