Imaginary Foe (19 page)

I amble along the footpath and realise that my body is not in a very good state. It’s not completely upright. I’m sort of leaning over on one side and my legs are having trouble maintaining a normal walking rhythm. I’m thinking about it too much. I need to let go and just let my legs lead me home. But they have different ideas. They want to move forward in a time signature that I’m not familiar with. A jazz musician might recognise a rhythm in this chaos. Perhaps if I stop on the footpath and then start up again, I might adopt a more normal walk? I try this. It doesn’t work.

I stop again. Something has caught my eye. I look to the west. What is that? Am I seeing things? There are lights moving in a V-formation across the sky. They are white with colourful tails. They move very slowly. I wish Mike was here. Are these the same lights that he saw? One of the lights separates from the formation; it appears to move towards me. But I can’t be sure. Is it getting bigger? I’m too drunk and I don’t know what I’m looking at. I blink hard, trying to sharpen my vision. I urge the light to come closer. It seems to react to my thoughts. I don’t know if it’s real, but I hope, hope and hope that it is!

I try to communicate with the light telepathically. Have you come to take me away from this banal existence that a human being must endure? Can you take me away for good and make me one of you? I promise to conform. Don’t just experiment on me and then return me to this god-forsaken planet. Take me away forever!

The light looks to be about fifty metres away. Suddenly, it stops. Is it looking at me? Can lights look? I raise my arm to encourage its approach. In a flash, it shoots away and resumes its place in the V-formation. I watch as the lights continue on their trajectory.

Why didn’t the light take me away? It could have been so good. I could have taught them all about humans. About how humans feel. How we can be happy and then sad. How we can love and hate. And then, in an instant, the lights disappear and I’m left standing on a lonely street in a small town. I stand there for a good while, looking at the space where the lights disappeared, hoping that they might reappear and whoosh me away. The space remains black.

When I start walking again, my advance is more sure-footed. I feel like praising myself aloud, announcing to everyone behind closed doors around me that I can walk in a straight line. I’m sure they’d be very impressed. I’ll have to tell Mike about what I just saw, but I can’t be bothered thinking about it at the moment. Right now, I’m looking forward to reaching my comfortable bed and waking up to a yummy breakfast. Maybe the whole family will have breakfast together. That would be nice. I could talk to my sisters, see what they’re up to. See what’s bothering them. Maybe they’re having boy problems. Boy problems! They can’t be more complicated than girl problems. Nothing could be more complicated than that.

It suddenly dawns on me. I know what I’ll do tomorrow. I’ll buy some koi and make them a decent-sized pond in the backyard. It will have stones and plants and ornaments that they can swim around and hide under. They’ll be well fed and comfortable. They won’t have to worry about a thing. They’ll have a good life. I’ll make sure of it. They’ll have a beautiful life.

Thanks to my sister, Angela, who read an early draft of ‘Imaginary Foe’ and encouraged me to publish the novel. I will always be grateful to you for your interest, support and advice and for lending me an ear over a glass of wine! Thanks also to my niece, Aditi, who continues to impress me with her sharp observation.

Thank you, Scott, my beautiful partner and my rock in this crazy world! Thanks for believing in me and providing a supportive working environment – thanks for all the coffees and food! Your suggestions and input on certain scenes in the story really helped to sharpen the tension. And more importantly, thanks for being you. Your humaneness will never cease to astonish me.

Thanks to Vaarunika Dharmapala, my editor from Fontaine Publishing. Your painstaking attention to detail was incredible. You polished the work and brought my attention to aspects of the novel that I had not considered. Thanks to all at Fontaine Publishing Group – your service allows writers to realise their dream, and that’s pretty special.

Thanks to Laurie Snell who wrote ‘Drakesbrook Days and Waroona Years – An Illustrated History of Waroona Shire.’ Your book provided an excellent background to the history of Waroona and, in particular, to the establishment of the Alcoa Wagerup refinery.

Thanks to Scott’s dad, Don Simms, a retired pharmacist. You provided insight into whether pregnancy tests were an off-the-shelf or over-the-counter product in the late 80s in rural Western Australia. This history is not documented elsewhere that I can find and so your personal knowledge in this field was very much appreciated.

Lastly, thanks to my family. Thanks to Mum and Dad who raised me in Waroona and provided a loving environment that fed my imagination. RIP dear Dad. Mum, I’m so glad you love books! Thanks for all the interesting discussions we’ve had over the years. And thanks to my brother and sisters – Michael, Angela and Kerry. It was a great growing up with you guys in Waroona. I will always look back on our shared youth and adolescence with wonder. And thanks, Mum and Dad, for having us all so close together!

www.vividpublishing.com.au/imaginaryfoe