James Kelman - Dirt Road

Aunt Maureen made a face at him, and drawled out: Glaaaassgoww, I’m from Glaaassgow. Oh yeah we got family there says Becky, in west Kentucky we got family!

Uncle John grinned, but didnt speak. Aunt Maureen hardly had touched her food while he was speaking. She studied her plate now; moments later she got up from her chair, lifted the plate and left the room. It left a silence. Uncle John watched the door for a while. He said to Murdo. She’s talking about her sister Becky.

Murdo glanced at Dad.

Uncle John added, She’s dead now.

Oh God, said Murdo.

It’s a couple of years ago.

Murdo shook his head.

Good people? said Dad.

They took me in and gied me a life Tommy, know what I mean, what did I know, a wee boy from Glasgow. Uncle John swallowed a mouthful of wine. He said to Murdo: How’s the basement son?

Good.

Aye, she said ye’d like it down there. Uncle John smiled. So did the boys! One time me and yer Aunt Maureen were gone overnight they threw a party. First half hour thirty kids arrived. Fun and games eh! Other kids came and they didnt let them in. They had a pitched battle. We came home and what do you think? a window broke, two chairs smashed to pieces; broke tumblers, broke plates, broke damn everything! Uncle John turned to Dad. So what did I do? I turned the whole goddam space into a storeroom. No more party time.

Well fair enough, said Dad.

Yeah fair enough, that kind of behaviour; they were too big for it. Hurting their mother. They did hurt her. We trusted them and they let us down. You put the trust in kids they got to earn it, and go on earning it. That’s growing up.

Uncle John sighed. Your cousin Calum’s out in Silicon Valley Murdo, that’s three thousand miles away.

Whoh!

People forget that. Ye cannay just get up and go.

Not like the old days.

Not the old days either son, that’s here to Scotland. That’s wagon trains, crossing the Sierra mountains in the middle of a bloody snow storm. Uncle John stopped. Aunt Maureen had reappeared with a pot of tea on a tray, milk and sugar. She set it down on the table. When she was seated she said to Uncle John, You talking about something?

I was just saying about California, that time we visited. We drove the length of that coast; Seattle down through Santa Cruz; central California. That’s a beautiful coast too, ye might no think it but it is.

You talking about the boys?

Not really no.

Aunt Maureen sighed. Feuding runs in families.

I know, said Dad.

Uncle John winked at Murdo. Me and the boys had a bit of a fall-out… Uncle John swallowed the last of his wine and glanced at his wristwatch: What d’ye say Tommy? Still fancy a beer?

Eh…

Aunt Maureen peered at Uncle John. You fit for driving?

Uncle John smiled.

*

It was relaxing after they had gone. Murdo helped with the clearing up then sat in the lounge watching television. Aunt Maureen came in for some of it but mostly she stayed around the hallway, doing cleaning and tidying for the people coming tomorrow evening. Then she came into the lounge with the vacuum cleaner. She gave him a big smile then battered on with it. He could have done it for her but she didnt want him to, like as if he didnt know how to do it properly! Who did she think did it when Mum was ill? Murdo did all the house chores; all the tidying, everything. Even the garden. Dad was like Uncle John with traveling; seven in the morning till seven in the evening.

Murdo left her to it. Downstairs he switched on the music and looked out a couple of the books he had found. He went back upstairs to see if he could borrow a bedside lamp. Aunt Maureen got one for him. It made all the difference. He positioned it close to the electrical point where he had the hi-fi. Now he could turn off the main light, get onto the mattress and just read and play the music. In between the sheets was even better; as good as back home. Not any better but just equal to it. Although the books were better. Back home he hardly had any apart from children’s ones from years ago. If he wasnay playing music he did most stuff online. Not games so much, not nowadays. He used to but then stopped, like he just lost interest and kind of gave up. It was boring. People went on and on about games, then ye checked them out they were just like hopeless, going over and over the same routines till yer head was buzzing with it. Some folk needed music. Murdo was one of them. Music keeps ye sane. People said that and it was true. More true was it kept ye safe. But he needed to play. Listening was good but wasnt enough. Even proper listening.

Murdo did “proper listening”. That was what he called it. He listened and took stuff in. Only if things are on yer mind. Even ye concentrate hard, they creep in, and where does it take ye? Wherever, just anywhere. Listening to music takes ye places, and ye go these places, letting in the music, how the music comes in on ye, washing over, ye think of tides, like a slow tide, an evening tide.

*

Then he was needing to be someplace else, he really really had to be and it was so so urgent, just so urgent, traveling on from there wherever he was going but to this place, where it was, and black people, and brown people too, wee people and skinny people, just people everywhere. Cowboy hats and funny-looking jackets; flip flops and big boots. Skinny girls with bare legs and blotchy skin with purple patches, the muscles in their legs hard-looking. Ye walked in the bus station and there they were; maybe they were ordinary, maybe they werent, the ones looking, who are you looking at; short skirts riding high up too so if they came up further, further and further. Maybe they were prostitutes. Ye saw guys staring and the lassies didnt care or else stared back, short short skirts and legs stretching. They were just there and if guys looked at them they didnt bother. Maybe they did. How they dressed: sexy and tough. Ye tried not to look. Cops were there. Dad too, although maybe he wasnt and it was just him himself and slow along the corridor, who are you looking at staring at me? That was them, sexy, but they would just say whatever, Murdo, seeing the lassies, and that one seeing him, just how she shifted, how she stood, shifting, seeing him, short short skirt and him just looking to see, seeing her: and her looking at him like that, who are you looking at, and her legs just like short short skirt just beautiful, stretching up, her thighs there and just like raising her skirt was she raising her skirt? maybe she was, seeing if he was there if he was looking, if he was seeing; he was, her pants tugging down, and even if she wasnt wearing any, she wasnt wearing any, maybe she wasnt; and he was looking and seeing and she knew he was, he was there and she saw him, it was him she was looking at, and he was just like — because with her short skirt riding higher, that was her too just seeing him, looking at him and just seeing him, and still doing it, she was still doing it and it was him, she was looking at him.

He was awake and on his back lying there. The dampness.

He raised himself onto his elbows. A sliver of light through the ceiling window. He had to go to the bathroom. He lay back down.

He had to go.

What time was it? It didnt matter. He reached out for the bedside lamp; dampness and sticky. He got up from the mattress, left the basement door open to light the staircase. In the bathroom he used toilet paper and cold water to wipe clean the semen. That was it if it touched the sheets or the duvet. A wet dream because he wouldnt wank. But wet dreams were terrible because ye didnt know, they just happened and there was nothing ye could do, it was always just like wakening up, oh I need to go I need to go and that was that ye came, it was hopeless.

Back downstairs he left on the light and was in fast between the sheets, but without switching on the hi-fi. It was a thing that happened so that was that and ye would dry in the dampness. Stupid jumbles not even making sense. Ye just hug and the girl fits and if yer bodies fit then they fit. Ye see the shapes, ye dont need to because it is like ye are built for it, ye just fit in and the girl takes ye in, just sliding. Oh jees. The lassie fits into you and you fit into the lassie. That is the design: male and female.