Heaven Has Heels | Summer Travel Issue Summer 2015 | Page 76

SUMMER READ Summer is the perfect time to catch up on your favorite novels. We recently caught up with author Andrea Lochen, who has gives us a sneak preview of her latest book Imaginary Things (Astor + Blue Editions). Imaginary Things follows the “real/surreal” life of Anna Jennings, a burned-out and broke, twenty-two-year-old single mother who moves to her grandparents’ rural home for the summer—escaping a bad marriage, with her fouryear-old son, David, in tow. The sudden appearance of shadowy dinosaurs forces Anna to admit that either she’s lost her mind or she can see her son’s active imagination. As David’s visions become more persistent and threatening, Anna must learn to differentiate between which dangers are real and which are imagined, and who she can truly trust. When I was seventeen years old, Patrick Gill entered my life like a missile fired from a rocket launcher. Whoosh! And suddenly my hair was on fire, my breast impaled, and my clothes flaking off my body into ashes. It probably had something to do with the fact that I had just returned to Milwaukee after a ho-hum, “safe” year in Salsburg, and my mom had preemptively enrolled me in an all girls’ Catholic school, even though we weren’t practicing Catholics. It probably also had something to do with the fact that Patrick was the most captivating creature I had ever seen. He had the dark, mournful features of an archangel, but bleached blond hair with one black stripe defiantly streaking across the back of his head at a diagonal. His lean ropy muscles were covered in elaborate black tattoos—a wild mustang, a hawk, a Chinese dragon, a panther, a Celtic cross. We met in a church, of all places: the Basilica of St. Josaphat. My class was taking a field trip, and we were shuffling along the marble floors in our hideous uniforms (olive green polo shirts and unflattering gray skirts) like we were walking the green mile. Some of us c lutched clipboards to our waists with worksheets attached that demanded the answers to such mind-numbing questions as: What church was the Basilica commissioned to resemble? What events led to the martyrdom of St. Josaphat? I had ditched mine almost immediately. My friend, Pippa, had just stepped outside for a cigarette, and I was contemplating joining her even though cigarette smoke made my eyes itchy and watery. It was oppressively quiet inside the church; I felt like the eyes of Jesus and all the saints were watching me from every which angle, and they didn’t like what they saw. Ahead of me, Marguerite Clemens and Billie Van der Wal, the two most popular—and therefore, most hated—girls in the junior class, were whispering and laughing behind their cupped hands. I followed their gaze, and there he was: lying on a pew, stretched out on his back, his leather jacket balled up beneath his head like a pillow. He was gazing up at the dome, furiously scribbling in a sketchbook.