Dirt Road Page 5

  Sarah’s brother Joel had brought them coffee on a tray. He also brought drinks for Murdo, Sarah and himself; fizzy stuff with ice and bits of ginger and green herb leaves floating, but tasty.

  Oh Aunt Edna, said Sarah, tell Murdo about the band not getting paid that time like when you brought out the “piece”!

  You tell him. Aunt Edna said, I need to smoke.

  Yeah, said Queen Monzee-ay, taking off her accordeon and propping it against the wooden surround. She rose to her feet, massaging her side.

  Both the older ladies smoked. They lifted their coffees and moved from the porch to where chairs were set on the grass. They sat there smoking cigarettes. An older man came to sit with them and they chatted, out of earshot.

  Sarah continued the story: You know a “piece” is a handgun Murdo? Aunt Edna helped Gran and the band out sometimes, like on the road? Organising the money. Joel and me grew up on these stories and they are so wonderful. Our mother told us too, from when she was a kid. Gran took her on the road.

  Jeesoh!

  Yeah, said Joel. All over. That was Mum’s education like dives and joints and blues clubs man Zydeco and jazz and like whoh! She like…man, that was her, that was her education.

  Murdo laughed.

  You play in a band? said Sarah.

  Yeah well… Murdo looked at her.

  You always want to play music?

  Murdo shrugged. Yeah

  She’s a writer, said Joel.

  I’m not a writer.

  Yeah you are.

  Sarah sighed, closing her eyes. I want to be a writer.

  She’s going to do the course, said Joel. It’s like a college course?

  Dad says I should go to New York City but Mum says it’s too cold.

  She means dangerous, said Joel. New York City is dangerous.

  It’s not dangerous.

  Mum says it is. Dad too.

  Oh yeah they want the west coast, but how dangerous is that, like LA? My God! They take pistols to class.

  No they dont. Joel chuckled.

  Yes they do.

  No they dont.

  I dont care, said Sarah, they got courses anyplace you want to name; Creative Writing Programs, and it’s like anything you want; poetry and fiction-writing; feature movies; documentary you know like politics; even a novel, imagine a novel! Oh my God! Sarah danced a step, then paused and sighed. Gran lived on the west coast for years. Her and the band… Sarah sighed. Dad says I dont need to go anywhere, they got courses here in Mississippi.

  Huh! Joel shook his head.

  Yeah, said Sarah, but it’s the program’s important Joel and they got some closeby. Dad says so. Mum too.

  Oh yeah, yeah, they just want you home.

  Sarah was silent for a moment. How come you are here Murdo?

  Oh. Well, yeah… Murdo frowned.

  Like here in Allentown?

  Yeah. I dont know, we just eh…we were traveling to Alabama and that is east really; so how come Allentown like heading south, yeah, I dont know. I looked at the map in the bus station and it was like how come we landed here if it should be east?

  Didnt you know this was Mississippi?

  Mississippi? No, I mean like not Dad either, my father, I dont think he knew either.

  Sara and Joel grinned.

  Dad’s doing the directions. I think it was bad information up in Memphis like us getting a bus from there then like missing the bus here; even the bus driver I mean he was not helpful.

  You missed the bus here? said Sarah.

  Yeah well anyway who cares.

  Queen Monzee-ay was watching from her chair, and she gave a wave. Murdo waved back, and got a bad feeling in his stomach. It sounded like he was poking fun at Dad and he wasnt. He didnt mean to. It was me anyway, he said. I forgot my phone so like for directions. Murdo shrugged. My Dad’s fine, he said. Really, he’s fine. It’s not his fault at all, it’s mine. Missing the bus was my fault like I mean not his. It’s just eh we dont talk that much really, being honest. My mother died eh… Murdo smiled. Sorry, he said, just eh…

  Oh Murdo, said Sarah.

  He scratched his brow. Yeah, quite recent, so it’s…it’s been tough I suppose really, ye would say. Dad especially because like my sister…

  Sarah was staring at him.

  God, he said and breathed in. What I mean like she died as well sorry, I dont mean to be saying this like I mean sorry, it’s a long time ago like I was only nine, jees I mean a long long time ago.

  Oh God Murdo.

  Yeah, she was only twelve. Murdo smiled, not looking at Sarah; nor at Joel, but away way over their heads, the heads of people; almost like he was floating, his voice coming from someplace else.

  Sarah’s hand was on his wrist. Oh Murdo.

  He opened his mouth to take in air. Joel was looking at him as well. Murdo shrugged. Just to tell ye, he said, it was a tumour, like hereditary. Through the female line. Murdo bit on the side of his lower lip. Males dont get it, he said. So the likes of me, I’m okay and Dad I mean. It doesnt affect us. It’s weird with Eilidh but – my sister – even just now, I open the door and it’s like I expect to see her.

  Murdo grinned. She’s more of a pal. I think of her like that; a pal, a pal that died. Jeesoh, sorry. Murdo scratched his head. The turquoise accordeon was where he had left it.

  He made a movement towards it, he wanted to play one for Sarah. Joel too but Sarah especially. Joel wouldnt mind; brothers and sisters. Brothers and sisters were fun. This tune too, it was a fun thing he had been learning; an old fisherman’s song, just stupid stuff about being fed up with the cod-fishing and then getting married and being fed up with that too if yer wife was ordering ye about all the time, so ye were like glad to go back to the fishing again. And ye had to know what a cod was like: cods are huge! And wives, wives are wives but they are girlfriends too.

  He reached for the box, pulled it on and started right in on it, playing right into Sarah so she had to step back, and she was so taken by surprise she kind of shouted and it made people look. Joel laughed. Murdo sang the lyric when he played it, jigging about on the chorus. It was how he practised too. He wasnt great on vocals and didnt do it much but on this one he did.

  Across the garden he saw Queen Monzee-ay and Aunt Edna smiling and clapping hands. Four or five kids returned and joined in on the jig. Murdo moved them here and there threading a way between them like the Pied Piper. It was good fun. People liked it and him being stupid too when he was singing. It didnt have to be the right words; if he didnt know the real ones make them up, just make them up. Who cares! Long ago he learned that. Half the time he wasnt singing words at all

  doo doo doo, dih doo doo doo,

  dih dih doo doo doo doo,

  la la la, lih la la la.

  As long as he kept it going and didnt stop. Never ever. If he messed up someplace keep it going keep it going, and he kept it going, some way or another. The fast-foot dance maybe. He called it that. He made it up himself. Maybe not, maybe he copied it from somebody. He liked seeing other players and how they did stuff.

  He did slow walks too. Some airs he played very still, not moving hardly at all, so people focused. They had no choice, ye forced them into it and they had to do it. For some tunes they had to listen; if they didnt they would never get it, and ye wanted them to get it, and people had to be ready for that, ready to listen. Ye saw good performers and that was what they did. They led the way for the audience, they brought them along. He liked seeing the old-time players because of that and ye saw all different ones on YouTube. Sometimes ye thought “crafty”, oh that’s crafty, that player’s crafty and ye wanted to give him a wink – maybe the fiddler because ye knew what he was up to!

  Queen Monzee-ay hadnt picked up the cream-coloured accordeon. He expected she might but she didnt. Sarah had gone to stand with her and they were talking. Murdo kept it going till eventually it wasnt right, it was not right, like a change in mood; something. The kids stopped dancing and were looking
.

  Dad.

  Dad was there. He appeared from the same end of the store building as Murdo earlier on. Murdo broke off playing, It’s my father, he said, and he took off the accordeon. He passed it to Joel. Dad arrived but kept his distance. Murdo went to meet him, aware of people watching. Dad said quietly, Do you never think? Not even sometimes?

  Murdo nodded.

  Ye disappeared.

  I’m sorry.

  Just yer usual.

  …

  Let’s go. Right now.

  Yeah.

  Right now Murdo.

  Yeah Dad I just need to say cheerio. Murdo turned away from him, aware of everybody watching but that was that and he didnt care. He crossed to where Queen Monzee-ay and Aunt Edna were sitting. Queen Monzee-ay smiled and reached to shake hands with him. Instead of shaking hands she held his wrist, and she seemed to press in her fingers, like her finger tips digging into his actual flesh, and she said, Well now Murrdo you are learning, you are learning good.

  Murdo grinned and she pressed in even deeper, and he blinked.

  Now you are okay, she said. You can come play with me anytime. You think you might ever want to do that?

  Ha ha, said Murdo.

  Queen Monzee-ay chuckled, and there was that fun in her voice on the “r” stress. More than fun. Murrdo. She was saying the name for him and marking him with it. It was him, he was Murdo. This is what she meant. Dad didnt grasp it because he didnt know. None of it, nothing. He just didnt know. Murdo saw Sarah there and Aunt Edna, Joel too; they all knew what Queen Monzee-ay was meaning. It was only Dad didnt. He thought he did but he didnt. That was the weird thing about Dad how he didnt know things, even after this time you would think he would know.

  Mum would have known.

  Strange how everything was stupid. It was something he felt a lot but just now was maybe the clearest ever it had been. No wonder he got fed up. Anybody would. Sometimes it made ye angry.

  Sarah was looking at him. It was hard to look back. She was so straight and honest, so straight and honest. Ye knew that immediately.

  Ye did. She enjoyed everything and was interested in everything and if you did something well then she was interested in that too. Her eyes shining, and sad, how she was looking at him. Was she worried? How come? He hoped she wasnt. He was fine, it was just normal; this was life, kind of stupid sometimes; him and Dad.

  Sarah’s father and mother were at the back door of their house, quite close to where Dad was standing. And foodsmells were coming, like good cooking, whatever. Sarah’s father strolled over to him. Weird. Dad saw him and was not sure what to do. He was just being friendly. Dad stood there waiting. It was weird to see. Sarah’s father said, Hey, I’m Henry.

  Dad gazed at him.

  I’m Sarah’s father. He gestured at the back door of their house. We’ve prepared some food. You and your son are very welcome to join us.

  After a moment Dad said, We cant. We have to leave, we’ve got a bus to catch and eh… Our luggage too, it’s at the motel and eh…

  You talking the Sleep Inn? They’re friends of ours.

  Dad frowned at Murdo.

  They’re good people, said Henry. What time’s your bus?

  Ten past three.

  Okay, you got plenty of time huh. I can call them.

  Eh…

  You all can pick up the luggage later.

  No. No. But thanks. We have to get ready and eh you know, but thanks for the offer.

  Your son here’s been keeping us entertained. Henry grinned. Now we got to feed him.

  No, really, we have to leave eh we just eh… Dad glanced at Murdo but Murdo had his head lowered and maybe didnt notice.

  Henry waved his hand at Dad in a relaxed manner. Why dont my son Joel drive you there right now, go right to the motel and pick up your luggage. Then you all can come back and have some food.

  No. Thanks. We need to get on.

  Henry nodded.

  Come on Murdo! called Dad.

  Henry stepped back a pace now. Dad had started walking. Murdo followed. Disappearing would have been better. Into thin air. But he couldnt and had to wave to people because how could ye not, he had to. He did a half turn and a semi wave, but a couple of steps onward he managed to turn properly and give a proper wave and this time smiled a proper smile.

  Aunt Edna gave him a big circular wave in reply. This wave summed it up and how even she stood like shoulders back and just straight, straight standing. It was like laughing at everything, Aunt Edna was laughing at everything and it was like swearing inside yer head but next time it might be outside because ye would fight anybody, it was up to you. That was Aunt Edna. Murdo had been clenching his right fist: he relaxed and allowed his shoulders to droop; it happened with the box, ye took off the box and the shoulders drooped, ye let them droop.

  Dad continued ahead. Neither spoke until on the street outside Dad said, We wont bother with the shop.

  They carried on toward the junction then left along the main road to the motel, not talking. Nothing to talk about. Murdo knew what Dad thought. He knew completely what Dad thought. So what? Not only was Murdo stupid he was daft. Stupid and daft. That was that.

  He might have expected a row. It didnt come. Only silence. He was used to silence. Silence was good. He wanted to say it aloud: Silence is good Dad silence is good. When I am with you I enjoy silence.

  Except in his stomach again, like being a kid when ye have done something wrong; the nightmare: retribution, the punishment to come, waiting for it to come and it would come, sooner or later: definitely.

  Although Dad was right. Murdo never thought things through. Why didnt he? Daydreams and fantasies. Doing things and not thinking about what it was, the thing ye were doing, what the hell was it? why were ye doing it? could ye stop? was it too late?

  Was there something wrong with him? Why didnt he think?

  Murdo was a person who didnt think. Were there people who didnt think? If so he was one of them.

  Anyway, he didnt want to think. He was happy walking. It was the fourth time walking this street and he was getting to know houses by their paintwork and fronts; the ruts in the pavement and dangerous bits where the roots of trees appeared through the ground and could trip people up if ye lost concentration. That was Murdo, concentration, he didnt have any, it was just part of thinking; better off not thinking. Nothing about nothing.

  Back at the motel he stayed outside the reception office while Dad was in finalising details. He strolled along to the room and waited by the front door. On the upper floor the couple were on their chairs on the outside corridor. The old man called down again: Howdy.

  Hiya, called Murdo.

  Dad had ordered a taxi in fifteen minutes. Murdo was ready in five. Food in the fridge from last night. Three slices of bread and a sliver of cheese. Dad had left it for him. Murdo just left it, he didnt want to eat. He wasnt being huffy. Just the idea, he couldnt stomach it.

  Ye wondered why Dad would do something like that: saying no to Sarah’s father. Murdo lifted his rucksack and slung it over one shoulder. Sarah’s father had been friendly. Murdo’s father hadnt been friendly back; the very opposite, not even polite. It was just embarrassing. Murdo should have told him to eat the bread himself.

  That would have been cheeky. But better Dad eating it than leaving it behind. Good bread and cheese. Although the bread wasnt that good anyway, it had an unusual flavour and tasted sugary. The cheese would have made it okay.

  Imagine an actual meal.

  Saying no to an actual meal. Why would anybody do that? Murdo wasnt the huffy one there it was Dad. What point was he making? It had to be a point. It would have been good food too, hot food. Even just to see what it was. Different people ate different meals. Americans too so what would that have meant? Good gravy and mashed potatoes maybe, cabbage and peas. Sunday lunch. Roast meat and vegetables.

  That was a real meal. Murdo and his father didnt have real meals. Not nowadays, not for Sunday lunch.
They didnt have Sunday lunch. They didnt have any lunch; only like toast, and soup out a tin if ye could be bothered bloody opening it. They had their meal in the evening. It was usually okay. Sometimes they had a whole steak pie bought out the butcher. They halved it for Sunday and Monday. Dad did frozen roast potatoes and peas, sometimes carrots. There was usually a football match on television. Dad liked football. Murdo did too but not so much as him.

  When they reached the bus station the taxi driver drove round the other side of the bus park area. There was a restaurant. A huge big place standing on its own ground. Menus were posted outside the door, long lists of grub, all different stuff. Dad peered inside through the restaurant window. It’s busy, he said. He checked his wristwatch. He peered in again. I think it’s too busy, he said.

  Murdo saw in the window, saw empty tables. People were coming out the restaurant and others were going in. Mostly families, mostly black people. Round the side of the building Murdo saw two cars queuing for takeaways. There was a hatch to give in yer orders.

  Do ye know what ye’re having? said Dad.

  Hamburger and chips. Are we not going in?

  It’s too busy.

  Aye but it’s big inside. There’s empty tables.

  I think we’re better with a carry-out son, just to be on the safe side. I know we’re in good time but ye never know.

  Murdo waited by the front entrance while Dad placed the order, he strolled to the edge of the pavement. This street was parallel to the main road. If he crossed here, turned right and kept in a straight line, he would arrive at the Wild West shop and the pawnshop. The accordeon would still have been there. It wouldnt have sold since last night. Unless pawnshops opened on Sundays. Maybe they did.

  When the food arrived they strolled round the block eating it. Dad didnt want to go inside the waiting room until the food was finished. They sat on a bench in the bus parking area. The hamburger was okay but the chips were the thinnest ever; not even crispy which would have made them bearable. The best bit was the bun. One of these wee pick-up trucks entered. Murdo watched it circle about. This place was reserved for buses. The truck reversed into the stance across the way. The horn tooted. The front passenger door opened and Sarah was there – Sarah! Murdo was onto his feet immediately. Dad it’s Sarah! And Joel too Dad look it’s me, it’s me they’re looking for!