Pedro Lenz - Naw Much of a Talker

Gross wantit tae know whit ahd found oot. Ah tellt him nuthin, nuthin aboot Pesche, nuthin aboot wee Stofer, nuthin aboot Uli, an’ nuthin aboot the strange Frenchman who looked like an Arab. Naw: especially aboot they things, ah tellt him sweet fanny adams. When ah rang his doorbell, ah wis still thinkin ah might tell him ivrythin — so the shit wid hit the fan a bit fur they guys, like it did fur me back then. Then but, ah realised: that wisnae whit this wis aw aboot, fur me, any mair. Let they over-the-hill jerks keep their fuckin shack by the sea. They’ve achieved fuck-aw else so they hiv. An’ if Operation Villa went smoothly fur them, it shidnae fuckin fail noo an’ cos ae me. It’s naw as if they’re expected, up at the Joke.

Hiv anither think, Goalie. If ye know summit, it’s better tae tell me than try tae pull some stunt — aff yir ain bat.

Ahm naw goney pull any stunt, Herr Gross. Ahm fuckin off jist. Movin. At the end ae the month.

Where tae?

Dont know yet. Naw that faur. Berne, Zurich, Basel — nae idea. A city but, that’s fur sure. Somewhere where ahm less famous.

He gave me a tired smile, like someone who means well by ye. Then signalled tae his wife an’ she poured me mair cognac.

Wance ah got hame, ah phoned Regula.

Ye sleepin awready?

Naw, whit ur you daein?

Callin you, Regi. Cos ahm missin ye.

Let’s take oor time wi this, Goalie. Ahm naw as quick as you, wi things like this. Ahv jist split up fae Buddy.

That’s okay, Regi. Take yir time. Take aw the time ye want. You’ve got time. Ah hivnae but. So ahm leavin.

Whit? Where ye gaun, Goalie?

Ah dont know yet.

Abroad?

Naw. Naw that faur, naw. Tae a city but.

Is that yir latest?

Aye. Ahv jist decided. Ahm goin through wi it but. Ahm naw like the hunchback at Cobbles who’s been hangin aroon fur years, tells ye ivry six months but aboot some big foreign project or ither he’s aboot tae dae. He’s still sittin there, aye at the same wee table, drinkin the same wee beer, an’ naw movin a millimetre. Naw, ahm naw the hunchback. Ah say jist the wance ahm goin an’ then ah go.

Whit dis that mean fur us?

Nuthin. Ah tellt ye, ahm givin you time. Ah’ll naw fall in love wi someone else, ye dont need tae worry aboot that. Yiv as much time as ye want. An’ if ye decide tae, ye kin come an’ join me.

Know summit, Goalie, ahm findin this idea a bit difficult.

How wis ah supposed tae reply tae that? Ahd the jitters masel, ye cannae be afraid ae summit afore yiv even fuckin started but. So ah tellt her, ivrythin wid be fine. It wid aw be fine. Tae hiv a guid sleep. An’ that ah loved her. An’ she wis happy wi that.

The next day, a registered letter arrives. Ah fetch it fae the post office in the evenin an’ open it tae learn ahv won the car, the wan in the competition ah done in a stupor thon time. Ah wis hardly able tae remember. Ah dae they competitions ivry noo an’ then — an’ ye end up naw knowin which wan ye done when.

The answer hid been STATUE OF LIBERTY, that’s whit brung it back. Ahd been hopin tae win second prize, a trip tae New York. Noo but, it wis first prize: a Ford Fiesta. Naw bad eether, if ye think aboot it. Gets ye ootae the hoose occasionally. Ah take the car as a sign ma winnin streak his noo officially started. That things wi Regula will work oot an’ aw. Soon as ahv done aw that needs daein, they’ll hiv seen the back ae me here. Aw in aw, a minor loss, jist, tae the local community. Naw, naw, it’s true. Losin a cunt like me? They’ll get over that wan nae tother a baw.

Since ah left the Fog, things hiv went doonhill again. Naw badly, it’s still undeniable but. Ah wis nivver someone who imagined a new place wid make a new person ae ye. Ye need tae face the facts but. At the place ah left, nae cunt misses me — an’ where ah noo hing oot, nae cunt wis waitin fur me eether. Those ur the realities. Aye.

Jist as ah wis mair or less done daein up the flat in Berne, ah smashed the Ford Fiesta ah won straight intae a tree. Naw faur fae Ittigen. Shit happens. Major shit happens. Ah wis lucky. The damage tae me masel wis less than the damage tae the car. So ahm back tae bein a pedestrian.

Regula’s naw in touch any mair, naw this long while. Paco — the guy in charge at the Spanish Club, back in the Fog — said, when ah bumped intae him in Berne, he thought he’d heard her an’ Buddy hid made up an’ she’d moved back in wi him. Still workin fur Pesche, she wis. Pesche, incidentally, hid re-did Cobbles. He’d went fur modern: anthracite an’ that.

How d’ye know aw this, Paco?

Ah wis there, wasnt ah?

Naw, ah mean aw that aboot Regula an’ that cunt Buddy, who his nae sense ae fuckin decency.

Didnt ah know that, in the Fog, ivrywan knows aw there is tae know aboot ivrywan else, says Paco.

Ahm happy tae believe whit ye say aboot Cobbles. Ahd like tae know but how ye know Regula’s back wi Buddy.

Vox populi.

Whit dis that mean?

It’s Latin fur: voice ae the people.

Vox populi? A bit high-falutin, that. Watch oot, Paco. Folk’ll think yir a snob.

Whit tae dae? News like that jist wears me fuckin doon, mair than anythin else. Sad? A bit, aye. The Regula story makes me sad, aye. Like ah say: sad an’ tired. Ah close ma eyes briefly an’ kin see her before me an’ ah think ae oor short trip tae Spain, think ae her beautiful eyes, they Russian ice-skater eyes, think ae the only evenin we kissed an’ ahm soon lost in thought. Regula widda been guid fur me, naw: really guid. She’s probably thinkin: the ither way roon, it wis diffrint. If a normal woman his tae choose between a drug addict like me an’ a violent nutter like Buddy, she hisnae exactly the best ae options, his she?

If ah wis Regula, ahd hiv decided diffrint. Ahd at least hiv gi’en someone like Goalie a go. It kid hiv turned oot well. An’ if ah think aboot her movin back in wi that cunt, the beauty she hid at mine back loses its shine a bit.

If ahv naw learnt much in life, ah hiv learnt this: if a woman disnae want ye an’ you cannae accept that, yir done fur. Ye hiv tae be able tae lose an’ aw. Especially in love.

Ahm lost in thoughts like that when Paco says an’ aw that Uli his completed his rehab at the farm an’ is noo workin at the Maag print shop insteid ae me. His faither’s lookin oot fur him.

Guid tae hear. Let’s hope fur the best. Uli his a guid faither an’ that’s naw tae be sneezed at. He’s got Marta an’ aw. She dis whit she kin. Credit where credit’s due.

An’ you, Goalie?

Ahv nae faither an’ nae woman in ma life.

Naw, that’s naw whit ah mean. Ur ye still in touch wi Uli?

At this minute, aye — through you.

Naw in direct contact but?

Ye know summit, Paco, naw ivrythin in life his tae be direct. Ahv learnt a loat mair on detours than oan any direct route.

Yir dead complicated, Goalie, sometimes.

Disnae matter. There ur enough ithers who arenae. Take Uli, he’s hid a complicated life fur years, isnae complicated himself but.

Ah feel sorry fur Uli.

There’s nae reason tae, Paco.

Wee Stofer writes me a postcard ivry noo an’ then fae Spain. He’s normally there noo an’ goes fishin ivry day. He cannae write, naw really. It’s a sign ae life at least but. Mibbe if ah ivver hiv some money, ah’ll take a trip doon tae see him. Ah know the way, eftir aw. Ah kid still be fuckin ragin at wee Stofer, ahm arenae but. There’s nowt tae be gained by bein bitter. An’ if ye examine things closely, wee Stofer isnae the worst ae them. He’s a gangster, aye, who isnae? Of aw the gangsters ah know, anyhoo, he’s by far naw the worst.

An’ you, Quiper, whit ur you daein?

Me, ahm here an’ hivin a drink wi you. Feel free tae pour me mair, by the way.