by Martha Long
To be honest, the only reason I’m still talking to you, God, is because I have no one else to talk to. I’m beginning to think a heart-to-heart talk with you only lands me in trouble. If only I had gone on about me business.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah! Of course things are going to get better. ‘Yeah, they will,’ I whispered, staring at nothing. I could feel a terrible tiredness come over me again. ‘Course it does,’ I mumbled to meself, moving on again. ‘So now, take it easy. Yeah. Take it easy,’ I whispered, wanting to cheer meself up.
Suddenly, without warning, I felt a hot flush flying up me chest and I burst out crying. ‘Ma, I wish I had a mammy. I’m still not really grown up at all. I still want a mammy!’ I croaked, hearing the same voice I heard when I was only little and life got too much for me. I walked on, feeling the same as I did then, somehow like a little child again, lost and lonely.
I cried to meself as I made me way through the heavy snowflakes, smothering me from head to toe, making me feel cold and wet and miserable. Only God knows what I am going to do now or what will happen to me.
Please, God, stay with me. Don’t desert me now. That’s all I ask. I don’t really mean to be giving out to you. But I’m so worn out. I walked on, trying to hurry, watching me steps on the icy path, seeing it getting covered in thick snow. I feel like I’m rushing but I’m really going very slow. Ah, Mammy, I can hardly see with this snow. Gawd, it’s getting very heavy. It really is beginning to come down now.
I stared ahead, trying to judge the distance to the bus depot. I can hardly see where I’m going. Everything looks blacker, except for this thick snow swirling down around me. ‘Jaysus! Let me get in outa this!’ I snorted. This is madness. It feels like even the weather is out to get me.
I can’t believe I got meself into this mess. And worst of all, I haven’t even managed to get meself outa it! How in the name of Jaysus could anyone be so stupid? How could I have let this happen? To me of all people? I should have known better. Stupid cow! Martha, you are one bleedin thick eejit, make no mistake about that. No, I definitely haven’t been thinking this last while. Now look what you have done to yourself, wandering the streets like a lost fucking soul. Ah, fuck!
I felt a sudden hot rage flying through me. It shot up through me belly and surged through me chest, exploding itself inta me head, making me see all colours. I looked around me in an awful fury, seeing the heavy thick snow swirling and descending on me in buckets. Me head swung back, seeing I was the only one out in this godforsaken weather. Then, without warning, I threw back me head and took in an almighty lungful of air. I could hear it hissing up through me chest, rising itself right up to me neck. Then, not even thinking, I let go of me suitcase, letting it drop to the ground, and slowly threw back me shoulders and let rip, giving an unmerciful roar outa me.
‘FUCK OFFFFFF! FUCK THE WEATHER! FUCK THE NUNS, FUCK THEIR AUL DOMESTIC JOBS AND FUCK EVERYBODY! AND AUL ONES! ESPECIALLY THEM! AND AUL FELLAS! OH, YEAH, ESPECIALLY THEM AS WELL! I DON’T NEED ANY OF YOUSE! I’LL MAKE ME OWN WAY! GO TO HELL, THE LOT OF YEHS. AS FOR YOU, GOD, I DON’T NEED YOUR IDEA OF LOOKING AFTER ME. I’M FINISHED WITH YOU! IT’S OVER! I’M NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU EVER AGAIN! SO THERE! STICK THE WORLD RIGHT UP YOUR ARSE!’ Then I remembered one more. ‘I HOPE A BOMB DROPS ON THE HEADS OF ALL YOU FUCKIN ITALIANS!’
I stood dead still, watching and waiting. Nothing happened. I’m not struck stone dead. ‘Right, so that’s telling youse,’ I muttered, wondering if I left anyone out. Then I let meself go and listened, waiting just in case to see if anything really would happen. No, I’m still here. Nobody is rushing to get me locked up, either. I let out a huge sigh, feeling meself go limp.
‘Right, now, that’s telling them all! Yeah, I feel better after that,’ I muttered to meself, feeling me face starting to smile. I felt meself loosen all over and me shoulders drop. Then me head started to clear. I paused, holding me breath to take in all around me, hearing only the silence. Me eyes wandered over to the line of little cottages all snuggled together with the lights on and the curtains drawn, looking lovely and cosy with the roofs covered in snow. I stared up and down the deserted street, looking through a curtain of swirling snow. I could see flashes of dark blue and grey, dancing in and out with the warm yellow from the street lamps. Everywhere I looked was covered in snow. Then me eyes peeled up ahead to the bus garage, waiting, with the buses gone to bed for the night.
Everything is so quiet, so still, I thought, whispering to meself. It feels like the world is holding its breath, like I’m the only one out here wandering around. Then I started to laugh, seeing the state of meself. Here I am, standing out in the middle of a snowstorm in the pitch black night, soaking to the bloody skin, complete with me suitcase standing right beside me on the ground. Then, to cap it all, I’m roaring me head off like a mad woman. Yes, me little dew drop, this is where you have landed yourself up! No one could ever accuse you of not being stupid! Oh, no! And mad! I must take after me aunt Nelly. She was always throwing herself inta mad fits, too. Oh, Jaysus! You sure don’t do anything by halves. That’s for sure, Martha.
Well, that feels better, I sniffed to meself. I had done something mad, yeah, shouting at the weather like it was meant specially for me and roaring into thin air. That should get me locked up fast enough. Right, but I’m OK now. That did me good. It woke me up.
I need to think to get meself outa this mess. OK, start thinking for a change, because the older yer getting, the more stupid yer becoming. I walked on, coming into the yard of the bus station, and stopped at the entrance. I looked around to make sure no one was hanging around. Grand! It’s all deserted. Anyway, who would be thick enough to show their nose out on a night like tonight? You would, Martha. I felt a laugh coming up me at that thought. Yeah, I’m not fit to be let loose. I had one last look around before making a move for the buses. Good, there’s nobody around, not a sinner. Right, me luck’s in.
I could see the buses all standing beside each other, parked for the night. They were all covered in snow. Me heart lifted at the sight of them. OK, get moving. I hurried over before someone came out of the depot and ran me out. Me heart was clapping away, trying to hurry before I got caught. I passed by the first one, and made me way heading to the very back, where no one would catch me when they started to move out the buses in the morning or the cleaners started arriving. I could be up and gone as soon as I heard them making noise. Jaysus! They make enough noise to wake the dead, them cleaners, with their roaring and shouting at each other.
‘Come on, Mary!’
‘We’ll be in and out before we know where we are!’
‘How did the daughter’s weddin go?’
Jaysus! I don’t know where they get the energy that hour of the morning.
Here we are. I stepped up onta the platform, leaving the snow behind me. This bus will do me lovely. It’s grand and protected, with the other buses sheltering it. I staggered down the aisle and landed me suitcase on the floor, happy to get rid of the weight of it. Oh, this is grand. I could feel the comfort of having a roof over me head and all the warm, soft-looking seats making it nice and cosy.
I took off me wet coat, leaving it to dry on the seat in front of me, and opened me suitcase. Right, where’s me towel? I dried me hair and took off me wet shoes and tights and dried me feet. It’s a pity I haven’t got a blanket. I could always wander up to one of the hospitals and help meself to one! No, no robbing. Anyway, that’s all I would need to turn meself into a tramp, carrying me bleedin bed around with me! Stop your messing, Martha. This is the last time you end up sleeping like this.
I took out me good trench coat and lay down on the long seat, pulling it over me. Oh, my God, this is heaven. I sat up again and threw off me wet frock and pulled me feet under the coat then collapsed back down. Still not satisfied, I jumped up to grab the towel and put it under me head. I closed me eyes, feeling the exhaustion sink down along me body and curl out through me toes. Me eyes felt very heavy and I could feel mes
elf sinking.
‘I better have a plan for tomorrow,’ I muttered, trying to work something out before I went out cold. First thing is, I have to get something to eat. That’s what has been the problem for the last two days. I haven’t eaten or had anything to drink. No wonder I’m banjacked and weak from the hunger, then wandering aimlessly around all day, ending up going nowhere. Right, tomorrow morning first thing I’m taking meself into Bewley’s café and sitting meself down where they serve you, in the toffs’ part. I’ll eat meself stupid by ordering everything they have on the menu. Then when she comes with the bill, I’ll say . . . eh, what will I say? I’ll say, ‘Missus, I forgot to bring me money. I’m very sorry about that but I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do all the washing up for the day, if you throw in dinner as well!’
Will that work? Of course, I could always nip out the door when they’re not looking! No, that’s taking me straight back where I started in the first place. I’m definitely not robbing. It’s too easy to go down that road, but there’s no way back. No, I’ll just face them head-on! I have no money and that’s that! Once I get a good sleep tonight, and I have a belly full of grub in me, I should start using me head again. I’ll be able to start thinking more clearly.
Sister Eleanor used to say I was very cunning, like a fox. But she wasn’t throwing bouquets at me. No, that was usually when I managed to pull the wool over her eyes. Then when she found out, that’s when she went mad. So, I better start being foxy again, using me noodle. I’m only hurting meself with all this truth I’m telling. For a start, I’m going to raise me age, say I’m eighteen. Hmm, I don’t think that’s any good. Some people accuse me of only looking twelve, because I’m a bit small for me age, I suppose.
Anyway, no more messing. This is serious business. I have to get meself off the streets! I need to find a job and that’s that. So that is exactly what I’m going to do. Of course there’s something for me out there! For the love a Jaysus, Martha, just go out and find it. Stop this dozy carry-on out of yeh. OK. Right!
I could feel the heat in me belly at the thought I was going to get somewhere. Yeah, lovely! I’m having a good sleep now and in the morning I’ll be up early, ripping and roaring to get going. I just needed to have a good talk with meself. I wasn’t getting anywhere because me heart and soul wasn’t in it. Now I’m ready to take on the world.
I took in a big sigh of contentment, letting meself drop off to sleep, knowing I can get anywhere I want in this life. Now that I have made me mind up that I’m definitely going to get a job, then I will get one. All I have to do now is go after it with a vengeance. Yeah, this world belongs to me, too!
Born in Dublin in the 1950s, MARTHA LONG is the author of seven Ma books, which recount her life from decade to decade. They have all been bestsellers in the UK and #1 bestsellers in Ireland. Her fiction debut Run, Lily, Run was released by Random House UK in 2014. Though beloved around the world as the stalwart child and then young woman of her books, Long now calls herself a middle-aged matron and adds, with evident pride, that she has successfully reared her three children and still lives in Dublin.
SEVEN STORIES PRESS is an independent book publisher based in New York City. We publish works of the imagination by such writers as Nelson Algren, Russell Banks, Octavia E. Butler, Ani DiFranco, Assia Djebar, Ariel Dorfman, Coco Fusco, Barry Gifford, Martha Long, Luis Negrón, Hwang Sok-yong, Lee Stringer, and Kurt Vonnegut, to name a few, together with political titles by voices of conscience, including Subhankar Banerjee, the Boston Women’s Health Collective, Noam Chomsky, Angela Y. Davis, Human Rights Watch, Derrick Jensen, Ralph Nader, Loretta Napoleoni, Gary Null, Greg Palast, Project Censored, Barbara Seaman, Alice Walker, Gary Webb, and Howard Zinn, among many others. Seven Stories Press believes publishers have a special responsibility to defend free speech and human rights, and to celebrate the gifts of the human imagination, wherever we can. In 2012 we launched Triangle Square books for young readers with strong social justice and narrative components, telling personal stories of courage and commitment. For additional information, visit www.sevenstories.com.