James Kelman - Dirt Road

So what if nice people go to church? Who wants nice people! Ones who praise the Lord and are so welcoming to everybody? What is nice people? Do bad things not happen to them? If bad things happen are they so nice?

The idea of innocent people. They hardly live then they are dead. Ye wonder about that. If God makes people dead is that Him punishing people? If it is yer nearest and dearest is that God punishing you? Who else could it be? With Mum it was like ye must have done something very very bad. Ye think it to yourself because how else? If ye sinned it must have been badly, very very badly. Yer sister then yer mother. The very worst of all. So if things happen for a reason what is the reason?

People talked about sinners, “we are all sinners”, but it wasnt true. Maybe Dad believed it. A believer believed. Was Eilidh a sinner? Murdo was sick of that stuff. We endure hard knocks and it is for a reason. God knows the reason. We dont know but God does. Maybe Jesus does. The blood of the lamb being redeemed. The lamb was Jesus. Through the blood of Jesus who is our blessed saviour, our living redeemer, by the shedding of his blood our sins are washed away. Blood-stained roads and blind men walking. Josie. Josie was Josie. Aunt Maureen’s friend. They were believers. That old guy in the bus station, a walking skeleton. Cracked.

Imagine a baby. A sinner! So crazy, so so crazy. That guy Conor must have thought so and it was his baby. So that would be his sins. The sins of the father is like punishment for the children; two wee girls and a baby. A baby only had to be born. As soon as it was born it was like doomed. That was how it worked. Maybe Dad thought the same. Mum was dead because Dad was a sinner. That was Hell if it was his fault; so Hell was now and not after ye were dead. On the road not seeing the signs. A blind man walking. That was Murdo, not seeing the signs. He thought she was getting better. That was the worst stupidity. She was not getting better and was not going to get better. Murdo didnt know that. Nobody told him. Naive childishness. He needed his father to tell him. How stupid. He knew she was badly ill but actual dying. The very end and she couldnt get out of bed. Imagine. Ye imagine it, how do ye imagine it, just a smile, not the breath to say Murdo, holding onto his fingers.

*

Late Friday evening after dinner they were sitting on talking. Uncle John folded his arms and stared into Murdo’s eyes for about five seconds. Murdo smiled then stopped. It was a staring contest. They kept it going for several more seconds. Murdo stopped first although he didnt have to. Uncle John relaxed. You ever think of staying here? he said.

Oh now, said Aunt Maureen.

Murdo glanced at Dad.

Uncle John raised his hand at once. Never mind him son I’m asking you. Do you think you would ever ever consider it?

Both Dad and Aunt Maureen awaited his answer.

No, he said. I only mean I wouldnt consider it, because I dont know. It’s not a thing I mean it wouldnt be me making the decision.

Aye but son if it was you?

Dad had risen from the table; he took his empty teacup through to rinse at the kitchen sink.

Murdo said, Yeah but Uncle John it wouldnt be me making the decision.

What is this boy a politician! called Uncle John. Then he reached and trapped Murdo’s wrist on the table. Ye’re no getting away with it. Out with it! I’ve heard yer Dad, now it’s you. If it was your decision what would it be? Would ye stay or go? Eh, stay here or go home?

Murdo smiled, then chuckled.

Uncle John laughed and pointed at him, turned to Aunt Maureen. Murdo looked from Dad to Aunt Maureen and back to Uncle John. It was true. It was just true and he was saying it out loud.

Uncle John called to Dad: Did ye hear that?

I did, said Dad, returning to the table.

Aunt Maureen was smiling, and Uncle John said to her: Mind you old Jimmy Shand was good! Uncle John winked at Murdo. So how much is an accordeon? he said. They expensive?

Aye, said Dad, the kind Murdo likes.

Well if they’re good quality. Murdo shrugged.

Italian, said Dad.

What is that a joke?

Murdo said, They make the best accordeons.

You’re kidding me on son! The old Eyeties. Did you know that? he asked Aunt Maureen.

Well mister their music is beautiful. You forgetting that?

No I’m not forgetting that. I’m just saying, it’s not something ye would think. Music aye, okay. Not musical instruments. You liked the big guy mother.

Well who didnt huh! Pavarotti.

Aw great opera, said Dad, I can listen to opera. Dad smiled. Any day of the week!

Murdo said, Mum liked opera. It was Mum liked opera. Opera is what she liked. It was her. Murdo looked again at Dad. It was her liked it Dad.

Of course. Dad smiled.

Murdo looked away. Opera was Mum, always Mum. Murdo couldnt believe Dad would say stuff like that. Great opera. Did he actually say that? What about ordinary opera?

He stared at the table. Dad was looking at him but he couldnt return it, couldnt, couldnt look at him. He glimpsed Aunt Maureen smiling to him and tried to smile back but couldnt. It was too bad. Dad was saying something, whatever Dad was saying, whatever, something.

But that was Murdo, he had to leave the table. Because otherwise — he just had to leave.

It wouldnt have been crying. He didnt cry. Even if it started he was able to make it stop. Not blinking. If ye blinked then it ran down yer face. It was getting yerself cold. Ye had to just be there and not do anything except make it not happen and that was how ye made it not happen, by not doing anything, nothing. That was how Murdo managed it, getting yer head out and just like not being there in the company: although ye were; ye went side on to it, making yer mind wander, if ye could think of something, just yer mind, going places. In school he did it. Or wherever, on a bus or the ferry — him and Dad going home on the ferry from leaving Mum in the hospice damn bloody hospice, every damn bloody night Dad in the ferry lounge and Murdo outside unless it was gale force and the rain too too heavy, the spray battering yer face, spattering it. Murdo needed that. Ye think of the song because he would have swam over, and the seas were wild, he didnt care about the seas, he would swim over and over and over, but that was it now, Mum, she would be with Eilidh.

He heard Dad doing something, maybe just moving on his chair. And Aunt Maureen saying, You boys have had the worst time.

Murdo gazed at her. Aunt Maureen.

Ye thought about it and it was true. Him and Dad. They had had it the worst. It couldnt get worse because it was the worst already, it was the worst there had ever been and they were in the middle of it. What ever could be worse. And Dad too, Dad too. Murdo said, Dad…

Dad smiled.

Murdo got up from the chair and went down the basement. He didnt switch on the light and didnt put on the music. He wanted to hide. People couldnt hide.

He kept off the light.

This was the densest. Here ye were blind.

A quiet kind of swish, swish. Flying cockroaches? But Uncle John said they buzzed. How serious was he? Murdo wasnt sure he had ever seen one, unless it was the big black ones with the thick body. Ye think of things slithering. Burying into the earth.

It was just life, ye think of life, how everything changes. This long long period of stuff that isnt good, where nothing is good and ye always get taken back into it, can never get out it, reaching out and ye cannot get what it is; expecting it to leave but it never does; ye wake up and it is there again, ye get the moment where things are good and even ye forget; ye forget it all and expect the normal stuff but it doesnt happen and ye are back inside it; Mum is not at the door telling ye to get up or ye’ll be late for school; that is not going to happen, never, and it is just you, a wee speck spinning.