for Stevie
Did Scott nip to the john? Huh? Scott – I just turned my back, turned round again and shazam. ‘Who.’ Aye very droll.
Maybe he went out to get a signal. It’s like we’re off the grid in here. Scott! Fuck sake Stevie I’m not in the mood.
Stop staring at me like I’ve lost it again. He was standing here between us in the bar mirror, under the clock.
He left his pint. The barman must’ve cleared it away. – Our brother! My younger, your elder – it’s his birthday,
or it was yesterday, that’s why we’re here. He’s 53. Dead guy. Looks 40 though, don’t you think?
He’s why you’re here in a way. I know you weren’t born yet but you must remember
how high I got when Ma told me he was coming? She’d ask me what I was getting for my second birthday
and she taught me to reply a baby brother or a baby sister! which was clever as it distracted me from the fact
I wanted him dead. But it was too late. I am very powerful. Actually maybe that’s bullshit
and what my shrink tells me because it saves her thinking. Maybe I was just disappointed
my cool present didn’t show up. I’ve often wondered why I spend my birthdays alone
as a point of principle. The day always seems countersunk, shadowed by Ma’s black mood on one side
and Halloween on the other, that thin day where the souls of the departed freely roam and all that.
She never blamed me exactly, but it was too much of a coincidence, her so distraught, and me so empty-handed.
I knew her tears and fury were on me, as was the fury of any woman thereafter. Sometimes I think I’m a cunt
just so I can keep apologising. Sorry will be written on my gravestone, Ma says.
It’s the sound I make when I breathe out.
Ach, you know what he’s like! That guy … It’ll be some kind of practical joke. Although I can’t remember what he’s like
look look I’ve a picture of Scott here on the phone, from last Christmas, Dad’s last, you remember
somewhere. Jesus yeah this is it hang on. Shit yes I can see there’s only us two in it, hang on
Yes I’m feeling OK actually no I’m not, his texts are gone and so’s his contact, hang on
You have to remember! Scott, the handsome one, same black humour that’s the family stock-in-trade –
I mean even Louise has it – but lighter in his heart, and with none of our targetless rage,
like Jamie, everyone always says he’s just like my Jamie, same softness in his eyes that feels everyone else’s pain for them,
they have the same birthday, probably happens to some kids with birth asphyxia
and they end up with I don’t know overactive mirror neurons or some shit. Hang on it’s all come back to me –
Scott, he had some trouble when he was young, yes, and he was done for selling, nearly killed
Ma at the time and that nearly killed him, but he turned it round in his late twenties, did his exams again
at the college, did his first year in adult ed then uni then a master’s and he went into social work where he met
Linda and where he’s high up the now, no kids but he’s been an amazing stepdad to
Niamh and Sandy aye he fairly stepped up there really stepped up did Scott I remember now
I remember now he said
he was going to get some air because he didn’t feel right
No
There’s
no one no
just the snow
swirling under the streetlight