Dirt Road

by James Kelman

  *

  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.

  Life was different to what ye thought. Dad would just be whatever, worried, he worried. He was just coping same as Murdo. The two of them.

  More time passed. Murdo could not stay downstairs. He went upstairs to the bathroom.

  Dad was alone in the kitchen. He had started on the clearing up, and was glad to see Murdo. He didnt say anything but Murdo knew he was. Murdo said: I was doing the clearing up Dad. I told Aunt Maureen I would and eh I mean it’s not really you to do it.

  Okay.

  Murdo moved past him to the draining board to make a start. Dad had already stacked the dinner plates in the sink and filled it with hot water. I’m not using the dishwasher, he said.

  Me too.

  Ye have to wash stuff twice if ye do.

  I know, said Murdo.

  Okay. Okay… Dad left the kitchen, maybe going to his room or else to get ready. Maybe him and Uncle John were going to the pub. Murdo would be glad. Being in a pub would be interesting.

  Better being outside seeing stuff, just looking, walking about.

  Murdo had his hands in the soapy water. There was a wee back window directly above the sink. A tree blocked most of the view but it was still great seeing out. He didnt mind cockroaches anyway if that was the swishing sound. Insects were everywhere. Spiders’ webs and all sorts. Who cares. Murdo didnt. Never ever. People thought thick woods and dark forests were scary. They didnt like going into them. Murdo did. Murdo went into them. Even as a boy, ye might say forcing himself, he forced himself. That was Eilidh, after she died. Murdo did funny wee things. He went into the woods and sat next to bushes and trees; creepy crawlies down in the dirt, damp earth, muddiness. The sun never reaches these places. No grass but roots and remains.

  Dad’s bedroom door was shut. Murdo chapped it. Dad opened it. Murdo said, Dad, I’m sorry.

  Och away. Dont worry.

  Dad

  No. Ye’re right; what do I know? Opera. I dont know a damn thing.

  Dad it’s my fault.

  No it’s not.

  It is.

  No it’s not. Dont worry. Dad came out from the bedroom and closed over the door. They returned to the dining room. Murdo entered behind Dad and Uncle John and Aunt Maureen were peering across at them.

  THREE

  The Gathering was a two-hour drive away, more than a hundred miles distant. They left the main highway and were onto a smaller road that ha
d a number instead of a name and went along at the foot of a mountain. Aunt Maureen thought it was known by the name of a ranch. From there it was onto a rocky road that was more like a wide trail. The cars were parked for free in regimented rows down one side of a big field. Attendants were there to guide the drivers. Once parked ye crossed and walked a tree-lined track and in through a wide gate where they took entrance fee money.

  Ye werent allowed to bring in food or drink of yer own, and no guns either. Uncle John had advised them earlier: Dont take yer six-shooter. Posters were pinned onto the trees; some serious, some for fun:

  ALL CONTESTANTS PAY ADMISSION

  IF RAIN WEAR A HAT

  NO REFUNDS ON BOUNCY CASTLE CHARGES

  ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES DESIGNATED AREAS

  BEWARE FUND RAISERS

  SAVE A SMOKER – DONATE A LUNG

  KIDS UNDER (10) 2 GO FREE

  In the evening a dance was scheduled for the Marquee Tent which they called The Hielan Fling. The entrance payment entitled ye to attend that plus the afternoon music event. Dad wanted to pay but Uncle John wouldnt let him. The people at the entrance passed out information flyers. Murdo took a few and put them in his pocket. A large poster advertised The Wee Bairn Games (0–5). Another advertised a Hunt the Sporran Competition. Some of the Kids’ Competitions finished before they arrived. It had been going since 10 a.m. and was now about 12.30. A Dance Competition for Girls was split into age groups. Jig Dancing I: (3–5), Jig Dancing II (6–11), Jig Dancing III (12–17), Jig Dancing IV (18+). Uncle John made a joke to Aunt Maureen about entering the last group. Quite a few girls wore Highland dance outfits. Adults too, wearing fancy Scottish clothes, tartan and kilts. One woman in from the entrance gate knew Aunt Maureen and was delighted to see her. Aunt Maureen introduced Murdo and Dad as her nephews from Scotland. Murdo liked her doing that. They chatted together and they walked on slowly, waiting for her to catch up. No sooner did she catch up than she saw another woman and went to meet her.

  Sally Rose, said Uncle John. She’s an old friend of yer Auntie. That’s the last we’ll see of her. Look for Josie too, because she’ll be roundabout. Then who else? Quite a few, I dont know, church people. Uncle John chuckled and winked at Murdo. She’s in her element son. Just watch it with the religious aspect. Nay wisecracks!

  …

  Dad glanced across.

  I’m only saying to watch it son. Uncle John winked. Whatever ye said to the women, just be careful.

  Dad smiled. What did ye say? Eh? Murdo… ?

  I dont know Dad, I dont know.

  They had stopped walking and moved to the side of the track to let people pass along. Was it about religion?

  I dont know.

  Och it’s nothing, said Uncle John, me and my big mouth.

  Murdo looked at him. He couldnt remember a single thing at all about whatever he was supposed to have said except if it was personal stuff about the family, talking to Aunt Maureen maybe. But if he had said something it wouldnt have been a joke, not like a joke. Never. If Uncle John thought that… Wisecracks? What did it even mean? Jokey comments? He would never have made jokey comments. Never. Horrible even to think. Aunt Maureen and her friends. Never ever.

  After a moment Uncle John said: Maybe I’ve got the wrong end of the stick. It was when ye were talking with the women son, the pot-luck night; did ye no say something? Emma-Louise and them were talking about it later. Am I wrong son? asked Uncle John.

  …

  What was it ye said? asked Dad.

  Kids running along the track toward them, past them, making for the main area. People everywhere, everywhere. Dad tapped him on the arm. They stepped sideways to allow the kids past, running past.

  Murdo kept his head lowered. Dad was waiting. Murdo didnt know. He didnt care either. Dad whatever. Dad whatever all the time. Murdo’s stomach was that weird way again. Twisted. That was how it felt. Uncle John said something. Murdo didnt hear. Dad said something back. Murdo didnt hear that either. Dad saying: We’ll walk.

  Uncle John held up his right hand. Murdo son, I’ve got the wrong end of the stick.

  Murdo shook his head. I dont know Uncle John I might have said something like eh I dont know, I might have said something when I was in talking with Aunt Maureen and them or else if they picked me up wrong. But I would never have said any jokey thing like wisecracks. Not to Aunt Maureen. Definitely. Never.

  Uncle John said to Dad: It’s me Tommy. I’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I’m just a dumpling. Murdo son I’m just a dumpling.

  It’s okay.

  Do people still call ye that in Glasgow! They said it when I was a boy. Ya bloody dumpling! That was what they called ye! Worse!

  Murdo smiled.

  Dad was just watching. But it was Murdo’s fault for over-reacting. Uncle John was feeling bad and it was for nothing. Quite soon after he saw men he knew, men in kilts. Aw look, he said, old Charlie, I’m goni say hullo, and off he went.

  The people going along the track; fat and thin, young and old; the usual. Dad and Murdo continued walking. The temperature into the high seventies. Dad had his hands in his pockets and was just looking about, relaxed. Murdo said, Dad.

  Yeah?

  What Uncle John said there about wisecracks. I dont know what he was meaning because I didnt say anything like that. Nothing like that. I would never ever have done it. Jeesoh Dad Aunt Maureen, she’s great. I would never ever say anything to upset her and like her friends, never.

  Yeah I know. What it is Murdo, just keep yer own thoughts. Ye might have an opinion about religion and ye’re entitled to it. But be wary. There’s things here ye dont want to talk about; politics and that, the racist stuff. People dont think the same. It’s like back home Rangers and Celtic, Protestants and Catholics, ye’re aye the opposite. Whoever it is ye’re the opposite. If it’s all Catholics you’re the only Protestant, all blacks you’re the only white. The ones ye happen to be with they’re all one thing but you’re the other. So ye watch what ye say. The best thing is say nothing.

  Murdo nodded.

  Ye okay?

  Yeah.

  Ye went awful white there. Green. I thought ye were going to faint son and I havenay seen ye do that for a while. Dad smiled. I used to do it myself.

  Yeah.

  Dad chuckled and went into his pocket, took out a twenty-dollar bill and pressed it into Murdo’s hand. I meant to give ye it earlier.

  Thanks Dad.

  See how it goes. If ye need more come and ask. Dad pointed along to the various stalls and tents down the side of the field. Have a wander, he said.

  Will we meet someplace? Murdo asked.

  Och we’re here all day, we’ll bump into one another.

  Yeah.

  There’s the music on too then the dance tonight. So ye’ll no be disappearing. Dad clapped him on the shoulder then went one way. Murdo went the other, away from the main stalls and towards the far side of the area, to the edge of the field on the other side of the tents, way away from everything.

  It was very warm now and he felt more like lying in the sun than trying stuff at the stalls. The scenery too; rock formations and mountains, it was so so good seeing the mountains. Ye got rivers here but not the same lochs like back home. Probably it was true what they said about Scotland: if it wasnt for the rotten weather it would be the best place in the world. Although Alabama too, once ye got to know it. Aunt Maureen said it was a beautiful state. Except where was the sea? Ye were hemmed in without it. They didnt have any except that wee bit of coast at the Gulf of Mexico.

  He found a shady place. A sort of red dirt but the grass was okay. He lay down, using his jacket as a pillow. Jet streams far far in the sky. Three, four, maybe five trails. Where were they going? They already were here. Back home ye saw a plane high in the sky and it was headed for Canada. Low in the sky was England. He browsed through the leaflets he had lifted at the entrance. Global Hunger and people in prison all over the world. Good people, Christian people, suffering h
ard knocks, miseries and tragedy. Open your Eyes, and Open your Mind. Most was religious stuff but quite interesting. One gave information on the history of the “Henry Craig Gathering”. Henry Craig had donated the use of this place annually. He was long dead but people kept the tradition and traveled from all over.

  Although based on the Highland Gathering it was not trying to be a real one. It took from the ceilidh and was an ancient ideal going back into the mists of time. Horsemen rode round the land with the fiery cross held aloft, calling the clansfolk to order. They had the clan obligation to entertain their rulers, kings and chiefs. They sang songs, told stories, danced and took part in athletic games. It was like a tax. People had no money in those days so the kings and chiefs took a percentage of their fish and farm produce, and their whiskey too which was known as uisge beatha, “water of life”. Their descendants still brewed it to this day only nowadays they called it “moonshine”.

  The thud of a football.

  Down the field boys were playing football and two girls with them. A kickabout would have been great, even in the sun. He shoved the leaflets back in his pocket, got up and wandered among the stalls and tents. Seeing the price of stuff. Dad had given him the $20 but did that include food? He was starving. One place sold beer but one bottle alone was $7. Other stalls sold food. People sat outside drinking, eating and chatting. At a place farther along Uncle John was sitting with two older men. He was smoking a cigarette! Uncle John! Murdo hadnt seen him smoke before.

  He hung back, unseen, then went sideways between stalls.