Buddha Da

by Anne Donovan

‘It’s just that I feel the flat is now my home, thanks to your work, especially the living room, and I want to do a kind of clearing – you know, meditate there so it has really good energy. And I’d like you to come and meditate wih me. It would be really nice if we could do it together as you did all this beautiful work. If you have the time we could eat together afterwards, if I’m not keeping you back too much.

  ‘Ah’d like that, Barbara, really.’

  And though ah’d never ever have thought that was the favour she wanted tae ask me, it was the maist perfect thing that could of happened.

  We sat in the livin room facin the Buddha. She’d these foam blocks like you get at the Centre tae sit on and wee blankets, brightly coloured, the size a baby blankets, and we wrapped them roond wer knees. She’d lit caundles and was burnin some kinda herb thing. A didnae know whit it was then but ah know noo it’s sage and Native Americans use it tae purify things – it’s supposed tae take away all your negativity. Anyway, there we sat, the room aw clean and perfect, while the light was fadin ootside.

  Barbara started, ‘I call upon the Buddha, the bodhisattvas and all the good powers to witness our giving thanks for the blessings of life. I want to thank Jimmy for the wonderful work he has done in making my home a clean and good space to be. I thank him for the mindful way he has painted and the friendship he has shown. I thank life for bringing us together. And I ask that this home will be a safe and welcoming space for everyone who comes here.’ She paused for a moment. ‘D’you want to say anything, Jimmy?’

  Ah couldnae think of anythin so ah just says ‘naw’.

  She rung the wee bell and we closed wer eyes. Ah started followin ma breaths, countin inside as the lama’d taught me. And it was an easy wan this meditation, just seemed right. Efter whit seemed like a very short time ah heard her ringin the bell again and opened ma eyes. It was fully dark ootside noo, and for a few minutes ah watched the lights in the flats opposite, the trees bathed in weird blue light fae the streetlamps.

  Later, in the kitchen, Barbara was checkin the food while ah stood leanin on the counter, feelin light and relaxed.

  ‘Ah could nip oot for a wee bottle of wine if you like. Make it mair of a celebration.’

  ‘If you want some yourself, Jimmy. Don’t bother for me.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘I don’t drink alcohol.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘Don’t let me stop you.’

  ‘Naw it’s OK. It’s no really worth it – ah’d only have the wan if ah’m drivin. Can ah dae sumpn … set the table?’

  ‘Sure – place mats and napkins are in that drawer.’

  Ah opened the drawer, started takin oot stuff. Ah really wanted tae ask her aboot no drinkin though. The only folk ah knew that didnae drink were alkies, reformed wans.

  ‘Do you no like the taste or …?’

  She stirred sumpn, put the lid on it and sat down at the table.

  ‘I gave up a few years ago when I got more into the meditation. It seemed a bit strange to be getting clarity in one way and fuddling up my brain in another. I mean I wasn’t a heavy drinker, just a few glasses of wine with a meal kind of thing, but it definitely interfered, made me a bit hazy.’

  ‘Was it hard?’

  ‘Not really, occasionally I missed it at the start, maybe at a party or something, or if I’d had a hard day but I just found other ways of unwinding … like the yoga.’

  ‘Right. Ah’ve never really gied anythin up masel … Liz gave up smokin years ago and that was hellish for her, and for the resty us and all, she was that moany-faced, but ah’ve never smoked, so ah don’t know whit it’s like.’

  ‘I stopped smoking ten years ago. It is harder than stopping drink certainly. Smoking is more of an addiction.’

  ‘So, ah mean, the Buddhism … is that how you gie things up … ah mean, is that part of it? Ah mean, ah presume you’ve gied up meat?’

  ‘Maybe giving up isn’t the right way to think of it. You just choose something else. If you don’t drink you get clearer; eating vegetables instead of meat, well, it seems lighter somehow, that’s all. And it’s just my choice … I mean I wouldn’t try to persuade anyone else.’

  ‘So you wouldnae expect your boyfriend tae be a vegetarian, then?’

  ‘My boyfriend?’

  ‘Ah mean if you had wan … or husband or that?’

  ‘No I wouldn’t, though it’s unlikely that I’d have one.’

  ‘Ah’m sorry, didnae mean tae be cheeky.’

  ‘It’s OK, I just mean that I’m not into having sexual relationships with anyone at the moment.’

  ‘Gettin over somebuddy?’

  ‘No, it’s just like the not drinking. I find I have more clarity if I just … abstain from these things.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I must sound like a real bore. It’s just … what I feel is best for me now, you know.’

  ‘Ah see. Sorry, Barbara, ah didnae mean tae pry intae yer private life. It’s nane ae ma business. It’s just, what wi us bein thegether here and the meditatin and that, ah kind of feel we’re … well no friends exactly, but, ah suppose we are friends.’

  ‘I hope we are friends, Jimmy. I’d like for us to be friends.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘So what about your process?’

  ‘Ma process?’

  ‘You know, the meditation … I mean how is it working with the rest of your life?’

  Ah sat there, wi a fork fulla food haufway between ma mooth and the plate.

  ‘Well, you know, ah just dae the meditation. A lot of the time ah’m in the dark aboot how it affects anythin really. It just seems tae make other folk mad at me ah think.’

  ‘Your wife and family don’t approve?’

  ‘Anne Marie’s quite interested in it – she wants tae know whit it’s aboot. John thinks ah’m aff ma heid but he’s ma brother so he’s always thought that anyway. And Liz … aye, ah think Liz doesnae really approve.’

  ‘Doe she not approve of Buddhism or is it because she feels you’re changing?’

  ‘You know, Barbara, ah don’t really know whit she thinks.’

  * * *

  All the way alang the motorway it was beautiful. Even in the daurk you could feel the cleanness of the night, then, just ootside Glesga a smirr of rain started and ah pit on the windscreen wipers. Rain, hame. Ah sterted tae smile tae masel. Rain, hame. The lights on the other side of the motorway were blurrin in the drizzle. Thon big metal horse loomin up at the side. Then the gasworks, painted blue – ‘Glasgow for it’. Ah wanted tae laugh. Glasgow for it. That’s the gemm. Embra’s lovely, a great place for a day oot or a wee break but Glesga’s hame.

  Ah arrived back at the hoose tae find oor John staundin at the close door.

  ‘Just round tae see if you wanted tae go oot for a pint wi the birthday boy.’

  ‘It’s no your birthday tae the morra.’

  ‘Aye, but a man’s only forty the wanst – ah’m gonnae make the maisty it. Ah was supposed tae be gaun oot for a meal wi Tricia the night but she’s no feelin brilliant.’

  ‘Whit’s up?’

  ‘Nothin really, she’s just had the cold, but she thought she’d rather save hersel for the party the morra.’

  We went in the hoose. Anne Marie was in the livin room playin wi her playstation.

  ‘Hiya, Da. Hiya, Uncle John.’

  ‘Hi, hen. Is yer mammy in?’

  ‘Aye, she’s in the bedroom – workin oot whit tae wear for the party the morra night.’

  Liz came in tae the livin room.

  ‘Hi, John. How are you?’

  ‘Ah’m fine. Just here tae get your man oot for a pint – is he’s allowed oot the night?’

  ‘Oh, you know Jimmy, does his ain thing.’

  She sat doon on the airm of the couch.

  ‘Job all finished noo, Jimmy?’

  ‘Aye, all done – got the cash in ma pocket.’ Ah patted ma jaicket pocket.

  ‘Gie you cas
h, did she? Ah had her doon as wanny the cheque brigade.’

  ‘Aye, me too, but she just haunded me a wad a notes.’

  ‘Must of been pleased wi the job.’

  ‘Nae wonder, the hours it’s taken him. He’s no been hame tae nine a’clock at night this week. Ah hope it was worth it.’ There was an edge tae her voice.

  John looked at me, wi a big brother kind of look.

  ‘It was a big job, right enough,’ he says. ‘Thon cornice – she wanted it painted three different colours and a bit a gold leaf at the corners and all. And she looked like the pernickety kind. Wouldnae fancy gaun hame tae her wi an empty pay packet. Raither strip woodchip. Right, son, are we on for this pint?’

  ‘Awright. Just a couple, mind. Ah’m knackered and ah want tae enjoy masel the morra.’

  ‘Want sumpn tae eat afore you go oot, Jimmy?’

  ‘Naw, thanks hen, ah’ve had sumpn.’

  ‘Barbara make yer tea again?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Must of been really pleased wi the work efter aw.’

  ‘Well, this boy is the David Beckham of the gold leaf. And ah promise ah’ll no keep him oot late, Liz. We’ll see you the morra night, eh?’

  ‘Aye, John. See yous.’

  ‘Night, Anne Marie. Liz, ah’ll see you later.’ Ah went tae kiss her and she turned her cheek tae me but didnae kiss me back.

  As soon as we were oot the hoose John says. ‘Jimmy, am ah mistaken or are things a bit chilly between yous two?’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘Well, Liz seems tae think that there’s sumpn gaun on between you and thon Barbara wumman.’

  ‘You know that’s shite, John.’

  ‘Ah know that’s shite but it’s what Liz thinks that’s the point.’

  Ah didnae reply.

  ‘Is there sumpn you want tae tell your big brother aboot?’

  ‘Look, ah swear tae God, John, there is nothin gaun on between me and Barbara.’

  ‘What aboot you stayin late and her makin yer dinner? Whit’s that all aboot.’

  ‘Christ, ah thought ah was daein the right thing. If ah hadnae stayed late the job would of taken up haufy next week when we’re supposed tae be startin on Macintosh’s. And it made sense tae work through the rush hour and then come hame when the traffic’s quieter. The wumman offered tae make me ma dinner – she was just bein decent. Ah mean look at that auld dolly up Kelvindale last spring – the wan that was bringin us rolls and sausage at lunchtime and home-made scones. Ah didnae see you refusin it.’

  ‘Aye but she was aboot ninety-three, Jimmy. Ah cannae see even Boabby tryin tae get his end away wi her.’

  ‘But ah don’t fancy Barbara. I like her but that’s it. Ah mean, you’ve seen her John, she’s no … ah mean she just isnae the sorta wumman you would fancy. Ah mean she’s OK ah suppose but she’s just too … Embra.’

  ‘So are you sayin you couldnae ever fancy anybody fae Embra? Ah know whit you mean. Actually ah think she’s a dyke.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Ah don’t know, mibbe… who cares? Anyway the point is, Liz hasnae met her. For all she knows Barbara could be this gorgeous sexy wumman wi her eye on you and yous could of been up tae all sorts wi a six-incher and a sheepskin roller. Look at it fae her point of view – you’re comin hame at nine a’clock at night efter spendin a whole day alone wi this wumman. Suppose she was workin late every night wi some guy? If it was the other way roond, would you no be a bit jealous?’

  ‘Ah know whit you’re sayin, but ah just don’t feel that way. Ah trust Liz.’

  ‘Ah trust Tricia but ah still wouldnae want her tae be daein the late shift wi thon new doctor at the practice.’

  ‘The wan that looks like thon guy oot ER, the foreign wan?’

  ‘Aye. Look, all ah’m sayin, is, why don’t you just make sure you spend a bit mair time on yer ain wi Liz? Take her oot for a nice meal, go tae the movies. Buy her some flowers.’

  ‘Then she’ll definitely think ah’m up tae sumpn.’

  ‘Naw, she’ll no. Anyway, the job in Embra’s finished. You’ll no be seein Barbara again.’

  ‘Ah said we’d dae her wee back room later, mibbe efter Christmas.’

  ‘Well, we can make sure that we baith go through. Surely Liz’ll no think we’re havin a threesome.’

  Ah’m watchin Liz on the dance flair and she’s lookin fantastic. She’s up wi Alex, ma brother-in-law, a baw-faced guy who leaps around the flair wi nae sense of rhythm but loadsa enthusiasm. He got her up for ‘Brown Sugar’ and even when ah was young that song was ancient. Liz is a brilliant dancer, but – she’s tall and slim and the night she’s wearin a kinda lacy skirt and a crop top that shows a bit of her belly when she’s dancin. Her hair’s usually quite smooth, doon tae her shoulders but the night she’s messed it up and put loads a make-up and glitter on her cheeks. She said she was daein a kinda early Madonna look, black lacy gloves and net skirts, and it reminds me a bit of how she looked when we first went oot thegether. Ah’d went round tae Paul’s hoose for the first time. We were still tryin tae be punk rockers though it was 1981 by this time, and we were just sittin in the livin room when Liz came in wi her pal, all dressed up tae go oot, dead pale make-up and loads a black eyeliner, dressed in a ruffled shirt wi big shouders, tight black troosers and they wee ankle boots ah always liked. She looked a lot aulder than fourteen then, dead sophisticated. Ah used tae get slagged stupit when ma mates fund oot she was only fourteen, but she seemed aulder, was always mair mature. Then, as ma da said, it didnae take a lot tae be mair mature than me. S’funny, ah think she’s got younger lookin as the years have passed.

  Ah’d decided tae re-create ma punk look for the party though ah didnae have the gear noo and ah don’t think it’d fit me any mair anyway. No that ah’m fat or that. Ah mean oor John’s put on the beef big style since he turned thirty. Tricia’s a nurse and she’s aye on at him tae loss some case he takes a hert attack. Ah’ve been quite lucky that way – seem tae just burn it all up – but ah’m no a skinny teenager any mair.

  Anyway, ah got an auld black perra breeks and a tee shirt and ah ripped it up a bit wi a razor blade and stuck a few safety pins roond. Ah bought chains oot a B&Q and hung them roond ma neck. While ah was puttin gel on ma hair and makin it aw spiky, Anne Marie sat and watched me.

  ‘Da, did you really used tae look like this when you were young?’

  ‘Aye, sort of, hen. Except ah used tae dye ma hair as well – ah’d purple bits in it at wan time.’

  ‘But, ah mean, did you actually go oot like that?’

  ‘Of course, that’s the whole point – nae use sittin round the hoose where naebdy can see you, is there?’

  ‘You look mental.’

  ‘That’s the idea – ah mean if you’re a punk you’re supposed tae look mental.’

  Ah started jumpin around the room.

  ‘I am an antichrist – I am an anarchist …’

  ‘Gies a break, Da – hope you’re no gonnae dae that the night. Some of ma mates’ll be there.’

  Tricia tellt Anne Marie tae bring along a coupla pals so’s she widnae be on her ain. All the other girls in the faimly are either a bit aulder or a good bit younger than her.

  ‘Mibbe ah’ll ask them tae dance, then.’

  ‘Puh … leeze … Ah’m away tae get ready.’

  Ah turnt tae Liz. ‘Would ye listen tae her? Sounds like sumpn oota Friends …’

  ‘Aye, she’s growin up.’

  ‘Last year she was still just a wee lassie, intae Barbie and that.’

  ‘No quite last year, Jimmy …’

  ‘Two year ago she still believed in Santa.’

  ‘Naw ah didnae,’ Anne Marie’s voice came fae the lobby. ‘Ah just kidded on so’s you wouldnae be disappointed.’

  ‘You’re no supposed tae be listenin tae this. Yer mammy and me were havin a private conversation.’

  ‘Well you shouldnae be bawlin it oot, should you?’

  Anne Marie appeare
d at the door. For a minute ah hardly recognised her; she was wearin a slinky wee frock and black tights and silvery shoes wi big platforms.

  ‘Hen, you look gorgeous. Right, Cinderella, ready for your carriage?’

  At first ah’d no been too sure aboot this idea of John’s tae have fancy dress for his fortieth. Ah’ve been tae a coupla fancy dress parties but they were never up tae much. No everybuddy dressed up and the wans that did were always a bit hauf-hearted aboot it. You know, cairry a brush and stick on a witch’s hat, or wear a dinner suit and kid on you were Bryan Ferry even if you’re baldy and three feet tall. That kind of thing. But whether it was because Tricia’d been round twistin folk’s airms or whether they just wanted tae dae it for John ah don’t know but ah’ve never seen anythin like the ootfits that walked through the door.

  Everybuddy’d really made an effort. Wan wumman had done a Carmen Miranda and had made hersel a headdress wi real fruit. She could hardly walk it was that heavy. Another guy had hired a bear suit. Ah still don’t know who he was as he refused tae even take the heid aff all night – he must of been roasted. Angie and Paul came as Barbie and Ken – and there was Dracula, Little Red Riding Hood and God knows whit all. It really broke the ice; everybuddy was up and dancin right away, no sittin roond hauf the night, and folk were mixin really well. John had hired the function room at the back of the Hielander and ah think he and Tricia just invited everybuddy either of them knew – neighbours, auld pals fae where they used tae stay, folk they’d been at school wi, a hale team fae Tricia’s work, no tae mention the faimly. Even oor ma came alang for a coupla hours though John got her a taxi booked for ten o’clock. She’s just no up tae it any mair since ma daddy’s passed on. Anyway, the place was jumpin.

  And ah was jumpin, too. Liz looked brilliant and the DJ played loadsa records fae when we were aw young and nickin aboot thegether. Ah cannae sit still when ‘New Rose’ comes on – as soon as that, ‘Is he really going out with her?’ and that mental di-di-di-di riff sterts that’s me away and of course the DJ had that on dead early requested by John, ‘for ma wee brother’. The two ae us were pogoin thegether. Ah finally managed tae grab Liz away fae mad Alex and got the DJ tae put on ‘Shake Some Action’ for us. Anyhow, dancin and talkin tae folk ah hadnae seen for years is thirsty work so ah was knockin back the pints. Then ‘Vicious’ came on. Lou Reed – John’s favourite of all favourites. It’s a bit afore ma time really but he loves it and the two ae us used tae put it on and jump aboot the livin room when we were teenagers. So he grabbed me and the pair ae us got up on the dance flair, and ah think we were takin up that much room that everybuddy moved oot tae gie us space. There we were, beltin it oot, John shakin that great big arse of his as if he was some New York pop star and everybuddy laughin and shoutin us on and cheerin; then the two ae us kind of fell intae each ither and hauf collapsed and John’s haudin on tae me, sayin over and over, ‘Look at this man – this is ma fuckin brother and ah fuckin love this big guy – d’you hear that? Ah fuckin love you, son.’