James Kelman - A Disaffection

You better, said Davie, cause no other cunt will!

I’m talking about before I got married Pat … Arthur shrugged and swallowed whisky.

A sob story, grinned Davie.

Is it fuck.

Davie winked at Pat.

It’s the truth. Whenever I was interested in any woman she was never interested in me.

Aye but was there no ones that were interested in you and you wereni interested in them? Patrick asked.

What?

I’m saying was there no women that were interested in you, but you wereni interested in them?

Naw, no really. Arthur paused a few moments and when he stopped frowning his forehead became a mass of wrinkles. He unzipped his pouch of tobacco.

Sob story, said Davie.

I’m just telling ye the fucking truth Davie.

Pat nodded. I’ve never been that lucky with them either. I dont know what it is, maybe being there in the right place at the right time or something. I never seem to really knock it off. That’s me turning thirty as well.

Ach you’re still a boy, said Davie, I’m bloody forty-two. Forty-two!

When did you get married?

Bloody twenty! Stupid. Better being like yourself, single man and all that, playing the field. Eh Arthur?

Depends. I was twenty-eight when I got married so I know what Pat’s talking about. Sometimes ye felt as if ye were getting stuck. It sounds fucking stupid but there ye go. Arthur glanced at Pat: Is that what you feel?

Sometimes aye.

Do ye no go up the dancing or that? said Davie.

I canni be bothered. I mean there is this woman I fancy, but things areni working out at all at all. But who cares! Slàinte! Pat chuckled. He studied the whisky in his tumbler before drinking most of it.

Slàinte, said Davie and he also drank.

So I’m thinking of maybe heading south.

London?

Naw.

Birmingham?

Maybe no England at all.

You talking about emigrating? said Arthur.

Naw eh, just, I might go to Europe. Spain.

Spain? Arthur was surprised.

I quite fancy it.

Ah well, said Davie, you’re single; so you’re as well enjoying yourself while ye can. If it was me but I think I’d shoot off to Canada or Australia. If you’re there it’s so bloody big ye can just fuck off to wherever ye like, whenever ye like. Eh Arthur?

Aye. When I was a boy I was going to join the Hudson Bay Company of Canada. Ever heard of it Pat?

Aye, it’s a famous name.

True but nowadays a lot of folk wouldni know what ye were talking about if ye fucking said it to them.

Davie said, You never telt me ye were going to join them before.

Aye, fuck sake, nineteen I was; I sent away and filled in the forms and all the rest of it. I was all set to go but I changed my mind.

What kind of a deal was it? Pat asked.

Well ye see it was a big trading company and they went right across the north part of Canada, trading with the Indians and the Eskimoes and white men as well, fur trappers … Arthur puffed on his roll-up, then had to give himself another light to get it smoking. Ye bought furs and pelts. Ye could be twenty-one years of age and get charge of your own trading post. And I think at that time you were on your fucking thirty quid a week. But I’m talking twenty year ago so it was good dough. See as well Paddy what I was thinking was because ye were stuck away up in the fucking wilderness and all that, the ice and snow, that you’d have fuck all to spend the wages on. So you could save a fortune. Then move down to the city if you wanted. Maybe four or five — even six — year working for them and then you move down to the city with a right few bob in the tail. Okay it would’ve been fucking lonely but you would’ve stuck it out. It would’ve been fucking worth it.

D’you regret no going?

Aye; sometimes.

The door opened and Gavin pushed in carrying a tray with bowls and spoons and slices of bread that were already margarined. He returned to the kitchenette and came back with the pot of soup, he laid it on top of two place-mats on the table. What happened to the music? he said, carrying his own bowl of soup to the armchair.

We were yapping, Davie replied.

I was telling them about the Hudson Bay Company in Canada. I was going to join them when I was a boy. I fancied the life. Plus being able to make a few quid … Arthur had risen to get himself a bowl of soup.

Davie and Pat also began helping themselves.

It was good soup. It was thick with vegetables and there were bits of flank mutton floating about which they ladled out and put between two slices of bread. Pat ate his without paying attention to the others and when he finished he refilled his bowl immediately.

Gavin called: Help yourself!

Pat grinned. He hadnt bothered eating at dinnertime and was starving and this soup was probably the best grub he had had for a fortnight. He would definitely have to acquire better eating habits. Learning to cook vegetables would be a good place to start. It was more of developing the habit than anything else, if he could just get into the habit of it, of buying carrots and turnips and cabbage etcetera. He could buy it all at the weekend and then work out what he was going to eat on a daily basis, and then pin the menus on the wall. Making a big pot of soup was something to consider. He could make a really big stack of it on the Sunday evening and it would last him through the week, and then when he came home from work he could just heat a bowl of it up for himself. It would be ideal.

He got another slice of bread, gave himself another ladleful of soup.

Remember and help yourself to the soup! called Gavin.

Pat grinned. I’ll remember!

He telt me he wasnt hungry, said Gavin to the others.

Arthur was putting the Bo Diddley album on and Davie was getting more soup. The company was relaxing. It was good.

They were friends, this trio of neighbours; they shared their grub and they shared their drink. They got on fine together. They were friends. And they were not all making him feel excluded; that was one thing, they were not making him feel awkward. That’s two things.

So, two things is not bad for one afternoon. Plus here is a third: that Doyle P for Pat Paddy or Patrick is actually here in this abode when parties of the teaching profession are dutybound not to be, when they should be at their fucking desk and giving the weans what-for. If he had known they were into the homebrew earlier he would have left school at the morning interval. No he wouldnt have. And there was no point trying to lasso the moon. None of it mattered except that here he was at this present moment. And eventually, should he so desire, he could just lie down on the carpet and go to sleep. A bit of something hard caught in between his two front teeth; he picked it out. A wee stone. A wee stone in his teeth. The hazards of being a soup-eater.

Some family photographs were on the glass sideboard near where he was sitting. They looked fine. Pat could see himself in a small group study that had been taken on the wedding day. He hadnt been Gavin’s best man but there was nothing sinister about it. They had been friends at the time, just with Pat being in his early days at uni he was not always around the place. And Gavin always had a lot of friends; he was a popular type of bloke.

These family photographs could render a person jealous of somebody else’s existence!

Gavin and Nicola and wee Elizabeth and John. God. He just hadni been feeling well recently, mentally, these past few days and weeks — otherwise he would never have dodged up that close to avoid seeing them. That was a fucking awful thing to have done. As awful as anything he has done for a long while. But he wouldni have done it if he had been okay. Imagine if they ever found out! Imagine how it would be! Heh Gavin, Patrick said, I actually saw yous the other night. I’m talking about Sunday. Yous were coming along the road but I kept out your way.