James Kelman - Dirt Road

Oh but $90 wasnt enough. Lafayette was bus tickets and an accordeon; snacks and juice, bottles of water. That was what it meant for going. Ye needed money. A lot of money. How much was an accordeon was a daft question. Ye could get a cheap one or an expensive one, or something inbetween. The pawnshop in Allentown had one that was not bad-looking. Ye would only know when ye played it, if the reeds were damaged or whatever. If he went on the Friday he could meet with Sarah and the family and get a lift down.

These were the thoughts.

*

He wandered upstairs to see what was happening. Aunt Maureen was in the kitchen. Murdo stood with her watching the Weather Channel. Rain’s off, she said.

Murdo hesitated then returned downstairs, lifted his jacket and headed back up, knelt at the front door to put on his boots. Dad appeared from out his room. Where ye off to? he asked.

Eh just round the block Dad like I mean I was eh…

Okay if I come with ye?

…

Eh, is it okay?

Of course.

Murdo waited for him to get ready. Aunt Maureen appeared from the kitchen. You boys going out a walk huh?

Yeah.

Good thinking; rain’s coming on later.

You could come? said Murdo.

Thanks son. I got things to do.

It would be good if ye did.

Oh now I would Murdo but I just dont have the time now huh I got things to do.

Dad had arrived and stood to the side while she was speaking. Now she opened the door for them and waited until they were beyond the garden path onto the pavement then she waved to them. Farther along the street Murdo turned to see her still there by the door. She waved again and he waved in reply. Dad also waved. Dad said, She likes to see us getting out!

Yeah. Murdo smiled.

Which way?

I was just going eh… Murdo pointed to the next corner and shrugged.

Anywhere in particular? asked Dad.

No.

They continued walking. Pools of water lay around but it was warm and quite a stuffy feel to everything. Before long Dad took off his jacket and walked with it slung across his shoulder. He had noticed a certain smell. Might be hickory or maple, he said, ye get them here. Different types of plants and trees. Different wild life too. Quite an interesting place Alabama.

Yeah, said Murdo.

Dad seemed cheery. Maybe something nice had happened. What was nice for Dad? Unless going home next Tuesday. Maybe he wanted to go and was glad it was coming. In some ways it was okay but in other ways not.

In most ways not.

Was there even one was okay? A horrible day here was better than a good day there. The truth is there werent any good days back home. Even if there were so what? If they were good what happened? Nothing. Good days and bad days were the same; just like nothing at all.

So if Dad had emigrated back when he was a boy then they would have been here and Murdo wouldnt have had to go home because this would have been home. Except Murdo wouldnt have been here because Dad and Mum would never have met and married, so bla bla bla, him and Eilidh: a different mother means different children and they would have been American, whoever they were. Dad would have married an American woman like maybe Linda so that would have been them.

Murdo was going to say something to Dad about it but didnt. It was good just walking, and Dad was enjoying that too. He was noticing wee things in walking and drew attention to the flags on houses and the similarity of the gardens and garages. He was interested in the actual houses and when they were built then he seemed to be guessing the number of rooms in particular ones, and the idea that most houses were on the level like what ye called bungalows back home, maybe with basements; so if a basement might have had two rooms, three rooms or whatever, maybe just one big games room with things like pool tables or their own wee bars or whatever. There werent as many “add-ons” as back home, said Dad, where people had added extensions to their houses to make them bigger.

He spoke about other stuff too but Murdo didnt catch it all, something about his job and the kind of job Uncle John did, and things to do with working, and he also spoke about next year and how it would be “life after school” for Murdo. It was funny the way Dad said it but there wasnt anything he could say back. The truth is he didnt hear much at all because he was not listening, not to everything. Things were calm and that brought its own sound. Hardly a breeze at all, no traffic. Peace and quiet. This was a great place for walking just like for yer head so ye didnt have to really think. It was weird how ye felt yer own walking made echoes, although it didnt make any echoes.

Maybe the dampness, a kind of dampness, it maybe had something to do with how calm it was. Maybe calm before the storm. Rain was due later. Water deadens sound. Or changes it. The rain dampening the earth and a noise becomes more thudding or thick. Rain on a roof, heavy rain, not heavy but not going away, insistent, incessant. In a garden towards the end of the street an elderly woman was bent over tending plants inside plant-holders; she was wearing a large straw hat, an apron and trousers tucked into wellington boots. Puddles of water. She raised her head to see them properly. Murdo thought Dad didnt notice her but he called, Hullo.

She didnt respond. Murdo wasnt surprised but it was a wee bit disappointing too like as if she knew they were foreign and wasnt interested in knowing about them. She returned to what she was doing.

It would have been good if Aunt Maureen spent more time in the garden. She mostly worked about the house. “Pottering” is how she described it. Gardens were open air and would have been better for her.

When they reached the red-brick church with the square tower and the pillars there were younger women and small children by a side door entrance. Round the corner was the bus-stop listing information on times and destinations. Probably a bus from here would connect to the downtown area where they had a main bus station. Murdo had wanted to check this out but Dad tagging along made it awkward. When they approached the bus-stop Murdo said, Look Dad a bus-stop. I wonder where the buses go?

Dad also was interested. They paused by the information listing. Shuttle? Murdo asked, What is that Dad “shuttle”?

A shuttle bus, it shuttles ye from one place to the other. Back and forth.

Yeah but where?

Downtown probably, or else the shopping mall — this is the road.

Murdo scanned the information for a few moments longer.

Dad was looking at the sky and checked his watch. Okay? he said.

Yeah, it’s just interesting seeing the buses.

It’s going to rain later.

They continued walking. The traffic was heavy; big long trucks that tooted and had flags and fancy decorations round the driver’s cabin. Some traveled the length and breadth of the whole country.

The actual cars were like back home, and not like television or the movies where ye saw the straight-line ones with the big long bonnets. One difference here was the different styles of pick-up trucks. Dad was looking at them too, maybe thinking about his driver’s licence and if he had brought it what would have happened?

Lafayette, Louisiana! Ha ha.

No chance. Even if Dad had brought it. He would never have hired a car all that time. Although for one weekend, yes, maybe. He could have afforded that. Leave Friday, back Sunday. Or else Saturday, if they picked up the car early Saturday morning, did the gig Saturday night then delivered it back Sunday morning. They would have managed that. The route was dead easy and like straightforwards, Dad would have done it no bother at all. It would have been brilliant. How brilliant, ye could imagine, just amazing! It didnt matter anyway. Although it did, in a way.