Read Online Mo said she was quirky by James Kelman - Free Book Online
Authors: James Kelman
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eventually. It was nice to talk. Only not for important matters. But she could still enjoy her company. It was cheery. She had a boyfriend or as she called him, ‘a manfriend’. Ann Marie’s stories concerned men. She called them ‘the great lost cause’. Men. What use were they? None at all – except hanging a hat.
That was Ann Marie’s sense of humour. Only women were there when she said it and they didnt all get the joke. Helen knew immediately and spluttered on her coffee – literally, she did, the coffee went over her – it was just so funny, the tears would be streaming out your eyes. Ann Marie didnt care about men except for sex, that was what she meant, and most of them were hopeless even for that. It was true, my God, and smelly. Ann Marie was right. Why did they not wash? It was so obvious but they didnt do it; and these personal things, it was disgusting. And their breath, even Mr Adams. He was so clean except when it came to his teeth, and he brushed them regularly, but it didnt matter, the smell of his breath made her think of old people, and he wasnt old. Although forty-eight, andshe was twenty-seven. It was old. But not too old and just so clean, he was. But then her ex, my God, her ex washed himself in the washhand basin, that was just so bad like his private parts, the very thought; and afterwards there were hairs stuck to the sides. Hairs! What would they have been? private ones, pubics. A washhand basin. People had to wash their faces. Disgusting wasnt the word. The word was
pig
. For him it was. That was one of them, ‘pig’, there were others. Mo was so much better. Perhaps it was the culture. Muslim men seemed cleaner, even the beardies. That was her, probably she was wrong, prejudice in reverse, she didnt care. She couldnt always think, not when she was tired tired tired, tired beyond anything, and could not sleep, if she went to bed now, she would not sleep, she knew she wouldnt; exhaustion, except her mind; minds were the strangest thing, they were.
She shivered, drew the coat about her shoulders, raising her knees, snuggling in on herself; better snuggling in with Mo, he was like feverish he was so warm; he was, you worried if he was catching the flu. She did anyway, but she worried about everything, anything and everything, everything and anything, the slightest shiver, life is full of shivers. She was comfy where she was, except the headache, which was only slight. They would be up soon for school; Sophie had to be there by eight thirty.
If it was Brian.
Life is so weird. Families especially, what families are. You looked at photographs but what did you see?
He just went away. What happened? Nobody said anything and you were not to talk about it. If there was a phone call Mum was to take it but not in front of Dad. Even his name, you were not to speak his name. What were you not to think about him, your own brother? Helen did. Of course she did, she was his sister; did that not count for anything? She wouldhave spoken about him to Mum except Mum never spoke about anything. Not to Helen anyway. Oh well of course she did, but not much.
And she thought about Brian. It was obvious. She sat in her armchair with the television on and the magazine in her lap but she wasnt looking at them and wasnt thinking about them, only about Brian. And why shouldnt she my God he was her son!
Even after Dad died and it was only the two of them. So unfair; it really was. And selfish. Mum was Brian’s mother but Helen was his sister. Why should she be excluded? She
was
excluded, Mum excluded her. Even the marriage; parents should be happy at their daughter’s marriage. Oh God. Resentments were the worst. One day she would tell Mo. He just didnt understand it because with families, his was like a world of difference, a total world away.
Parents could be unfair. It was the one thing with Sophie, if ever Helen had another child, she would not treat her unfairly. That was so wrong, the very worst.
That was Ann Marie’s sense of humour. Only women were there when she said it and they didnt all get the joke. Helen knew immediately and spluttered on her coffee – literally, she did, the coffee went over her – it was just so funny, the tears would be streaming out your eyes. Ann Marie didnt care about men except for sex, that was what she meant, and most of them were hopeless even for that. It was true, my God, and smelly. Ann Marie was right. Why did they not wash? It was so obvious but they didnt do it; and these personal things, it was disgusting. And their breath, even Mr Adams. He was so clean except when it came to his teeth, and he brushed them regularly, but it didnt matter, the smell of his breath made her think of old people, and he wasnt old. Although forty-eight, andshe was twenty-seven. It was old. But not too old and just so clean, he was. But then her ex, my God, her ex washed himself in the washhand basin, that was just so bad like his private parts, the very thought; and afterwards there were hairs stuck to the sides. Hairs! What would they have been? private ones, pubics. A washhand basin. People had to wash their faces. Disgusting wasnt the word. The word was
pig
. For him it was. That was one of them, ‘pig’, there were others. Mo was so much better. Perhaps it was the culture. Muslim men seemed cleaner, even the beardies. That was her, probably she was wrong, prejudice in reverse, she didnt care. She couldnt always think, not when she was tired tired tired, tired beyond anything, and could not sleep, if she went to bed now, she would not sleep, she knew she wouldnt; exhaustion, except her mind; minds were the strangest thing, they were.
She shivered, drew the coat about her shoulders, raising her knees, snuggling in on herself; better snuggling in with Mo, he was like feverish he was so warm; he was, you worried if he was catching the flu. She did anyway, but she worried about everything, anything and everything, everything and anything, the slightest shiver, life is full of shivers. She was comfy where she was, except the headache, which was only slight. They would be up soon for school; Sophie had to be there by eight thirty.
If it was Brian.
Life is so weird. Families especially, what families are. You looked at photographs but what did you see?
He just went away. What happened? Nobody said anything and you were not to talk about it. If there was a phone call Mum was to take it but not in front of Dad. Even his name, you were not to speak his name. What were you not to think about him, your own brother? Helen did. Of course she did, she was his sister; did that not count for anything? She wouldhave spoken about him to Mum except Mum never spoke about anything. Not to Helen anyway. Oh well of course she did, but not much.
And she thought about Brian. It was obvious. She sat in her armchair with the television on and the magazine in her lap but she wasnt looking at them and wasnt thinking about them, only about Brian. And why shouldnt she my God he was her son!
Even after Dad died and it was only the two of them. So unfair; it really was. And selfish. Mum was Brian’s mother but Helen was his sister. Why should she be excluded? She
was
excluded, Mum excluded her. Even the marriage; parents should be happy at their daughter’s marriage. Oh God. Resentments were the worst. One day she would tell Mo. He just didnt understand it because with families, his was like a world of difference, a total world away.
Parents could be unfair. It was the one thing with Sophie, if ever Helen had another child, she would not treat her unfairly. That was so wrong, the very worst.
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