On Saturday ah went round tae Nisha’s hoose. Everybody was oot and we watched the Madonna video in her livin room, then went intae Nisha’s room and practised some of wer Joseph songs. It was a right laugh. Ah always thought Nisha was dead quiet, and she is maist of the time, but see on her ain, she is so funny.
Once we’d run through all the Joseph songs, Nisha said, ‘Why don’t we dae some Madonna songs as well?’
‘Let’s dae “Into The Groove”. That’s ma favourite.’
‘D’you fancy daein it on the karaoke?’
‘You got a karaoke machine in the hoose?’
‘It’s ma brother’s – he does it tae make money tae help him through college. He gets loads a gigs for Indian weddins. But he does DJin tae – that’s what he really likes – Kamaljit calls him Sikh Boy Slim.’
‘Ah love the karaoke but ah’ve only ever done it at parties.’
‘He’d murder us if he knew were usin it but he’ll no be back for ages yet.’
Her brother’s room was full of eletrical stuff, speakers and wires and CDs all ower the place and the walls were covered in posters of hauf-naked women.
‘Close your eyes – ah keep tellin him he’s a sexist pig. My mother won’t even come in this room tae clean it – she gets me tae dae it.’
‘Can he no clean it hisself?’
‘Come on – he’s a male – incapable of lifting a duster. Oh and they can work all sorts of complicated recording equipment but switching on a hoover is beyond them.’
‘Sounds just like ma da.’
Nisha switched on the karaoke machine and the intro belted oot. ‘Better turn it doon a wee bit – if the neighbours complain ma ma will go hairless – cannae have that – a baldy Sikh!’
She rewound it, handed me the mic and ah managed tae get in just in time tae say, ‘You can dance,’ in ma best American accent. Then the two of us started, a wee bit shaky at first and no quite thegether but then gettin right intae it, beltin it oot, dancin round the room daein Madonna impersonations. It was a pure laugh.
Efter that Saturday at Nisha’s hoose, we started tae wait for wan another at lunchtimes and at breaktime, hang aboot thegether. Sometimes we’d sit wi Charlene and Roseanne or ah’d join the lassies Nisha knew fae her primary school but it wasnae the same. When we were wi Charlene and Roseanne ah never felt right. If we talked aboot the school show all Charlene wanted tae know aboot was Keir Simpson. And Nisha was dead quiet wi them, just like she was in class. And wi her pals ah didnae know whit tae say. They’d known each other at primary. Some of them seen each other at Temple as well so they were talkin aboot folk ah didnae know or things ah didnae unnerstaund. Ah knew Nisha’d explain things tae me but ah didnae like tae ask in front of them.
It was always a relief when we said cheerio and went aff on wer ain. We never spoke aboot it but ah think we baith felt the same. Maist folk used tae hang aboot the Fuel Zone at lunchtime or go alang tae the chippy in Great Western Road, so the two of us started tae heid ower tae the park and sit on a bench there eatin wer pieces. It was Nisha’s idea. And it was nice, quiet away fae the crowds of folk.
It had been a dead mild autumn but as November came it started tae get chillier.
‘We’ll need tae find somewhere else tae go. We’ll no be able tae sit ootside much longer,’ ah said. ‘Ma pieces are like ice poles.’
‘Hey, Anne Marie, how would you feel about coming back to mines for lunch? It’s really close. Ah used tae go hame at lunchtime when ah was at primary and my mum’s always on at me. “Need to get a hot meal inside you.”’
‘Would she no mind you bringin me back?’
‘She wouldnae mind me bringing back the entire class if she thought she’d get a chance tae stuff me with home cooking. And she’s always moaning about nobody eating at home any more. Gurpreet’s always out and Kamaljit’s away. Naw, it’ll be cool.’
And it was cool gaun round tae Nisha’s. Though cool isnae a very good word tae describe it. Her hoose was always roastin. Her ma kept askin me if ah was warm enough when the sweat was pourin aff me.
‘It’s always like this,’ Nisha said. ‘You’ve heard of global warming, haven’t you? Well this is where it started. My mother can use up 50% of the earth’s fossil fuels in an afternoon.’
And the food was great. Spicy, but no the way food in Indian restaurants is. Always straight off the stove or oot the oven. It was great tae leave the school on a wet day and go round tae Nisha’s hoose, sit at the kitchen table wi her while her ma served up wer dinner, the radio on in the background or a tape of Indian music. It was like when ah was wee and me and Charlene used tae go round tae ma granny’s for wer dinner, dead cosy, though the calendar on Nisha’s wall was of Sikh temples, no scenes of Donegal.
‘Is it no a lot of bother for your ma though, Nisha?’
‘Don’t be daft, she loves it. There’s nothing she likes better than feeding people.’
‘Aye but the food she’s givin us. When you said come round for lunch ah thought we’d mibbe be gettin a bowl of soup and a cuppa tea.’
‘D’you no like the food?’
‘Are you kiddin – ah love it. It’s just it’s so much work for her every day.’
‘Honestly, Anne Marie, she enjoys it. And if ah was going home by masel she’d be making just as much and trying tae stuff it all into me. So you’re doing me a favour.’
‘OK.’
We turned the corner and heided towards the school gate.
‘What are you doing on Friday, Anne Marie?’
The Friday was an extra holiday, an in-service day for the teachers.
‘Nothin really. Ma and Da are workin. Wha aboot you?’
‘Nope. That’s why ah was askin. Wondered if you’d like tae come round tae mines and use the karaoke when Gurpreet’s at college.’
‘Aye, that’d be great.’
Nisha’s livin room was filled wi photies of her faimly; weddins, birthdays, her sister’s graduation. ‘You cannae go tae the shops without my mother takin oot her camera.’
‘It’s ma da that takes the photies in our hoose.’
Then ah shut up, embarrrassed. Nisha’d never spoken aboot her da. In the centre of the unit was a big framed picture; Nisha’s ma, maybe five year younger, a man wi a turban and a beard, a young woman, a skinny boy and a wee lassie. When ah looked closer ah could see the wee lassie was Nisha. Same big brown eyes, same expression, as if she was aboot tae burst oot laughin but was haudin it in. She lifted the photo, held it so ah could see. ‘It was only a couple of weeks after it was taken that he died. Heart attack.’
Ah didnae know whit tae say.
‘Ah’m sorry.’
‘It’s OK. Ah mean, it’s not OK, but ah’m OK with it.’
‘Ah cannae imagine ma daddy no bein around. It was terrible when ma grandpa died last year but he was ma da’s da. He was auld.’
‘Bet your parents are a lot younger than mines though.’
‘Mammy’s thirty-three and ma da’s thirty-seven gaun on twelve.’
‘My da was fifty-five when he died. He was forty-eight when he had me, and my ma was forty-three – can you imagine!’
She put the photo back with the others. ‘Let’s get on with the karaoke.’
It felt kind of weird bein in Gurpreet’s room when ah’d never met him. The place was a complete tip, clothes all mixed up wi his CDs, all spread across the bed, stuff dumped in corners. Wan side of the room was completely taken up wi shelves and shelves of records.
‘Ah thought it was just ma da that still had records – he’s still got all his auld punk rock wans.’
‘Don’t tell Gurpreet that – he’ll be round tae your house like a shot tryin tae get yer da tae sell them.’
‘How?’
‘He likes tae mix tracks – sample bits and pieces fae different bands. Ah tellt you – he thinks he’s Fat Boy Slim.’
‘Aye but ah thought it was dance music he did – no punk rock.’
‘Gurpreet sa
mples everything – he puts in Indian music, Bollywood songs, pop, hiphop, bhangra, everything.’
‘Is it any good?’
‘Ah don’t really know – ah’ve never been at his gigs – ma wouldnae let me go, of course – but some folk like it. And he’s determined he’s gonnae be the next big thing – spends nearly all his time on it. He only does the karaoke tae get money for the equipment – this is his mixing desk.’
There was a big black box thing on a desk under the windae covered in switches and knobs and wires comin oot all ower the place.
‘But now he’s got a computer program that seems tae dae everything so … oh oh.’
Nisha stopped. Ah could hear the door slam and before we could move in came Gurpreet, a tall skinny guy, wearin baggy combats wi loads a pockets in them and a scarf tied round his heid like a bandana.
‘What the hell?’ He looked at me and Nisha.
For a moment there was silence then Nisha said, ‘We never touched anythin – ah was just showin Anne Marie your stuff.’
He nodded at me then walked past and stood close tae Nisha. He looked mad but spoke quietly. ‘How many times have ah tellt you no tae come in here?’
‘Ah’ve said ah’m sorry, right?’
Ah started tae edge oot towards the door. Ah kind of wanted tae say ah was sorry too but didnae want tae interrupt. Then he started speakin even lower, in a language ah didnae unnerstaund but mixed up wi English words and Nisha was answerin him in the same way. Ah stood just outside the room till Nisha came oot and shut the door behind her. She never said a word, just made a face, crossin her eyes and stickin her tongue oot at me. Ah managed tae haud in the laughter till we went through tae Nisha’s room, then the two of us collapsed on the bed, gigglin.
‘Ah don’t believe it – he’s never home at this time. Just ma luck.’
‘Was he really mad? What were yous sayin? Do yous speak Punjabi in the hoose then?’
‘No really. When ma da was alive we used tae – he wanted us tae speak the mother tongue – but Kamaljit and me just speak English maist of the time. Even my ma doesnae really speak it tae us a lot. But Gurpreet likes tae mix it in, especially when he’s DJin. Thinks it makes him a bit different fae the others.’
Nisha looked oot the windae. ‘It’s rainin. Chuckin it doon. Don’t want tae go oot in that.’
‘Naw.’
‘Fancy watchin a video?’
The rest of the weekend Nisha and me saw each other all the time. Wan day went tae hers then the next up ma bit. Ah even took her round tae ma granny’s. It was great. It didnae even dawn on me that Charlene never phoned. And it took ma mind off the way things were at hame between ma ma and ma da.
Liz
AT FIRST AH thought ah hadnae heard right.
‘Celibate, Jimmy?’
‘Aye, you know, well … no daein it for a while.’
‘Ah know whit celibate means, Jimmy, ah’m no daft, ah just don’t unnerstaund. Whit’s gaun on? Is there somebody else?’
‘Of course there isnae.’
‘It’s that Barbara, isn’t it?’
‘Liz, you know there’s never been embdy but you, you know that.’
‘Well, things have no exactly been normal the past few month.’
He wis sittin in the big chair under the standard lamp, and the light shinin on his face made the lines stand oot harshly.
‘It wis efter John’s party, ah got tae thinkin aboot givin things up. Ah felt that ashamed.’ He spoke slowly as if he wis thinkin it oot as he wis speakin, starin intae the distance. ‘And since then ah’ve been tryin. Nae drinkin, nae eatin meat. And wee things too – wan thing each day, know, just daft stuff. Say ah feel like a Kit-Kat wi ma tea but don’t have wan or ah get a good tip fur a horse but never pit the line on, and, you know, ah feel as if ah’m makin some kindy progress.’
‘Progress?’
‘Aye, you know, controllin ma desires.’
‘And whit aboot ma desires, Jimmy?’
He never answered, just sat there lookin stupit. Ah felt the anger rise in me. Ah was tryin tae be patient and listen tae him, but when he got thon look in his eye, he just went on his ain sweet way, payin nae heed tae anybody else. And the way he wis talkin as if this was all new, like he’d personally invented it. Whit the hell did he think Lent wis fur?
‘Whit aboot me, Jimmy? Whit if ah don’t want tae control ma desires? Whit then?’
He looked at me as if ah was speakin a foreign language.
‘Ah’m sorry, Liz, ah feel this is really important tae me, ah wis talkin tae the Rinpoche aboot it and he said…’
‘Jimmy, ah don’t gie a flyin fuck whit the Rinpoche thinks aboot it.’
‘Liz …’ He put his haund on ma airm. Ah don’t know if it wis me swearin or the idea that no everybody thinks the lamas have a monopoly on the truth that shocked him maist.
‘Ah need a fag.’ Ah opened the drawer where ah keep a pack a ten just in case ma mammy runs out.
‘But you haveny smoked for years.’
‘If you don’t count the wan ah took aff your Agnes at Denise’s weddin three year ago, yeah, you’re right.’
‘Well, you don’t want tae start noo.’
Ah put the fag in ma mooth, struck a match and lit it.
‘Naw, Jimmy, ah don’t want tae start smokin again, you are so right. But ah’m gonnae. And if you don’t want tae gie in tae your desires as you put it, that’s fine – you go ahead and be celibate.’
Ah sooked in the smoke.
‘But you’d better think long and hard aboot the consequences. Because ah have no intentions of followin your example.’
Big words. Ah might have had nae intentions a followin his example, but, well, if yer man doesnae want tae dae it, you don’t have a whole lot of choice. You can hardly force him.
At the time, of course, ah never thought he’d keep it up. Bad joke. If there’s wan thing ah thought ah’d learned in therteen years merriet tae Jimmy it’s that nothin lasts. He’ll be rampagin roond the hoose aboot sumpn wan minute then he’s forgotten all aboot it the next. And aw his big schemes fur gaun hang-glidin or bungee jumpin, we’ve been through that a million times. He’ll talk talk talk aboot it fur days then suddenly he’s ontae sumpn different. Ah’d been amazed that this Buddhism cairry-on had lasted mair’n a fortnight in the first place. But celibacy – no way. Ah wis giein it a week at the maist. The first night he came hame feelin a wee bit thon way, well, ah’d know, and mibbe ah’d curl roond his back when he gets intae bed and start strokin him in wanny the right places and we’d be back tae normal.
But a week went by and then two and nothin happened. And that wisnae normal for us. Ah don’t know whit normal is, it’s no sumpn ah’ve ever talked aboot (and ah don’t believe aw that stuff in the magazines) but we were always good thegither, we’ve always fancied each ither. And it’s never been weeks wioot sumpn happenin.
It’s funny, ah’d never even thought aboot it afore, why would ah? It’s like turnin on the tap fur water – you never think aboot it till it’s no there. It had never crossed ma mind whit it would be like no tae dae it. Ah startit tae feel a bit raw, jaggy roond the edges.
So wan Friday night ah packed Anne Marie aff tae stay the night at her granny’s. Jimmy wis due in a bit later cos he’d a job on in Paisley and they wanted it finished up for the weekend, so ah’d plenty time tae get organised. Ah set the table wi candles and a vase a freesia – ah love the smell of them. Ah really enjoyed takin ma time, gettin masel in the mood; ah ran a bath wi Fenjal in it and lay in it for ages, then ah shaved ma legs and smoothed on body lotion so’s ma skin wis nice and saft. Then ah pulled oot the sexy undies fae the back of the drawer; ah don’t get dressed up in them every week but every noo and again it kind of spices things up a bit, you should see Jimmy’s face. Anyway, by the time he was hame, whit wi no havin done it for a few weeks, ah’m well ready.
Ah thought he’d notice right away, ah don’t usually pit on a short skirt and full warpai
nt just for wer tea on a Friday night. But he just looked at the flooers on the table and the candles and said, ‘That’s nice, hen. Have ah got time for a shower afore ma tea? Ah feel clingin – it wis roastin in that van.’
‘Aye, on you go.’
After his shower he came in and sat doon at the table.
‘Want a drink?’
‘Ah’ll have an orange juice.’
‘Are you no wantin a beer or sumpn? Ah’m havin a gin and tonic.’
‘No thanks, hen.’
He looked at me, then at the candles and flooers.
‘Have ah forgot sumpn? Ah know it’s no oor anniversary.’
‘No,’ ah said.
‘Thank God for that.’
‘Ah just thought it wid be nice tae spend some time thegither, make it a bit special. We’ve no had much chance tae talk lately.’
‘Ah know, it’s been a bit mental, wi this job in Paisley and preparin for the lama’s visit tae the Centre.’
Ah decided tae move in for the kill afore he started on aboot lamas, so ah went and sat doon on his knee. Ah pit ma airms roond his neck and licked his ear lobe, then moved doon the back of his neck. Usually that’s all ah have tae dae tae get him movin but the night it didnae seem tae dae the trick.
‘Jimmy,’ ah breathed intae his ear, ‘come on, ah’m dyin for it.’ He likes a bit of dirty talk but ah’m too embarrassed tae say much, that was a lot for me. Ah took his haund and placed it on ma leg under ma skirt.
Nothin. Well, no nothin exactly, ah knew sumpn was stirrin but he was hell bent on ignorin it.
He took his haund away, quite gently, and said,
‘Liz, don’t dae this.’
‘Whit’s wrang, Jimmy?’
‘There’s nothin wrang, hen, it’s just, ah’ve tellt you, ah want tae be celibate for a while.’
Buddha Da Page 9