Long Time, No See

by Dermot Healy

  The second man got out, they exchanged a few words; I am Theo, said the second man, who spoke English, and we shook hands, thank you for your help. Dido, said the first man and we shook hands, then they both shook hands with Joejoe. He’s my granduncle Joejoe, I said. Dido pointed at me; Psyche, Joejoe said; they nodded, spoke again, and then they agreed, in some sort of acceptance prayer to open the boot and take out a tow-hitch rope.

  Now, Dido, we turn the car around? I asked.

  Hah, said Dido.

  He closed the bonnet and went to get into the driver’s seat of the Merc, but Joejoe politely tipped him on the shoulder, pointed him towards the back of the Merc and Joejoe sat in and took control, and so the three of us pushed while he steered and gave directions. We wheeled the car round and got her facing back the way she came.

  Then I tied the tow-rope to the tow hook of the Mercedes.

  We stood there a moment.

  Now what, asked Theo.

  Just wait a few minutes, I said.

  He looked up the empty road and opened his arms; then proffered me his mobile.

  You know someone who can help? Theo asked.

  I took his wrist and looked at his watch and tapped the watch face, let go his hand then lifted a single finger in the air.

  Mammy is coming, I said.

  Mammy is coming, he said he and he looked at me closely, and shook his head.

  Soon, I added.

  He nodded, and in his turn he rose a single finger in the air to Dido. Mammy is coming, he said, and he roared laughing, then he translated it, and Dido glanced a little disbelievingly to his side, nodded, beamed, and cupped his shoulders.

  We sat against the wall and waited. Joejoe beat his shoulders, scrutinised his shoes, then took off a shoe and shook it.

  I know nothing about cars, sadly, he said, and anything I know nothing about, I keep away from.

  Like strangers? asked Theo.

  No. I like to see the strangers about the place. Strangers are good for a community. They keep you on your toes. Like yourselves.

  The clouds overhead passed by like more of the apostles on the dance floor.

  I smiled to myself.

  It is not a joke, no? asked Theo.

  No.

  We wait for your Mammy?

  Yes.

  The Irish they laugh.

  Does it sound false?

  Yes.

  Like all laughter.

  Yes, but the Irish they laugh a lot. It is strange, he said, but then…how you say, the universe…yes?…is large, no?

  I nodded. And it is increasing, I said, by the minute. Look!

  In the distance the Fiat appeared through the small flailing ash trees. Ma slowed up, and gave me a long questioning look.

  Could you help us out – Mammy, I said emphasising a name I rarely used.

  Mammy is it, oh certainly, she said. She looked at the two men. Oh good day gentlemen.

  Hallo, they nodded.

  Just a mo, said Ma.

  She drove on by, turned at the gate and came back and passed the Merc, then reversed till the two cars were close to each other.

  I handed the rope to Dido who reluctantly tied it onto the tow hitch of the Fiat.

  You intend a Fiat to draw a Mercedes, asked Theo.

  Yes, just for a little jaunt.

  He shook his head. You understand that hopelessness often propels itself into science for no earthly reason?

  I do.

  Pray men, said Joejoe, what are you saying?

  Your grandnephew is plying a dangerous course.

  He is.

  OK, now it is tow, yeh? Dido said resignedly and again shook his head from side to side, is that right?

  Yes.

  Joejoe raised a hand to begin.

  Theo, and myself and Joejoe got in behind the Merc.

  Ma started the car and we jerked and pushed forward, the rope went taut, and she pulled the Merc along in neutral gear till slowly we came to the first incline. Ma hit second, and went up into third. We pushed and pushed, and got to the top of the low hill, where she suddenly accelerated. Here goes, Joejoe said. All of a sudden the Merc with no sound drew the Fiat back. Ma stopped, and started and went into a fast third, and we pushed hard.

  The Merc shot forward for a few seconds and died, without a sound.

  Ma slowly stopped. Theo sat in beside Dido and the two men sat dejected in the car. They hoisted their hands, then smiled, and grimaced as myself and Joejoe approached.

  It is no good, Theo said sadly out the window.

  Don’t lose faith, said Joejoe.

  If you deem it so.

  There must be something wrong with your battery.

  That is what poor Dido has been trying to explain to you, he said and Dido closed his eyes.

  I untied the tow hitch and pointed inland.

  We will be back in a few minutes, I said.

  Good luck, said Joejoe.

  We drove off.

  Where are we going, asked Ma.

  Doyle’s.

  What for?

  Jump leads, I explained. I have a headache, she said, from listening to this bitch going on and on the entire day. Was she sick? I asked. Sick, no, she works with me. She was at a hen party and this one said this and this one said that. A hen party if you don’t mind I had to listen to all the livelong day, said Ma. Jesus I think I need a break from that job. I was nearly in tears, and she laughed. Did you know that if you are an ambulance driver you have to get a licence to drive a bus and a lorry. Now for you.

  We drove down to Doyle’s and I explained the story to Stefan.

  What type of car? he asked.

  Mercedes.

  Is the car petrol?

  I think so.

  I think it is diesel, he said.

  You think so?

  Yes, he said, that is why it is slow to start on tow.

  Ah.

  But there is something else Mister Side Kick.

  Yes?

  Is the Mercedes automatic?

  Oh shit.

  If it is automatic, as you know, it will not start on tow.

  I forgot to look.

  It is OK Mister Side Kick. Here, and he handed me a set of jump leads.

  Thank you.

  If you need me, come back, he said.

  I will, I said, and ashamed of myself I sat in beside my mother.

  We came back up the coast road to find Joejoe seated at the wheel of the Merc on his own, and the two men standing to the side against the doors, looking patiently out at the rampant ocean and the blaspheming waves.

  Ma drove up alongside them, so both engines were facing each other. Joejoe got out.

  I have never sat in a Mercedes before, he said, till this very day.

  Good for you.

  I have important information, he whispered. It is a true car. Do you know who Theo is?

  No.

  He is the Russian ambassador.

  The two men watched me with a sort of meek sadness as I went to the boot of the Fiat.

  Is your car petrol?

  It is not, it is diesel, said Theo.

  And it is automatic?

  Automatic? That is the word, ah yes, and he shook his head up and down, yes automatic!

  I put a hand in the air and cracked a thumb and middle finger, leaned down and said Forgive me and took out the jump leads out of the boot of the Fiat and handed them over with a bow.

  Ah grand, shouted Dido and he spun on his feet.

  At last! Theo said.

  He lifted the bonnets of both cars and Dido wiped the leads, began to clamp the leads on to the battery, then he tightened them.

  This is good, Theo said. Very good. OK Positive. OK Negative?

  OK.

  Fine.

  Theo sat back in, turned the ignition and the Mercedes started immediately.

  Eureka! shouted Dido and he took off the leads and closed both bonnets. Then he turned to me and hoisted both arms in the air and cracked his
thumbs and middle fingers, and again I realised what he had been trying to say back then.

  Sorry, I said. I cannot speak with my hands.

  Thank you, thank you, he shouted in Ma’s window.

  Get back in, get back in, she said, before it cuts out.

  You are my great friend, he said to me handing me back the leads. Theo, after giving the car a few strong revs, came over and we shook hands.

  Will you give me a lift the next time? I said raising my thumb.

  Ask my chauffeur, he said.

  Will you go on, said Ma.

  OK, shouted Dido, we go.

  Ma reversed a little up the road, then in further to the side, and we waited, looking at the Merc. Theo sat in the passenger seat and Dido took the wheel. A few seconds passed as the men tied on their safety belts, and then unexpectedly sat without moving. A low rev. Another. All of a sudden they looked foreign, and strange, as if sitting in the car together, now that it was working, had changed their demeanour. They had taken on another air. They looked like they were sitting in a hearse waiting on the cortège to gather up behind. Only for the fishing rods we were at a funeral. Dido leaned forward. Theo joined his hands in prayer. The Merc suddenly shot out onto the road as if out of control, then straightened, and the men in a long swerve passed by us with inches to spare. We gave them the hands up. The ambassador waved, and waved madly, and his chauffeur shot an arm out the window and lifted a thumb and hitched, and continued hitching till they went out of sight.

  That chauffer is some son of a gun, I said.

  No fishing today, said Ma.

  We dropped off the jump leads at Doyle’s and Stefan held them a moment and said They work? Yes, thank you. No problem, he said, and we headed for home. The local boys were shaving grass in the Long Squares, and the Black Bales were at the top of the fields. It was another cutting time. The sun was shining. Ma stopped at Joejoe’s and said I did more good out here today than I did in the hospital. What I need is a break, a change of job.

  I got out at Joejoe’s gate, and headed in.

  He met me at the door.

  The red army got away all right?

  Yes.

  They made off with my pliers, he said.

  We sat down by the fire.

  Miss Jilly, he said.

  Aye.

  Ah dear.

  He lit up a fag.

  She gave me her phone number.

  Oh good. You see that Bible, and he stood and lifted it off the shelf, you know where that originated?

  No.

  I’ll tell you. Dromod House. The same. I don’t know how many years ago. That’s why I always bless myself passing a Protestant church.

  He passed the book to me.

  I don’t know how to speak with my hands, I said.

  Never mind. The stranger always teaches you something. He sat down. Just read me a few lines, he said; and he topped his cigarette and threw it into the fire as I turned the pages and found the Pharisees and then began with the question: Your witness is not true.

  BOOK THREE

  Sightseeing

  Chapter Twelve

  Saturday, Playacting

  Saturday, yes. Ma loved Saturdays when she could get the night off. She’d get high. Then when Anna arrived with the book on cats, a homemade apple tart and a loaf of brown bread, Ma was enthralled.

  You thought of me, said Ma.

  He did, said Anna pointing, Mister Jeremiah thought you’d like the book.

  Thank you son. He knows I love cats. Are you off for your walk?

  We are, said Anna.

  We’ll see you in a while, I said.

  Enjoy yourselves, and she threw open the book. Myself and Anna headed off down the rocks to the old wall I had found and we sat looking out to the island. This would be great place for nooky, she said.

  Indeed.

  I love your fish.

  Thank you.

  Did everything work out with your uncle?

  In a way. Yeh.

  It sounded serious.

  I don’t know what to think.

  Oh.

  Ah not to worry.

  We’ll leave it. Could I ask you a favour?

  Go ahead.

  I’m off to a get-together with the girls tonight in town and wondered whether ye are going in as usual?

  We are. You can have a lift no bother.

  You could come with me to the Forked Lightning and go off on your own and we could meet up on the dance floor.

  I’m not in dancing mode Anna.

  Ah do.

  Not yet, but soon, Lala.

  All right, Jeremiah.

  We sat there for an hour watching the cormorants pass in ones and twos. She took my hand and we headed off round the rocks that were covered in sea pinks, sea urchins and sea kale. Every weekend we’d take the same walk, depending on the weather, along the strand, down by the blow hole, the lime kilns, the battery walls. We took off our shoes and walked the rock pool, and as the high tide gathered it scooped and smashed the rock stones up onto the beach. In the sunlight the fossils bloomed. We headed back up to the gate. Inland the trees in the reeds began to float and looked like they might rise slowly into the sky.

  We headed in. Ma was reading intently.

  I am enjoying your book.

  Good, said Anna.

  I dropped safely into the father’s armchair. He was away plastering an attic for the Germans down Poverty Row. I was watching the cat to start a row because Timmy the dog had started ceilidhing with her kitten in its cardboard box, but she just turned the once to watch them play, meowed, then faced away and settled her snout snug down between her orange shins.

  I’m learning a lot. For instance, you see that cat there?

  I do.

  She is not really a pet, said Ma.

  If she’s not a pet, I asked, what is she?

  She’s a half pet.

  What does that mean?

  Well she’s not a dog for instance.

  Ma?

  What I mean is she doesn’t know us that long. The dog you see goes further back. In our memories. You see the dog has his uses, he was needed in the fields for hunting. She wasn’t.

  She kills mice, doesn’t she?

  Yes, she knows her mice. But you see she’ll mice kill anyway – whether – hold it – she’s a pet or not. So why bother training her. Leave them in the wild to fend for themselves is what I say.

  The dog gave the kitten a long fatherly lick that lifted her clean into the air.

  Anna threw out her feet and ruffled her hair.

  And she became a goddess.

  It’s true, continued Ma. The poor Egyptian got lonely, you know. Out there in the desert. By himself. They still are. I never met an Egyptian surgeon inside in the hospital, she added, but he was lonely.

  That’s because they’re away from home.

  I wonder. There was a Dr Kempo. I had a soft spot for him. You never saw a lonelier man by an operating table. I used to think he was about to break into tears. You’d have more sympathy for him than the poor fellow stretched out on the sheet.

  There was a display of feathers in a glass on the sill, and she picked out a pigeon’s, and blew it.

  On the other hand the lonely man is a proud man, she said. It’s only after they’re done praying that they look happy.

  So if the people had lived in the forest, I said, the cat would have stayed wild.

  Right, said Ma, I suppose.

  So that’s the cat’s story.

  And, she said nodding, it’s not finished yet.

  No, said Anna and she drew up her legs onto the chair, threw her arms round her knees, and faced Ma. The dog tapped the white stomach of the kitten and she hurtled against his claw like it was a rag. I let Timmy out the door and he ran down to Joejoe’s. Ma lifted her book, blew a few pages apart, flicked over, and ran the pigeon feather along a sentence.

  Now, listen to this children everywhere – it appears that man brings out the child in t
he cat. I could have sworn it was the other way round. She looked at me, and she looked at the cat and read on, petting the pages. Now there’s something. Read that and she handed me the book.

  The cat grew short legs so she could become a friend of man, I read out.

  Now, said Ma. And she took back the book and read –The cat hasn’t proper eyes. That explains it. She has mirrors in the retina.

  Indeed – that’s why they shine at night, said Anna.

  Because, I said, they’re picking up the moon.

  Right, said Ma.

  Or the lights of cars or whatever.

  Right.

  If there’s no lights on they don’t shine.

  No Philip, they don’t shine in the dark.

  It’s kinda sad, said Anna.

  They eyed each other, then both women more or less simultaneously turned in my direction you’d think to some command I’d given, to check if I was I still there, the witness they did not want, or maybe the witness they did: they were always doing that, first the one, then the other, in the middle of a TV programme, or when Da spoke out of hand; I’d catch it out of the corner of my eye and suddenly find them simultaneously tossing their hair, and then turning at the same time to look at me, and as they did then, they did now – then they both looked away.

  Anna brushed a handful of nothing onto the ground and stared down as she spoke.

  Do you know what happens when I look into the mirror? she asked Ma quietly.

  No.

  I see the past looking back at me.

  Well, you see, it’s because of the good looks you inherited from your French ancestors.

  And the two ladies, laughing, went off on a journey to the island off France, the Côtes-d’Armor where Anna’s great-great-great-great-great-grandfather had come from in the French Invasion of 1798.

  Some day I am going to go there, said Anna.

  Do.

  And you will come with me.

  I will, I said.

  Ah good, she said with mock sadness and handed each of us a slice of apple tart.

  And Philip there is the cut of his father; he travelled up the Feeney side.

  It’s tough Ma, I said.

  Oh, is it Philip?

  Everybody looks like someone else, said Anna.