James Kelman - Dirt Road

Dad said, That festival son. Ye were saying about it?

Yeah, it’s near Chattanooga.

Right.

But the festival’s LaFayette in the state of Georgia; it’s over the border in the mountains, ye see it on the map, it looks great, just a wee town. Aunt Maureen knows it. They’ve got a museum. I think we’ve got relations there unless they moved out to the west coast, like California.

Dad smiled.

So did Murdo. No he didnt. It was just ha ha. Except his stomach didnt feel good.

The bird that fluttered, the bird that looked at him. Imagine a bird looking right at ye? Did birds do that? That was like a Cherokee Indian bird. It was there and just looking, what ye doing here, this is my place.

The biscuits on the plate. The glass of orange juice. The glass was cold. He lifted it and held it in his right hand; wet, the condensation. It was cooler in the patio with the overhead kind of wooden spars thing that was like a roof, so ye didnt get sunburnt.

Ye sitting down?

Yeah. Murdo sat down at the side of the table.

Dad smiled, looking towards the house. Aunt Maureen had appeared. She stopped at the table. She scratched her head, puzzled about something. She was looking at Murdo. Murdo smiled. Hi Aunt Maureen.

Huh, she said, now what did I come out here for? She peered at Dad. My memory son what’s happening!

Dad said, I’m as bad.

You are huh!

Murdo glanced at Dad.

Aunt Maureen smiled at the biscuits and stuff on the table, was about to head back into the house. Now Murdo, she said, and wagged her finger the way a schoolteacher does giving ye a row. Are you alright? she said, That is what I am asking.

I’m fine.

Is he Tom?

Yeah. Dad smiled.

Mm. Aunt Maureen frowned. You too now what about you?

I’m fine, said Dad.

Everybody’s all fine in Scotland huh?

Murdo grinned.

You doing the ironing? asked Dad.

It’s been piling up on me.

Can I give ye a help? Murdo asked.

No, she said, you cannot; you cannot give me any help one little bit! She took his hand: Not on vacation. You’re on vacation son. You watch that sun now, she said, you are warm.

He knows, said Dad.

I only do it for twenty minutes.

Half an hour ago, said Dad.

Well it wasnt half an hour, said Murdo, then he smiled at Aunt Maureen who was looking from him to Dad and back again.

Give me a hug, she said to Murdo. He got up from the chair and moved to her. She held him close to her and sighed. Murdo son, she said and hugged him again. It was a real cuddle. This is the kind Aunt Maureen gave.

Queen Monzee-ay wouldnt have been as good at it. Neither would Aunt Edna. But was that true? Maybe it wasnt. If it was their own family of course they would be good. If it isnt yer own family it is just a different cuddle. Aunt Edna would have been good at it, just depending. Cuddles can be weird. A wee cuddle from one was a big one from somebody else. Dad hardly gave any. Uncle John’s were all slap slap slap slap. Some guys thumped ye hard. Dad cuddled Murdo at the funeral, and other times too. All the cuddles of the day at the funeral. There couldnay be any more cuddles. But then how Dad shook yer hand, sometimes that was like a cuddle.

Aunt Maureen was saying something about the weather. Dad said something back to her and ye could see about him, how with Aunt Maureen, Dad was the same as Murdo. Dad thought about Aunt Maureen in the exact same way. She was just the very best, really. What else? Nothing.

It was strange. Murdo didnt care about stuff. There were things in life people cared about. He didnt. Ha ha is what he felt.

No point talking. Even how Dad was there with his book and Aunt Maureen just like how she was doing everything.

She was a real aunt. More than any blood. What was blood? Blood was nothing. There couldnt be a better aunt. She was talking to Murdo now. Protecting the dog, she said, he went out to find it, took shelter in the car.

God… Dad shook his head. You hear that Murdo?

What was it again?

Boy just found there with his dog, said Aunt Maureen. He was protecting it; went in a car for shelter and the car got flattened. Tree fell right on top of it, snapped apart. Oklahoma.

Jees, said Murdo.

Aunt Maureen looked from Murdo to Dad. Protecting the dog. My Lord his poor mother, no rhyme nor reason there huh!

Murdo said, That’s the thing in America, people die from the actual weather.

Sure they do.

The actual weather.

Not in Scotland huh?

No. Except maybe like climbing accidents on mountains, snow avalanches, or else like drowning maybe if ye were out on a boat but not actual weather like I mean where people die. No. Not like floods and twisters and whatever.

You didnt know that huh?

No, said Murdo, I dont think people do know that back home.

Dad said, Maybe some do.

Aunt Maureen lifted the plate of biscuits. You didnt eat any, she said.

I did take one, said Dad.

I was going to, said Murdo.

You got your orange juice son huh?

Yeah. It’s like real oranges, better than we get back home.

Aunt Maureen suddenly wagged her finger at Murdo. Oh now, she said, I know what it was. I got the question for you Murdo, church on Sunday. You go to church back home?

Dad was looking.

You want to come one time with us? Uncle John and me? We’re going Sunday morning. You think you might come? Would be nice if you did.

Murdo smiled and nodded.

Well you think about it, she said.

Okay Aunt Maureen.

*

It was all mixed up. Aunt Maureen was great. She was just great. It was Murdo who wasnt. He was a horror, the things he thought about, horrible thoughts, horrible horrible, just the most horrible.

His voice too, he didnt want to hear it again, ever. If Aunt Maureen was going to church on Sunday then maybe, maybe he should even just think about it, just think about it. He didnt care about any of it except just her, Aunt Maureen, it was her, it was just to go with her. Murdo didnt care about meeting other people, nice ones or not. If Aunt Maureen was meaning guys his own age or else girls, ones who went to church.

It was daft. Murdo would meet people and he wanted to meet people, and if he went places he would. He would meet people. So if that was church like a place to go then okay. So maybe that would be something. If Dad didnt go. Maybe Murdo would, if Dad didnt.

But why? if he didnt believe. Dad believed, Murdo didnt. Murdo had his life too, his own space. The basement. Dad had his room. This was Murdo’s. So what was wrong with being in it? Jeesoh, if it was his? How come it was like a big deal to spend time in it? If Murdo hadnt had the basement this whole holiday would have been a punishment. Anyway, it was not a holiday. Who would have called it a holiday, nobody. Coming here was recovering from a bereavement. Ye were bereaved and had to cope. Mum dying was a bereavement. Murdo had to cope and Dad had to cope. It was not a punishment. People look at ye and think it to themselves: Oh the poor boy lost his mother, what did he do to deserve that?

Nothing. Nothing to deserve it and nothing not to deserve it. She just died. That was Mum, tumours that live on and kill females. Males have theirs. Things are how they are. Never mind God and Jesus. Aunt Maureen was the best but that was her. She had hers and Murdo had his.

Her and Dad would be talking. The boy’s just lost his mother. Oh well I’ve lost my wife. Yes but your mother? Not as bad as your wife. Losing your wife is worse than losing your mother. No it isnt. Yes it is. He’s having to cope. So is everybody. Murdo is a young man. A young man is not a boy: a young man is a man. So if he is a young man then he can go where he wants and just act like whatever.