A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing (12 page)

I give mother letters a miss after that. I’m not calling. Coming home. Being good and nice girl as I should. I know. Don’t know what’s the rub of it. And your birthday. That came. So what’s it to me? I think I’ll not. I’ll not bother at all. Who to say I should. You’re twenty- two. Too old for me to give a shit anymore.

After that she and me go back to our work. Drink this. Go here. See him. Do that. Lie across each other’s beds we tell each other sorts of things. It makes us such close friends. No bits pieces left unsaid. And truth now tell the truth we say. Her father felt her up. It makes her red and cry. Daddy still loves her the best but he wouldn’t want anyone else to try. That is love. Her mother’s milky bag of gins under the cupboard. Her sister is a fucking bitch. Always trying to get her in shit. I tell her. Kinds of stuff. About you. My brother’s shy. Patterns of the truth but not it. I. Hold onto that. It’s for dwelling in there. If she wants to spew it out, that’s for her. Not me too. No need to say. What is there to say?

When it was my own birthday. On the day. I am broke. Bloody. I. It has to be said. To turn nineteen. No cash under your wing. She says sure check your account. There could. You never know. Tenner. Fiver. Something you forgot. The wind clip my knees on that street. I stick my number in. Balance. Press. And guess. Guess what you know. There is in one hundred pounds. For me. For me. Hmm. Ssssh. I know from where. So thump my heart. Jesus. He did not. He didn’t. Oh God. He did. You did that. She’s leaping click her heels. We’re grand grand hip hurray. I didn’t like that much. Pilfer pursing my tenners. It was not so much fun knocking vodkas down my trough. I’ve a bad head. About it. Still now. Thinking you made the effort. Look what I did. Not. Not such a nice. No. Fuck him anyway. He’s sucking up. Thinks I’ll get all melted. I won’t. Yep. These are my guns and I’ll stick to them. Yep. I’m sticking. Creeping. I wish you hadn’t. Or I was. But I’ll still spend it all.

I met a man. I met a man. I let him throw me round the bed. And smoked, me, spliffs and choked my neck until I said I was dead. I met a man who took me for walks. Long ones in the country. I offer up. I offer up in the hedge. I met a man I met with her. She and me and his friend to bars at night and drink champagne and bought me chips at every teatime. I met a man with condoms in his pockets. Don’t use them. He loves children in his heart. No. I met a man who knew me once. Who saw me around when I was a child. Who said you’re a fine looking woman now. Who said come back marry me live on my farm. No. I met a man who was a priest I didn’t I did. Just as well as many another one would. I met a man. I met a man. Who said he’d pay me by the month. Who said he’d keep me up in style and I’d be waiting when he arrived. No is what I say. I met a man who hit me a smack. I met a man who cracked my arm. I met a man who said what are you doing out so late at night. I met a man. I met a man. And wash my mouth out with soap. I wish I could. That I did then. I met a man. A stupid thing. I met a man. Should have turned on my heel. I thought. I didn’t know to think. I didn’t even know to speak. I met a man. I kept on walking. I met a man. I met a man. And I lay down. And slapped and cried and wined and dined. I met a man and many more and I didn’t know you at all.

I saw that then. It happened a lot. You putting money in. Here for you. Little bit. I but I never say thanks. I never said. Sorry for that now. I don’t really know what I was up to.

So she called me when are you coming home? We haven’t seen you in an age. Now you will. Come home now. Ah you will. It’s your home. Where you belong. I’m praying for you everyday. Ah come for Easter. Ah you will. It’s been a year. Do. Ah. Do. We want to see you. Should do. Should do.

Sure parents drag you in the muck, through puffs of fag ash on my bed. You’ll make her happy. Why don’t you go. It’s no skin of your nose anyways.

Clippedy clop. Ah train. Going back down there. Those fields. Going through them just like then. Drowned over. Filled up with rain. Even cows drown here. Even sheep. Even people if they’re lucky. Children falling under every year. All the suffocated grass. The world’s submerged in raining. And feel old lady rosaries crossing over me. Like music’s going in my brain. Against me. I would. Push. Away. Get off this shore. Let this chalice pass. That old prayer. Not forget that. Me. If Jesus was here he’d have gone. Running. Screaming with his sandals all flapping in through the cow shit. Oh God get me out of this. No not my will but thine be done. If they could see me saying this. See under my skin. Awful know. The knowledge. Jesus. Poison that. Their lives and minds. Impious me. But see. But see. I’d give sacrilege a good go to be shot of it. Free of it. What? I don’t know what. But it knows me. Give me a good bite in its jaws. That’ll break my neck in time. That’ll have me eventually where I am, it wants me. Crunched and obey. All over. Over there. Those houses passing by. Those bungalow dot dot my conscience. Shall I not do right? It’s a cess pit. A suck pool. Where all dead go. Am I. Will I. End up like them. Live and drown here. Filling my lungs. There’s no escape. Get out for likes of me. Gurgle liquid up. Hold my nose. Fall in. Ah God. Shut up. You’re only fucking going home. It’s not that bad it is. Is. Not. There. Go on. Give over with all that then.

That station I know it. It’s here. I’m yes that’s fine. Hello. Hello. Lovely to see you. Yes. Something. What? What is it? We had some news. Yes? Your grandfather’s. Died. Oh. In his sleep. I know it is a dreadful shock. Oh terrible. So. We’ll have to pack the car. Go north for the funeral. I haven’t seen him in a good what fifteen years. Oh Mammy. And true she looks dread. Hug her. Think well at least I’m glad I’ve come for something even this. She hic and cry. That old bastard. Get me all stirred up. Riled. But still. But still. Hello. Yes. To you. Standing. Strange what was that? Off a bit from her. Something of your look gave me. Something. What? There’s a bit. Something. In there. Anyway. Hello.

At the house. That’s the same. It was a year ago. But calmer. And my eye catch dust. Some giving up or winding down? I can’t decide.

Pack it. Yes pack that have you got black? With you. I always have. Just as well. You must you know she says. My family. Everyone will be on the look. A good gawk. Sure you know the type of them. Always something to say. Who gives a fuck? Don’t show me up she says. And none of that foul mouth if you don’t mind. It’s just a word. You father was a well-spoken man at all times. Do I give a. Don’t please don’t just not today. We’ll have a fight another time. Just check your brother’s packed his bags. That fella’s memory is shot to hell. Are you packed there? I am. Are you sure? Yes. Are you? I said I’m sure. Throw that in the car. I did already. Good for you. You two. Please just stop it now.

We’re driving off. We’re going. I think well Granda’s dead. What do I care? That’s crept in me. Listless. Quiet. Dead inside perhaps me. I’m not. I am not. Who’s he anyway to me?

Hours and hours. Here we are. Sea wind slit breath. Salting in my mouth. That’s a sharp sharp air. Give you ice in the eyes. Sea pitch pulling itself over and back. Greenish blacky. Drag off groaning rocks. I close my door. Lock it tight. I haven’t been to his house. Take out the bags from the back she says to you.

He lived looking out on that. Cliff ahead. No wonder he was such a strange. The front door opens. Inside people there. Such aunts and uncles I’ve not known before. Even you. Bewildered by all that lot of them. That’s a whole ocean of cousins alone. Hordes. In a shipwreck I would chuck the lot. Go in. Go in. Hello. Sit down. God years and years. Is it? Years and years. They pockle on us. Make up some tea. Can’t you see they’re froze? Will you have a sandwich? Ham? Egg? Cheese? Sure this lovely one with salad cream that make me retch, bit of lettuce and corned beef. I will. I’m grand. Well just the one. Bite into that as introducing’s begin.

Now this is so and so. Seen you in years and years. And shaking all their sweating hands. Get kiss off the aunts. Some of them. More leather looking than our own and dyed, made up this one that, with great precaution for their age. But I can see her off their eyes. The browny almond turn at end. They’re not so friendly. Maybe are a little bit on the sly. It’s much too small here for us all they say but two in a bed couch and armchair, you’ll be grand. I. Glare at me. I won’t complain. He would want it wouldn’t he? Yes I suppose indeed.

Some of them smoke some of them drink. A whiskey at the table. Ice up there in the fridge. Do not you. Mammy just a little one. As though I could stop you. She’s that headstrong. Go on.

And uncles. Now with my mouth full of egg. I have not thought. Oh God. Of. Right. Here. Knock it back now. You’ll be fine I say. You never did. Any wrong. So.

Not this one. He’s a bit small. This one taller and too fat but gives hugs like he knows me. This one. Not. This one. Isn’t him. Not him hello how are you? Not. God where is he where is she? They haven’t got here yet. Their plane’s not in til very late. On top of that. A long drive here. Awash that is relief for me. Just now. He is. But later on.

I sit crossing my legs. Wish I could smoke. I cannot. Oh just the one. She’d kill me. I’d be killed for that so maybe later on alone. Hear all the recalling going on. Well he went quick at the end. I’d say he would have liked that. You know he was always scared to die. So that’s the best. God rest his soul. The bastard. No now’s not the time for. Amongst themselves. The varied factions. Good for keeping well away.

And off across the hall I hear the sobbers too. Taking it in fits. Go howling. There now. Don’t do that. On to the next and on and on. I didn’t think he was liked like that. All cousins staring past each other thinking who’s this one? Whose one is that? Evade the meat press parents going talk to so and so. Now you like computers talk to him. Poems you say. Well that stumped him for a moment til bright bollocks spark came scurry back with see her there? She’s a one to meet. She writes for the local. I’m fine thanks where I am.

Such a long time listening to all these things. Blistering blister so proud of us. Tape measuring everybody’s life to the wall I realise he’s up the stairs. Grandfather. Stretched out lying there. In bed. In state. In his pin-striped suit. With his hair gelled back. Hmm like a red rag. I have to go up. Take a little look. I’d like to. Innermost in. I’ve never seen a body properly dead before. I bide my moments. Then. Quick. They’re merging on the fruitcake. Out. I slip off. Should not? Isn’t he is mine as well and doesn’t just belong to them.

Stairs are creaking. Much more cool up here. Turned off the radiators of course I know. The pale light spew the landing underneath his bedroom door. Is it his now? Whose is it then? They’re laughing downstairs. Great wild roar haw hawing. Covering me. Covering the sea sound.

I push it little stiff. Small feet he had. And very shiny shoes. The leg. His jacket tucked just neat around him. Very clean. A candle burning. And his hands pressed Jesus in the garden. And white and white as hell. His nails the colour of his face. Translucent let the light go through. The cold room. Jesus freezing. Where he did not expect to die.

So Granda. I don’t talk to the dead. So now. That’s strange to see him here. Dead. I could give him a kick if I liked. But it’s not worth the hassle now. I could undo his flies for shame. I know he wouldn’t have wanted me to. Or kiss. Poke him. Squeeze out an eye. I’d lift it but. Maybe. No. Better not touch. I haven’t seen him that to this. He’s looking so unrumpled now. Just not that angry. As he could be nice. I doubt that very much. I know they’ve washed him. Stuffed his throat. And packed his arse with cotton wool. Two p’s something on his eyes. What else. Stretched him so he’s straight. The eldest daughter. Did that. On her own up here. A nurse or some kind of thing. No undertakers in this house. In this house we do our own post-life stuffing. I splinter at the sides. To think of it. That fairly strange. To do that to your father. That you like or don’t, depending. I don’t know so well. Is it not unhygienic? Still. The doctor said fine. Signed it all and all of that. So Granda.

I put my finger in his pocket. What have you there? A sweet. A toffee chew. A scrunch of wrapping. Lump of dust. Well Granda not so bad. And into dust you shall return. I eat it. Glad. It isn’t stale. So quiet in this room and cold. As cold in death I’d say. And nothing new under the sun at that. I got up. Looked from his window. All the sea going below. Strange at all this going on. Last night he didn’t know he’d be dead. I didn’t think I would be here. That his daughter would be stuffing things up his rear end. What would you make of me hey if you could see me now? Having a good look in your pockets. In your bedroom all alone. A photo on his bed stand. Some woman’s face that I don’t know. Perhaps he loved someone once. It can’t. I can’t tell. But not his lot of family laughing way down there. Does it it doesn’t really matter now. I’ll sit here. I will sit down til long after everyone’s gone to bed. Look at you Granda. Keep you company. For no one’s praying for your soul. And no one will sit with you tonight. Doze beside the corpse. Not a head look in. Distract my vigil of sleeping or poke about his room. He’s as private as he’ll ever be right now. What’s all that to him?

Three or four cold woke me up. At last in the night they have come through the door. I hear umbrellas shaking down the stairs. It’s raining out. That’s right. Them clomping into the kitchen. Their daughters exasperate the cold. They clunk the range and stir the turf and turn the electric kettle on. A few still up who have been drinking. Saying fruitcake? And over there there’s butter cheese a bit of beef. The aunt is clucking. Pass the knife the plate a round of bread. Now where will my girls stretch out the night? I’m listening til I hear him. Nothing. Don’t hear him say at all. For ages. Must been slurping. Tea up. Whiskey. Warm the bones. I almost debate go down and join them. Think. I will not. I’m a mess. And so much family around the place. I’d see him if I could. No. Why’d I want to? On my own. Now that won’t happen. Such throngs of all above below. And only two days. Maybe three. I give up. I creep. I creep. I go up the stairs to the five-cousin bedroom I am in. Get in the two-cousin double bed I share.