James Kelman - Dirt Road

The guy shifted on the seat enough for Murdo to lean and see out. He saw a young man and a young woman holding a baby. They stood apart, he held a bag and was ready to board the bus.

She saying to him write, write. That’s what she’s saying, write write. He wont write man. He’ll phone. That’s what he’ll do. Six month down the line man know what I’m saying? Hey conchita I ees sorry man.

Yeah, said Murdo.

I been there man I been there.

Soon the passengers had returned and the coach was back on the interstate. Murdo wished he could doze but it was best not to. He didnt want to in case like whatever, just whatever. The bus was moving and he would get there. People got to where they were going. Sooner or later they did. If it was sooner it was sooner which meant sooner than expected. “Sooner”. Nothing was sooner anyway, just later. Things were always later. Sooner was later than now.

In Jackson Murdo got up from his seat. The wee thin guy was staying on until wherever. Cheerio, said Murdo. The guy raised his arm in a short salute.

Less than an hour later he was back in Allentown, and glad to be back, passing through the waiting room and out into the main street. He crossed to the old-time Wild West shop and the pawnshop. The accordeon was not in the window. The ashtray was still on the window ledge; a quarter-smoked cigarette lay on it. Murdo peered through both windows. Guitars were the main instruments, including a beautiful-looking bass. Murdo liked bass guitars. How come? Just something about them. He didnt have one, but if he did. It would just be good having one.

Two saxophones and a clarinet; harmonicas that looked special. The shop door opened, triggering a security chime; a familiar tune. An older woman stepped out. She was quite big and Murdo made way for her. She stood by the doorway, lifted the quarter-smoked cigarette from the ashtray, soon had it alight, puffed a cloud of smoke, folding an arm and resting the other elbow on it, puffing again and watching folk pass by. She said to Murdo, How are you today?

Fine.

Aint it just so peaceful! She patted her bosom as though experiencing heartburn.

Yeah. Murdo gazed into the window.

So so peaceful, she said. I give praise to Jesus.

Murdo smiled and resumed walking, along towards Sarah’s family store. It was more than a mile away, maybe two. When he arrived he stepped up onto the porch and pushed open the door. At the cashier’s desk an older woman stared at him. An elderly man was about to be served. Murdo waited behind him. The elderly man waved him on ahead, but impatiently so ye felt like saying No thanks. But Murdo said, Thanks. I was wondering if Sarah was here? he asked the woman.

If Sarah was here? No, she aint here.

Is she at home?

I dont know. I cant say where she is.

Thanks, said Murdo although he felt like saying Ha ha, but what good would that have done? He heard the elderly man say, What’d he ask for?

He closed the door behind him and continued round the side of the building to the house. There was no one around. Then a boy about twelve or thirteen years old appeared. Who you looking for?

Uh — Joel.

Joel?

Or Sarah?

Oh. The boy nodded. They aint here; they gone away.

D’you know when they’ll be back?

No I dont. Joel’s ma now she’ll tell you.

Thanks.

Sure.

Murdo thumped again on the door. There was a bell. He rang this too but nothing. Nobody was in. He stepped to peer in the window. The boy was still watching and called: She aint there?

Murdo tried the door again.

You try the back? Usually they’re to the back.

Thanks. Murdo stepped back to the pavement and saw a man approach. Murdo waited. The man said: You got business there? The man looked him up and down. What you doing here?

Nothing.

Nothing!

Well like just friends. I thought they’d be in.

They aint in.

Aw. Murdo stared back at the house.

You know these people?

Yeah.

Who d’you know, Henry? You know Henry?

He’s Sarah’s Dad. It’s really Sarah and Joel I know.

Okay. Okay… The man was staring at Murdo. Henry’s up in Clarksdale, he said. He’ll be back later. The rest gone to Louisiana, gone with Queen Monzee-ay.

Aw jees.

Big music festival.

Yeah.

Is that a problem?

No. I was just hoping to go with them. I thought maybe like I would catch them before they went.

Right.

Is Lafayette far?

The man shrugged. Hit the I-55 take a right through Baton Rouge, that’s the I-10 — which way you facing? The man peered sideways. You got a car?

A car?

You aint got a car?

No.

Right. You come on the bus here?

Yeah.

Okay.

Actually I was wondering, do people ever hitch? I mean like hitch-hiking?

Hitching a ride?

Yeah.

You come on the bus here. You take one out of here. Okay? Dont you go hitching.

Okay.

The man waited while Murdo adjusted the rucksack and walked on. Murdo glanced back at him. Thanks, he said.

The man nodded, but hadnt moved. Murdo should have said to tell Henry. Probably he would. Definitely he would. He glanced back but the man wasnt there. It was all very well saying not to hitch a lift but if ye didnt have money and ye had to get someplace what else did ye do? apart from walk! A mile here and a mile back. It was the time ye spent too. This was the afternoon already! Time time time, ye just like always were having to watch the bloody time. He began striding.

Less than a minute later a small truck pulled up alongside him and it was the same man. The passenger side window rolled down and he called: Hey. Alright? Come in here, I’ll take you. The bus station?

Yeah.

I’ll take you. The man gestured Murdo inside.

Aw ye dont have to!

No. The man laughed a moment. No, he said, I dont. Come on in.

Murdo hesitated a moment. No, really, it’s okay, but thanks. I’m just going to like…thanks, I’m fine walking.

The man smiled.

I’m fine walking.

You sure about that?

Yeah I mean… Murdo shrugged. Thanks.

Okay. The window closed and the man drove off.

That was funny. Murdo was nervous. It wasnt anything. He was but, just like — nervous. Although a lift, if he had wanted one. Although it wasnt far to the bus station. Only he had to move fast. He strode on.

Outside the pawnshop he faced into the window while checking his money. The original $290 sounded a fortune but once ye spent money on bus-fares it wasnt so much. Then an accordeon, jeesoh. Money didnt last. The one displayed here had no price tag that he could remember.

Entering the shop set off the security chime. A part security grille was fixed round the counter. So people couldnt jump over and grab the stuff. Plenty interesting: rifles, knives, handguns, tools and some brilliant electronic stuff like if he had the money: phones, tablets and headsets; good stuff, plus all the musical instruments; diamonds, rings and jewelry things. Two men were at one section examining power tools and heavy-looking outside equipment. Nobody was serving. Then from the rear room came the same older woman as before, the smell of tobacco strong on her. Hi, she said. You buying today?

Eh well maybe.

We got a good sale on some fine quality goods. You interested in buying?

Yeah well the accordeon, there was an accordeon.

Oh, yeah.

I saw it in the window a few days ago.

You certainly did. That most beautiful accordeon.

It was down in price, said Murdo.

Mm. If we still got it. The woman vanished into the rear. She soon returned lugging the accordeon. I got it! she said. She hoisted it onto the counter and stood a moment to regain her breath. She smiled, admiring it, then looked to see Murdo. Selling for eighty-five dollars only now can you believe it? This most beautiful beautiful thing. That is a sale. Was a hundred and twenty-five and we’ve reduced that price to sell to you this very day.