Buddha Da

by Donovan, Anne

  The next week ah bumped intae him doon Byres Road in ma lunch break. Hardly recognised him – he was wearin wanny they funny hats all the young guys seem tae be wearin the noo, pulled doon roond his ears.

  ‘Hi – what you up tae?’

  ‘Ah’m on ma lunch break – ah was just at the bank.’

  ‘Time for a coffee?’

  Ah looked at ma watch. ‘Aye, a quick wan.’

  We went tae a wee place roond the corner fae the office. He sat doon opposite me and pulled aff the hat. It was the first time ah’d actually seen him properly; it had been too dark at the party. His hair was curly and quite long, you don’t see many young guys like that nooadays – they aw seem tae get it cut dead short. His face was delicate, quite feminine; close up in daylight he looked younger.

  ‘Ah’ve no been in this wan afore,’ he said, lookin round. ‘Thought ah knew every café fae Maryhill tae Thornwood.’

  ‘Ah come in noo and again. A lot of places round here you cannae get a seat at lunchtime. You workin the day?’

  ‘Ah was up at the library. Ah’m gaun back tae dae a couple hour and then ah’ve tae start in Iceland at four.’

  The drinks arrived and ah sipped mines, feelin a bit awkward. When we’d met at the party we’d talked as if we knew each other, but somehow ah felt a bit strange sittin here in ma work clothes.

  He took a big slurp out of his hot chocolate. ‘Did you enjoy the party?’

  ‘It was OK. Nikki ended up gettin aff wi some guy and ah felt a bit spare, didnae really know a lot of folk so ah just got a taxi hame aboot hauf-wan.’

  ‘Ah was away by then, left just efter we were talkin. Is Nikki your pal?’

  ‘Sort of. She started workin in the office a few month ago but we really only got tae know wan another recently. She split up wi her boyfriend no long before Christmas and ah was on ma ain too so …’

  ‘So you just got thegether.’

  ‘Aye, it’s good tae have somebody to go oot wi. Jimmy and me had been thegether that long …’

  ‘It’s easy tae get in a rut.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘So are you a party girl, then?’

  ‘Tae tell the truth, ah don’t think ah know. Ah used tae be right intae gettin dressed up and gaun oot, loved dancin. But it’s that long since ah’ve been on ma ain that ah just don’t know any mair. D’you know whit ah mean? It’s like what we were talkin aboot at the party – aboot who you are. Ah know who ah am at work and wi Anne Marie and ma mammy … but noo that Jimmy’s no around …’

  Ah stopped. Ah realised ah was sayin too much. Ah didnae even know this guy.

  ‘D’you think yous’ll get back thegether?’

  ‘Who knows? Ah’ve given up thinkin. Less than a year ago ah thought ma life was all mapped oot, ah knew where ah was gaun, noo anythin could happen.’

  ‘Excitin.’

  ‘Scary.’

  ‘Excitin is scary.’

  Ah checked ma watch. ‘Ah’ll need tae rush … ah’m gonnae be late.’ Ah put two pound coins doon on the table. ‘Nice tae talk to you again.’

  He lifted the coins, put them in ma haund. ‘Ah’ll get it, it’s cool.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You can get mines next time.’

  ‘Aye, probably bump intae you again.’

  ‘How about the same time next week? In here?’

  ‘Aye, fine.’

  ‘See you Thursday.’

  ‘OK.’

  Aboot hauf an hour later when ah was sittin at ma desk gaun through a file, all of a sudden a big smile spread across ma face. He’d asked me tae go and have a coffee wi him. No a date or anythin like that, but he must of wanted tae talk tae me, enjoyed ma company, a young guy like that, a Philosophy student.

  Ah’d arranged tae meet Anne Marie efter work that day, get the subway intae toon for late-night shoppin. There was a top she was desperate tae get oot the Gap but she couldnae make up her mind which colour. There we were staundin in front of the mirror and she’s got on the pink wan. Ah pulled the blue wan over ma heid and the two ae us are stood there and she was nearly as tall as me. She’s that like Jimmy wi her fair hair and her eyes are exactly like his. And ah don’t know if it was seein her all grown up like that or if it was no bein able tae see anythin of masel in her, but all of a sudden ah felt as if ah was gonnae greet. Ah turnt ma heid away and started tae pull aff the top, tryin tae hide ma tears but Anne Marie seen them.

  ‘Mammy, are you OK?’

  ‘Ah’m fine, hen.’

  ‘Is it ma daddy?’

  ‘Naw, it’s no, ah’m fine.’

  ‘Bastard.’

  ‘Anne Marie, don’t use that language.’

  ‘Well he is.’

  ‘No, he’s no. He’s just a bit … mixed up.’

  ‘Well he could of been mixed up and just stayed in the hoose. He doesnae need tae go aff and stay in that Centre.’

  ‘Ah thought you were OK aboot it.’

  ‘Ah’m ur OK.’

  ‘Ah mean he still loves you. He’s still yer daddy.’

  ‘Ah know.’

  She smiled. ‘Mammy. Know whit ah think?’

  ‘Whit?’

  ‘Ah think you should get the pink wan and ah’ll get the blue.’

  ‘D’you think the pink wan suits me?’

  ‘Naw – but if you get it ah can borrow it aff you.’

  Ah went tae see ma mammy straight fae work the next day cos ah’d no seen her on the Thursday. Ah know it was only wan night but ah was worried aboot her. She’s that thin, gettin. And she’s nae energy. The doctor cannae find anythin wrang wi her. Keeps givin her tests but they’re no further forrard. She’s just no hersel. Sittin watchin the TV every night. She used tae be oot wi ma Auntie Rose tae the club or the pictures.

  ‘Is that the top you got?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘It’s a nice colour. Suits you.’

  ‘Anne Marie’s nice in the blue.’

  ‘Aye, she’s got her daddy’s colourin.’

  Ah sprayed polish on the duster and wiped the top of the TV, liftin a wee china bird wi a chip oot its wing. Anne Marie brought it back fae a school trip years ago.

  ‘How is Jimmy, by the way?’

  ‘He’s OK.’

  ‘Still speakin, are yous?’

  Ah lifted the TV guide and Woman magazine off the coffee table and dusted that, ma back tae her.

  ‘We’ve never stopped speakin.’

  ‘So what’s happenin? Is he still stayin round at that Centre?’

  ‘Aye. He comes over maist nights tae see Anne Marie. Some nights she goes up there.’

  ‘Is it no about time yous got back thegether?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask Jimmy?’

  ‘Ah’m askin you. Whit’s gaun on?’

  ‘Nothin’s gaun on. Ah’ve tellt you. He’s the wan that left.’

  ‘He didnae leave for nothin.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Look, Jimmy worships the ground under your feet. Always has. That’s how we let yous go oot thegether in the first place. You were only fourteen. Ah thought you were far too young tae be gaun wi anybody.’

  ‘Mibbe you were right.’

  ‘And we thought Jimmy wasnae good enough for you either, thought he was a bit rough. Me and your daddy discussed it. He said we shouldnae forbid it in case we made you even mair set on it. So we said yous could go out thegether but no on yer ain at fist, and he had tae come round tae the hoose tae get you and bring you hame.’

  Ah smiled. ‘Ah mind. Jimmy said it was like datin Princess Diana.’

  ‘Efter a few weeks yer daddy turned tae me efter yous had left the hoose and said, “Pat, we’ve nae worries on that score.” And ah said, “How d’you mean?” And he says, “Patricia, that laddie worships our Elizabeth. He’ll no dae anythin tae hurt her.”’

  ‘Ma daddy said that?’

  ‘And he was right.’

  Ah went over tae the settee and started plumpin up the
cushions, straightenin them.

  ‘So it’s about time yous got things sorted oot.’

  ‘Well, mibbe you should tell Jimmy that. Or mibbe you should tell they flamin lamas since they’re the only wans he pays any attention tae.’

  ‘Tae hell wi the lamas.’

  ‘Ah don’t think they believe in it.’

  ‘It’s got nothin tae dae wi the lamas. If you ask him tae come back he will. Ah know Jimmy.’

  ‘Oh, dae you? Well you don’t know me very well if you think ah’m gonnae go crawlin tae him efter he’s the wan that left.’

  ‘Ah know you only too well. Stubborn – always have been. He’s always given you yer ain way. A big softy. All you have tae dae is ask him. It’s just yer pride that’s keepin yous back. Somebody’s got tae make the first move.’

  ‘Well it’s no gonnae be me, that’s for sure.’

  Ah didnae exactly slam the door as ah went but it was no far off it. Ah was beelin. Couldnae believe she was takin his part against me. She didnae know what had been gaun on – she didnae know whit it was like tae live wi Jimmy.

  Ma mammy’s hoose is just round the corner fae oors but ah didnae want tae go straight hame, needed time tae chill oot a bit afore ah saw Anne Marie, so ah went tae the café up the road. Ah sat doon and ordered a coffee; it’s the frothy old-fashioned Italian kind, no yer trendy wans you get doon Byres Road. Ah struck a match and lit ma ciggie, sookin in the smoke. Ah really would need tae gie it up. It was daft, ah hadnae smoked for years afore this cairry-on started me up again. The ash was burnin on the endy the fag, and the smoke drifted under ma nostrils, teasin me. Trouble was ah didnae want tae gie up, no completely. If ah just cut it doon tae wan a day, mibbe even less, that wouldnae dae me much harm. Then it dawned on me why ah was so angry wi ma mammy. She said ah was stubborn, didnae want tae make the first move. She said that Jimmy would come back if ah asked him tae. Well, mibbe she was right. And in ma heart of hearts ah didnae actually want him back.

  Ah didnae really want him back. It was as if the sky had turned a different colour. Lucky ah was sittin doon or ah’d have had tae sit doon. There was hardly anybody in the café at that time, just a coupla auld wifies havin a cuppa tea and some teenagers cairryin on, two lassies and two laddies. If you’d took away the sports claes and gied them some new romantic gear it could’ve been me and Jimmy and Paul and that girl he used tae go oot wi – Shelley – near twenty year ago. We used tae come in here, sit for hours over a coffee, then go round the back lane when it got dark enough tae dae some winchin wioot bein spotted. Young. Daft.

  Too young. Ma mammy had been right. Ah was only two year aulder than Anne Marie when ah started gaun oot wi Jimmy. If anybody started tryin tae go serious wi Anne Marie at that age ah’d kill them. How can you know what you want when you’re fourteen? Or twenty even.

  Or thirty-three for that matter. How did ah know this wasnae just a phase? Ah’d been wi Jimmy that long – how could ah be sure that ah didnae want him back? Ah felt terrible even thinkin it, couldnae imagine ever sayin it. Efter all he was Anne Marie’s daddy – if he wanted tae come back ah’d have tae let him for her sake – but in ma hert ah knew ah was enjoyin bein on ma ain. As long as ah could tell everybody that he left me, went aff wi the lamas, wanted tae find hissel and explore a new religion and all that, ah could just sit back and no face the fact that ah was quite happy wioot him. Except for wan thing of course. And even if he came back, that might never happen.

  Ah bought a tub of ice cream and walked slowly back hame, takin ma time, hopin Jimmy wouldnae be in the hoose when ah got there. Couldnae be bothered wi him the night. The hoose seemed bigger when he wasnae there. All the wee things that used tae get on ma nerves when he was here – it was strange, but they annoyed me ten times worse noo we werenae thegether. You’d think it’d be easier tae put up wi them but it’s no. When he washes the dishes he never empties the basin efter him, just leaves it there, wi the dirty scum of washin-up liquid clingin tae the ootside rim of it. Ah hate havin tae look at it when ah come intae the kitchen, specially when it’s got cauld. And then when you tip it oot you find auld bits a food stuck round the plughole, bits a pasta swollen up and scraps of vegetables. It’s disgustin. How he can he no just empty the basin and gie a wipe round the sink? When ah dae the washin up the basin’s always on its side and the cloth is over it so it can dry oot, no floatin in a mess of cauld water and grease that’d turn yer stomach.

  But ah’ve never said anythin aboot it. Ah’ve just always put up wi it cos it’s Jimmy and he’s always done it and ah loved him and always assumed that there was some things ah done that annoyed him just as much. Gie and take.

  But noo. Every time ah go intae that flamin kitchen efter him ah could strangle him. Ah have tae go through intae another room sometimes or ah’d say somethin. And when he’s no around me and Anne Marie get on much better. No that we’ve ever fought or that – we havenae, we’ve always been dead lucky wi Anne Marie, you couldnae have a better daughter. But she’s always been a daddy’s girl; he’s always been mair excitin, mair of a laugh than me, borin auld mum. Ah mind when she was a baby and she just wanted me. That’s how it was up tae she was a year, year-and-a-hauf auld. Then wan day, ah can still remember it, she’d fallen and banged her heid and she started greetin and put her wee airms up tae get a cuddle and ah went tae pick her up and she said clear as day, ‘want my daddy’. Wouldnae let me comfort her. Ah felt as if somethin died inside me. Left him tae pick her up and had tae go through intae another room, sat for ages and couldnae come oot. Couldnae even greet though ah wanted tae. Ah’ve never felt the same since. It’s no that ah love her any less – cannae imagine lovin anybody mair than her – she’s that close tae me, close tae baith of us wi bein the only wan, but ah felt as if something had been taken away fae me. Ah wanted ma baby back. And it wouldnae have been so bad if ah’d had another baby, then it would of seemed natural for Anne Marie tae move mair tae her daddy. Ah never said it but though we’d decided tae wait for a few year efter Anne Marie, save up a bit afore we’d try for another wan, ah wanted tae get pregnant right away – it was Jimmy kept sayin it was too soon and we’d plenty time. And ah thought we had, but maybe if we’d tried then, maybe. Life’s full of maybes.

  ‘Ma granny’s just phoned.’ Anne Marie called fae the livin room as ah walked through the door. ‘You’ve tae phone her back.’

  ‘OK. Ah haunded her the ice cream. ‘Stick this in the freezer, will you?’

  ‘Can ah have some the noo?’

  ‘Naw, wait tae efter yer dinner.’

  Ah don’t know if she got her dinner that night. The night ma mammy died.

  Ah really wasnae expectin it. There’d been a wee niggle at the back of ma mind that she wasnae right, wasnae hersel, but dyin … that was never on the cards. Ah think if ah’d dared tae put intae words what ah was most feart of, it’d probably be that she’d cancer or something. Sometimes in the middle of the night ah imagined her lyin in hospital, gettin sicker and the doctors tellin us they couldnae dae anythin. But at least that way you’ve time tae get used tae it. No this.

  When ah phoned there was nae reply and ah’d started tae panic, tellt Anne Marie ah was gaun roond again.

  ‘Whit’s wrang, Mammy?’

  ‘Don’t know, hen, but she’s no answerin the phone. She’s probably just in the toilet, but ah’d better just get round there and check she’s OK.’

  ‘Ah’ll come round wi you.’

  ‘No, hen, it’s OK. You get the tea started. Ah’ll be back in an hour. Just make some pasta and leave me some tae heat up. Is yer daddy comin round the night?’

  ‘No the night. Ah said ah’d go round there the morra.’

  ‘OK. Ah’ll no be lang.’

  She looked as if she’d fallen asleep on the couch. Ah knew though. She’d never of stayed so sound when she heard me comin in. Mammy’s always been a light sleeper, wakes up the slightest noise. Ah stood in the doorway, no knowin whit tae dae. In the movies folk always
touch the body or take a pulse, then they scream or faint. Ah just stood there. Ah knew ah should call the doctor or the priest, but ah just stood there in front of her as if ah was waitin tae see if she’d say somethin, tell me whit tae dae, like she always did. Ah sat doon beside her, just lookin. Her stillness. An hour ago, less than an hour ago, she’d been tellin me tae make it up wi Jimmy, and noo. It was ma fault. It was that fight wi me that made her take the heart attack or whatever it was that killed her. And the last words ah said tae ma mammy. What were they? ‘Its no gonnae be me’, words said in anger, slammin the door behind me.

  ‘Mammy, ah’m sorry. Mammy, can you hear me. Ah didnae mean it.’

  And she sat there. And ah wanted tae greet but the tears wouldnae come.

  Ah went intae the hall. She still keeps the phone there even though Jimmy put a new socket in the livin room for her so she’d be warmer. Said she’d spend too much time on it if it was in beside her. Then ah realised ah didnae know who tae phone first. Ah suppose ah should call of called her doctor first but ah wanted somebody else there so ah phoned Tricia. She was a nurse, she’d know whit tae dae.

  She came round right away, arrived even afore the doctor.

  ‘Liz, are you all right? This is a terrible shock.’

  ‘Ah cannae believe it. Ah knew she wasnae right but ah never thought …’

  ‘Have you phoned the doctor?’

  ‘She’s on her way round. And the priest.’

  ‘What aboot Anne Marie?’

  ‘Ah don’t want tae tell her on the phone. She’s in the hoose hersel.’

  ‘Where’s Jimmy?’

  ‘Ah don’t know where he is the night. Ah want tae tell her masel.’

  ‘Ah’ll go and make a cuppa tea. OK?’

  ‘Thanks Tricia.’

  The doctor was the young wumman in the practice. Mammy’d really took tae her. It’s funny, she used tae always go tae auld Doctor McKillop, who’s aboot ninety-three and gies ye Sudofed tablets whether you’ve a broken leg or a broken hert. Ah thought she’d never change. But she seen this young doctor a year ago when she was first no well and she always makes her appointments wi her noo. Thinks she’s brilliant. Thought.