James Kelman - The Burn

But needed because she was always bloody forgetting, always bloody forgetting, a memory like a bloody hen, a sieve, if you left it to her. If she bloody messed it up. All the boys too all coming, and having a laugh, they’d have a laugh, maybe a drink, smoke a couple of joints, celebrating, the old days, they werent all fucking bad, some of them werent they were good, good.

Ah Jesus but was this him now where was he! He was here. He was just here and he was feeling damn tired and painful — no painful what was it in pain he was feeling in pain he was sick and tired, he was sick and tired of it all, he was damn sick and tired, damn sick and damn tired, of the damn lot. Where was Maggie? Did he just look round for her there over his fucking shoulder? And him at the fucking table behind with the newspaper there how had he got the bloody newspaper, it was no fair him taking it that way how they just took took took. The tears were into his eyes, he was soon going to be bubbling, it was just no fair him taking his paper like that just for reading the horses, bloody horses bloody waste of time and money

the table inches from his face; he was hunching over, he was hunching over

Otherwise how come his face was inches from the table? The pong of that, formica

The old Chinese woman giving him a smile. She knew he was expecting Maggie and that was how come he was sitting there. But he wasnt expecting her, she wasnt coming anymore. She was an old woman too with the big bum, this Chinese, and the smell off her, just sweat; she was an old-timer, like Fiona.

Ach he was finished anyway. And he wanted to be finished as well because it made him right bloody angry sometimes, and angry as well at Maggie she was a pain in the bloody neck, a pain in the bloody neck, a damn nuisance. Where was she? Where the hell was she? That dampness on Fiona’s chin, on her bottom lip, the spots of sweat.

He had no time for it.

It was her waiting on him to order now Christ what next what next, she was there now at the foot of the table, smiling but being nosy at the same time, nosy, she was aye nosy, wanting to know things all the time wanting to know things it was just nosiness, nosiness, how these Chinese were no supposed to be nosy but here they were this yin, this old yin, how she was, wanting to poke her nose in he felt like being crabbit with her and telling her just to fuck off and go to another table, away and wash the damn dishes out the road, a bit of breathing space instead of all this crowding in aye crowding in on a person, stuffy rooms and all that smoke engulfing you, right on top and overwhelming you, aye overwhelming you, making you feel, making you feel

It had nothing to do with her anyway. Fuck all. Nothing. What had it to do with her! Nothing at all. People had nothing to do with you although they made out like they did. That’s what happened in life, they pretended to have some big say in how you went on. And once he was dead and buried how they would talk about him, chatter chatter chatter, blether blether blether; he knew the way they would go, how they would act like they had all been in it the gether as if they were bosom buddies; just lies, lies lies and more lies. He was going to go away, he was going to go away, he wasnt even going to eat. But he continued to sit there and a sniffing sound came from his nose, he was aware of the chewing noises coming from the table behind. Oh Maggie, Maggie. Maggie wasnt there and he wasnt expecting her. Where the hell was she, where was she, how folk just fucked off and left you, they just went away, that was what happened, they just went away, they went away, they went away and left you, they fucking went away and left you, it made you right bloody angry.

I met them in the doorway of a bookshop up the town, just as I was leaving. They were absolutely delighted to see me. Alan and Sheila; I hadnt been in touch with them for years. It was fucking embarrassing. She put her arms round me and gave me a big cuddle and then planted a big kiss on my lips while he stood to the rear, a big beaming smile on his coupon; then he shook my hand. Heh steady on, I said.

Ach but James it’s really good to see you.

Come on into the shop, said Sheila.

I’m just out.

They both laughed at that. Aye I know you’re just out, she said, but come bloody back in. Even just for a minute.

Are you insisting? I said, trying to get my face muscles into a relaxed condition.

You’re damn right we’re insisting! said Alan, gripping me by the shoulder and about-turning me.

I’m a small-sized bloke so this kind of thing happens too often for comfort and I shrugged his hand off. He apologised, but smiled as he did so. I fucking hate people doing that, I told him, making a point of brushing my shoulder.

Aye, you’ve no changed!

Of course I’ve fucking changed. . I said, then I smiled: For a kick-off I’m baldy.

You were baldy the last time we saw you, said Sheila.

Was I?

Aye.

I just looked at her although I found it hard to believe. People have a habit of throwing things at you about your past in such a way that makes it seem like they’re making this great statement which unites all our experiences into one while at the same time they dont really give a fuck either way, about the reality, how things truly were, whether you were baldy or had a head like Samson and Delilah. You dont need this kind of thing even when it’s genuine and this definitely wasnt genuine. Plus these days I find it difficult getting enthusiastic when I meet old acquaintances. I dont know what it is, I just seem unable to connect properly, I can never smile at the proper places — it’s like a permanent condition of being browned off with life. And no wonder either, when you come to think about it, with cunts like this always interfering.

Soon the pair of them had started dragging me round the place. They led me to a display table where they picked up a huge big tome. And landed it on my forearms. I couldnt believe it. It was like an absentminded fit of idiocy. I tried to snatch a glance at the title but they led me off immediately, him propelling me by the shoulder. They started lifting other books from here and there, piling them on top of the first one at a fierce rate with this crazy fucker Alan insisting I dont say a word and each time I tried to he did this stupid finger-into-the-ears routine with big laughs at his missis, it was like a nightmare, me wondering if I was about to wake up or what. I gaped at him, unable to open my mouth for a couple of seconds. I managed to speak at last. I dont know what you’re fucking playing at, I said, but one thing I do know, I dont fucking want them.

Ah come on! he laughed.

What ye talking about come on?

They’ll be good for your home study.

My home study?

You need them, said Sheila.

Do I fuck need them what you talking about? Then I managed to spot a couple of their titles and it looked as if they were naval histories. Naval histories! I said, trying to keep my voice down, What you giving me them for? You think I’m a fucking naval historian? I mean look at this! For christ sake! RECOLLECTIONS OF A FIRST LORD OF THE ADMIRALTY. What would I want to read that for! And look at this yin. .

It was MISTER MIDSHIPMAN EASY. In the name of god, I mind my auld man and my big brother reading that when I was about five fucking years of age. And then I almost collapsed. What’s this! I said, trying to keep my voice down. It was two more books they were trying to land me with: big glossy efforts. Hollywood movie-star photographs. What the fuck’s going on! I said, this is definitely a nightmare. Katharine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart. What yous up to?

Sheila replied, We’re no up to nothing.

Aye yous’re bloody up to something alright.