How Late It Was How Late

by James Kelman

  It sounded like a few folk waiting at the stop which was a good sign. But then when the bus came for some reason his belly went, he couldnay seem to move; he heard the doors shoot open and he still stood there. Then he got himself the gether: I’m going to the DSS Central Medical! he shouted: Is this the bus?

  Aye!

  …

  Ye want it?

  Aye, said Sammy.

  Well this’ll take ye.

  Sammy made a step forwards. A woman said: The man’s blind; bring him on with ye!

  A hand took his elbow. A guy said: Where ye going?

  DSS Central Medical.

  Aye this’ll take ye to the gate.

  Sammy was guided to the step and up. DSS Central Medical, said the guy.

  That’s right…

  I’ll give him a shout, said another guy: If he gives me sixty pee!

  Sammy turned his head. You the driver?

  That’s what they tell me.

  Sammy clutched the stick under his elbow and dug out some smash, held it on the palm of his hand; the driver picked out the coins then the ticket was rung up and torn off and put into Sammy’s hand. Ye’ll give us a shout? he said.

  Nay bother.

  Sammy moved inside gripping the handrail and keeping the stick into his side. The bus sounded hell of a busy. He didnay bump into naybody. Maybe they were staying out his road. His hand touched another pole and then into space; it was the stairs to the top deck. The stairs to the top deck. Fuck it, he went on up.

  Naw but he was gasping for a smoke he really was he was fucking gasping: he smiled and tried to stop it but couldnay; stupit: hell with it but he kept going, his feet kicking into the steps; but that was alright man it was okay, just the stick banging away and the jolt when the bus started but he was fine and fucking great man and nay cunt could see him; nay cunt could fucking see him! know what I’m talking about, the glasses and that, the shades, the auld shades, the bold yin, yer man. And then he was up there: there he was – holding on for dear life, the auld pole and that.

  Voices. Okay. He tapped the stick.

  Ye wanting a seat? said a guy.

  Aye.

  Right.

  He was guided to one and sat down, bumping into somebody who was sitting at the window side. Sorry, he said.

  It’s okay.

  A woman!

  Just feeling like a smoke, he said. He had the fag already out and now into his mouth. He snapped the lighter and felt for the flame, it was working. He held the tip of the fag and he got it lighted. He inhaled.

  A wee minute later and he was chuckling away to himself; just a daft thought, how it could be a whole bus empty except for one person and ye wouldnay know it and then the seat ye chose might be the one they were sitting on – a female, and ye sat down on her fucking knee! Sorry and aw that! Ye could imagine it it was so stupit! And he was off again, chuckling, and people could hear him, unless they were fucking deaf! Wild.

  Ah jesus christ jesus christ. Never mind never mind. He dragged deep on the fag. How come he was so fucking happy! Christ knows. Probably the fucking nicotine hitting the brainbox. But he wasnay so much happy, it wasnay that he was happy; it was just he was pleased with himself, he was pleased. Here he was on a bus.

  Ye kidding?

  So okay. He had decisions to make and he had made some already. He was doing fine. The money was in the pocket and here he was. It was no that he was special. He didnay even want to be special. He didnay. All he wanted was to do as good as. As good as.

  If jobs needed doing then ye went ahead and done them, blind or no blind. That was one thing Sammy had learned, yer man, the bold yin. Mind you no everything that happened was gony be down to him. Some would, but no it all. Ye’re never responsible for everything; no in this world: this world man know what I’m saying, ye’re never responsible for everything. But ye dont blame nay cunt neither, it’s down to you: so ye just fucking push ahead, ye get fucking on with it.

  Sammy was sitting back. Then he rolled another two fags and stuck them in the pouch.

  Uch. If Helen could see him. Just a wee thing; just cause he was doing the business.

  Yeh, he had been getting soft, nay doubt about it. The auld exercises man, he would have to start them, he would have to fucking start them. Then once he got his money fixed, once he was re-registered. Who knows. Who knows.

  Central Medical!

  The bus had stopped.

  Central Medical!

  Already for fuck sake Sammy jumped up fast. He hadnay been expecting it so soon. He tapped his way to the top of the steps but the stick was getting wedged man it kept getting wedged: fucking things. A slight panic situation but he was alright if he just took his time he was rushing man he just had to stop rushing, okay, okay. The driver was giving him every chance too ye couldnay fault him. But Sammy was going down the stairs and it wasnay bloody easy, coming up was fine but this was a bastard, stepping out into mid-air, that’s what ye were doing, and the stick got fucking stuck, it got wedged. His shoulder thumped into the partition and he stopped to catch his breath.

  Ye’re alright my man!

  Sammy kept going.

  Take it easy, ye’re alright.

  Sammy reached the bottom and forwards, getting his hand onto the rail and to the pole.

  Ye okay now?

  Sammy didnay answer, his hand got a hold on the left side door; he stepped down, down onto the road; onto the road, he had to find the kerb fast, fast man come on, come on. One time there was this guy stepped off the pavement, Argyle Street on a Saturday afternoon for christ sake crowds everywhere and there was a bus coming fast on the inside lane and the fucking wing mirror fucking blootered him man right on the fucking skull, blood belching out; what a crack! the driver jumping out the cabin and wanting to help the guy but the poor bastard got off his mark immediately, probably thinking he had done something wrong man damaged company fucking property or something and the driver was trying to get his name, so he got off his mark, staggering into this sprint – Sammy could see him yet, poor bastard, fucking blood everywhere.

  Anything’s definitely possible. Ye just dont know. And ye cannay just swing yer stick in case ye clobber cunts. What Sammy needed was a dog. Once he got a dog

  There was folk in front of him. They would all be going the same way. If he just kept in touch. The security gate was round the corner. A couple of times in the past he had been here. No for a while. He concentrated on the tapping.

  Christ he couldnay hear them now, the folk, they were getting ahead, but so what, it didnay matter.

  The empty space at the corner and he tapped his way round and then was walking in the space hitting from left to right; he kept going. Then a loud voice:

  Heh!

  He kept going.

  Heh!

  He wasnay gony stop cause how did ye know it was you they were shouting on ye didnay cause ye couldnay tell, ye couldnay fucking tell man so he kept going.

  Heh you with the sunglasses!

  Fuck ye…

  Heh! You!

  Sammy stopped. Ye talking to me?

  Aye. Ye’re in a bit of a rush eh!

  …

  Ye’re supposed to come through the gate ye know.

  Sammy got the tobacco pouch and took out a fag.

  Nay smoking.

  I’m no in the building yet.

  Aye but ye’re in the ground.

  I’m no in the building.

  Doesnay matter, put it away.

  Sammy put it away.

  Ye’re supposed to come in the gate.

  …

  Ye dont just walk through the road.

  Sammy turned his head, wishing he could see the bastard.

  Where is it ye’re going?

  What are ye security?

  Where are ye going?

  Dysfunctional.

  Aye but what section?

  For blindness.

  That’s Sightloss, ye got an appointment?

  What d’ye
say?

  Ye got an appointment?

  I was telt to come.

  I’m asking if ye’ve got an appointment? said the guy, and now he seemed to be standing close up.

  I dont know, said Sammy.

  Have ye got a card?

  A card?

  If ye’ve got an appointment ye’ve got a card.

  I’ve no got a card.

  Aye well ye’ve no got an appointment. That’s Emergencies. What’s yer name?

  Samuels.

  Initial?

  S.

  After a moment the card was put into Sammy’s hand and the guy said, Come onto the pavement.

  Sammy moved in his direction till the stick knocked the kerb, he stepped up.

  Take the card to Emergencies.

  Whereabouts?

  There: carry on in a straight line; thirty yards; there’s a swing door to yer left. Go through it and the Reception’s on yer right. Give the Reception Officer the card. Try and keep to the inside when ye’re walking. And next time come through the gate.

  Sammy sniffed and said, It’s cause I’m blind; I didnay see it.

  Aye well next time.

  Sorry, it’s just I didnay see it.

  Alright, on ye go.

  It’s cause I’m blind, know what I mean, I couldnay see it.

  …

  I didnay know.

  Aye on ye go, okay.

  Know what I’m saying, I’m blind, I didnay see it, the gate, that’s how I came through the road… Sammy was gripping the stick. He heard a movement, the guy going away maybe or somebody else. I’m very sorry, he said, very very sorry.

  Just keep moving.

  Sammy smiled. Fucking bastard. Okay. He started walking. The giro was cashed and the dough was in his pocket. Here he was. Fine. He should have been counting the steps but. Never mind, never mind.

  A creaking squeaking noise. Watch yerself! called somebody.

  He stood still. The noise went by him. He carried on till he reached a wall, he heard a whishhing noise. An automatic door. He walked forwards and felt the change of air and the difference on where he was walking, the floor, he tapped on, hit something hard: Sorry, he said, I’m blind, I’m looking for Emergencies, could ye tell me where I go?

  Nay reply; didnay seem to be anybody there. He kept walking. Although muttering, he could fucking hear muttering. He stopped again. Sorry, he said, eh…I’m blind eh I wonder.

  The muttering was from behind. He done an about-turn and said: I’m looking for Emergencies.

  Ye’re in it, said a woman.

  Aw, right.

  The queue’s here beside ye.

  Is there no a separate reception area for blind people? it’s Sightloss I’m looking for.

  I dont know.

  She hadnay said it in a friendly way. Sammy shrugged. He tapped along to the left. More muttering. Is this the queue? he said.

  …

  Heh gony put me to the end of the queue?

  Right in front of ye.

  He poked the stick and felt for it, the bench; he sat down.

  Fucking life man. He sighed. He had noticed the pong; auld sweat; the usual.

  Ach well, fuck knows how long it would take. Nay point worrying about it.

  What happened was the queue moved space by space when somebody went out to the desk, everybody moving along to fill the gap.

  He started singing songs to himself but it didnay last long and he suddenly caught himself thinking of his fayther, just out the blue and for nay reason. Then his maw. The two of them, he saw them the gether; they were just there. It all seemed so long ago. His whole life, the early days; fucking hell man. One of these days he would be dead. Then his boy would be thinking about it, he would be thinking about Sammy. Fuck sake. Weird, fucking weird. He hadnay seen her for years; his ex, the boy’s mother. She still looked the same; in his mind; a 20 year old lassie. She was nearly as auld as him. His fayther never met her, never knew about Peter, the wee boy, he never fucking knew about it, died afore he was born. Fucking shame. It made ye sad thinking about it. Christ almighty and his maw as well, sitting the baby on her knee; Sammy could mind the funny look on her face. Fuck sake, fucking years ago, fucking years

  There was a conversation going on nearby. A young guy talking loud, telling somebody about some battle that took place, swearing away in front of everybody – so they all knew how hard he was, how hard his life was, where he came from.

  Then ye think of the other folk sitting roundabout, how ye knew fuck all about them, what like their lives were. It made ye laugh; the young guy, if he had the fucking brains to think it, about them – he wouldnay fucking talk so loud. One thing ye learned; there was aye somebody worse than yerself.

  The poky was full of guys like that, big loud voices. It was irritating but after a while ye couldnay get angry at it; in fact ye would up feeling sorry for them, it just showed how much they had to learn. And some of them never would, poor bastards.

  Eventually it came to his turn and he gave in the card and his address and the rest of the information. The Sightloss Section was on the fourth floor and a lift would take him. He said: Will somebody show me?

  There was a movement behind and a hand caught a hold of his wrist: I’ll take ye, said a woman. She led him along. He was aware he might kick her heels and took small steps so he wouldnay. Her grip changed. She was tugging on his sleeve now. He started feeling embarrassed. He wished she would just let him go and he would do it himself. A bit warmer the day, he said.

  It is… Then she stopped and let go his sleeve and he heard her press the lift button. It’s coming, she said.

  When the doors bounced open she pushed him on the shoulder; he stepped inside and he heard her press the inside button then get back out quick. The doors closed. Up he went. This is fucking lovely! he said. And he made a coughing sound like he was clearing his throat. It was a cover-up for the fact he had spoke out loud. He knew there was naybody in the lift with him but it was probably fucking bugged man know what I’m talking about, or else a VCR, probably there was a VCR. And that security cunt was sitting watching him right at this very minute, having a wee laugh to himself cause Sammy was talking and there was naybody there. Aye fuck you, he said and moved his head around, Fuck you.

  The lift stopped and the doors opened and he nipped out smartly. The doors shut. He waited. He heard somebody shuffling about. Hullo, he said.

  Hullo, said a guy.

  Sightloss?

  Aye.

  Where do I go?

  I dont know.

  Is this the fourth floor?

  Aye.

  It’s supposed to be Sightloss.

  It is Sightloss, I’ve just been.

  Aw… What are you blind as well?

  Aye.

  Christ. Pleased to meet ye. Sammy shifted the stick into his left hand, he reached to shake hands with the guy, but didnay find him.

  Is that lift away?

  Yeh, said Sammy; sorry, I could have caught it.

  The guy grumbled something.

  I’ll get it for ye. Sammy did an about-turn and groped for the button then pressed it. It’ll no take a minute.

  Aw jesus christ… The guy groaned. There’s stairs about somewhere, ye’ve got to be bloody careful.

  Aw, right.

  Ye’re feart ye take a dive.

  Fuck sake, aye – ye no got a stick?

  Naw.

  Ye want to get one…

  The guy sniffed.

  Makes a hell of a difference.

  My name’s down, he muttered.

  What here?

  Nah!

  A charity like?

  Aye.

  What one?

  …

  Eh?

  It’s up St Vincent Street. The guy sniffed. He sounded a right grumpy bastard. Other people go out the Gallowgate, he said, nay offence – if ye’re a tim I mean.

  I’m no a tim.

  Aye well nay offence if ye are. The guy sniffed agai
n. I just mean they’ve got their own ones.

  And the sound of the lift doors opening. That’s it now, said Sammy.

  Can ye hold it for me!

  Aye! Sammy shoved in the stick; the doors shut then bounced back open then shut again but he caught one on the bounce and held it. Tell us when ye’re in, he said.

  It’s these bloody stairs… Where are ye?

  Here; just come to my voice, it’s no far.

  Ye’re feart ye make a wrong move, know what I mean… Then his arm hit Sammy quite hard.

  Take it easy mate.

  Sorry.

  Alright?

  Just find this damn bloody button… The doors shut on him. They opened again. Fucking bastard, muttered the guy. The doors shut.

  Sammy waited a wee minute then wandered. A door opened. He called: Hullo?

  Yes? said a man with a polite voice.

  I’m looking for Sightloss.

  Is it both eyes?

  Yeh.

  It’s just along to the end of this corridor and turn to your left; ye cant miss it.

  Great, ta… When he got there he found the door handle and went on in.

  Sit there please.

  Whereabouts?

  I’m just about to show ye.

  Sorry.

  It sounded like a boy about 18 or 19. He took Sammy by the wrist then guided his hand onto the edge of a soft chair and telt him to sit down. Sammy sat down and sank away back and his feet came off the ground, he grabbed for the chair’s arms, dropped the stick and pushed himself forwards, connected his heels to the floor.

  Ye got yer appointment card?

  Sammy gave him it and heard him keying in on a computer.

  So ye’re registering for Dysfunctional Benefit on account of Sightloss: and it’s both eyes?

  Yeh.

  The boy hit the computer keyboard and went on doing it after every question and answer. Is it congenital? he said.

  Naw.

  Was it a spontaneous occurrence or did ye get any advance warning?

  Naw.