Free Ectopia by Martin Goodman Page A

moving. Flies stream in and coat the roof of my mouth. I feel em crawl down my throat.
    No shouting.
    Karen’s sweeping Mom’s face with her hands. There’s no point. Mom’s not looking. Her eyes are closed. Karen’s must be too. I watch for a moment. It’s like skimming your hand through water. The insects flow over Karen’s skin, coating the hand and fingers, and cover Mom’s face again the instant the sweeping’s past.
    Insects march across my eyeballs.
    I screw my own eyes shut.
    They’re in my nose. One breath and they stuff my nostrils.
    I grab Karen. Grope for Mom’s right arm and direct Karen to it. Karen’s smart. She catches on. I grab Mom’s left arm and we pull.
    It’s like the insects are behind her, giving her flight. One tug and Mom rises on her straight legs and is on her feet. We move with her. I tread through the cake as we race on. Insects squelch and crunch under my bare feet. We collide with the door. It opens and we squeeze Mom through, then follow.
    Dad slams it after us.
    - Idiots, he says. He’s slashing at the air with a towel – You were too slow. You’ve brought em in with you.
    Karen grabs the towel from him, wipes her own head clear so she can see, then starts clearing Mom. She presses hard so some insects squash against Mom’s skin and hair. Others fly and crawl away.
    Mom wipes her hands clean against each other, then reaches up a finger to pick her nose. It comes out of the nostril black.
    Karen gives in. She stares at Mom’s finger then lets her hand drop to her sides. She stands still and cries. Mom opens her arms, steps forward, and hugs her daughter close.
    The bodies of the two women tremble together.
    I think we all feel cold.

0.11
    Dad points Mom’s face at the screen and clicks through the family album.
    - Look! You’re smiling! he says – That was a happy day!
    I take a look.
    - You think Mom’s cracked? I ask him.
    - Shut it, Steven. We’re looking for happy times, your Mom and me. That’s got nothing to do with you.
    - Great, Dad, I tell him – The first happy time you come up with is a lie. That’s not a picture of Mom. It’s Karen.
    - What’s that? Dad asks, and touches the screen.
    It’s part of the background to the picture.
    - The sea.
    - You ever been to the sea?
    - Course not. They wired it off years ago. That doesn’t mean I don’t know what it looks like.
    - You know so much. You tell me this is a picture of Karen. So tell me how come she’s standing on a beach? Out in the open? Full grown? In a bikini? How long would a girl last in the open dressed like that? She wouldn’t be smiling. She wouldn’t be innocent. She’d be stripped and raped and left as a carcass on the sand.
    - It’s digitally remastered, I try - Karen’s head on a pin-up’s body transposed to some beach setting.
    Dad smirks.
    I hate that.
    When he knows he’s right, 100% right, he won’t even argue. Just smirks.
    - Imagine that, Alison, he says to Mom - Your own son mistakes you for his sister. You see it? That same red hair. Same cheekbones. Same teeth. You’re trim but not skinny, the pair of you. Same full breasts. Amazing how those tiny green straps held em in place. It’s you, love. Take a look. This is you. My flaming beauty.
    Mom doesn’t look. She’s facing the right way but she takes nothing in. Dad watches as her top lip trembles though. He’s stirred her. Something’s happening.
    Her mouth opens.
    Then a song comes out. It’s a different tune to normal. It’s got highs and lows and pauses and it’s not bouncy. More like one of those German songs she used to sing.
    Angels have wings
And so do flies
They pour in through my nose
And out through my eyes
    - Stop it, Alison, Dad says – Talk sense.
    God’s in the details
The little one said
As roaches and dragonflies
Streamed from her head
    -