James Kelman: The Good Times
		hen I got off the bus there was this star shining. It was hardly even dark yet there it was shining away. I could make out the five points like how ye drew it as a kid. Seeing it ye knew how the prehistorics picked them out and gave them names. That was the way I felt looking at it right at that very moment, except I wouldnay have known which name to give it. But it was like this was a special night. The moonlight through the trees. Now the cloud shifting fast. Imagine taking a taxi and missing it all. That was what happened to these people with money, they were too busy rushing here and there. It was them got left behind. They never saw the space, they never got the time. My auld man was right. Money was supposed to buy ye everything but naw it didnay. It was the lack, not having it. The poor inherit the earth. That is what the bible tells ye. Wrong, says my da, it's theirs already. I breathed the dampness from the leaves and the grass. The smell of the river was in the air. What a night! People took alcohol, got stoned, shot junk into their veins. For what? For more than this? More than what I was experiencing right at that very moment? What would it matter if I didnt see her? What would it matter if I never saw her again in my whole life? Plus if every single friend she ever had, if every one was a lover? What would it matter? I stopped walking and bowed my head, I was smiling at a certain thought, it always made me smile. I glanced up and for a moment my face was straight but then I chuckled and shook my head. I carried on walking. But it was definitely funny how it happened. How it crept up. Not like a bolt from the blue. That is one thing it wasnt because it was gradual, a really gradual thing; and when it arrived it was all-embracing. I patted the side of my head, rubbing the hair. I had got a new haircut this morning and it was an amazing difference--really short. I was sick having to wash it and brush it all the time. Now it was a case of splashing it with water and drying it off with the towel, it straightened itself out. But I liked this walk, it was different to where I lived, ye could smell the grass and the trees never mind see them. At that very minute she would be sitting in the bedroom, maybe with her sister. She wouldnay be in the living room with her parents. She didnay like sitting with them. And she never watched telly anyway, that was another thing about her, she liked being on her own, playing her music, looking through her auld papers, photographs and stuff, letters. Even her music was different, usually women singing. She had opera. She just sat there listening; sometimes with her eyes closed; it made her shiver; that was what she telt me. Even being late I was dragging my feet. When I realised I was doing it I wondered how come. But sometimes I liked walking slow, no for any reason, it just gave ye a chance to think about things. The same gon to bed, I looked forward to it because I got the space for my head, I could just lie there, let my mind go. I liked to think about what she was doing, if she was sleeping, seeing her face on the pillow and touching it, touching her cheek. Sometimes I went early because I needed to think about her. I had to get her straight in my mind, check out things. I would try to see her in different situations and wonder how she was in them. I just couldnay picture it. Meeting auld people for instance, relatives, I couldnay imagine how she would be with them. I tried to picture her having a conversation and I couldnay. Even with the likes of her grannie and grandpa, I knew she saw them quite a lot but I couldnay imagine how it would be; her sitting there with them and talking, it was like frae another world. I didnay like wanking to her either. I did it but there was something no right about it. I had seen maist of her body already. She changed her clothes in front of me. It was up to me what I done, if I looked away. I did look away but I did it like it was just a sort of fluke. There was a mirror there on the dressing table and sometimes ye couldnay help seeing, just depending how ye were sitting, ye saw her back sloping down and the top of her pants, her bra-strap pulled tight across her back, then her spine, it was a hollow, I thought she was too thin but I hadnay telt her. The thing was and there was nay doubt about it, women were different. Even the way they spoke was different. The way they laughed. I noticed that with my sisters. What was it about the way they laughed? Cause they didnay have an adam's apple, maybe that was how. But one thing important was how they had friends. Men couldnay have friends the way women did. Women could have friends that were men but men couldnay have friends that were women. Maybe we could but we didnay. No eftir we left school. No even in school. Except maybe primary. No even then. Maybe before we went to school. Ahead was the cluster of trees and bushes. The Wood. That was what the people round here called it. I felt spots of rain. But it was good. Refreshing. I couldnay see the sky anymore, just grey clouds. There was somebody coming, an auld person, a woman. There was naybody else in the vicinity except us two and ye wondered how come she was here, an auld woman, usually they're too scared to come out eftir dark, yet here she was, and she didnay seem to care at all. She was looking up at the sky. Probably wondering if she should stick up the brolly, maybe shelter beneath a tree if the rain got too heavy. I would frighten her now if I approached too slow. I began whistling then walking ordinary so she wouldnay be scared. And she wasnt, she didnay look at me, I wasnay a threat. It was good that. I thought about the trees full of silent birds, some of them peering down at me. Waiting for the dawn. I didnay need the dawn, no to whistle. Through at the end of the trees the streetlights caused a halo effect and the rain was amazing how it was visible, the separate drops, ye could see them cause of the bright glow. Separate drops of water. Rushing into the foliage. Refreshing the earth. But even as I watched it was slowing down. Then it went off altogether, it just stopped. When I reached the street I saw all the wee puddles, and the cracks in the pavement reflected the light. The moon was visible. I ran my hand along the roof of a parked car, skiting the water aff. Up by the corner at the next junction an icecream van stopped. A woman came out with a raincoat over her head. But she was wearing slippers! They flapped! She must have forgot! Now a boy ran from a close carrying a stack of empty ginger bottles. Memories memories. Myself in the same situation, how one of them had slipped out from under my arm and smashed, I was about twelve or something. What a disaster! The things that go to make up yer life, where ye are, who ye are; all that. These bits and pieces. Millions of them, taking ye from childhood right the way up, so ye dont even notice, never catching the moment, ye can never catch it and hold onto it, not when the voice broke, the first sex, the lot; it was just something else; forever gone now; a total mystery: even at the time. The boy is father of the man. Another of my auld man's. He was aye coming out with something. He was a funny auld guy in some ways. Rain rain oh rain! Hail o rain, hail to thee! I loved this place where she lived. I adored it. This place had my entire veneration. There was the window with the yellow and brown curtains. This close, this close What would I do if she was out? She might be out. Maybe she had gone out, me being late. She was never late for me. Just sometimes she couldnt meet me well then of course she wouldnt meet me, because she couldnt, because she was going elsewhere. But she was never late. I did it to her. I liked doing it. Crazy! But she never done it to me. I had her total trust so it didnay matter. She didnt feel the need. She said it to me: she trusted me, she didnt have to prove a single thing. Whatever it might be. Something or other. Who knows. Just I felt it myself occasionally, just now and again; to take it all in, breathe it in deep and just bloody enjoy it, the feeling, it was totally exhilarating. One night I followed her. She was meeting a guy. She telt me about him. He was just a friend. It was because things were getting to me and I just wanted to make sure. That was how I went. I didnay feel guilty about it. Ye were entitled to check up on somebody if ye were gieing them yer life and that was what I was doing, I was making that decision. Nothing happened anyway. She just met him and they went into a lounge-bar up the town. I waited and then went hame. It was enough for me to see them the gether. The next night I saw her she telt me all about it. She was amazing and I think she was unique. At times I felt funny, I couldnay stop myself. I kept needing to think, I wanted space so I could work things out. When I was with her I couldnay. She was too overpowering. It was like she filled every molecule, every point in the atmosphere, her presence, when I was with her, sometimes even when I wasnay, just thinking about her. Then another night there was a guy across the street, standing in the close opposite hers--not direcdy opposite, a few yards along--he was just standing there, this aulder guy; he was a man; at least forty by the looks of it. He hadnt noticed me, he was just staring across and it appeared to be her close he was staring at. I circled over about fifty yards on and doubled back on the same side pavement as him. Her bedroom light was on. That was where he was staring, it was obvious. A fucking peeping tom bastard, that was what I thought. I felt like going up and saying it to him. I got nearer, trying no to make it too obvious. He wasnay a big guy. I could have gave him a couple of inches. Then I thought maybe he was just waiting for somebody. Maybe he had locked himself out the house. It could have I been anything. He looked totally normal. When I got up the stairs and rang the doorbell she answered herself. I waited till I she led me ben the room and shut the door. I telt her to draw I the curtains. There's a man standing in the close across the I street, I said, I think he's looking up. She took a couple of seconds to take it in. Then what she did, she walked to the window and peered out, and she went: Mmm. That was all she did. She knew him, he stayed in the next street. He had a pal lived up the close. What is his pal no in? I said. I dont know, she said. I remember we went out for a walk after that, and I had a wee bottle of martini and didnay tell her and when we went back to her room she gave this amazing smile when I took it out my pocket. Abracadabra. Her eyes were huge. It was amazing how they were so huge. I aye wanted to hold her. Then how her breasts were under her top, they werenay big, just the right size. But her nipples were always noticeable, ye always saw them poking out. At the same time I thought she was too thin. No her bum. The right proportions. She wore jeans with a fancy design she made herself, she knitted it on, it was her own pattern. That was typical. That was exactly the kind of thing she did. It was like all the rest of the stuff in her room. All the different things she had; keepsakes and crazy stuff, all kinds of stuff, photographs and crazy pictures cut out from magazines and books. Now here I was tonight. She took me in as usual and I started telling her about the work-placement I was having to take. I had had an idea about the two of us getting some cash saved and going away for a holiday. I was thinking about doing a bit of hitching, maybe France or something or else Holland or Denmark, maybe Belgium. There was a bus ye could get from London straight to Paris. We could do it on the cheap, hitch it down from Glasgow. My uncle done it when he was my age. He went to France. There was a place there took ye on for grape picking. It depends on the time of year. He still had the address and thought the farmer guy would still be in business, if he was he would take me on nay bother. The wages werenay great but if ye had a tent he gave ye a field to camp in. There was water and all the facilities. It would be great. I watched her pick a cassette and stick it into the machine. The music started. D'ye fancy going for a walk? I said. No yet. Maybe later? She gave me a funny look and then said, I've a friend staying a couple of nights, his name's Ohgoost, spelled like August, he's from Holland, I met him in a pizza-place up the town, he's a student. He was here to see Scotland but it was raining all the time and then the midges done him roundabout Loch Lomond. Somebody stole his wallet, they took it out his rucksack. He's stranded. D'ye mean he's here in the house? He's having a bath. It's the first he's had for four days. He should be out any minute. She came close to me and touched my head, she drew her hand up the back of it, making the bristles go up. You've had a haircut, she said, it's nice. D'ye want a coffee? I couldnay move, I just stood there, the feeling of her doing it. Away she went. I was looking about her room, it was so wee. I sat down on the edge of the bed. There was nothing she did surprised me. Except when it happened, when it happened it did. I dont know what I thought. There was nay signs of the guy. She took him home because he was stranded with nowhere to go. What else should she have done? Then his rucksack. It was a funny place to carry a wallet. Then go leaving it about for all-comers. That was one thing could stick in yer mind. Surely ye knew, surely people knew? It was a thing ye learned. Ye learned it in Glasgow anyway. Ye always have these visions of Holland people, they look like moviestars, famous tennisplayers or something, they're all beautiful. Who else would have brought him home? Who else would have even got talking to the guy? How did she even know he was stranded? Did he come up and tell her, did she just guess? Was it him started the conversation? There was this absentminded way she could be. I could imagine her seeing him and knowing something was up, and just asking him what it was, what the trouble was, I could actually imagine her doing that; out the blue, him being surprised; I could imagine it. It was the kind of thing she did. This thing about friends. That was what she called them: friends. I never knew what that meant: friends. No when she said it. She even made it sound different. It wasnay anything to do with it being sexy. I had thought about that, if that was what was funny about it. But it wasnay. It was like something else, a touch of magic. Ye saw something for the first time. Or thought ye did. One thing I knew was I had never ever had a friend, no in the sense she was talking about, except maybe her. When she said 'friends' it included everything. A friend for her was somebody ye gave yerself tee completely. I dont mean sex. Even if it was an auld dosser on the street. Once she said that to me and I made a joke about what do ye do, d'ye go up and fling yer arms round him? How no? she said. If it's a friend then ye'd do anything. You and me are friends. Whatever you want I'll do. Whatever you want I'll do. It made ye shiver when she spoke like that because ye knew she meant it. Every word. Her eyes staring straight at ye till ye had to look away. Or else say something. Change the subject; ye knew ye were gony get a hardon and ye wouldnay be able to stop it if ye did. And ye knew she knew. And she felt sorry for ye! It was terrible but at the same time the best feeling imaginable. This Holland guy would turn out like that. He would send her letters. She would send him letters. It would be like a movie. Where things like that were concerned we seemed to be on different wavelengths. I got my sisters talking about it one night, they telt me they could have men for friends. But the way they said it it wasnay the same as her. I couldnay put my finger on what it was. But usually always when she said something it left me silent, no having anything to say. I couldnay challenge her, even if I wanted to. I wasny even sure she knew herself. Once I did try telling her about some of these guys she saw: she maybe thought they were friends but that might no be the way the guys themselves would see it, they might just have been eftir her. But she wasnay naive. Naive was the last thing. She was just about the sharpest most intelligent person I ever knew. It was me that was naive. I was waiting there for the coffee, staring out the window. There was a chap on the door and in came the Holland guy. He was nay different to what I had thought; tall and blond and blue eyes. Looking fresh from the bath, his hair all damp and streaky. Then the jeans and shirt; he must have been loaded, his family must have been. And I wouldnay have called him friendly, no at first sight. He spoke good English, better than me by a long margin. Hello, he said, you are Peter? He moved to shake hands with me. Where is Annie? She's making coffee. Yes. He smiled. She is a good woman. She is going to college soon. To college? She is going soon? I dont know. Ah. He smiled, looking about her room. He pointed at the cassette. I like this song, very much. It's good, I said, yeh. She came in with a tray and the cups of coffee, a packet of biscuits. Are ye sure ye dont want anything to eat? she said to him. No no. Her maw and da were letting him sleep on the sofa. If they hadnay agreed to that he would have slept in her room. That was what like she was. But I was beginning to relax, now I saw them the gether, I knew it was okay. This strange guy sitting in her room, handsome guy with money, a foreigner, it was just how I knew it would be. I felt strong. I wasnay worried about him, although he was big, it didnay matter, no in the physical way, like if it was a fight, I think I could have battered him, I would have waded in. But it wasnay that, nothing like it. It was as if she was mine, before she would ever be his. I saw her as just young and I thought God she's got to get protected, anything could happen to her. And it was something between me and him, the Holland guy. He knew. We baith knew. I watched him, the ways he spoke to her and looked at her. Obviously she was sexy, there was nothing could be done about that, when ye looked at her, ye had to see her. She was the most beautiful sexiest woman I ever saw. But she was too open to getting hurt. Except the likes of me and the Holland guy, for the likes of us it was taboo. He might have wanted to touch her but he wouldnay have been able to. I felt like that myself. I was always wanting to touch her. She let me. When I did she just used to watch me like she was wondering what I was gony do next. Now the guy started talking about things. He didnay talk about himself but, it was things he had seen. She was all agog. She loved hearing about stuff. The college thing came up. She smiled across at me.
		Excerpted from The Good Times by James Kelman. Copyright © 1999 by James Kelman. Excerpted by permission of Anchor, a division of Random House. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.