Published Stories

Imaginings

MY brother was a terrible liar. Not terrible in that he couldn’t tell good lies, or couldn’t disguise them, but terrible in that he told them all the time. It was difficult to establish fiction from reality.
‘Rian, if you’re lying about this, I’ll skin you alive,’ mother would say. ‘Alive you hear?’
‘That’s okay Mum. Once I had dragon’s scales for skin and I would shed them whenever I was trapped by a giant and could find no other way to escape. It’s why I now have this soft pink skin.’
His fantasy life was complicated enough, but it complicated ours. We couldn’t trust him. What time should we really collect him from sports? Was he in the school concert or not? Did he really spend his money on tuckshop? Had he really lost his tuckshop money and should we now share ours with him, or is he lying?
Dad would say he’d end up in a Wacol prison, or homeless somewhere, so out of touch he was. For a time, he took him tocounselling for psychiatric care, but there was nothing that they could put their finger on as a cause. Besides, he had a vibrant imagination and wasn’t unhappy, as far as they could tell. Mum said he was just creative and would be an amazing writer one day and we would all be sorry.
‘There you go,’ Dad said. ‘A writer. A life of poverty, homeless on the streets. Just as I told you.’
Rian says his latest friend is Cat.
‘Cat… like Cat Steven’s, Mum. You know, sings Father and Son.’
Cat likes to swim. Spends his entire life in the water. Mum had a puzzled look.
‘Now, Rian, cats don’t like water.’
‘This one does, Mum.’
‘I thought we’d agreed; no more fibs?’
He’d promised Dad he would stick to the truth. Mum took me aside.
‘Which one of his friends is called Cat?’
‘Search me, I’ve never heard of any of them referred to as Cat.’
‘Well, which one likes to swim?’
‘None strike me as the swimming type.’
She stormed after Rian. I’d seen that look she had on her face and I’d be happy never to sight it again.
‘So, you’re telling me Cat exists?’
‘Yes Mum.’
‘Well bring him to the house so we can meet him.’
‘No… Cat doesn’t like to leave his place.’
‘Well, where do you hang out with him?’
‘At his place?’
‘How often?’
‘Everyday.’
No matter what we tried we couldn’t get Rian to admit it was a lie. Mum decided we should follow him.
We followed him to his school at Northgate State. He took the back streets. We’d surmised if he was going to meet Cat it would be in secret, like this. He dawdled at the dog park. Pretended he had a drone like the Ukrainians and attacked the dogs, moved his hands as if an explosion occurred after his bomb was dropped. Hung over the footbridge at the Pound Drain for a while, then disappeared into the schoolyard. We saw no friend. We returned to the track after school and watched at a distance as he returned home. He left with two boys and they separated at the closed coffee shop. Neither had a swimming costume.
That night Dad asked him again, but Rian refused to give up on his idea that his friend was real and not a figment of his imagination. Dad stormed into Rian’s bedroom and removed his PlayStation.
‘Until you admit that he’s a figment of your imagination, this will be locked away.’
Rian teared-up. His face turned pink.
‘You just don’t understand.’
Dad twisted his face with exasperation.
‘Yes, I do! I had imaginary friends, but I grew out of them. It’s about time you did too, if we’re to make a man out of you.’
‘But he’s not imaginary. You just can’t see him.’
‘After the psychiatrist’s visit you told me you’d stop lying.
You’d do whatever I told you.’
‘And I have.’
The next day I questioned the two boys we’d seen with him and neither knew Cat.
That night Dad tried again. He used a heavy strap to punish Rian. I thought perhaps I, his favourite sister, could get him to explain.
‘I won’t tell, cross my heart and hope to die.’
He said, ‘He’s a friend. Just not a human friend… I need to protect him.’
I nodded but looked confused.
‘When we lived at Ashgrove, I told Mr Tan at the fish shop that I had a friend like his. What friend? He’d asked. I pointed to a fish with whiskers circling his fish tank. That one. He’d scoffed. A cat fish. You can’t have been talking to one of those, they live in the deep. I then scoffed. No, I see one in Enoggera creek every day. Twice as large as that one. I didn’t think I’d convinced him but the next morning, I saw Mr Tan, down on the creek bank near my spot, the fish visible in the sunlight-drenched water. I sang out. Do you believe me now, Mr Tan?
He’s marvellous, eh? Mr Tan looked embarrassed. He stood there with his plastic box until I left… I never saw my fishy friend again.’ Tears rimmed my little brother’s eyes.

‘What did you do?’
‘I told Dad what I thought Mr Tan had done. Dad said, listen boy, promise me this. Never, never tell anyone your favourite fishing spot. Do you hear me? Never.’
‘So, your friend is a catfish?’
I thought I’d solved the puzzle; rescued the family.
‘No, he’s a mullet, but I call him Cat to put people off the scent.’
‘Well, where do you see him now?’
‘In the water, under the bridge near the school.’
That night I sat on Dad’s knee and whispered.
‘It’s okay Dad. I met Cat. Rian promised to protect him… and, like you, he’s a man of his word.’