Dirt Road (34 page)

When he finished the song he went straight into a jig, capering about.

People were watching. A few adults, kids and toddlers. A wee girl in a football jersey came forwards. She was like eight years old and the jersey she wore showed the colours of Barcelona FC. Kids wore the same jersey back in Scotland. She held out a dollar. His empty coffee carton was there on the bench. Murdo winked at the girl and nodded towards it. Beyond her he saw the mother smile. The girl dropped in the dollar, stepped back and returned swiftly to her parents. Other people stopped. A few looked foreign and were taking pictures. A couple of guys and lassies roundabout his own age stayed for two songs. The accordeon brought them. Not his voice!

He played on, maybe three quarters of an hour. It was so worthwhile just doing it, and out of nothing. He hadnt meant to do anything like that. It was just everything! A whole combination of stuff. He took his time putting away the accordeon and getting his stuff together. He was keen to see how much money was in the old coffee carton but didnt want to look when people were watching. Then he was able to count it: $11.70. Ye would call it a wage. His first wage in America. This was it! That was like two sandwich meals or one big one, two catfish. It was just brilliant.

If Dad had been there. Not like to hear Murdo play but to realize that he could earn money for doing it. It wasnt just a boy growing up like a wee hobby. He was a musician and musicians earned money. It was like a job. Ye do it and ye keep doing it. If ye stop playing ye stop playing. So ye cant stop, ye have to play play play. If ye go wrong ye get the chance to make it right. But the chance only comes in the playing. If ye dont stick with it ye dont get it, ye dont right the wrong.

That is what it is; that is what happens. People watching wont notice, unless they are musicians and pick it out. Like how Chess Hopkins knew when Murdo moved the wrong way on “Bonaparte's Retreat” but pulled it back, and nobody knew. Except Chess. But
that let Chess relax and run with his own thing, because he knew he could trust Murdo. Murdo was up to the task. So that allowed Chess to make room for Clara. He was freed up from the fiddle, and did back-up vocal for her. Murdo provided that. Him on guitar set Chess free to give Clara what she needed. Murdo on guitar meant Clara could sing.

It made ye laugh but it was true. That was how it worked. Declan Pike saw that. That was the compliment he gave Murdo at the Gathering, You got her singing son: that was what Declan said.

Bands can do that. The exact same with Queen Monzee-ay. The exact same. She could rely on Murdo. She knew she could, she bloody knew. That was how come she wanted him, right from the start, from the second tune he played on the porch back in Allentown! That was the whole damn thing, she could relax and just like play, just go and go wherever, wherever. Jees, sometimes…it made ye angry. It made Murdo angry. It made Murdo so so angry.

What? What did?

Something, just bloody something. He walked on fast. Where to? Just someplace he just bloody was angry. He needed something to eat. As if he could ever let her down! Ha ha fucking ha, fucking ha, ha ha. Queen Monzee-ay for God sake, never ever, never ever. He felt like crying jeesoh, jeesoh man, he walked fast, lugging the accordeon-case.

*

Early afternoon he found the road out to where the Jay Cee Lounge was located. It seemed a long way away. He wondered whether to walk it there just to see the place and make sure of finding it later. He didnt have to be there until nine o'clock tonight; eight o'clock to be on the safe side.

He returned to the main festival area. Already there were crowds of people. Maybe because it was Saturday. Exciting. And music
music all the way, begun from the Cajun beat but Zydeco in there too and the French connection in both. It was interesting. And made sense too with Queen Monzee-ay and Aunt Edna each speaking French. He headed for the lunchtime venue.

The poster read “Lancey's Cajun All-Stars” but her name was missing. He stood outside listening for several minutes. He didnt want to pay money to go in if she wasnt playing.

Then he discovered the sign saying “entrée gratuite/free admission”.

Inside people wandered around; an all-aged audience, including old people and family groups; children playing and chasing one another. Some tourists too, phones out and photographs. Mostly white people but a few black and all like ordinary together; the usual with clothes, all different outfits, cowboy hats and short trousers. Then the music itself! Jeesoh. Folk were just dancing, dancing along the sides of the space and the gap between here and the seated area which held maybe five to seven hundred people. Plenty seats taken but plenty available.

Murdo threaded his way through behind the rear of the seated area and found a spot to stand with a clear view of the band: Queen Monzee-ay on her cream-coloured accordeon, just a member of the band and nothing special; seated to the side of Lancey himself, on fiddle and lead vocal. Then a bass guitar and drums; electric guitar, acoustic guitar and triangle. No Sarah.

Lancey also had an accordeon next to his chair. He sang directly to Queen Monzee-ay and she sang in reply to him. Both sang in French and called to each other in high-pitched voices. It was rocking along and fun all the way. Some in the audience laughed at quips the musicians made, so they knew French. Others were foreign, were maybe Chinese and Japanese and from countries in Europe or wherever.

The audience laughed at something Lancey was saying, then loud applause; whistling and cheering. It was for Queen Monzee-ay. She gave a wave to the audience. They were all appreciating her.
They all seemed to know who she was. Everybody. All clapping her, including the band, who were all quite old themselves. Murdo hadnt noticed until now. Maybe they were genuine all-stars.

Queen Monzee-ay was leaning to chat a moment with the bass guitarist and drummer while Lancey was pointing to folk in the audience he knew and some were known musicians too. He spoke in French and repeated some of it in English.

It was brilliant. This is what Murdo felt, so strongly. He was just lucky. So so lucky. If only this! It was another world. An amazing-mazing thing. Lancey introduced the next song, tradeesheeonalll. People got up to dance to the front and down the sides. A few stood having a smoke and chatting, moved aside to allow the dancers space.

With the dancing going other spare seats became available, including at the very back row and Murdo found one fast. He placed the accordeon-case by his feet and removed the rucksack altogether. He sat a moment then breathed out slowly, at last, just being able to
breathe
. Not worrying about stuff. Hearing the music, watching the band.

All the different styles too, and seeing the dancers; everything, just relaxed, here he was and everything was okay.

That was a thing here how folk were relaxed, just like chatting, whatever. Even with the band playing. Back home there were guys Murdo played with got irritated by people talking. But what is wrong in people talking? They are having fun, and being friendly. What is wrong with being friendly!

Aunt Edna! Jees! Aunt Edna! She was on the edge of the third front row, way down from Murdo but on the same side, next to a guy in a cowboy hat which was black and studded.

Aunt Edna had that upright way about her. Even sitting down. Her and the cowboy guy were making comments, their heads turning to each other, cheery comments and laughing. Sarah was farther along from her, sitting next to a guy. Joel was there too, but Murdo didnt recognize the guy sitting beside Sarah.

He was sitting beside her. He was with her. Seeing how close they were sitting, he definitely was. Murdo raised himself up from the seat to get a clearer view. The guy was close in to her. Even like their shoulders touching; they looked like they were. Squeezed in. Although other people were too. It was funny but. Not funny, it just meant – whatever. What did it mean? It meant like they were sitting close together and it was as close, closer, than her and Joel. Joel was on the other side and there was a big space between them, and he was her brother. So ha ha. Whatever that was. It meant something; whatever it meant, that is what it meant.

While the next song was being introduced, Aunt Edna and the guy in the black studded cowboy hat got up and strolled to the smoking area. Aunt Edna was a smoker but the guy wasnt, he was just keeping her company.

Aunt Edna turned to gaze in Murdo's direction but would never see him unless he waved. He didnt wave. He didnt, otherwise

He didnt feel like talking.

Ye think things and they are stupid.

Sarah was saying something to the guy, half turned to him, and their faces like close, how could faces be so close? Obviously they couldnt. If yer face was as close as that ye would have been touching, touching faces: touching faces is kissing. What else is kissing?

Murdo sat back on the seat.

Things that are daft. This is life. Ye think things. Just stupid. Girls are girls and guys are just like, just the usual.

How could he go home? He didnt have enough money. The bus cost too much. He would have to hitch. He would hitch. The road out of Lafayette was okay for hitching, it wasnt like a real interstate where ye couldnt stand. Hitch it to Baton Rouge and then up the way to Jackson and over to Birmingham, although Birmingham, ye wanted to pass it by because of that damn church and what happened to the girls, where they were killed; that bloody bomb, that was like America, that was America, that was ha ha ha,
killing and bombing and battering and just bloody horrible and he wanted away, away away away, he wanted away.

Murdo crouched forwards, arms folded and resting on his knees, just how he was feeling was the stupidity, just like stupidity. Murdo and stupidity. Dad would say it. Life. Murdo's life. Stupidity. Talk about stupidity, that was him, he was just daft. Daft. Some guys got lassies but he didnay; beautiful lassies, he didnay get any. He didnay. He had a girlfriend before and she went with another guy. Imagine that. Just like

That is what happened. That guy had sex with her and Murdo didnt. That was the truth and he knew it for a fact. She had sex with him but not with Murdo. How come? Ye just like – ye have to think, ye have to think…ye have to, ye just like worry worry, ye worry about it, if ye've done something wrong, something like whatever; if it is your fault, ye wonder, or maybe like if ye are gay, so it is like maybe I'm gay and that is what it is, like if the lassie doesnay fancy ye, how come? if ye are gay, maybe ye are. The guy in the toilet. Then him in Allentown offering a lift, jeesoh, how come? How come these guys

like if it was a real lift, how come Murdo didnt take it? Ye wonder about that. How come he didnay take the lift? If ye want to hitch it then somebody offers and ye dont take it. How come?

Just something. Something. Probably nothing; probably he was a good guy and just helpful. He knew Sarah's father. It would just be stupid, just Murdo like how – whatever, he was daft, he did daft things, said the wrong things. Grow up, why didnt he?

Ye got sick of it, sick of yerself. Everything was mixed up. The guy was trying to be helpful and ye said no. He was black. So if he was white? Was that something? People were white, or else black. Sarah was black and American. Murdo was white and Scottish. White and Scottish. He twisted on his seat, pulling on the rucksack, set to leave. He breathed in and it made a snorting sound. He closed his eyes and sat there, and settled the breathing, forcing it measured, measured; one two three; one, one; one two three, one two three. He breathed in.

He gripped the handle of the accordeon-case but didnt get up off the seat, he just breathed in; breathing in, breathing out, breathing in, breathing out, because he didnt want to get up off the seat but just stay there and nothing. None of it was like anything; nothing at all; everything was something else. He let go the handle of the accordeon-case and slunk even further down, still on the edge of the seat. He shouldnt have put the rucksack on but he had and he couldnt take it back off without getting up off the seat and he didnt want to in case anybody saw him. He wasnt going to the gig tonight, he was not going. Never.

What is life? “Life”? When Mum died her face changed. Her actual face and like the shape of it, the cheekbones maybe. It wasnt Mum's face. Was that pain? Maybe it was. Twisted up with pain. Heavy heavy morphine drugs. They gave her morphine. Somebody said that. Who told them? Why not Murdo? If you are the son how come they dont tell you? Oh Mum is dying, maybe ye can find out for yerself. Oh well. Life is life. Sarah and she's got a boyfriend. What did Queen Monzee-ay think? There was Murdo and there was whoever. People see ye. Ye get these thoughts about people too, that they know what you are thinking. They say it to ye: Oh I know what you're thinking. But do they? They cant see into yer brain. So if a guy looks at ye and he is gay then is that you? Maybe it is, so if ye are, so what? Dad is like Oh ye have to do this and ye have to do that. It was just daft bloody nonsense, so if ye were gay, however life is, so what, it is all just plus 1, everybody and nothing. It was all just stupid. Ye look in the mirror and see other people. Because they are seeing you. Ye see yer own face but these other folk too, how come they are all there? They say something so you have to go along with it. You make a decision but it is their life too.

If it had been night-time he could have got up and walked out and nobody would know. Here the sky was blue, the sun was shining, Saturday afternoon and the broadest daylight ever ye could get. On stage Lancey introduced another one and on they went, him on fiddle, another waltz

oh but sad sad sad bloody sad, that voice this morning, the French guy doing the French song, how did he get that sadness it made ye bloody cry just so so sad. Stupid stupid stuff, that was music and just fuck, how they got that sadness. How do they do it? Musicians just get it. Some get it, Queen Monzee-ay in her playing, sitting there, the all-stars, she was just staring; where she was staring, ye would never ever know. Never. Never never. She was sitting there staring off, and that sad waltz rhythm. What was she staring at? Nothing, only her eyes were open. She was the centre. Ye knew it. Ye had to watch her. Murdo had never seen anybody, never seen anybody, whatever she was she was just, she was just like what, the minute-most minute