Ma, Jackser's Dyin Alone

by Martha Long

  ‘Yes, Nurse, thanks ever so much for all your help. You were very good to Jackser, and I can’t begin to tell you just how grateful I am for all you’ve done for me. Gawd! I must owe the hospital a fortune in the amount of stuff I’ve eaten and drank,’ I said, not really able to get out much of a smile. I just felt shell-shocked, tired and exhausted, sad and yet peaceful. There was such a stillness inside me, like I had just come through some terrible storm. It felt like at times I would be lifted up and crashed against ferocious waves in a deadly angry sea. Now, it was just the calm inside me – the quiet of the hospital, the gentle whispers of the night nurse looking at me with kindness and tenderly offering me a cup of tea as I stood, looking down at Jackser. He was lying out in the bed looking more peaceful than I ever saw him in life now he was gone to his eternal rest.

  ‘My God, Jackser! Travelling through our journey of life with you was like travelling through a hurricane,’ I whispered, talking to his spirit as it was still warm in his body. I wanted to say a few last things to him just before he took flight and went off in search of something in the great far beyond, from where no one has ever come back.

  ‘Goodbye, Jackser! You will be the only one of two people on this earth who ever had such a power of influence over me. Everything I do is influenced by you, always for the opposite. But nonetheless you were the most powerful person in my life. I was well and truly marked by you. No doubt about that, Jackser,’ I whispered, nodding my head.

  I was just heading back up the passage, making for the ward, when the ma turned up from the stairs with Sally at her heels.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she puffed, not thinking to use the lift.

  ‘He’s in here, Ma,’ I whispered quietly, walking ahead of her into the ward.

  She crept in, afraid of what she might see. The first thing that hit her and me was the silence coming from Jackser’s bed. ‘Ohh!’ me ma said, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘Is he gone, Martha?’

  I nodded, moving over to let in Sally. The three of us just stood staring down at him. I was over by the side where I usually sat, seeing his right hand resting on his stomach, where I had left it. His face had settled into a rigid stillness. You would know there was no life left in him. Any traces that had been left of the suffering he had gone through was now disappeared. He was showing nothing was left of him but his body. Yet I could feel his presence; his spirit was all around this bed. No, he hasn’t gone quite yet, I thought, still sensing him very close.

  Suddenly we heard footsteps, and a priest came hurrying into the ward.

  ‘I will just give Jackser the Last Rites,’ he whispered, putting his hand gently on me ma’s shoulder.

  ‘OK, Father,’ she said, looking up at him with a fleeting light in her eyes, as if suddenly there was a bit of hope. Maybe he could give some help, do something that would make what’s happened go away, make things better. Then it passed. The light went out of her eyes and she moved over to let him in. He pressed his lips to the end of the purple stole hanging around his neck and shoulders, then took out his holy oils, blessing the forehead and lips and hands of Jackser, all the time saying the prayers for the dead. Then he spoke up and we uttered a Hail Mary, repeating after the priest. Then it was over. He turned to all of us, nodding his head, giving the ma his blessing, then left.

  Me ma stared down at Jackser lying so very still and silent in the bed, then sighed out a whispered, ‘Oh, Jesus!’ Then she turned, saying in sorrow, ‘We got here too late, Sally!’

  She said nothing, just stared at her father like it was one more thing to bear. Just one more heavy yoke among the other heavy weights that she carried on her shoulders. She never spoke a word, it’s like she has no further use for words, they mean nothing.

  We all started to move away, heading for the door, with no one saying they were going. We seemed to just be of one mind – all walking away slowly, following each other out the door. We walked down the empty, dark, silent corridor, with each of us lost in our own thoughts. I stopped at the lift; me ma was heading for the stairs.

  ‘Are you not taking the lift down, Ma?’ I said, seeing her heading down.

  ‘No! I don’t trust them things,’ she said. ‘Are ye coming this way?’

  ‘No, Ma. I’m getting in this. I’m too tired to walk,’ I sighed out.

  ‘All right, I’ll see ye, then,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, Ma. I’ll be over to you tomorrow,’ I said wearily. Then the lift opened and I got in, pressing the button for the ground floor, then out through the big heavy front doors I had first walked through a lifetime ago, knowing now I was walking back out for the last time. I will only come back to carry Jackser out in a box, I thought, taking no pleasure in that. Yet only a week ago I thought I would be on top of the world. No, we don’t know what we are really like, what we are made of, until we are put to the test, I thought, heading around to the car park.

  I sat into the car and rolled meself a cigarette, leaving the door open to let out the smoke. Then took in a deep drag of the cigarette, inhaling it, then blew out the smoke, listening to the silent streets hushed in the dark early hours of a dawn not yet risen. I looked up at the stars, wondering if Jackser would now become one of them. Will he now make his mark up there somewhere? ‘You certainly made your mark on me, Jackser,’ I whispered.

  I switched on the engine, feeling a deep sense of peace. Never have I felt so grateful to be alive. I have a sense of what it would be like to be whole, like I really belonged to myself. I would know who I am now, say I am Martha Long, the bastard, the street kid, a successful woman, because I am at peace. I will have come home to myself. I will have arrived. Love me or hate me, world, you will take me as I am. But now that journey only really begins; I will have a long way to go.

  I switched on the engine and drove out of the car park heading for home, my two little beauties and a whole new wide world just beginning to open. For now, I am Martha Long, only a woman of substance to the outside world, a perceived great success. But I hear you, little one. I hear you crying. Be patient. One day I will have to come for you! I will be back, then very slowly I will walk down, back through the days of my life, searching for you. I will leave no back street uncovered. No tenement building where you once roamed, or alleyway where you once ran, or street where you once played will I not search.

  Yes, I know I will tremble in fear when I come face to face with all of the ghosts that still haunt me. For now they lie hidden, silently waiting in some dark, buried place. But I will not back down. I will find you and make you mine. But first I need courage – that will come. So this is my promise, little one. Hush! Don’t cry. One day soon you will nestle, cradle the heart that is for so long now just an aching emptiness. I will carry you with all the love you and your great courage deserve. I will be so proud of you. I will say softly to you, ‘You are the little street kid I once was, the little spitfire who lives inside me now and made me who I am. You are my little Martha! I love you, my sweet little angel. Sleep softly, little one. I will keep you safe.’

  19

  ‘Bye, Mamma! I love you very much!’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I love you, too!’ she screamed, raging he got in first.

  ‘Yes, darlings! I love you too.’

  ‘BUT I LOVE YOU MORE!’

  ‘NO! YOU CAN’T!’

  ‘WE LOVE YOU MORE!’

  ‘OK!’ I laughed. ‘We all love the same.’

  ‘Mamma, we will tell you all our news tonight when you get home. We will be waiting on you!’

  ‘Oh, yes! I’m dying to hear how you got on. I will be all ears. Now, I will want every detail. It’s going to be great, so take it easy, the pair of you. OK, I’m off now, darlings,’ I said, starting the engine, getting ready to pull away. Then I leant back out the window. ‘Now, remember, what’s the first rule?’

  I could see the pair of them standing there, the eyes steady for a minute while they worked this out.

  Then she was off first, with the pair of them roar
ing together, ‘HAVE FUN, ENJOY OURSELVES! Winning is only second.’

  ‘Right! Now don’t forget what we learned – count to three after every full stop, then think of what is happening and act it out. Then you can’t go wrong! And if it does, what do you do?’ I said, looking at the pair of them, wanting to remind them in case they threw a blue fit if, God forbid, they lost! Jaysus, they’ll go mad! There’ll be killings!

  ‘Throw your papers into the air, saying, “I won’t give up the day job!” Then say, “What’s plan B?” Yes?’ I said listening, waiting with my mouth open, watching them. ‘In other words, get something out of it, get a laugh! Have you got that, beauties?’ I said, looking at the pair of them standing with their scripts in their hands. They were getting ready to take on the world and his wife at the Feis, the national competition for primary school children. It’s for poetry. They have to recite a poem from memory. They have an excellent chance … I hope! The kids and me chose a difficult one written by Hilaire Belloc.

  He makes fun of the old English aristocrats and the upper classes back in the 1920s. The little man chose ‘George’. The grandmamma bought him an immense balloon for being such a good boy. Yeah, I thought, thinking that poem is hilarious, though it’s supposed to be sad. Because the bleedin thing was filled with gas, it blew the house up along with the butler, housemaid, chambermaid, the cook and the whole bleedin lot a them. But the worst thing was the house happened to be on SAVILE ROW! For Jaysus’ sake, that should never happen. Oh, very posh! I thought.

  She chose another one of Belloc’s about a naughty little girl. Ah, bold lump she was, no balloons for her! Well, she choked herself to death, chewing on bits of string. So, that’s it, Martha. They’re off to do their stuff without you. Pity! I should be there to keep order. Wipe the snots and mop the tears if something goes wrong. Beat up the judge if they show favour! Fuck! I’m missing it all.

  Yeah, they are brilliant the pair of them. I know they won’t settle for anything less than the gold medal. Jaysus! Me nerves are gone, thinking of them being there without me. Mind you, Martha, it’s probably better you’re not there. Someone told me I was like yer woman in Maureen Potter’s sketch. Yeah, Maureen, the brilliant Irish stage actress. She does pantomime and a lot of comedy acts. Me favourite one is her doing a Dublin mother whose young fella, Jimmy, enters for the Irish Dancing Competition. There he is, her little Jimmy, up on the stage with the mammy sitting in the front row! Go on, Jimmy! Lift them legs! Don’t kick the judge! Here! Judge! Stop a minute! His shoelaces is open. WHA DID YE MEAN, JUDGE, HE’S DISQUALIFACATED?! Sure, he never got started! Are ye blind? Can ye not see he has the makins of a national champ ping?! Wha did ye mean? Yer callin the Po-llease! Sure, whaat did I do? I never laid hand act nor part on tha judge!! She fell offa the stage herself! Sure, look at her! Tha aul one is blind as a bat! Looka the size a them goggles she’s wearin! Get yer hands offa me!

  Yeah! That’s me. I’m a bleedin nightmare. I’m banned from everything at their school! But it’s still a pity I can’t be with them. Ah, but sure they have a whole contingent going along for the outing. Their father is going, and he has his best friend going along to give him a hand. Then the wife decided she’s not getting left out, she’ll bring a picnic. Russians love their grub. Then there’s my old friend – he’s a lecturer in the university, very keenly interested in their development, he calls it. Of course his wife is going to hold his hand, stop him getting too excited with the aul blood pressure. Then there’s my next-door neighbour. He’s retired now, so him and the wife are going, so. All the kids are short of doing is bringing Minnie the dog! They would too, but she won’t be allowed into the place. Right! But the ma needs me. There’s an awful lot to do, so get going, she will be waiting.

  I drove up and parked outside the ma’s block, then hopped out, locking the car and gave a look up and down. No! No little moochers ready to throw stones at me car. Good! It’s lovely and quiet. They must be all still sleeping, I thought, giving a look in at the clock in the car. Twenty past ten. That’s grand time I made this morning. I’m fresh as a daisy, I thought, looking down at myself after using half a bottle of shower gel, plus nearly a bottle of shampoo on the hair. I could smell the Chanel perfume off meself. Nothing like a dab of your best perfume to get the day going. Now all me four cylinders are hammering away at full blast, I thought. Yeah, not bad for three hours’ sleep. Ah, sure, I’ll sleep long enough when I’m dead and buried! Right! Up now and collect the ma.

  I flew in the entrance, rounding onto the stairs, taking them two at a time. ‘Here we are,’ I puffed, forgetting I’m no longer a spring chicken of twenty. I looked at the door, trying to figure what’s the best way to bang. Use the car key or rattle the letterbox? Both!

  ‘Ma!’ I shouted, banging and rattling, putting me nose and mouth through the letterbox, then I stood back waiting. Silence! Nothing. I held me breath listening. No, not a sound.

  ‘Ma!’ I banged, rattling and shaving the skin off me knuckles. Then I waited, me heart dropping. ‘Ma! Open the door! Are you in there, Ma? It’s me, Martha!’

  I stood back, feeling confused. Where could she be? Last time this happened she said she was in all the time. I gave the door a rhythmic kick with me foot. Not too hard, just enough to get it shaking. I waited, listening. Still nothing.

  ‘Fuck ye, Ma! You knew I would be over. Where are you?’ I muttered to meself, feeling like nearly wanting to cry with the rage. I gave up my whole bleedin day for you. Oh, Jaysus, talk about being thick as two short planks! Why did I not think of getting her phone number from the nurse when I had the opportunity? Ah, take it easy, Martha. Sure, there was too much going on.

  ‘Right!’ I breathed, taking in a full blast of rotten decay. Jesus, the smell! I blew it out just as fast. OK! Head for the shopping centre. Where else might she be? No, nowhere else around here.

  I parked outside the cop shop in the naive belief it would be safe! Gobshite – they use them for target practice. No, this is the last place to be. It might attract the wrong attention, I thought, looking around at all the jalopies with the culchie registration plates. They might think this car is one of the coppers’. I threw meself back into the car, reversing out, only stopping when I nearly hit a battered old Cortina! Easy, Martha, no parking by ear! I thought, shooting the car forward, then around to the back of the shops. I stopped to park with the broken glass and the old bicycles left dangling with their locks attached to poles but the wheels now missing. OK, this will do nicely. Only a lunatic would park here if they’re not from around the area. Now, a lunatic wouldn’t last long enough with a car like this. So, I must be a local. Jaysus, Martha! That’s a heavy burden ye carry with being such a genius, I sniffed, grinning at meself with all my cunning. I better be fuckin right!

  I came steaming out of the supermarket feeling a terrible hurry on me. Jesus, the day will be gone. No! Not a sign of her, I thought, heading for the post office. Not here either. Oh, bloody hell! Where else? I thought, flying me eyes up and down, seeing a mother strolling along in her pyjamas and matching pink slippers. Me head did a flip. No! She’s not even in a hurry, I thought, staring at the three little kids making their way behind her, all intent on their ice pops the ma just bought them. They were in their lovely little teddy bear PJs as well. Oh! That’s handy! In and outa the bed, without all that fussing that gets to go with it.

  Right, get moving. This won’t find the ma. Where the fuck is she? I thought, standing still with me body bent, ready to go in four directions at the same time. I raced out, rushing around the outside, coming back again to the front entrance. No! She’s not here. My heart sank all the way to me belly. I wasn’t expecting this. I thought she would know we have to get going and sort out the funeral. There’s a million things to do! Oh, fuck, Ma, where did you get to? OK! Go back to the flat – maybe she has turned up there.

  Me eyes lit up, seeing the car still sitting with its wheels. ‘Thank God for small mercies,’ I muttered, jumping in and taking o
ff, flying over the huge bumps, getting airborne then landing with a hiss of air. Great suspension! I thought. You can’t beat the aul Swedes! Make great cars, they do. OK, go easy. Next one coming up – no need to over test. The bumps were put up by the Corpo. They had to stop scratching their arses for a bit, just while they got this job done. It’s supposed to slow down the kids racing the robbed cars. The idea was the flying squad, the cops in their battered clapped-out Cortinas, or whatever the fuck they beetle around in, well, it’s supposed to give them a fairer chance to catch up on the big BMWs the kids have a passion for. I believe the minister is going to get the cops newer, faster cars! He’ll probably take the money from the old-age pensioners, telling them it’s good for their health. After all, it’s them is the ones who keep getting themself knocked down. They’re just not fast enough getting across the road.

  I drove slowly back, stopping the car to look up and down the road. No! Not a sign of her, and she’s definitely not here. The next-door neighbour put his head out, then flew it back in when he saw it was only me, not the cops trying to get in with a battering ram. Where could she be? Think! OK, nothing for it but to go over and wait by the bus stop. Maybe she’s gone somewhere, then she will be sure to take the bus back.

  I drove over, passing the shopping centre again, then whipped the car back in on an impulse – no harm in trying. Then suddenly me eyes lit on her. I pulled up close and switched off the engine, keeping me eyes on her. My heart took a nosedive as I sat staring, taking her in. Oh, ahh, sweet Jesus! The poor ma. She’s standing there with one half of her looking like she was going back in the door, with the other half of her rigid, while her eyes stared into the distance with a puzzled look on her face. She looked like she was lost, not knowing which way to go or what she should do next. She looked so lonely, standing there all alone. I could see she was wearing a pair of black stockings. They hung halfway down her legs, looking like they needed to be pulled up. She had a sheer black nylon scarf sitting on her head and tied under the chin.