Eimear McBride - A Girl Is A Half-formed Thing

At the house. That’s the same. It was a year ago. But calmer. And my eye catch dust. Some giving up or winding down? I can’t decide.

Pack it. Yes pack that have you got black? With you. I always have. Just as well. You must you know she says. My family. Everyone will be on the look. A good gawk. Sure you know the type of them. Always something to say. Who gives a fuck? Don’t show me up she says. And none of that foul mouth if you don’t mind. It’s just a word. You father was a well-spoken man at all times. Do I give a. Don’t please don’t just not today. We’ll have a fight another time. Just check your brother’s packed his bags. That fella’s memory is shot to hell. Are you packed there? I am. Are you sure? Yes. Are you? I said I’m sure. Throw that in the car. I did already. Good for you. You two. Please just stop it now.

We’re driving off. We’re going. I think well Granda’s dead. What do I care? That’s crept in me. Listless. Quiet. Dead inside perhaps me. I’m not. I am not. Who’s he anyway to me?

Hours and hours. Here we are. Sea wind slit breath. Salting in my mouth. That’s a sharp sharp air. Give you ice in the eyes. Sea pitch pulling itself over and back. Greenish blacky. Drag off groaning rocks. I close my door. Lock it tight. I haven’t been to his house. Take out the bags from the back she says to you.

He lived looking out on that. Cliff ahead. No wonder he was such a strange. The front door opens. Inside people there. Such aunts and uncles I’ve not known before. Even you. Bewildered by all that lot of them. That’s a whole ocean of cousins alone. Hordes. In a shipwreck I would chuck the lot. Go in. Go in. Hello. Sit down. God years and years. Is it? Years and years. They pockle on us. Make up some tea. Can’t you see they’re froze? Will you have a sandwich? Ham? Egg? Cheese? Sure this lovely one with salad cream that make me retch, bit of lettuce and corned beef. I will. I’m grand. Well just the one. Bite into that as introducing’s begin.

Now this is so and so. Seen you in years and years. And shaking all their sweating hands. Get kiss off the aunts. Some of them. More leather looking than our own and dyed, made up this one that, with great precaution for their age. But I can see her off their eyes. The browny almond turn at end. They’re not so friendly. Maybe are a little bit on the sly. It’s much too small here for us all they say but two in a bed couch and armchair, you’ll be grand. I. Glare at me. I won’t complain. He would want it wouldn’t he? Yes I suppose indeed.

Some of them smoke some of them drink. A whiskey at the table. Ice up there in the fridge. Do not you. Mammy just a little one. As though I could stop you. She’s that headstrong. Go on.

And uncles. Now with my mouth full of egg. I have not thought. Oh God. Of. Right. Here. Knock it back now. You’ll be fine I say. You never did. Any wrong. So.

Not this one. He’s a bit small. This one taller and too fat but gives hugs like he knows me. This one. Not. This one. Isn’t him. Not him hello how are you? Not. God where is he where is she? They haven’t got here yet. Their plane’s not in til very late. On top of that. A long drive here. Awash that is relief for me. Just now. He is. But later on.

I sit crossing my legs. Wish I could smoke. I cannot. Oh just the one. She’d kill me. I’d be killed for that so maybe later on alone. Hear all the recalling going on. Well he went quick at the end. I’d say he would have liked that. You know he was always scared to die. So that’s the best. God rest his soul. The bastard. No now’s not the time for. Amongst themselves. The varied factions. Good for keeping well away.

And off across the hall I hear the sobbers too. Taking it in fits. Go howling. There now. Don’t do that. On to the next and on and on. I didn’t think he was liked like that. All cousins staring past each other thinking who’s this one? Whose one is that? Evade the meat press parents going talk to so and so. Now you like computers talk to him. Poems you say. Well that stumped him for a moment til bright bollocks spark came scurry back with see her there? She’s a one to meet. She writes for the local. I’m fine thanks where I am.

Such a long time listening to all these things. Blistering blister so proud of us. Tape measuring everybody’s life to the wall I realise he’s up the stairs. Grandfather. Stretched out lying there. In bed. In state. In his pin-striped suit. With his hair gelled back. Hmm like a red rag. I have to go up. Take a little look. I’d like to. Innermost in. I’ve never seen a body properly dead before. I bide my moments. Then. Quick. They’re merging on the fruitcake. Out. I slip off. Should not? Isn’t he is mine as well and doesn’t just belong to them.

Stairs are creaking. Much more cool up here. Turned off the radiators of course I know. The pale light spew the landing underneath his bedroom door. Is it his now? Whose is it then? They’re laughing downstairs. Great wild roar haw hawing. Covering me. Covering the sea sound.

I push it little stiff. Small feet he had. And very shiny shoes. The leg. His jacket tucked just neat around him. Very clean. A candle burning. And his hands pressed Jesus in the garden. And white and white as hell. His nails the colour of his face. Translucent let the light go through. The cold room. Jesus freezing. Where he did not expect to die.

So Granda. I don’t talk to the dead. So now. That’s strange to see him here. Dead. I could give him a kick if I liked. But it’s not worth the hassle now. I could undo his flies for shame. I know he wouldn’t have wanted me to. Or kiss. Poke him. Squeeze out an eye. I’d lift it but. Maybe. No. Better not touch. I haven’t seen him that to this. He’s looking so unrumpled now. Just not that angry. As he could be nice. I doubt that very much. I know they’ve washed him. Stuffed his throat. And packed his arse with cotton wool. Two p’s something on his eyes. What else. Stretched him so he’s straight. The eldest daughter. Did that. On her own up here. A nurse or some kind of thing. No undertakers in this house. In this house we do our own post-life stuffing. I splinter at the sides. To think of it. That fairly strange. To do that to your father. That you like or don’t, depending. I don’t know so well. Is it not unhygienic? Still. The doctor said fine. Signed it all and all of that. So Granda.

I put my finger in his pocket. What have you there? A sweet. A toffee chew. A scrunch of wrapping. Lump of dust. Well Granda not so bad. And into dust you shall return. I eat it. Glad. It isn’t stale. So quiet in this room and cold. As cold in death I’d say. And nothing new under the sun at that. I got up. Looked from his window. All the sea going below. Strange at all this going on. Last night he didn’t know he’d be dead. I didn’t think I would be here. That his daughter would be stuffing things up his rear end. What would you make of me hey if you could see me now? Having a good look in your pockets. In your bedroom all alone. A photo on his bed stand. Some woman’s face that I don’t know. Perhaps he loved someone once. It can’t. I can’t tell. But not his lot of family laughing way down there. Does it it doesn’t really matter now. I’ll sit here. I will sit down til long after everyone’s gone to bed. Look at you Granda. Keep you company. For no one’s praying for your soul. And no one will sit with you tonight. Doze beside the corpse. Not a head look in. Distract my vigil of sleeping or poke about his room. He’s as private as he’ll ever be right now. What’s all that to him?

Three or four cold woke me up. At last in the night they have come through the door. I hear umbrellas shaking down the stairs. It’s raining out. That’s right. Them clomping into the kitchen. Their daughters exasperate the cold. They clunk the range and stir the turf and turn the electric kettle on. A few still up who have been drinking. Saying fruitcake? And over there there’s butter cheese a bit of beef. The aunt is clucking. Pass the knife the plate a round of bread. Now where will my girls stretch out the night? I’m listening til I hear him. Nothing. Don’t hear him say at all. For ages. Must been slurping. Tea up. Whiskey. Warm the bones. I almost debate go down and join them. Think. I will not. I’m a mess. And so much family around the place. I’d see him if I could. No. Why’d I want to? On my own. Now that won’t happen. Such throngs of all above below. And only two days. Maybe three. I give up. I creep. I creep. I go up the stairs to the five-cousin bedroom I am in. Get in the two-cousin double bed I share.