That Was a Shiver, and Other Stories

by James Kelman

  Mac saluted in reply, while on his way out the room.

  Ivan Johnson saw Gerry was watching him. How’s Emily these days anyway? he said.

  Emily’s fine. Gerry smiled. Hey Calum, this is one of the wildest men ye’ll ever hope to meet.

  Ivan Johnson shut his eyes.

  Ye are though. Gerry winked at me. He is Calum, one of the wildest greatest guys you’d ever hope to met. Eh Mac . . . ?

  Mac had come in with three cups and a jug of water balanced on a tray.

  Just saying about Ivan, one of the wildest greatest guys ye could meet.

  Mac nodded. I’ll go along with that.

  Shut up! shouted Ivan Johnson. Just fucking shut up!

  Mac made a face at me, set down the tray and lifted packets of crisps out a bag. He opened a bottle of wine and poured into three cups. He looked suddenly at me. Hey did ye want a glass of wine?

  Naw.

  Wise man. That’s how I didnay bring ye a cup!

  He didnay bring ye a cup because he forgot about ye, said Ivan Johnson.

  Mac smiled.

  That’s me now anyway, I said. I looked over to Gerry. So is that okay with the stuff I brought?

  Ivan Johnson turned to Gerry. How come ye still hang around with fools?

  I looked at Mac again but he didnay bother. Gerry was checking the print work I brought in the three bags. Ivan Johnson had left the room. I cant find the promo cards, said Gerry. He checked back through the packages: I dont see the promo cards? We need them the night for the gig we’re hitting.

  I didnay say anything because I didnt know anything.

  There’s no advice note so I cant double-check it against the stuff ye brought. Did ye not check it out before ye left the shop?

  Who me? I said.

  Yeah.

  Well naw. It isnay really I mean it isnay my job. I just eh, it’s no my job.

  Did you not pack it? said Mac.

  No. It’s Marie does the packing I just eh . . . I mean . . .

  Maybe ye left it on the bus? said Mac.

  What?

  Gerry sighed. He looked down at the packages and I thought he was going to check back through them again. Now Mac spoke. He said, Did ye take the stuff out on the bus?

  Take it out?

  Out the bags I mean.

  Out the bags?

  Mac shrugged. Well if ye took the stuff out ye could have left one, one of the packages. Ye could have left it on the seat. Mac glanced at Gerry who had his phone in his hand and was about to make a call. Gerry ignored Mac and spoke straight to me: Could ye not have looked inside to see what ye were bringing? Eh? Surely ye could have had a look?

  Well no because I didnt know what I was bringing, I just knew it was a rush job and ye needed it, I mean I dont do the packing or anything; it’s like the printing I do and typesetting kind of stuff.

  Gerry nodded, glancing down at his phone. He reached for a cup of wine and sipped some.

  Mac said to him, Can we phone Marie?

  She’ll be away home, I said.

  Ivan was standing watching from the doorway. What’s up girls? he said, is the revolution going to be late? Who’s driving me by the way?

  Me, said Mac.

  Well for fuck sake stop drinking.

  A glass of wine.

  A cup of wine. And a can of beer.

  Mac grinned.

  It’s not effin funny if the cops stop ye.

  One cup of wine and one can of beer?

  Yes, it is over the fucking limit.

  Ssh, called Gerry who was back in the window alcove and flicking through contact numbers.

  The trouble is I’ve put something down and I’ve lost it. Ivan muttered, Now it’s gone forever, the same as the rest of this world.

  Gerry wasnt listening. Ivan Johnson gazed at me but spoke to Mac. What’s up with poor wee Hector? he said. The burden of life hangs on his shoulders. Some talk of Alexander but the Hector fellow was aye the man for me, at least he used to be.

  Leave him, said Mac.

  I take it he forgot something?

  It’s nobody’s fault, said Mac.

  Everything’s somebody’s fault. I’m always overwhelmed by these demonstrations of efficiency.

  Ssh, said Gerry.

  Dont ssh me.

  Ivan shut the fuck up I’m trying to phone. Take the stuff down to the van and start loading.

  Oh mister orders.

  Gerry raised his hand to silence him and began talking into the phone.

  Mac grinned. Now Ivan Johnson looked at me and held his hand out. Are you keeping the cigarettes to yourself?

  I took them out and gave him one but didnt take one for myself.

  Mac said quietly to me, Is it worth phoning Stephen?

  He’ll be away home too. Him and Marie live together.

  Ivan Johnson chuckled.

  Well they’re married, I said.

  Ivan Johnson shook his head. Mac smiled. I knew my face was red again. I dont know why. I dont know what they found funny. I dont know what I said except just the basic. I didnt want to be here now, not any longer. Gerry was talking into the phone but looking away and keeping to himself what he was saying. I really did just want to get away and hoped he would finish the phone call and say what it was, whatever, I didnt know what would happen, it just was nothing to do with me. I just took what Marie gave me, I said to Mac.

  Maybe ye should have checked but.

  But I didnt know what to check because I didnt know what was supposed to be there.

  Maybe we can get it first thing in the morning? said Mac.

  Yeah, I said, but if it was supposed to be for tonight?

  Mac shrugged.

  I saw Gerry was listening now too and I called to him: Could we phone Stephen and maybe I could get a key and go to the shop and maybe get the promo cards, I mean if the package is there, if it’s lying waiting, Stephen would tell ye.

  Gerry said, D’ye think ye left it?

  What – naw I mean no left it I mean I didnay pack it, it was just eh, I just brought it. I just offered to bring it because ye needed it.

  Gerry gazed at me.

  I knew ye needed it. But if it wasnt there, I wouldnt have noticed because I didnt know what it was I mean the actual contents. I knew it was a rush job.

  Poor little Hector, said Ivan Johnson.

  Give it a rest, said Gerry.

  Well because as yoosyoooal you are blaming the message-boy. Imagine blaming the message-boy. Tut fucking tut. But hey, if the message-boy has a message to go, and he does not go that message, he does not fulfil the obligation. In some countries they shoot the messenger. Eh Hector, did ye know that? They do it to appease the leadership and to let them off the hook. If the leadership stays on the hook too long they start to wriggle. Wriggling leaders are the last thing we need in a revolution, d’ye not agree? Hector and Lysander, some of Hercules. Some talk of Alexander eh, some talk of his boyfriends.

  Gerry just smiled, shaking his head.

  Why dont we all get drunk? said Ivan Johnson.

  Aye, said Mac, forget yer flitting.

  I’ll just leave this place forever.

  Did Picasso not do that? I said.

  I beg your pardon? said Ivan Johnson. Did the pixie speak?

  Gerry smiled.

  So ye know these things? It’s true. He outgrew the house and outgrew the rooms and outgrew the cupboards then he outgrew the whole fucking kit and caboodle, the house. He just fucked off and left everything. Every damn thing. How wonderful. All your work. Every damn thing. Every damn damn fucking damn fucking damn. He stopped suddenly and shut his eyes.

  Hey you, said Gerry.

  Ivan Johnson shook his head. He still had the cigarette in his hand. He took out my lighter and lit the cigarette, returned the lighter to his pocket but almost as though he had forgotten who it belonged to, not deliberate like to steal it. He took a deep gulp of smoke and breathed in deep too, with his eyes shut.

  My advice
is go and get drunk, said Mac. Then ye go and start in a new place. Getting drunk is the answer to everything. D’ye know that Calum? if they ask my advice that’s the answer, that’s what I tell them, go and get fucking drunk and give us peace. That’s what I say to them. Or in your case go and play football. Mac grinned.

  Ivan Johnson glared at him. We’re talking survival, do you actually know what survival is? Do you actually know what survival is?

  Mac didnt answer. But Gerry had heard although he just stared out the window.

  Was that a reaction? said Ivan Johnson.

  It’s in yer head, said Gerry. Ye want me to laugh out loud?

  Well it would be something.

  Gerry glanced at his watch.

  I said, I’m sorry about the stuff Gerry. It’s just I didnay know what I was bringing so . . . I mean I’m working tomorrow morning and I can make sure like eh I mean I can get Stephen to let me away early or else maybe, I dont know, whatever, maybe he could give me his car.

  Isnt he sweet? said Ivan Johnson.

  Give it a rest, said Mac.

  No but he is.

  You just fuck off, I said.

  Ivan Johnson laughed. The worm turns.

  It’s no me that’s the worm, I said, I never done anything to you.

  You certainly did not.

  Give me my lighter, I said, it’s my lighter and ye’ve taken it.

  Instead of giving me it he took another deep draw on the cigarette.

  Give him his lighter, said Mac.

  Miss goody, said Ivan Johnson. He took the lighter out his pocket and looked at it, then put it back in his pocket. He gazed at me. I turned to leave. It was time for me to go now and I just wanted to go, just leave. Even the things I had said to Gerry, he wasnt listening, just staring out the window, not bothering about what I had said about tomorrow morning. It just seemed not to matter to him, it didnt make any difference. He was going to do it himself, whatever it was. Even like Mac, he wasnt listening to Mac either. That to me was something. Mac was good, and a good guy. Gerry didnt seem to listen to him either. I just wished he would say something because if he did I could have helped. It was twenty past seven. The football didnt matter now anyway. I hated this and wanted away. Mac opened a packet of crisps and offered me some. No thanks, I said.

  He admires the cut of yer jib, said Ivan Johnson.

  Mac grinned.

  If he doesnt I certainly do, said Ivan Johnson. Ye dont mind me admiring the cut of yer jib?

  I dont care what ye say. I really dont care. That’s me away now Gerry, I said.

  But you have a beautiful jib, said Ivan Johnson.

  Shut the fuck up! said Gerry.

  You shut the fuck up! said Ivan Johnson: You know nothing.

  I know I know nothing.

  Absolutely nothing. Not about sexuality. Not about nothing. You just know nothing about nothing about nothing.

  That’s a lot of nothings.

  Ivan stared at him. Gerry glanced at his wristwatch.

  I said, It doesnt bother me what he says. I dont care.

  Ivan Johnson laughed to Mac. He doesnt care Mac do ye hear that?

  Gerry folded his arms.

  Ivan Johnson said to him: Ye really are a bastard, d’ye know that?

  There’s a lot of us about.

  Mac said, Alright Calum?

  Yeah.

  Contretemps! Mac grinned.

  Is he for real! Contretemps! Ivan Johnson shook his head and took a last draw of the cigarette.

  Give it a rest, said Gerry.

  I went to leave but Ivan Johnson stood blocking the door. If only ye knew him better, he said, if only ye knew him better.

  Aw come on, said Mac, leave him alone.

  What is it? I said.

  What is it? Ivan Johnson looked at me a moment then grinned. To the side of him I saw Gerry shrug.

  Aw for christ sake, said Mac, that’s enough.

  What is it? I said and my face was red now, and so red, so red.

  Gerry swigged at his cup of wine. Ivan Johnson said to him: You fucker. He doesnt know what I’m talking about. Then Ivan Johnson looked at me again, and he frowned. He does, he said, he does.

  But what? I didnt know. I didnt know at all what it was. Ivan Johnson stepped closer in to me and grinned right into my face. I wanted to crash him with the head, right on the bridge of his nose. I really felt like that, just to bloody kill him. I thought I was going to faint and maybe looked like I was. Now he put his hand on my shoulder. I jumped back from it ready to punch him. You touch me, I said and passed round him to the door.

  Calum! Gerry called after me.

  I stopped then didnt and walked on and just like walked on down the stairs to get out of there. I carried on down the stairs. I really didnt want anything to do with him, any of them, I just didnt know and hated it all. It was just Gerry, it was only Gerry, if him, it was only him, if he thought, if it was something, what did he think, it was only him anyway who cares, who cares.

  VOLCANIC

  MATTERS

  My facial muscles had erupted. I traced the thing with my right index finger, touching gently, softly, tracing the outline and inner swelling, finding the ouch point. Volcanic was a more than adequate appellation: astute even, for how else to describe the tragedy. My face was a gigantic pimple decreasing to a globular shape complete with eruption, the volcanic protuberance, great fucking irritant, producing an unpleasant sensation when touched, as now, even in such soft, soft . . .

  I was groaning, afraid to seek out the mirror. That was funny. At any rate amusing. Obviously it was ironic and could only ever be ironic. I looked this way and I looked that way. Suddenly I moved, scampering, I scampered about the room, oh what will I do what will I do.

  What will I do now.

  One thinks of these things, and other things too. And I stopped the scampering in the act of uttering the words. So often it comes like a question, what will I do now. Well is it a question, not just like a question, it is one; that is the form it comes in. And the question takes one by surprise to the extent that it is not even a question.

  Yes it is a question but having such force it travels beyond that, it is a segment of one’s being that is fundamentally central to one’s essence and in grammatical terms is designated ‘verb’.

  That is the truth. Verbs are at the root of my very essence; my heart and my soul. I am a doing person altogether.

  Forget preparation. What is ‘preparation’? One is better off diving head first into one’s life. One meets a potential partner, so meet her, just meet her.

  One thing was clear, I knew where the mirror was, if I wanted to find it. Did I want to find it? No! Not just doubtful: NO. I had no intention of finding it, now when my face was the very last thing ever I wanted, never ever never.

  It is true. There was the mirror. I cocked my head to the right side. This was a habit. It was not a bad habit although one might have wished it on another. An elderly relative once advised me that such was my Father’s habit. Oh god my father jesus god love us, in short, I preferred my Mummy. Now here I was cocking my head like the auld bastard, auld dadikins, dastardly dadikins. O he was alright, simply that the annoying habits, annoying habits, that was Dad, him and his

  o well, so I was like him. Well well. I was gazing into the mirror, this way and that, quirks of the eyebrow, the hairline. Oh Daddy Daddy!

  But matters of a volcanic nature.

  Life takes one by surprise. The poor auld fizzog. What will I do now?

  In the form of a question a statement is mere rhetoric.

  Hang on a minute: this question does not imply action, it contains it. It is not a question at all but a statement, supposedly of intent; a stated intention. God love us all.

  This action existed that I was to perform.

  The theory of relativity in a sentence. How does that happen? Often I appear a genius. The old Scotch thinkers created mechanical devices to test metaphysical systems, going all-in on Newtoni
an physics.

  I sighed and sighed again, cheerily. The recognition of this induced a smile. That smile! In the name, I was my Father, who art in an urn, unnir the grun.

  Verily there is an astonishing difference, an effortless gulf, between what will I do, and what will I do now. And a distressed person who makes such a distinction is on the road to recovery. That was my own feeling, staring into that mirror. Forget the bloody volcanic tip. This is a temporary physical blemish.

  If I had been a male of average, a male of, an average kind of, if I, I would not have seen it like this at all, hardly – an average male, not an average male, I/he would have plowed on and done it in that average male manner where every decision being one’s own decision done by and for oneself in the absence of ‘the other’. But not this male, never this male here here here, thinking of how one is in the world and blemishes, always blemishes, blemishing the body. I saw into my eyes. I had invented the word ‘blemishing’. Before me there never was such a word, for such an activity, blemishing the body. O if only I could live in a different manner.

  staring into that mirror, staring onto that surface, the surface of a mirror

  Does the surface of a mirror exist? What colour is the surface of a mirror? In the absence of colour does anything exist? When we stare into a mirror do we disappear?

  The pimple had grown. My god. It was all the time. Gender characteristics, and so unfair. Anti-existential. Why should this distinguishing feature of humanity effect such consequences on living one’s life, surely life is conditional on existence, the existential condition. That might be a defining truth about females but here was I, a male not so average yet at the same time yes, merely, merely myself, when all is said and done, myself, merely a male. O what am I to do, what am I to do now?

  Thunderstruck.

  No.

  Yes.

  THE

  PRINCIPAL’S

  DECISION

  The Principal here was known to have hesitated before lifting the dishcloth which he used to wipe clean the blood. I did not witness the hesitation. It was reported. When he had wiped clean the blood he glanced to where I was standing by the door. I was his associate and waited there. The body lay crumpled in its own heap. This was approved. The Principal reached towards it but only for purposes of evaluation. He was not being observed, not as such. But I saw that his eyes closed. This part of the practice is found wearisome by some. In those days I supposed that its continued existence was for decorative purposes but I took part in it. My interest was genuine. It had occurred to me that if decoration had no part in the practice then aspects of it were mere obsession. Allowing for this, if it were a form of obsession might the Principal have employed it for decorative purposes? If so I thought it admirable. I have to say that I did. At the age I then was it brought a smile to my face. It later occurred to me that he wished to be rid of it altogether, signified by the hesitation before lifting the dishcloth.