Dirt Road (30 page)

Thanks.

She smiled. You play something for me? Something nice?

Murdo adjusted the strap and began on “The Bluebell Polka”. The woman was taken aback. She maybe expected a novice. Murdo had been playing this since he was a boy. It was one of the first he learned properly and was just about the first request he ever got from old people, beginning from his granny and grandpa when they were alive.

The pawnshop woman watched and listened. Oh my dear, she said, that is God's gift, that is just God's gift.

The two men were looking over too. Murdo played into a quite popular slow tune, and a particular arrangement he had been trying recently. It got an emotion he liked, just something good.

He ended the playing. Okay, he said, that's fine. He opened the box then shrugged off the accordeon, laid it in the case. The buckle fastening was strong enough although maybe a little tightening would have helped. The woman was watching. That thing is heavy, she said, passing him the receipt.

Yeah. Murdo brought the money from his pocket. Once he had the change of two $50s he crossed the street to the bus station.

That was him now. That was the trip worthwhile. It didnt matter about Sarah's family all being away, he would just pay the full bus-fare money and that was that. Even if he changed his mind, it was too late.

Allentown bus station: he felt comfortable just walking in the door. The woman behind the ticket and information counter was the same as before. She looked at Murdo. Maybe she recognized him.

The bus to Jackson was busy but the one from there to Baton Rouge was only a third full, so a double seat to himself; it was great. He had one sandwich left. He also had an apple and a banana. The banana skin had gone black but fine inside when peeled. He ate it then brought out the book he was reading, and laid it on the pull-down tray. He settled back, closing his eyes. It was not a great accordeon but it was okay. He smoothed his hand over the box, then opened it to see inside. No point lifting it out.

He was still hungry. Maybe he would eat the sandwich. It was late now and still a while to travel.

The worry was the bus from Baton Rouge to Lafayette; how many were there and how late did they run? The trip back to Allentown had been costly in money and in time. But it was necessary, and the accordeon was okay, not bad. He was lucky getting it for eighty-five dollars. When he was buying it he was thinking of pounds, so really it was only like ten for fifteen is four for six is sixty-four quid. Eighty-five dollars was sixty-four quid, so it was a good buy.

Definitely no point lifting it out the case, although he fancied seeing it. He would have to stand in the aisle to pull it on. Maybe he could! Busking the bus. People did it on trains.

He was sitting on the right side so he could see the Mississippi River. By his reckoning the road went down that way and at some stage had to cross it. Maybe not.

A tune was in his head; boats and the sea. A sailor's tune from Canada. The Mississippi River was supposed to be wide in places
with boats going up and down, and even had wee islands in it, making ye think of home. He missed seeing the water. That was something. He hadnt thought of that. He lifted the book off the pull-down tray but laid it down again. It was true. Alabama had only that wee bit of coast. Louisiana was different, it looked amazing with all these wee islands. There were more than seven hundred in Scotland but how many in Louisiana! Even more? Maybe.

Buses were good. Going someplace where ye werent. Ye werent someplace and were passing through. Ye had never been and never would be. These places where ye werent. Ye werent already, so just being there. I want to be in that place because I'm not there.

I came to the place

where the lone children lay

Murdo's usual thing was not talking. There were things to talk about but he didnt want to. The more ye did the more there was to tell. Ye heard yerself and it hardly sounded like you at all. Ye were telling the truth but it seemed like a story ye had made up.

Why would ye lie about that kind of stuff? Sometimes it seemed like boasting. Imagine boasting about somebody dying. People did that. Yer mother died and they are like Oh wait till ye hear about me. Then you are like What are you talking about I've had two people. Oh yer sister died as well! So then they know something even worse again. My fucking dog died. Oh sorry to hear it. Then they ask ye about the actual people and dont listen when ye tell them. Ye see their eyes looking away.

What did Dad think about? People think about stuff. Him thinking about Eilidh, whatever he thought; Clara Hopkins singing, if he listened, where the lone children lay

how sweetly I sleep here alone.

Ye imagine Eilidh and just like whatever. What is that? That makes ye cry, never mind on a bloody bus and all that damn stupid school
crap like in school the Guidance Teacher. Dad was like, Oh you've got to talk.

What about?

Who did Dad talk to? He even fell out with his brother, then Uncle John losing his temper in the restaurant, whatever that was, tickets.

This leaving wasnt the worst thing Murdo had ever done. Pretty bad but not the worst. His life was different to the lives of other folk. He had pals back home but he wasnt like them. Everything that went on he had to deal with. Who else was there? Only Dad.

They were stuck with one another.

For Dad it was only Mum. She was the only one. Who else? Nobody. So real love. After that what could there be? Nothing. That would be Dad till he died. Never the same love again.

What if he never told her? The man doesnt tell the woman he loves. Then she dies and that is it finished. It might have been the same for Dad. Maybe he never knew he loved her until after she was dead. Only then he realized the truth. The love he had was a real love, she was it, and he never told her. That would have been the worst. It explained things about Dad. One night he did something daft and didnt come home. He never said what it was. When he phoned he sounded drunk. Maybe he was. It hadnt happened before and Murdo thought it was funny. Dad kept apologising but at the same time was dead serious. He stayed the night in Glasgow, probably at Uncle Robert's because where else? although they werent talking, so how come?

In the early days Mum kept walking round the ward and the day-room; round and round she went. It made her feel she was trying, and if she could keep on trying ye never know; wonder drugs and new inventions.

So that was that.

Taking the money was the worst. Aunt Maureen would be disappointed. He took the money huh, how much did he take? Two hundred dollars. Jeesoh, two hundred. It was a loan but for
the accordeon and getting there on the bus. People didnt want ye hitching so what were ye supposed to do? Says it's a loan huh. My Lord! How much we talking there? $200. Well ye have to do it because with the price of bus-fares added to the accordeon.

Dad would be like, Ha ha. An accordeon! Ha ha. What happened to listening and learning! Use yer ears and the brains in yer body.

Right Dad okay and not just them in my head. Somebody once told Murdo he had fast fingers. You've got fast fingers son. Not fast fingers, brainy fingers. His brains were everywhere. Nerves were brain-ends and fingers were full of them. Fingers needed to be fast so they were fast. They werent fast to begin with. They had to be fast for the song. The song made them fast. They were part of it and couldnt not be. Even if they tried they couldnt be slow. If they were it would be a different tune! That was fingers!

Dad didnt get it because he didnt “hear” music. They say that about some people, how they dont hear notes connected to one another, just a pile of things all scattered about haphazard.

The $200 was a loan and he would pay it back. He needed that accordeon and had to buy it. If he could have paid it himself he would have. He couldnt because he couldnt.

Oh jees, the feeling in his stomach.

What was that, nothing, staring out the window, what at, nothing. The two letters. They wouldnt have found them yet. Unless they came home early. Why? To make sure he was okay. So he didnt get up to mischief. A naughty boy. They were supposed to be going away for one night or else two. But now it was one night because of him. Dad would never stay away longer, he would just be worrying. They all would. Oh maybe he'll burn the house down! Then Dad would read the letter.

Jees.

Aunt Maureen would stick up for Murdo. Oh now he's a boy he just wants adventures.

That was true. What was wrong with adventures? Where would ye rather be: sitting on a porch reading a book or else doing a gig
with Queen Monzee-ay? Oh Louisiana, dont you cry for me, there's a banjo on my knee; what was that song?

Dad would be like, Oh he doesnt even know where Lafayette is! He thinks it is next to Chattanooga!

But what did Dad know. Murdo had the Road Atlas book anyway. Aunt Maureen gave him it. She gave him it. He didnt steal it!

Oh but he doesnt listen he doesnt listen! That's why he's behind at school. He doesnt listen and he skips away and he disappears for whole days at a time. Where does he go! Glasgow? Who knows.

No, he stays in his room all day playing music!

Coming up for seventeen and repeating a year. The oldest pupil in the school. How would they like that? Nobody would like that. Uncle John said it too when Murdo told him, I dont fancy that.

It was true. Who would fancy it? Nobody. Just stupid rubbish.

Who cares anyway. Who can be bothered. Imagine being bothered. It was all just stupid.

At least he had written the letters. That was good and Aunt Maureen would think it was good. Uncle John too. It was just Dad.

It didnt matter now because it was too late. It was finished.

That was something, all finished, yer family, it is only you. That is that and no more.

In Baton Rouge it was an hour and a half wait and he was hungry. He had one last apple. He ate it on a bench outside the bus station. Just great getting fresh air. He held the rucksack over one shoulder; on his lap the Road Map Atlas. The accordeon was by his feet and he wished he could bring it out the case. He needed to play. Why couldnt he? It was peaceful; people hanging about waiting for a bus, smoking, quiet talking. Maybe he could. People would want a tune. Maybe they wouldnt. The bus people wouldnt let him. They would if it was out on the street. How could they stop him? Maybe it was against the law. He laid his hand on the case.

A woman was here, sitting about three feet away on the other side of the bench. Not old at all. Maybe in her mid twenties. She
had her phone in her hand but was not looking at it, she was just gazing up the way. The night sky.

Other people were like travellers from foreign places, quite small people too, how the women wore leggings a particular way; maybe from Pakistan or India although could it have been South America, maybe. Some folk didnt seem to be traveling, just having a rest. Maybe they couldnt afford a ticket. Ye had to watch what ye spent every minute of the day. If Murdo hadnt made the sandwiches in Aunt Maureen's house that would have been fifteen dollars at least. Would his money last? He didnt know, and wouldnt know until after the gig. That was Sunday morning, whatever was happening then. If Sarah's family could give him a lift up to Jackson or someplace where he could make a good bus connection. It would save money if they did. But if they couldnt?

Ye had to watch for emergencies. Ye couldnt go spending money in cafés. Even if ye were hungry. It would just depend. People said “emergencies” but what were “emergencies”? If ye were starving. But if ye were starving and had money and didnt eat. So then it wasnt like an emergency, not a real one. Otherwise ye would just spend the money. But then ye saved money by walking instead of going on a bus and ye bought food with the money. Ye would be entitled to because you saved it yourself by walking. It would be your money for just like whatever, whatever ye wanted to spend it on.

What about the woman on the bench? Maybe it was the same for her. Did she have luggage? Murdo couldnt see a proper suitcase, only a big sort of handbag thing. She was tired-looking, bored maybe, sitting here for hours. If she had been. Probably she had. People just waited around. So probably a tune would be good, if he played one. People would enjoy it. She would too. She glanced at him. Jeesoh. She didnt catch his eye but she did glimpse him, definitely. Really, she did.

She was looking at him now, almost like not staring but nearly. She had seen him looking at her. Murdo shifted position. His face
was pure red now he knew it was. Although she wouldnt maybe know, not in the shadows. Where you headed? she said.

He looked at her and looked away, then back to her.

Where you headed? she asked again.

Aw eh Lafayette.

She squinted at him.

Murdo spoke slowly, I'm eh…I'm headed to Lafayette, the town Lafayette. He raised the Road Atlas book and pointed at the open page. Louisiana, he said.

The woman leaned a little closer to see where he was pointing. The perfume smell from her and the T-shirt she was wearing, the tops of her boobs and even like nipples standing out. Jeesoh but they were, just like

They were. He moved slightly away from her in case she had seen him, and would think he was trying to look and he wasnt, it was just like how ye couldnt not, ye couldnt, ye just had to see, if ye looked at her, because if ye did ye saw them. Murdo scratched the side of his head. Straight run from here, she said.

Thanks.

Uh huh. She breathed sharply in through her mouth; maybe she wasnt feeling good or was worried about something. Was she waiting for him to speak? Maybe she was. People got nervous in bus stations. They could panic when a bus was due to leave, jumping up trying to see the schedule and stuff. Also when the police were there. They had been in an hour ago checking who was here, looked at Murdo too. That was weird. How come they looked at him? He didnt smile. Uncle John told him that about the cops, never look at them if they are looking at you and never ever say anything funny – like trying to make a joke or something. Never ever do that.