The Relatives

We sat outside by starlight, waiting for dad’s relatives to arrive. “They won’t be long now,” my mum explained, “Your father said just another five minutes,” she turned to my father, who was sitting next to her in the grass, and stroked his thin chin. My dad made a strange, strangled sound and smiled. “What’s taking them so long?” “They have to ride the stars down to the ground. It’s hard work and they have to stay driven. You never know when or where a star’s going to fall. It’s all a matter of faith.”

My family is strange. Like, real strange. Stranger than any other I’ve ever met. I’ve always kinda known we’re a bit unusual. There were way too many warning signs. I mean, for one thing my dad’s not allowed out of the house. Old lady’s orders. Dad gets real agitated about that. You see, he’s stuck inside a small farmhouse with only three floors to stalk about in. Occasionally in the summer he gets to spread his wings and migrate to the animal barn just a few yards away, maybe take a stroll in the corn fields at night, but that’s all still under supervision of course. Sometimes he gets some kind of cabin fever. Goes crazy, screaming like some kind of tortured animal. A coyote, yeah that’s what I reckon it sounds like. A starved coyote. He tries to run away. Got so far as the main road leading into town once. Ma normally doesn’t think much of his “outbursts”, but she had to run after him that night,racing down the mud trail with a flashlight raised to the trees, just in case he was hanging from one of them. She caught up to dad at midnight. He was standing just by the main gates, basking in the light from all the windows. She talked him out of going any further and brought dad home wrapped in an old blanket from the airing cupboard. It was as if he was the survivor of a tragic accident instead of the perpetrator of one.

She shook me awake when they got back that night ‘cause no one else was home to make the coffee. See, dad loves coffee. It keeps him calm. He even drinks coffee strangely. He has us make it all gooey and thick, like a broth that he just gulps straight down his throat. Once I made it for ‘im we sat outside on the farmhouse porch ‘till sunrise. ‘Till ma insisted dad had to get some rest. But for about five or so hours we sat there, making small talk, watching the fireflies buzz around since it was July. By we I mean me and my mom. Dad didn’t speak, which oddly isn’t that strange. He rarely speaks. At least, not to me. The person he talks to the most is ma, mumbling in a dead language that only the two of them can comprehend. He lay curled in her lap all night but he didn’t even look at her. He was staring straight up at the sky, gazing at the stars, at the pitch black patches in between them. Ma just sighed and stroked the fur on his shrivelled head. He used to grow fur in the summer and it withered away once snow started to fall. Just like the crops I suppose. She tried to get him to relax but he just shrugged her fingers away and fell back on her knees, stargazing with a dreamy look in his bulbous eyes. “He’s missing the heavens,” She sighed, patting his shoulders, “He misses being able to travel,” “Why can’t he travel ma?” “People aren’t ready for him yet. At this rate I don’t think they’ll ever be ready,” “Is he really that weird?” I asked, “Just the other day I saw a fruit bat grow human legs in the barn. Grew a whole extra body and transformed once he thought I’d ran away. Turned inside out, lost all his fur and developed his own skin suit. Perfect to walk around crowds with.” “That bat will get caught at some point. Those people can sniff out the peculiarities in others. They all sorts of ways to trap someone. Look at your father,” She gazed down at him sadly. Twenty years before, a monster from town found dad working the fields. They broke his bones. Ma says he’s never been the same. Not since they caught him and broke apart his spine to sell for twenty dollars a piece. “I’d give anything so he could fly again. Cheap bastards. Went to every market inside the county line before we got every scrap back. Now the different parts are pickling in jars, like leather.” “Didn’t know about that ma,” “I know. I’m sorry for dumping all of this on ya. Shoulda told you everything a long time ago. But listen, I know we’re different. Very different. Differences aren't always so bad. We could be like all the other families I grew up with. Ones who live in town. We could take you out to shoot lepers out in the woods. Get you to handle a gun that’s this big,” She held out her hands a couple yards, “Get you to kill another person. But we don’t do that. This family will never do that. Not ever. We won’t be monsters. Not even my great great great great great grand kiddies will. And certainly not you son. You haven’t got a evil bone in your body,” “Will things ever get better?” “Do you want me to be honest?” “Yes,” “Probably not. But we can try. All we can do is try,” We were quiet for a while, as everything my Ma said sunk in and drifted on the wind. I started to look up at the sky too. I was wondering about the heavens. About space. About the Man in the Moon. A wind danced over my neck and I shivered. “Where did dad come from?” “Up there,” “Yeah I know he’s from up there ma,” I groaned, “But where up there? Does he ever mention anything about planets, places? People? Does he ever talk about where he was born?” At this my mother smirked, “He talks about his old family sometimes. When he gets lonely, he talks about working with his relatives.” “What’d he do?” “They worked for a company. Shipped livestock. Cattle mostly. He loved it. You can tell by the way he lights up when he looks back to his memories,” I frowned. “He can’t see them anymore, can he?” In the dark starlight, my mother began to grin, her brain beginning to whir. “There’s no such word as can’t,”

She spent the next year or so figuring it all out. Every Friday she’d go off to different markets, looking for parts she needed. Sometimes she’d come home with nothing, disappointed. Sometimes she’s come home with boxes full of various bolts, strings and wires. Then, just before dinner, she’d spend an hour or so upstairs. You could hear her loud, clumsy hammering high up in the attic as my mom crafted her masterpiece. “I have to thank you Artie,” She giggled at the kitchen table one particularly successful day, “You’re the one who gave me the idea!” “Thanks ma but what are you actually making?” “Oh, I haven’t told you?” “Nope. You haven’t told me anything. What is it, some kind of communication device?” “It’s a satellite,” She grinned proudly. “Could I see it?” “No not yet. Once it’s finished you can look at it as much as you want,” I would have argued with her more about the satellite but all of this seemed to be making dad happier. He stopped running off and stayed on the farm, sometimes hibernating inside the farmhouse for days on end. Within months he’d become so much more healthier. He grew taller, three foot in just four months. His face, which had always looked pinched and thin, with his large, bright red eyes stretching from his skull, transformed and grew fuller and rosier. His skin looked like… well actual skin. When he sat next to my ma he almost looked human. Not only that, but he was the most cheerful he’d ever been. At least, the most cheerful I’d ever seen him. When he was awake, he would chuckle and mutter to himself. He took strolls around the house and even tried to sneak into the attic to see ma’s satellite a couple times. He never got inside but I don’t think ma minded him wandering around for once. One day I was out on the porch raking up leaves and I heard dad whistling through an open window. My dad. The guy who usually doesn’t speak for days on end. “Pa?” I yelled, incredulous, “You whistling in there?” He immediately stopped and walked closer to the window, nodding his head to an invisible tune. He seemed embarrassed. “I like it dad. You should whistle more often,” Dad smirked, showing off his gums. My dad doesn’t have teeth. For some reason he never grew them. His mouth is instead lined with thick, purple gums. He went back inside and, after a few moments, continued. The song I heard that day was strange, with no end. He whistled on loop ‘till sunset. I’ve not found anything like it since. It was a bizarre cross between a scream, a howl and rave music, if you can conjure that up in your brain. Almost like something they’d play in the background of a really dingy, out of the way nightclub. I enjoyed it but I suppose it’s not to everyone’s taste. Plus, he’s my dad so I’m a little bit biased.

The night the satellite was ready ma shook me awake around midnight, just like she did during the escape attempt that started all this. She was bouncing around my room like a kid on their birthday. Beads of sweat were forming between the worry lines and creases on her forehead. “It’s ready! It’s finally ready! Art, get downstairs. We're having family over!” She dragged both me and dad to the backyard in our pajamas. “It’s all coming together!” She yelled, directing her glee towards the sky instead of us. She pushed us to sit in the growing grass together. The blades looked almost exotic in the full moon’s stare,shifting their skins to a soft yellow in the mist. She blew a kiss up to our father, living amongst the stars.. “We’ve been blessed!” She called, then ran off back into the house. Once she was gone my dad turned to me and from the looks of things, he was just as baffled as me.

She returned a minute later, pulling an old shopping trolley behind her. The satellite was inside it, hidden underneath an old tablecloth. “Ma did you steal that?” “That’s not important Arthur! What is important is that my satellite is awake!” “I don’t wanna have someone come up to the house to complain again,” I groaned, rubbing my eyes free of grit. Dad sighed in agreement. “Can you please be a little happier? I’ve done all of this for you, you know,” “Fine, fine. Can we see it now?” “Oh! Of course!” She grabbed the tablecloth, making it ripple in the breeze, “Voila!”

We helped ma set her satellite up, sticking in the mud like one of our scarecrows. “Perfect! Our perfect little satellite! Just like the ones in the catalogues!” “What catalogues have you been reading?” “Homemaking. Well, what do you think, love?” It looked nothing like any satellite I’d ever seen, catalogue or not. Sure, it was a thin beam in the ground. But other than that it was the strangest device I’d seen in my life. Different blue and yellow wires stuck out of the pole and pieces of barbed wire and styrofoam wrapped around what was supposed to be the dish. The dish, instead of facing up, was turned to the grass and was flat. Ma preferred plates, I guess. Ma patted the beam stuck in the ground and the satellite turned a bright yellow. It made a gentle whirring noise and the dish rolled around, searching for some kind of connection, resembling a baby turtle stuck on its back, writhing around. “It’s searching the heavens. Searching for the right place. The right time to make contact,” My mom explained. She turned to the stolen trolley again. There was something else. Something is missing. She reached in and took out an old keyboard and some tape. She strapped it onto the satellite pole, which was now glowing red. “What’s that for ma?” “To create a message,” “Create a message?” “Yes, so our relatives know it’s safe to visit,” “How are we gonna do that ma?” “You’ll see,” She walked over to dad, who was watching the stars suspiciously. “Come on Silas, up and at ‘em! I need you for a moment,” He grunted but allowed himself to be walked over to the “Satellite”. He looked it up and down, perplexed. “We just have to wait ‘till the antene is activated,” “What antene?” Suddenly, a small fishing rod flew out the side of the pole and waved it’s hook in the air, a strange, robot arm. “That antene. Silas, look at the keyboard. No not that, the keyboard! There you go. Now type out a message, just like we talked about. A short one, mind you.” My dad sighed and nodded. There was a tap of keys and the dish began to flare up. It turned green, then blue, then red, then green again. “It can’t make up its mind,” I chuckled. “Or it was right to begin with.” My mom growled. I shut my mouth and turned to watch the ground, which had suddenly become more fascinating.

After a few minutes the winds began to pick up and the air began to thin. My mom and dad nodded to each other and came to sit with me on the grass. My mom patted me on the head. “Look up,” The sky was transforming, changing. A cloudless night had suddenly morphed into a grey wasteland. I squinted. You couldn’t see the moon anymore. Or the stars. “They got the message. They’re coming.”

Fifteen minutes later, the sky started bleeding. A sharp piece of it landed with a thump next to me, painted crimson. “What the hell?” I gasped. My dad began cackling, apparently thinking the whole situation was hilarious. My mom rolled her eyes and patted my shoulder. “The relatives are just landing. Look,” She pointed towards a nearby hill. Sparks were soaring through the pitch black sky, hitting the grass like fallen angels. Some were red, just like the pieces of the sky. Some were an electric green or blue. Most were gold. “They’re just throwing parts of the sky at us. They won’t hurt you unless they pierce your skull and that’s extremely unlikely. They’re all just having fun,” “How do you know ma?” “The same thing happened when your dad fell. We thought they were comets or falling stars. We were wrong. When stars fall they’re dark. They hide themselves. Your aunt Barbara went out to watch the sky fall that night,” “I don’t have an aunt Barbara,” “She died. A shard sliced through her head,” “Oh I never knew! You never told me!” “It’s never come up. The day after we found your dad in the fields. He fell along with the sky,” Dad began screaming and tugging at mom’s arm, nervously. “Time to go meet them,” She announced. Mom tapped the satellite one last time. The monstrosity groaned then went silent, falling asleep. Dad pointed to the sky. It was changing again. The stars were back, as if someone had just turned them on like a light, but the moon was still hidden by thick curtains of mist. Dad muttered something and began walking. Walking towards the nearby hill where his family had landed. Our family had landed. It was time for a reunion.

I assumed they’d all be like dad. Tall, thin, skeletal almost, with a green tint to their skin. I thought they’d have giant eyes and sharp claws like bird talons. Maybe one or two would have a pair of wings, just like my dad had before the incident. Boy was I wrong. Twenty different figures walked home with us that night, chattering along the backroads we guided them through. None of them looked like my dad. At all. None of them looked alike in the slightest. “Are they all different species?” I asked my mom when we got back to the house. “No. They’re all just spread out. Space is limitless. That means they possess limitless characteristics.” “Ok mom,” I rolled my eyes. I was getting tired of all this. She acted like she was some sort of extraterrestrial expert. Dad sat cackling along with a few of his relatives on the porch steps. One was squealing like a pig next to him and everyone else was listening around them, enraptured. “What’s he saying?” “I have no idea,” My mom said, shaking her head and going to sit next to dad, nervously. After a while, my dad waved at me and some of the relatives parted to make some sitting room near the front door. I climbed over twisted limbs and rotted flesh to sit next to another relative who wasn’t part of the conversation. He had no eyes, no nose and no teeth. Instead, he had some amazing, bushy eyebrows that took up most of his face. He shook my hand with a slippery tentacle. He blew a raspberry and I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. I felt the same way myself. He had a nametag on his shirt so I guessed he was one of my dad’s workmates. He noticed me looking and held the name tag up in the light. “Keith?” He blew another raspberry. “What do you do Keith?” He reached into his trouser pockets and brought out three polaroids. At the time, it was strangely comforting to know cameras were available in space, somehow. One showed Keith petting a cow in a large metal cell. Another showed him feeding the same cow grass. The final photo showed Keith crying at a docking bay, as the cow was led into a truck by another worker. Another relative. “Huh. Sorry about that Keith. What was her name?” Another raspberry. “Lovely. Perfect name for a cow,” Keith’s eyebrows perked up. I smiled and shook his tentacle again. “I’m Arthur. Silas’s son,” He nodded. Of course he already knew who I was. “I guess I’ll just stay with you for the rest of the night. Everyone else seems too hyper,” I looked over to my dad, who was introducing my mom to all sorts of different relatives and work associates. They were part of a giant crowd, talking over each other. Keith sighed wistfully. “I like you Keith,” Keith blew another raspberry and patted me on the head, leaving a small trail of slime on my forehead. I grinned. “I guess I’ve made a new friend,”

My dad’s relatives started to leave as morning wore on. They all slowly dispersed in small groups, yawing and clutching their heads as if they all had hangovers. The side effects of space travel had finally got to them. Keith was one of the last to leave, shaking all our hands one last time and ruffling my hair again. We could just see the golden sparks flying across the dawn as the last of our relatives vanished. We didn’t say a word about what had just happened. Not even my ma, who’d grown weary as the hours went by. We were so exhausted that we all just climbed into bed and slept for most of the day. Dad didn't even have enough energy to sleep on the ceiling. I felt strange. Sorta giddy, sorta angry, sorta nervous. My brain felt like it was melting, trying to process all that had happened at once. I suppose it’s never stopped melting. After that night, things have never been the same.

My dad’s still forbidden from leaving the house. That’ll never change. He's confined to the farm but nowadays he seems content with that. He’s stopped running off. He never goes near town anymore. He talks more often too, muttering and whispering to mom. He sometimes gets her to translate things for me. I’ve learned a few old words and inflections. Dad always smiles proudly when I get something right. Someday I hope to string sentences together. Maybe, someday in the far future, dad will teach me how to whistle like him. He still watches the skies, but now when I sit by him, his eyes are clear and he smiles up at the sun when it decides to show itself. Because now, when the moon is full, my mom brings out her satellite and the relatives come to visit. His friend, his family come and see us. It makes him happier. He’s no longer lonely. We’re part of a strange, eccentric extended family now.

Now we watch the stars more closely.