Ah sat quiet for a minute, thinkin aboot whit he said. It made so much sense. Ah could see it that clear; ah minded a cartoon in a comic we used tae get when we were wee, called the Numskulls, ah think. Each picture was of a heid cut doon the middle so you could see inside. It was just like that, as if there was wee hooses inside the brain. Each section had a wee guy in it, controllin whit was happenin. When the person was sleepin the eyes would be havin a kip and when he was eatin the mouth would start workin overtime.
‘Jimmy, let’s go into the meditation room.’
We sat doon in fronty the Buddha, just me and him. It was the first time ah’d ever meditated alone wi him.
‘Instead of doing the mindfulness of breathing I want you to sit and observe yourself. Observe your breath, observe your body, what it feels like. Take your attention round your body and just note how it’s feeling; don’t correct, don’t judge, just feel. Then try to think of each of the people in your life that mean the most to you; your daughter, your wife, your brother. Take each of them into your consciousness and allow yourself to be conscious of how you feel about them. Don’t try to force a feeling, don’t try to feel good about them if you don’t – just
let the feelings come and go as they wish, but without judgement.’
So ah done what he said. At first when he was tellin me it sounded dead complicated but he helped me, talked me through each part. It was as if ah’d never felt ma body afore; felt the tightness in ma airms and legs, the openness of ma chest, the wee niggles that ran aboot inside me that usually ah never even think aboot. Then as ma breathin slowed doon and ah sterted tae feel mair relaxed he took me through each person in turn. That was the really hard bit because as each feelin came up he tellt me no tae judge it. Wi Anne Marie ah just felt that ashamed that ah’d let her doon, even though she’d no seen me. Ah mean here she is, nearly a teenager, wi a daddy that acts like an eejit and all the time he’s gaun tae meditation classes. Then Liz. That was haurd too cos ah love her – always have – but somehow ah cannae get her tae unnerstaund how this is that important tae me. There’s a gap openin up between us. Ah can feel it and ah’m scared. Ah don’t want it tae be like this but ah don’t know whit tae dae. And John, ma brother. There we are pissed oot wer heids sayin how much we love each other and we cannae dae it when we’re sober.
The tears sterted tae come, right runnin doon ma cheeks, and ma body was heavin, don’t think ah’ve grat like that since a was a wee boy. Ah sat on the cushions, shudderin wi sobs and these big snotters runnin doon ma face. The Rinpoche handed me a great big white hanky; ah blew ma nose and it sounded like a car backfirin in the quiet of the meditation room. And ah fund masel startin tae laugh, hauf-laughin, hauf-greetin. The Rinpoche put his haund on ma airm and said very quietly. ‘Good work, Jimmy. Good cleaning.’
AH GOT PICKED
for the school show the day. At regi Mr Henderson announced that the list of names was up on the noticeboard so ah rushed doon at break time, pushin ma way through tae see. Charlene’s name wisnae there and she was a bit pissed aboot it. When ah went tae sit next tae her in the Fuel Zone she never said anythin though, just kept talkin tae Roseanne. Roseanne’s a big skinny lassie, wears dead short skirts and keeps her Gap top over her school sweatshirt in class if she can get away wi it. She always hangs aboot wi us noo.
Ah was desperate tae talk aboot it but ah didnae like tae say anythin in front of Charlene so ah just sat there, eatin ma crisps, listenin tae them gaun on aboot Keir Simpson, a boy in second year. Charlene’s daft aboot him.
‘He’s nippin a lassie in third year,’ says Roseanne.
‘Third year? You’re no serious.’
‘He is so.’
‘A lassie in third year widnae get aff wi a second year boy.’
‘Ah’m tellin yous. Alison McKechnie. Ma sister’s in her class. They were all slaggin her aboot baby snatchin.’
Efter school we went doon Byres Road. Charlene and me get the bus there and Roseanne was gaun back tae Charlene’s bit.
‘You comin round too, Anne Marie?’
‘Naw, ah need tae go and see ma mammy the now.’
Ah didnae really, but ah couldnae be bothered watchin them tyin each other’s hair back wi scrunchies and talkin aboot Keir Simpson, and anyway ah was desperate tae tell somebody aboot the show.
Mammy works in a lawyer’s office just aff Byres Road. When ah opened the door there was a young blonde wumman sittin at the desk by the phone where Ma usually sits.
‘Can ah help you?’ she said, lookin a bit suspicious.
‘Ah’m lookin for Liz McKenna.’
She smiled. ‘Oh, you must be Anne Marie. Ah’m Nikki.’
Ah mind ma mammy tellin me there was a new lassie had started workin there.
‘She’s in wi Mr Anderson the now. Do you want tae wait for her?’
‘Is she gonnae be long?’
‘She might be a while – he’d quite a lot of papers to go through. Ah’ll phone through if it’s important.’
‘Naw, it’s cool. Ah’ll see her at hame.’
‘Sure?’
‘Aye.’
Ah decided tae go tae ma granny’s hoose – she’s round the corner fae us in a wee pensioner’s flat. She doesnae keep that well and Ma goes round there every night, does her messages for her and tidies up.
Gran was sittin lookin oot the windae when ah went by and she waved at me and smiled. Ah let masel in and sat doon on the chair opposite her.
‘Hi, hen. How was school?’
‘OK. Gran, ah’ve got a part in the school show.’
‘That’s great, hen. Singin?’
‘Aye, and actin and mibbe a bit of dancin as well.’
‘Well, you’ve a beautiful voice, darlin. You were always the best at primary.’
‘Aye but it’s no the same at secondary, Gran. There was loads a competition. And ah’ve actually got a part, ah’m no just in the chorus.’
‘What show is it?’
‘
Joseph and the Amazin Technicolour Dreamcoat
.’
‘Rose and me went tae that at the King’s a couple a year ago. It was brilliant.’
‘Ah’m wanny Joseph’s brothers.’
‘Well ah cannae wait tae see it.’
‘It’s on just afore Christmas.’
‘Hope ah’m better afore then – don’t want tae miss that.’
‘You’ll be fine soon.’
‘Your mammy and daddy will be right proud of you.’
‘Suppose so.’ Ah stood up. ‘Want a cuppa tea, Gran?’
‘Thanks, hen – there’s a packet of chocolate biscuits in the cupboard.’
Ah went intae the kitchenette tae put the kettle on. Ah
knew ma ma and da would be pleased aboot the show but these days they hadnae been exactly payin much attention tae me. It was weird. Ma mammy’s no speakin tae ma daddy. Ma Uncle John’s no speakin tae ma daddy. Everybody’s speakin tae me but naebdy’s tellin me anythin. Happy faimlies.
Ah’ve hardly seen ma da, wi him workin all hours and spendin hauf his time at that Centre. Ah know him and Uncle John have had a big fight but ah don’t really know whit it was aboot. And Ma used tae be dead interested in how ah was daein at school, wanted tae know all aboot the different subjects – it was a pain sometimes. But recently she’s been gaun round in her ain wee world. Ah wanted tae talk tae her aboot Charlene but somehow ah’ve never had the chance.
Ah put ma gran’s cuppa tea and ma juice on a tray wi a plate a biscuits and took it intae the livin room.
‘Thanks, hen. You’re a great help.’ Gran took a sip oot her mug. ‘So how’s school these days? See much of that wee Charlene?’
‘Aye.’ Ah lifted a chocolate biscuit, then put it back on the plate.
‘Whit’s wrang, hen? No hungry?’
‘Naw, don’t fancy it the now, Gran. Think ah’ll wait for ma dinner.’
Ah kept thinkin aboot it on the way hame. Whit had happened at ma uncle John’s party? Must of been bad if they’re still no talkin two weeks later – don’t know how they manage when they’re at their work. Ah think it’s sumpn tae dae wi this Buddhism cairry-on but. Ma da’s changed. Ah mean at first it didnae seem tae make much difference tae him – even though he was meditatin he was the same auld da. The
wan thing you can say for ma daddy is that he’s never moany or that, always a good laugh. But noo, he’s different. Dead serious. Says he’s a vegetarian. Mammy’s havin tae make two dinners every night, wan for him and wan for us. And he’s stopped drinkin. No that he was an alkie or anythin but he’d go for a pint, have a glass a wine wi his dinner. But noo he says he doesnae want tae drink at all. A few month ago, ah’d have just asked ma daddy straight oot, ‘Whit’s up, Da, whit’s this all aboot?’ But somehow ah don’t like tae. Every time ah go tae ask, ah just cannae. Ma and Da have always brung me up tae speak up about things. They always said if there’s anythin worryin you just tell us. Never keep it tae yersel. No that there’s been anythin that bothered me all that much afore, except in primary three when the teacher was pickin on me and the time when Charlene fell oot wi me, they were the only things. And last year when ma grandpa died, but everybody was upset then. But noo, when there’s sumpn really botherin me, naebdy seems tae notice.
Ah thought of askin ma granny but ah don’t like tae when she’s no well. And there was nae point in askin ma pals, they’d think ma da was just aff his heid – didnae really want tae talk tae them aboot it anyway. Then ah had a brainwave. The R.E. teacher at the school was tellin us the topics for wer course and he said that efter Christmas we were gonnae dae Buddhism. Ah didnae think ah could wait tae efter Christmas so ah went tae see him just when school was finished. Tellt Charlene ah was gaun tae collect a hamework sheet ah’d loast. He was sittin at his desk shufflin bits a paper aboot.
‘Anne Marie. What can I do for you?’
‘Well, know how you said we were startin Buddhism efter Christmas?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Well, ah was wonderin if you’d any worksheets or that … could ah have them the now?’
‘You want to start studying it now? I’m impressed, Anne Marie. The thing is, the sheets aren’t photocopied just now – I’d need to look to see if I had a spare one … could you maybe come back?’
‘Nae bother.’
Ah turnt tae go but ah must of looked disappointed for he called me back.
‘Is there something you specially wanted to ask about Buddhism … I mean if there’s something you want to know I could maybe help you.’
Ah went back tae his desk. If ah could of thought what it was ah wanted tae know ah’d of asked him. Trouble was ah didnae know where tae start.
‘It’s no wan thing sir, it’s mair, generally, aboot Buddhism. It’s OK, doesnae matter. Ah’ll just wait tae efter Christmas.’
‘Is there a particular reason why you’re so interested … did you read something about it or see it on TV? I mean, I don’t often get pupils asking me for work early!’ He smiled.
‘Well, see, ma da’s a Buddhist, kind of … at least he’s tryin tae be wan.’
‘Really? That’s very interesting. And were you thinking of joining him?’
‘No me.’
‘You want to understand it more, is that it?’
‘Aye.’
‘Good for you. Look, I’ll see if I can find a book that might explain the basics. And if you do want help, just ask. I’m always happy to talk about it.’
‘Thanks, sir.’
‘But maybe you should ask your dad to explain it to you. Then you’d see it from his point of view.’
Ah knew whit he was sayin and ah knew it made sense – it was just that ah didnae really know whit tae ask. But ah decided tae make a start.
So at teatime that night ah said, ‘Da, whit has bein vegetarian goat tae dae wi bein a Buddhist?’
‘Well, it’s about respectin all livin beins, animals as well as people.’
‘So is it wrang tae eat meat then?’
‘Ah’m no sayin it’s wrang, it’s just wrang for me the now.’
‘And whit aboot the bevvy then? Ah mean that’s no made fae animals, is it?’
‘Naw, it’s no that. It’s just tae try tae be a bit mair clear.’
‘How d’you mean, Da?’
‘Well, drink kind of makes yer brain a bit … fuzzy. And if yer a Buddhist yer aimin for mental clarity.’
‘That’s whit the meditatin’s aboot, in’t it?’
‘Aye.’
‘We’re gonnae be daein Buddhism in R.E. next term.’
‘Zat right?’
‘Aye, efter Christmas.’
‘You’ll need tae come tae the Centre wi me.’
‘It’s no like that. We just study it. We dae all kinds of religions, Hinduism and stuff, tae. Don’t think ah fancy bein a Buddhist.’
‘Thank God for that. Wan Buddhist in here’s enough.’ Mammy piled up the plates and took them intae the kitchen.
‘Ah’d have tae gie up bacon rolls if ah was a Buddhist.’
‘You can get veggie bacon.’
‘Naw,
you
can get veggie bacon. Ah mean if you’re a Catholic you only need tae gie up things for six weeks.’
The first rehearsal was on Wednesday efter school in Miss O’Hara’s room. Her and Mr Wilson, the Drama teacher, were staundin at the piano and there was a whole crowd of kids hangin aboot, fae all different years. Some of the seniors, like Maggie Hannah and Paul Allan, had really big parts. There were aboot twenty first years, but ah didnae recognise any of them except for Nisha, a lassie who was in ma Science class. Ah didnae really know her that well, but wan week when her partner was aff she’d been in our group for the experiments and ah minded she’d done everythin that neatly, long thin fingers haudin the test tube intae the flame of the bunsen burner. Nisha hauf-smiled at me and ah went ower tae sit beside her.
‘Hi.’
‘Hiya.’
‘Have you got a part or are you in the chorus?’
‘Ah’m wanny Joseph’s brothers.’
‘Me too.’
‘OK, let’s get started.’ Miss O’Hara moved tae the front of the room. ‘Can you all find a seat, please? Right. Listen up. Rehearsals for the full cast are Wednesdays after school. Those pupils with solo parts like Joseph and the Pharaoh will also rehearse on Tuesdays at lunchtimes and Joseph’s brothers will come on Thursdays at lunchtimes.’ She looked round as a few folk started mutterin. ‘Watch my lips – anyone who cannot or does not want to attend rehearsals, all rehearsals, should leave now.’
There was a bit of shufflin and mumblin but naebdy moved. ‘Good. Now remember, I mean every rehearsal from now until the show. There are plenty of others who want your part if you drop out.’
She looked round. ‘Any questions about what I’ve said so far?’
A boy at the back piped up, ‘Miss, I’ve got basketball on Thursday lunchtimes.’ It was Keir Simpson. Charlene’s face would really be trippin her when she found oot he was in the show.
Wilson spoke. ‘Well, you’ll have to decide which you want to do. Sorry – whatever day we make it, it’ll clash with something else.’
‘Is that it?’ Miss O’Hara looked round. ‘No? Good. Let’s get started.’
Efter the rehearsal Nisha and me stood at the school gates. ‘That was brilliant, wasn’t it?’ she said.
‘Aye.’
We started singin thegether. ‘Joseph,’ then we stopped, wavin wer haunds in the air like Miss O’Hara for the two silent beats and continued. ‘He was Jacob’s favourite son.’ Suddenly we burst oot laughin.
‘Well, ah go this way,’ said Nisha, pointin doon the hill.
‘Ah’m gaun tae Byres Road.’
Nisha took a pair of pink gloves fae her pocket and started tae pull them on. ‘Mibbe we could rehearse a bit on wer own – I mean you could come round to mine some day, if you like …’
‘That’d be cool … or you could come tae mines. Where d’you stay?’
‘Just off of Great Western Road. Look, ah’d better get home now … mibbe see you the morra at school.’
‘OK. See you.’
Ah’d arranged tae go doon tae ma mammy’s work tae meet her efter the rehearsal. She was puttin on her jaicket when ah opened the door of the office.
‘Hi, hen. Good rehearsal?’
‘Brilliant. We’re learnin the singin parts frst then we’ll get tae dae all the actions later.’
‘So will you be rehearsin every Wednesday then?’
‘Aye and lunchtimes on Thursday.’
‘Remind me tae put it on the calendar when we get hame.’
Ma mammy’s got this calendar in the kitchen and everythin gets written doon on it. Of course ma da always forgets and he’ll say he’s gaun oot somewhere or he’s workin late or sumpn then ma ma says she didnae know. ‘But ah tellt you,’ he’ll say and she’ll say, ‘it’s no on the calendar.’ They’re like Ant and Dec. Wan day, efter they’d went through this routine, he wrote ‘breathe, eat, go to toilet’ across it in big rid letters.
The rain started just as we reached the end of the street. ‘Damn, ah put a washin oot this mornin, thought it would stay aff – oh, there’s yer daddy’s van, he’s hame afore us. He’ll mibbe have brung it in.’
But there was nae sign of him. Mammy rushed oot the back tae bring in the washin and ah went through and started on the dishes that were left fae this mornin. When she came back in she opened the fridge and started takin stuff oot. ‘Is your daddy no … oh, there you are. Where were you?’
‘In the room.’
‘In the room?’