Pedro Lenz - Naw Much of a Talker

Valentin wis surprised this wis gi’in us sae much food fur thought. How couldnt we jist enjoy bein able tae be here? Ah hid tae admit he wis right. So we changed the subject an’ talked aboot the ither villages in the region insteid.

Later that night but, it wis daein ma heid in. Even if ah didnae want tae say anythin tae Valentin, ah wis suddenly thinkin this stupit story hid summit tae dae wi ma trial an’ the time ah done in the Joke. Cos aw that stuff wi the strange French guy — or Arab or whitivver he wis — wis aw tae dae wi a loatae cash an’ nae cunt knew whit hid happened tae it, least ae aw me, even if the judge wis constantly askin me. Back then, ah didnae want tae brood aboot it too much. Noo but, it hid come over me an’ ahd nae choice in the matter. Broodin’s like any ither physical need: like sleepin, fur instance, or eatin or pissin, ye kin pit it aff furra while, some folk kin pit it aff fur longer than others, at some point but ye jist hiv tae dae it. So ah wis lyin there so ah wis an’ kidnae stop thinkin ahd mibbe done time in the Joke fur the hoose ah wis noo lyin in.

The next day, Regula an’ me went furra walk an’ ended up in a village where there’s a mineral spring that’s famous in the region. That disnae necessarily mean but that ye hiv tae order a mineral water if ye go intae a pub in a mineral-water-village. Ah ordered hawf a litre ae rid. An’ fur starters: a nice cauld Mahou beer tae set me up first, an’ a sherry fur Regula.

Across fae me in the pub wis a picture ae wan ae they femme fatales. Tae be mair exact, cowerin in the picture wis a woman whose face looked aboot thirty, she’d the body but ae a young dancer, or whitivver, well-toned, shipshape fae heid tae toe. She wis wearin wan ae they semi-see-through tops too, that let ye see the breasts shimmerin through. Perfect they wur, by the way, really nicely painted. She wis wearin they leggins an’ aw, like fur the gym. Figure-huggin, they wur an’ aw. It wis really well painted, naw totally naturalistic, mair a wee bit unusual, as if, aye, ye wantit tae show ivrythin exactly how it wis, but also wantit tae gi’e the reality yir ain touch but. Ah widnae be able tae paint like that, that’s fur sure. Even if ah wantit tae. An’ many an artist ah know kidnae eether.

So ah looked at this picture, marvelled at it fur the longest time, said tae Regula tae look at it an’ aw — it fascinated me sae much. An’ she, the woman in the picture, made a sortae face at me, dont know how ah shid describe it. She wis comin oan a bit sluttish or whitivver, a bit alang the lines ae: Mon then, if yir a real man! Take a haud ae me — unless yir feart tae. Dead erotic it wis, really — an’ naw in a cheap way. Naw, in a mair artistic way. That’s the diffrince atween art an’ aw that primitive shite, ah thought tae masel: wi this picture, ye kin see that the lust is jist wan ae many diffrint aspects. Regula thought it wis impressive an’ aw.

Cos Regula wisnae jist lookin at the picture, but lookin roon the bar an’ aw, she suddenly whispered tae me tae hiv a close look at the landlady. How? ah asked. Jist, says Regula. Okay, ah go, an’ ah see a woman ae aboot fifty, grey hair, a natural-coloured knitted pullover, nae make-up, the close-tae-nature pottery-maker or eurythmics-teacher type, we’d wan in the jail like that an’ aw who done work therapy wi us.

When ahd studied her long enough, ah asked Regula whit it wis aboot the woman. She says nuthin. So ah look at her again, the landlady. She looked like aw kinds ae things. Above aw but, in a worryin way, she wis sexless, completely asexual. Ahm only stressin that cos, itherwise, almost ivry human bein, even the ugliest cunts oot, hiv summit aboot them that minds ye we’re aw sexual beins. The landlady but his nuthin. It wis as if she wis naw masculine, naw feminine, but neuter.

Then Regula nods discreetly at the picture oan the wall an’ again at the landlady an’ finally, the penny draps! She wis the femme fatale in the picture, jist twenty year aulder. That felt totally odd. Ye felt like a voyeur, starin intae the private life ae someone who wis noo twenty year aulder an’ only in the picture wis she still young an’ seductive.

Regula, ah said, if ye ivver let a painter paint ye, ye hiv tae promise me ye’ll hing it somewhere where naw ivry jerk kin stare at it fur twenty years.

She promised me an’ ah ordered anither hawf a litre, mainly so ah kid check oot the landlady fae up close.

Wis she fae this area? ah asked her.

Naw, she wis French.

Nice picture yiv got hingin there.

Aye, her husband painted it.

Ma compliments! He’s guid so he is.

The trip tae Spain ended wi a wee argument. Nuthin bad, a bit unpleasant aw the same. That’s ma weakness, ah guess. Ah nivver manage tae take care ae people ah like. It’s a bit like the a-bit-handicapped guy in that novel, the wan aye pittin mice in his trooser pocket cos he wants tae pet them. Then but, he his too much strength an’ squashes them tae death. He likes mice. He disnae want tae harm them. Naw that that’s ae any help. He cannae help himself, squeezes too hard. Similar shit’s aye happenin tae me, wi human beins but. Naw physically. Mentally. Ah nip the brains ae folk that ur important tae me sae much, they get tired ae listenin tae me an’ turn away.

Okay, so while we wur in Spain still, ah tellt Regula aw aboot me. Ahd say ahd only ivver the best ae intentions: ah wis thinkin she’d then know a bit better whit she wis gettin involved wi. Ah tellt her aboot ma schooldays, ma family, oor part ae toon, aboot the Reitplatz, the forest, ma apprenticeship, ma first falls, ma first travels, whit ah read an’ listened tae when ah wis twenty, books, music, aw stuff that meant fuck-aw tae her. Nuthin mad. Course naw. Jist they things that — if ye piece them aw thegither — make ye the person ye ur.

Tae start wi, that wis okay like that. Ah wis a guid guy, she said, kid tell a guid story, ah wisnae wan ae they tightlipped cunts like Buddy who faw silent an’ cut themsels aff when there’s summit tae discuss, or insteid ae jist sayin whit’s botherin them. At some point but, she’d overdosed oan ma stories. The accusation soon came: ah wis only talkin so as naw tae hiv tae listen. An’ above aw, ah wisnae really talkin aboot masel at aw. Naw, ah wis jist aye tellin some story or ither. Bottom line bein: howivver much ah waffled oan, ah wisnae — ah wisnae much of a talker.

Whit is it ye want, Regi, ah said. It’s naw as if ah hiv tae listen tae ye: ah kin feel ye, ah kin see aw the way through you, ah think ae nuthin but you, the hale time. Yir aye there, present fur me. Know summit? When ah touch ye, ah know mair aboot ye than if ah wis tae listen tae ye aw day. An’ if ahm tellin ye aw these things, you’re included in whit ah mean. Ivrythin ah tell ye, ahm tellin only you that way. Anyone else, an’ ah wid tell it diffrint.

Explainin it aw wis pointless. She said it wisnae oan. Naw like that, it wisnae. She kidnae help feelin ah wis aw talk. A patter-merchant. She didnae mean it in a bad wey: ah wis guid at tellin stories. Whit ah needed but wisnae a woman, but an audience.

That’s naw true. Ahm enough ae an audience fur masel masel. Okay but, if ye want us tae kick any problems we might hiv aroon an’ fling accusations at each ither, that’s fine an’ aw. Ahm listenin. Ah’ll shut ma gob. Oan ye go — tell me, Regi. Tell me. Ahm aw ears.

She didnae want tae tell me anythin. She’d the feelin but, it wid be better mibbe if ah cut doon oan the alas-poor-yoricks an’ mulled things o’er mair. Cos wan thing hid become clear tae her: ahd the wrang friends.

Ye see, ah says, that’s whit ahm sayin the hale time. Ye dont like ma stories, whitivver way ah tell em, cos ye’d rather think aboot problems. Whit ye still hivnae got but is: ma stories ur part ae me. Ah cannae take them aff, like an auld shirt. Ah dont tell stories fur the sake ae it, ah tell them in an attempt tae keep up. If ah kidnae tell them, life — makin sense ae it, anyhoo — wid be beyond me. Know whit ah mean, Regi?