Free Imaginary Foe by Shannon Leahy Page A

in the world, jumps up straight away and starts setting the table in the dining room. Dad emerges from the study looking exhausted.
    ‘I’m just about to dish up, Trevor. Take a seat at the table. Is everything ready, Mia?’
    ‘Yes, Mum.’
    ‘Good girl.’ Mum puts an arm around Mia and squeezes her close as an apology for barking at her. She calls for my other sister. ‘Rose, it’s dinner time!’
    We all sit down at the table. I’m furious with Mum. I’m convinced she was reliving a flirtatious moment with Father Ryan. The thought of them alone together makes me want to puke. I would dearly love to hurt him and teach him a lesson. Why do priests become priests if they are going to struggle with celibacy? That’s part of the deal. That’s what you’re signing up for – a life without sex. It’s a bloody tough call, but it’s there in black and white. A large, laminated picture of the Pope is stuck to the wall with Blu-Tack. He’s smiling and waving. I look at him and wonder if he was ever led into temptation.
    I’m emotionally drained and really hungry, but, of course, I can’t start on the special roast dinner that Mum’s prepared because I have to wait for my family to say grace and give thanks to God for the food we’re about to eat. Instead of thanking God, I think to myself, we should thank Father Ryan, as this meal has been painstakingly prepared to alleviate the guilt Mum’s feeling as a result of her disgraceful affair. Anyway, I always thought it was a bit stupid to thank God for food; we should really be thanking the farmers who produce it.
    In addition to the ritual of saying grace, my family always selects something in particular to pray for. Today, Rose suggests we pray for world peace. This really irritates the shit out of me. The Smiths’ song ‘Death of a Disco Dancer’ runs through my head. ‘ Love, peace and harmony? / Love, peace and harmony? / Oh, very nice, / Very nice, / Very nice, / Very nice. / But maybe in the next world .’
    ‘As if that’s ever gonna happen.’
    ‘Now, Stan, be positive,’ says Mum.
    ‘Positive? Actually, I think we should be realistic. What use is it praying for world peace?’
    ‘Stanley, if you’re not capable of saying something nice, don’t say anything at all.’
    I look at Mum as if she’s some sort of alien disguised in a human suit. I’m not going to let this one go. ‘Good’ Christians were really starting to frustrate the hell out of me. ‘We live in a time when money means more than basic human rights. You can pray all you want, but it’s not gonna change anything. There are too many fat, rich men in the world with greedy agendas.’
    ‘Shut up.’ Silence fills the room for a long five seconds while Dad gives me his most serious I’ll-snap-you-like-a-twig look. It only infuriates me more. I’ve sat quietly and played these bullshit Christian games for too long. And for what? For a slap in the face and a dishful of hypocrisy?
    I brazenly continue. ‘Well, I’m sorry, Mum and Dad, but for how long, exactly, do you want us to play this game? I mean, you expect us to believe that God made the earth in six days and had a rest on the seventh!’ Both of my sisters gasp at my audacity. ‘And have you ever heard of the Big Bang theory? Or … or have you ever heard of Darwin’s On the Origin of Species ? They’re both quite well known. I mean, you expect us to believe that Jesus’ mother was a virgin, for Christ’s sake!’
    Now my family gasps in unison and they all lean back in their chairs at exactly the same time, like bad actors in an over-rehearsed play.
    Dad erupts. ‘Go to your room! Get out of my face and go to your room!’
    ‘OK. I’ll go to my room. I’ll go to my room and pray for your sanity.’ I jab a pointed finger at Mum and then hastily leave the room. Dad stands up as if he’s going to give me a walloping, but he lets me go by.
    As I leave, I hear Mum attempt to brush the scene under the carpet.