Black Static #50 by Andy Cox (Editor)

Author:Andy Cox (Editor) [Cox, Andy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror and Dark Fantasy
Publisher: TTA Press
Published: 2016-01-14T05:00:00+00:00

BUG SKIN

TIM CASSON

Ally was in the kitchen packing when Phil came in wearing Owen’s T-shirt. She wondered if Phil had been through Owen’s drawers. The T-shirt was black with one of those weird designs Owen seemed to go for. Something to do with that singer Miya. Owen didn’t do plain, see a blank space and he had to fill it. Just look at his old school books, his bedroom walls, the tattoos on his arms.

Phil yawned. “How we doing, Ally?”

“Crockery.”

He seemed disappointed. “Still?”

She had been up since six doing this, when it was black outside and there was ice on the window and Phil was snoring in bed. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

He stooped over one of the storage boxes, his head shiny in the glare of the ceiling spots. “Needs more paper. Stuff it in the gaps. You know what removal firms are like.”

She didn’t know anything about removal firms. Owen’s father had hired a van when she came here over twenty years ago. Back when she was young and this kitchen had just been installed. Now it looked dated, strange too without her plants, the fridge magnets and clutter accumulated over the years. Years packed in boxes. The units looking abandoned now with their doors open.

As she put the kettle on for him, she noticed the T-shirt again. She couldn’t remember buying it. Owen must have used his pocket money, or allowance as he preferred to call it. Phil’s belly had stretched the hem so now it looked like maternity wear, ruined. She decided to buy Owen a new one, but not anything to do with Miya. Maybe something with a chimpanzee? He used to like chimps. She would give it him when she saw him next. That was after hugging him so hard he would nearly suffocate. But she wouldn’t ask why. He may be tall, but he was sensitive too, prone to fleeing. So no more arguing. The row about the festival forgotten. She would grip his wrists, lean back and see how much he had changed. Five months was a long time in the span of a teenager. No more pale spotty skin, she imagined. Instead healthy and tanned now by the Texas sun. His hair short and a natural colour when for ages it was long and black and how many times did she scrub those inky stains off the sink? A young man now, not afraid to lift his chin, embarrassed slightly but smirking too at this onrush of motherly affection, which was great because it was confident. There was a girl too in this fantasy, bright and pretty. Nothing at all like Hayley.

She handed Phil the mug of tea. “Where did you get that T-shirt?”

“This? You gave it me.”

“Gave?”

“Not for keeps or anything.”

“I don’t remember that.”

He slurped the tea. “You said to wear it. I had nothing clean, remember?”

“Okay, fine…just wondered, that’s all.”

“You don’t think I’d go through his drawers, do you?”

While Phil finished clearing the attic she started on Owen’s bedroom.

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