Long Time, No See

by Dermot Healy

  It takes a worried man, said Mister Townsend, to sing a worried song, as he lowered a shot of poteen.

  We all clapped. The room grew dark suddenly and Joejoe lit the oil lamp. The dog made circles. The two lads began to clear all the delft and glasses away and starting washing in the scullery. Dido sat with his hands cradled on his stomach, nodding. Anna stood by the window looking out. Angela crossed herself, and lifted her bag, took out a needle and began to sew. I took a walk to the gate. Miss Daisy Currid, who had run third in the Dublin Marathon, went by jogging in the bright yellows of a high-visibility jacket. Then they all came out of the house behind me led by Joejoe and we stood in a group at the gate. The ear of the moon opened in a cliff on the mountain. No one spoke, as Anna said goodbye and went off running back up the road to home.

  We go now, maybe, said Barbara.

  Goodbye, said Dido.

  We’ll all go, said Townsend and leave you be.

  The hippies got into his car to take a lift to the pub. Dido’s Merc took off chased by the dog. Myself and Joejoe walked round the back of the house.

  He pointed.

  What is that, he asked.

  A tent.

  Oh.

  And you never played a tune.

  Ah Mrs Puff, he said and he shook his head. She has a lot to answer for. I’ll go in.

  He squeezed an orange into his last glass of Malibu and closed his eyes, opened them suddenly and saw me and nodded. I built up the fire and stoked it quietly, over and over.

  Read, he said.

  I lifted down the Psalms. It fell open at the Epistle of Paul, the apostle, to the Galatians 1:21–23.

  Afterwards I went into the regions of Syria and Cilicia. And was unknown by face to the churches of Judea which were in Christ: But they had heard only, That he which persecuted us in past times now preacheth the faith which once he destroyed.

  And they glorified God in me.

  That’s it Psyche, he said.

  There was a silence.

  Help! I sang.

  Are you all right son?

  Yes.

  That’s it then. It was a busy night. I think I’ll hit the sack.

  But first he lit the candles and placed them on the window sills and then with Timmy at his heels he headed into his bedroom.

  I sat on my own till three o’clock. Every time I got up to go I found another excuse to sit on. I took the drawing book and the pencils over beneath the lamp. I started drawing the face of a man facing away from me in an old copybook. I drew his streaming hair. I tried to imagine what his eyes would see. I felt the tiredness. I drew a fish. I drew a bird. Timmy made a low moan in the other room. I heard a radio away off in the distance, so I doused the lamp, and saw a face –Angela’s face – in the light of the candle stop at the window in front of me, but she did not look in, she just seemed to caress and pat the sill for a few seconds before heading onto the next window sill. Then onto the one after that. She was going round the house. After a while she disappeared, so I let myself out and found she had filled the outside window sills with sea shells. I went up the beach under the stars, and let myself quietly in the front door of home, and yet somehow the sound of it closing frightened me. It had a squeak that upset my head, so last thing that night I oiled the hinges.

  Then out of the dark I saw the donkey looking at me over the gate. I looked into his eyes. Good night Chief, I whispered.

  Chapter Thirty

  Visiting the Bird

  Next morning I was working on the wall from eight till eleven, then I took a break, sat down in the kitchen, and the house phone rang.

  Who is that? came a distant voice.

  Mister Psyche, I said.

  Oh dear, this is Miss Jilly, I –

  Just then the Search-and-Rescue helicopter flew over the house and her words disappeared in the boom.

  – and I so desperately wanted to, you see, her voice was saying as the sound lessened and went inland, do you hear me? Then there was a knock at the front door. Excuse me, I said, there is someone outside, I will be back in a second. The hippies’ van covered in painted petals had pulled in at our door, and when I stepped out Tommy gave me the thumb and said: – I think you are going on an expedition. I saw my granduncle sitting in the front passenger seat as Tommy climbed back behind the wheel.

  The window came down.

  Get in, shouted Joejoe.

  Just a minute, I’m on the phone.

  I went back in. Are you still there? I asked.

  I am.

  I’m sorry, I have to go.

  Go on then. You are a busy gentleman. Anyway I am glad I spoke to him. Bye.

  Bye.

  I got my jacket, stepped out and climbed in beside Joejoe.

  Who were you talking to?

  Miss Jilly.

  What did she want?

  I don’t know.

  Oh, I see.

  Dad came out wearing only his trousers and looked in at us.

  Is there a peace demonstration?

  We are off to see the Bird.

  Good men, send him my best, said Da.

  The van turned and took off.

  Good morning Mister Psyche, came a voice from behind. In the back were Aaron and Angela sitting on a sofa bed. We passed by the pier with the radio turned to Country and Western and then Bob Dylan sang a number as we sped down Ballintra, and just before the cross we came upon the Merc parked under the oak. In the mirror I saw Angela breathe out smoke with her tongue. Tommy slowed down, enough for us to see Dido and Barbara fast asleep in the back seat under a bright yellow rug.

  Will I go on, asked Tommy as he drove quietly by.

  Let them sleep, said Joejoe and next thing we saw Timmy crouched in the hedge watching the Merc. Now do you see the fecker, said Joejoe, and he pointed forward, and soon we’d gone by the shop and were passing Dromod House, then hit the main road with a broad swerve, and after few miles I said Left, and we were pulling in outside the hospital.

  They drove straight up to the front door.

  You can’t park here, I said, or you’ll get a ticket.

  The plan is to leave you here, you see, we’re going on, said Tommy.

  Oh.

  That is Joejoe’s plan.

  I see.

  Oh we can wait if you want, said Angela, it’s no problem and then bring you home, yeh?

  We will make our own way back, said Joejoe, never you mind.

  They all got out and shook hands and embraced us.

  I hope your friend will be all right, sir, said Aaron as he and Angela got into the front with Tommy. Thank you for everything Joejoe, said Tommy, it was a great night, and they drove off.

  On the steps of the hospital we watched them till they were gone out of sight.

  I would never have come to the hospital to see the Bird only for that crew talked me into it. I thought that in time it would be the Bird coming to see me in here. That was how I saw it. Yes. Lead on MacDuff, said Joejoe. Wash your hands, wash your hands, said a voice over the speaker as we entered the doors.

  The Blackbird was sitting in an armchair by his bed with his cap on his head. The wrist of his left arm was still in a sling. He was gazing straight ahead of him with a quiet look. On the tray on the small bed was half a bowl of ice-cream. On the table the dudeen sat. In the next bed along the same man was doing his crossword puzzle. The male nurse was singing to a man he was feeding in another bed. The Bird saw these two people approaching him at the last minute.

  Long time, no see, Joejoe, he said and he offered his right hand, and they shook hands. Mister Psyche, he nodded.

  Sir, I said shaking his hand and for the first time in my life I did not get the faraway smell of mint and perfume from him, instead he smelt of sweat and soap.

  How are you? asked Joejoe.

  I wiped away a tear before you came in, said the Bird, it was my mother’s.

  Ah Christ.

  You see, I go into the past because they have denied me the present.r />
  There was a silence, and then his voice kicked in again.

  I’m still living in that crevice. I don’t have a story, Joejoe, because there is no story.

  I understand you.

  I can see everything out of the corner of my eye. I have a swollen gland in my brain. It’s like a stitch of pain in the tooth. Now tell me.

  Go ahead.

  What is constipation?

  Tell us.

  A handbag full of waste.

  Steady.

  You see I’m going to get better, but they won’t let me go home. And a whole lot of shite is piling up.

  I see.

  Aye.

  The male nurse in a stiff white coat came over and leaned down and sang a couple of notes into the Bird’s ear as he wiped his face with a wet cloth.

  How are you? asked Joejoe.

  Grand, the nurse said.

  Where are you from?

  The Philippines.

  Is there many living there?

  Eighty-eight million.

  Jesus Christ.

  On 7,000 islands.

  I’m inclined to think that as regards sex, said the Bird, we should go back to the early days.

  When was that? the nurse asked.

  Back to when you made love to yourself.

  A tricky affair, said Joejoe.

  Indeed, it would be complicated now. But not back then 365 million years ago. They were more complex times. I don’t know how it was done. Then we separated into two.

  Like Shiite and Sunni, said the nurse, and Spanish and Chinese.

  And man and woman. The last time I saw her she was wearing a cloak, and I was wearing a jumper, said the Bird sadly.

  – You were –

  – And we took a waltz –

  – You did –

  – Then she was not there –

  – Lonesome is as lonesome does, said Joejoe –

  – She walked out through the door –

  – She did –

  – And never came back.

  No.

  I’d rather live without the other sex.

  But you do.

  Not willingly. But you see the truth is I was always afraid of beautiful women. I could work as either a nun or priest when I get out, if I get out.

  Touch wood, said Joejoe and he tapped the bedside locker.

  The dark-haired broad-shouldered nurse sang to the Bird: Dahil sa yo, dahil sa yo.

  What language is that? I asked.

  Tagalog, he said, and then he sang in English: Because of you I want to live until the end of time. He stepped back. Now you look well, Aye. Grand.

  You might know my mother, Mrs Feeney? I asked.

  She is in the hospital?

  Yes.

  What ward?

  Emergency.

  Oh dear. What is wrong with her?

  She is a nurse.

  Ohohoh, very good, and he tittered, then roared laughing. Like us all, he said. Mrs Feeney? and he thought to himself. Is it Geraldine?

  Aye.

  A grand lady. Goodbye.

  Goodbye, we said and he stepped off down the ward to another patient.

  A gentle soul, said the Bird.

  He’s a nice lad, said Joejoe, friendly. A nice lad.

  There was another silence.

  Look, I said, I’ll leave you two men to talk.

  Just then a female nurse appeared and said: Are you all right Mister Feeney.

  Where did you get the new shoes, the Bird asked pointing, did someone die?

  Christ, she said, do you hear him?

  See ya, I said.

  I went from Medical North to Medical South, then down the stairs and by the Eye, How is things? a nurse in a blue top and black trousers going one way asked a nurse going the other. The same as usual, she replied; I went on past the Heart, all the blue-handled doors, and down the stairs into Emergency where a gypsy cornered me and asked was I O’Neill? You have the wrong man, I said; Going up, Doors closing, and I took the lift to fifth where a baby was crying like an old man giving a lecture on the inner self, Sorry pet, said a voice, you’ve got to stop; nurses in white uniforms edged with black and nurses in light blue swept by; and next door I heard the single voice of an old lady reciting a prayer I had never heard before; along the corridor an old woman in new black boots with long sharp heels came along swinging a bag followed by more women carrying flowers and their heels echoed on the tiles like hammers driving home nails; Going down, Doors closing, Mind the doors; I headed back to Emergency again and as I walked past the seats facing the office the gypsy’s eyes followed me with an I-know-you look as he sat there among straight-haired girls with false brown faces who had their hands up their sleeves; I asked a man pushing a trolley where Nurse Feeney was and he said Who is asking? Her son, I said. That’s sound, well now, she’s out there, he smiled, smoking, and he pointed through the glass doors out to where the ambulances pulled in; Well wonders, she said; Joejoe is above talking to the Bird, I said. No I don’t believe it, and she sucked the last of the drag, I thought he would never step into the hospital; this place can be very depressing, she said, very. What time will you be going home? I asked. At five, she said. At five we’ll take a lift with you, I said. OK, now I have to go back in; two lads wearing tall green St Paddy day hats were sitting stoned in Emergency and Ma called out Bertie Wilson! and one of them stood, and said See you head, and his friend said It’s mental. Follow me, she said to Bertie, and bade me goodbye; a baby girl with a bandaged arm shouted Mammy I want a colour! I want a colour, I want to take off my duckie; No, said the mother; Why? I never get to take of my duckie! she screamed; Going up, Doors closing; This is the Sixth Floor; I looked into Medical North and the two men were nearly face to face, and I saw the Baby Power go quick from one mouth to the other; I went back down the corridor where Indian doctors strolled and looked out the window onto the town and I saw a street full of newly built, empty buildings, empty bedrooms, empty offices; And the nicest looking building of them all is the asylum, said the man beside me; down in the hospital yard were piles of round see-through plastic bags of paper cuttings; a woman passed in a black suit with silver glinting on her buttons, zips and lapels; away in the distance two lads were kicking football on a small pitch overlooked by a weeping willow and a church; I looked in again and the two men were talking; I went on down past the Delivery Suite, and washed my hands, and sat in the empty church where a woman in a wheelchair sat before the small altar while her man stood watch behind her; I mind a lot from a child’s eyes, she said; outside X-ray it said Switch off your mobile; Going up, Mind the doors; in the lift a woman was painting her lips; another woman was saying Brilliant, absolutely into a mobile, then she added: The problem is that the undertaker is on his holidays in Lithuania, Yes, I know, but there was a fair gathering, nevertheless; chat you later; doctors slouched along in white coats with spectacles and temperature gauges swinging like thuribles from their necks; Why not, shouted a boy; and when I looked in again the men had gone silent.

  They were looking away from each other, thinking.

  As I stepped in I found the ward was filled with the breathing of a man in a far bed sucking air through a plastic tube as he slept.

  I sat on the edge of the Bird’s bed.

  Said he, you’ve been a long time away.

  How is the man, I asked.

  And how is my dog? Well?

  He’s fine.

  Is he?

  Yes.

  Mister Psyche you don’t sound so sure of yourself.

  He’s in your house. We feed him through the letterbox. We can’t get into the house, and he can’t get out.

  Son, you can let the dog out.

  We can’t.

  You can.

  He might attack someone.

  What did the dog do to you?

  Nothing.

  Who told you he might attack someone? he said, and his voice was rising.

  You did. You said the dog would ate us.
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  He was only protecting the house!

  Calm down, Bird, said Joejoe.

  I’m worried about the madra.

  I know you are worried about your dog Tom.

  Cnoic! he shouted.

  Cool down!

  Now Psyche, this is what you do – next time you come to that door – by yourself mind – put the key in the door, turn it twice, then open the door a fraction and say Cnoic, Cnoic!

  We don’t have a key.

  He reached over with his right hand and lifted his left hand and shook the lifeless fingers, then placed the hand back down in the sling, and then he reached down inside the bedside locker, lifted an envelope and handed it to me.

  Inside it was a key.

  Now you do, he said. So?

  What?

  Say it.

  Cnoic! Cnoic!

  Cuckoo! said the Bird.

  The man in the next bed looked up from his crossword, then the answer came to him, and he wrote it in. Suddenly silence filled the ward when across the way the man’s breathing stopped. I thought – God. Then he woke and looked around him. The female nurse took his temperature, and came across to us.

  That man there – she said pointing at the Bird – had a visitor yesterday, did he tell you?

  No, he did not.

  He did. A very important visitor.

  Who?

  A certain lady, and she pointed at the card on his side table, lifted it up and opened it and handed it to Joejoe who looked at it and shuffled his feet.

  Go on, she said, do you see who it is?

  He shook his head.

  I see an ass, he said.

  But there’s her name, she said pointing.

  I can’t read it.

  Look, she said tipping the card with her forefinger.

  He handed the card to me.

  Oh forgive me, she said. You have not your glasses.

  When a word is written down, sister, it loses its sound.

  The card was stitched with thread and hand painted. On the inside there was a donkey with a hoof raised. On the opposite page was a handwritten note. I read out what it said: Get Better, Miss Jilly Adams.

  You are some boy, said Joejoe.

  Mm-mm-mm, mumbled the Bird.

  You want to see them, said the nurse.