Well who didnt huh! Pavarotti.
Aw great opera, said Dad, I can listen to opera. Dad smiled. Any day of the week!
Murdo said, Mum liked opera. It was Mum liked opera. Opera is what she liked. It was her. Murdo looked again at Dad. It was her liked it Dad.
Of course. Dad smiled.
Murdo looked away. Opera was Mum, always Mum. Murdo couldnt believe Dad would say stuff like that. Great opera. Did he actually say that? What about ordinary opera?
He stared at the table. Dad was looking at him but he couldnt return it, couldnt, couldnt look at him. He glimpsed Aunt Maureen smiling to him and tried to smile back but couldnt. It was too bad. Dad was saying something, whatever Dad was saying, whatever, something.
But that was Murdo, he had to leave the table. Because otherwise — he just had to leave.
It wouldnt have been crying. He didnt cry. Even if it started he was able to make it stop. Not blinking. If ye blinked then it ran down yer face. It was getting yerself cold. Ye had to just be there and not do anything except make it not happen and that was how ye made it not happen, by not doing anything, nothing. That was how Murdo managed it, getting yer head out and just like not being there in the company: although ye were; ye went side on to it, making yer mind wander, if ye could think of something, just yer mind, going places. In school he did it. Or wherever, on a bus or the ferry — him and Dad going home on the ferry from leaving Mum in the hospice damn bloody hospice, every damn bloody night Dad in the ferry lounge and Murdo outside unless it was gale force and the rain too too heavy, the spray battering yer face, spattering it. Murdo needed that. Ye think of the song because he would have swam over, and the seas were wild, he didnt care about the seas, he would swim over and over and over, but that was it now, Mum, she would be with Eilidh.
He heard Dad doing something, maybe just moving on his chair. And Aunt Maureen saying, You boys have had the worst time.
Murdo gazed at her. Aunt Maureen.
Ye thought about it and it was true. Him and Dad. They had had it the worst. It couldnt get worse because it was the worst already, it was the worst there had ever been and they were in the middle of it. What ever could be worse. And Dad too, Dad too. Murdo said, Dad…
Dad smiled.
Murdo got up from the chair and went down the basement. He didnt switch on the light and didnt put on the music. He wanted to hide. People couldnt hide.
He kept off the light.
This was the densest. Here ye were blind.
A quiet kind of swish, swish. Flying cockroaches? But Uncle John said they buzzed. How serious was he? Murdo wasnt sure he had ever seen one, unless it was the big black ones with the thick body. Ye think of things slithering. Burying into the earth.
It was just life, ye think of life, how everything changes. This long long period of stuff that isnt good, where nothing is good and ye always get taken back into it, can never get out it, reaching out and ye cannot get what it is; expecting it to leave but it never does; ye wake up and it is there again, ye get the moment where things are good and even ye forget; ye forget it all and expect the normal stuff but it doesnt happen and ye are back inside it; Mum is not at the door telling ye to get up or ye’ll be late for school; that is not going to happen, never, and it is just you, a wee speck spinning.
Life was different to what ye thought. Dad would just be whatever, worried, he worried. He was just coping same as Murdo. The two of them.
More time passed. Murdo could not stay downstairs. He went upstairs to the bathroom.
Dad was alone in the kitchen. He had started on the clearing up, and was glad to see Murdo. He didnt say anything but Murdo knew he was. Murdo said: I was doing the clearing up Dad. I told Aunt Maureen I would and eh I mean it’s not really you to do it.
Okay.
Murdo moved past him to the draining board to make a start. Dad had already stacked the dinner plates in the sink and filled it with hot water. I’m not using the dishwasher, he said.
Me too.
Ye have to wash stuff twice if ye do.
I know, said Murdo.
Okay. Okay… Dad left the kitchen, maybe going to his room or else to get ready. Maybe him and Uncle John were going to the pub. Murdo would be glad. Being in a pub would be interesting.
Better being outside seeing stuff, just looking, walking about.
Murdo had his hands in the soapy water. There was a wee back window directly above the sink. A tree blocked most of the view but it was still great seeing out. He didnt mind cockroaches anyway if that was the swishing sound. Insects were everywhere. Spiders’ webs and all sorts. Who cares. Murdo didnt. Never ever. People thought thick woods and dark forests were scary. They didnt like going into them. Murdo did. Murdo went into them. Even as a boy, ye might say forcing himself, he forced himself. That was Eilidh, after she died. Murdo did funny wee things. He went into the woods and sat next to bushes and trees; creepy crawlies down in the dirt, damp earth, muddiness. The sun never reaches these places. No grass but roots and remains.
Dad’s bedroom door was shut. Murdo chapped it. Dad opened it. Murdo said, Dad, I’m sorry.
Och away. Dont worry.
Dad
No. Ye’re right; what do I know? Opera. I dont know a damn thing.
Dad it’s my fault.
No it’s not.
It is.
No it’s not. Dont worry. Dad came out from the bedroom and closed over the door. They returned to the dining room. Murdo entered behind Dad and Uncle John and Aunt Maureen were peering across at them.
THREE
The Gathering was a two-hour drive away, more than a hundred miles distant. They left the main highway and were onto a smaller road that had a number instead of a name and went along at the foot of a mountain. Aunt Maureen thought it was known by the name of a ranch. From there it was onto a rocky road that was more like a wide trail. The cars were parked for free in regimented rows down one side of a big field. Attendants were there to guide the drivers. Once parked ye crossed and walked a tree-lined track and in through a wide gate where they took entrance fee money.
Ye werent allowed to bring in food or drink of yer own, and no guns either. Uncle John had advised them earlier: Dont take yer six-shooter. Posters were pinned onto the trees; some serious, some for fun:
ALL CONTESTANTS PAY ADMISSION
IF RAIN WEAR A HAT
NO REFUNDS ON BOUNCY CASTLE CHARGES
ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES DESIGNATED AREAS
BEWARE FUND RAISERS
SAVE A SMOKER — DONATE A LUNG
KIDS UNDER (
In the evening a dance was scheduled for the Marquee Tent which they called The Hielan Fling. The entrance payment entitled ye to attend that plus the afternoon music event. Dad wanted to pay but Uncle John wouldnt let him. The people at the entrance passed out information flyers. Murdo took a few and put them in his pocket. A large poster advertised The Wee Bairn Games (0–5). Another advertised a Hunt the Sporran Competition. Some of the Kids’ Competitions finished before they arrived. It had been going since 10 a.m. and was now about 12.30. A Dance Competition for Girls was split into age groups. Jig Dancing I: (3–5), Jig Dancing II (6–11), Jig Dancing III (12–17), Jig Dancing IV (18+). Uncle John made a joke to Aunt Maureen about entering the last group. Quite a few girls wore Highland dance outfits. Adults too, wearing fancy Scottish clothes, tartan and kilts. One woman in from the entrance gate knew Aunt Maureen and was delighted to see her. Aunt Maureen introduced Murdo and Dad as her nephews from Scotland. Murdo liked her doing that. They chatted together and they walked on slowly, waiting for her to catch up. No sooner did she catch up than she saw another woman and went to meet her.