$90: forty from Dad and fifty from Uncle John. Ye could get an accordeon for ninety dollars. Or twenty, it depended on the accordeon. How much for bus tickets? That was the one thing the information board didnt list. A bus here would take ye into the main bus station, then it was from there to Lafayette, Louisiana. Then if ye came back it was the same money. So bus-fares and accordeon. Unless he got a drive from Uncle John or somebody. Dad, if Dad had his licence. Maybe he could phone Uncle Robert. Uncle Robert could go to the house and find the licence; send it express delivery. It would have been here in two days or three — Scotland to America, four maybe.
So Dad could have hired a car. That would have made it a brilliant holiday. Everything would have changed.
What a life. Murdo was glad to be walking. Shopping malls opened on a Sunday. No matter about church and everything else, people lived their life. It was their life to lead although people acted like it wasnt. Oh I thought it was my life? Oh no, it belongs to him over there, yer father. He has two, you’ve got none.
Other shops ahead. Not the shopping mall; ordinary shops in their own ground with their own wee carparks. And cars were there so these shops were open as well. Of course they were.
He stopped walking and about-turned.
How long had he been gone? More than an hour. Round the block? Some block. Dad would be glad when he walked in the door. Glad, sad or mad. Everybody has their own life. If he wanted to be angry, it was up to Dad.
Murdo felt like running. Oh but never run son never run, they might get the wrong idea. That was Uncle John. Then they’ll definitely shoot ye. It was okay if ye were an athlete or like jogging but not an ordinary person.
Not one child either. That was what Murdo noticed. Not even in a garden. Where were the kids?
The mall!
Or church — the praying voices. And the kids twisting up to see the adults, wondering how come their eyes are all closed? Droning on and on and on, how come? What’s wrong with the adults? What are they doing? Oh forgive us Father, hoahh hoahh hoahh, Gohhhd oahhhhh, forgive us oh Father please please oahhh hoahhhh oahhhhh Gohdddd. What is happening what is happening? Is it the big bad wolf! Oahhhhh oahhhhh. Look out and be careful. Close your eyes close your eyes! Oahhhhh oahhhhh. Quick! Quick quick quick! Oh Father Father God Almighty thank you thank you for keeping us safe through the day that is gone and now we pray Thee to watch over us through the coming night oh God the coming night when it is all dark and shadows fall and mysterious knocks and noises if the big bad wolf comes chapping the door.
Chap yer own door!
*
He kept to the main road on the way home, remembering the turn-off to Aunt Maureen’s house. He entered by the driveway, round the side garden. Dad was there on the patio, wearing a shirt and trousers instead of jeans and T-shirt. He moved fast when he saw Murdo, coming towards him. Murdo stopped. Dad clapped him twice on the shoulder. Good son, he said, we’re going for a meal. Did ye bring a shirt?
A shirt? Yeah I brought a shirt.
I mean a proper one?
Of course a proper one.
Fine. Away and change. Dad sighed. I’m just saying.
Okay.
Uncle John and Aunt Maureen are getting ready.
Okay Dad.
Downstairs Murdo plugged in the hi-fi immediately; but didnt switch it on. He stood a moment, then sat down on the edge of the bed. He stretched out, staring at the ceiling. Of course he had brought a shirt and of course he would wear it. Going for a meal with Uncle John and Aunt Maureen: of course he would wear it. Go and put it on, is it a proper one. That was a row. Did people need rows?
Dad just had to speak. He didnt have to but he did. That was Dad. How come he even wanted to eat? He couldnt have been hungry. He didnt go anywhere except the patio! People work then they eat. Things happen and they dont eat.
Dad said a meal but did that mean best? like as if Aunt Maureen and Uncle John would notice, even if he wore a T-shirt. T-shirts were a joke. How long did Dad wear one before sticking it into the laundry bin! a bloody week? Murdo should have said it to him, Dad change the T-shirt you are bloody minging.
Murdo sat up, then was onto his feet and rummaging around to find the shirt. He had brought two: ordinary and best. Proper was best. First a wash. He jumped upstairs to the bathroom, checked his face in the mirror; ye could see the actual bristles. He peered at his eyes, again at his eyes, almost a smile. Mum; not Eilidh.
He didnt even need a meal. That was the truth; he didnt want to go. If he could just say it! What is wrong with saying it? I’m not going. I’m not going. No Dad sorry, I dont want to. I’ve got like things to do and I dont want to go anywhere. I really really dont. He said it aloud: I’m not going, I am not going. No Dad. No, I am not.
Of course he was. Aunt Maureen and Uncle John. Of course he was. They were wanting him to go, and if he didnt? Oh he was going of course he was going, he was starving. Starving.
They were waiting for him.
*
The restaurant was called the Home-Run Deli and was their favourite one. It was not like a deli the way ye would expect it in Scotland. It was a big like barbeque place full of all different kinds of food for sitting in. Vegetables ye hadnt heard of. All kinds of ribs, chops, pork, ham, lamb, chicken and steak, and one called “joints”, and a lot of fish. They had music every Wednesday from teatime until ten at night; bluegrass and country. Uncle John and Aunt Maureen liked it too but especially the atmosphere is what they enjoyed. It’s down home, said Uncle John.
They wanted Murdo and Dad to try different things and explained what some of it was, and eat whatever caught their fancy. Murdo was starving and so was Dad. Much of it he didnt know — “grits” — but they also had pizza and lasagne. “Grits” is porridge with cheese, said Uncle John.
No sir mister, said Aunt Maureen who only wanted a sandwich; she called it a hot sandwich and ordered mashed potatoes to go with it. It was Kentucky food instead of Alabama food. That was the point she was making. She winked at Murdo. He was not sure what to eat but eventually he went with lasagne and fries — chips. Dad and Uncle John had steak but with mashed potato instead of chips. Uncle John made a joke about Murdo and Italian food to go with Italian accordeons, then ordered beers for himself and Dad, orange juice for Aunt Maureen and Murdo.
Aunt Maureen’s sandwich was the best thing. Murdo would have got that if he had known. It was not really a sandwich at all but with turkey and bacon and toasted cheese; tasty-looking.
It was good with Aunt Maureen and Uncle John. They were cheery and kept things going. The usual stuff; family and Scotland and bits about Kentucky and places. Uncle John did the talking on America. Aunt Maureen listened as if he was speaking about things she didnt know. He came out with daft sayings — “A slap on the face with a wet kipper”. People laughed at that but what did it mean? Nobody knew. Old sayings from the old days. A song about Davy Crockett, born on a mountain top in Tennessee, played the fiddle at the Alamo. Scottish background. Everything was Scottish background. Aunt Maureen made faces behind his back. Let somebody else talk, she said and she nodded at Murdo. Uncle John grinned at him. Murdo said: How far is California?
What? Uncle John looked at him.
Aunt Maureen smiled.
Murdo said, Well I was just thinking like the idea of Cousin Calum like I mean driving across, if we went to see him.
Huh! said Aunt Maureen.
Uncle John sighed. Murdo son, how many miles in a day can ye drive?
I dont know.
Five hundred? Uncle John glanced at Dad. Eh Tommy? Okay. Divide it into three thousand and that is yer days.
Wow, said Dad.
Six. A minute a mile, said Uncle John. You want to go faster go faster.