If it is your life (16 page)

It was all just stupid. So what, if I was a geek.

Why trust her judgement? She was not always right. In relation to me I used to think she was but I was wrong. The trouble with me was I put her on a pedestal and you should never do that with any human being. My dad said that. He had been let down too many times, especially with union officials and people, politicians. It was something to watch for. They start off good guys then become right-wing bastards, selling out to the bosses, cowardly shits and money-grubbers, just careerists. It was like academics, how Rob spoke about them.

But it was not her judgement. She did not know every thing. I knew she did not. The idea was ridiculous.
It was me, my fault. I thought that stuff. Nonsensical nonsense. Because I lacked experience. I was a naive idiot. That is the truth. It was just Celia, she had her own ideas, she went her own way. She did. That was a thing about her, it was a strong thing, she just made you smile, that was her. She was just I do not know except you were smiling, she made me smile because too of what she did, even thinking she knew everything. I was very very glad, very very glad, smiling to myself not even thinking about it, so I could smile, I could smile and I did, alone and in my own head, and it was an answer to her, so I was smiling and it was good I was smiling. I did not care, even about the future, if I got beyond it, I would, because it was the future, and how could you get beyond the future, it was impossible; the future becomes the present and the present is the past, the tortoise and the hare. I was the tortoise. I did not care, the tortoise is never beat and that was how I felt.

And the woman beside me, she was sleeping. That was trust. She trusted me.

I did not sleep. If only I could! I sat awake for hours. Unless sex, if it was after sex, I was always asleep until then I awoke, but I was ready, that was how I woke up, and if she turned into me it was just like hard again, it just made you shiver.

Out the window I recognized the skyline. So that was us, Glasgow in ten minutes.

The rain was not so bad now. It might even have gone off by the time we arrived in the bus station. It had to. I was not sure how to get home except by
walking. I did not have enough for a taxi. Buses went from somewhere through the night but you waited for ages and you got trouble, especially on your own. Really, you were quite vulnerable. I felt that. I had not been home for a while. Probably it was just silly. Walking was okay if you went the main route. I thought that. Maybe I could have called my parents but that was a hopeless thing to do. My dad would have picked me up but I did not want him to. Anyway, I wanted to surprise them. They knew I was coming but not the actual day. I was going to do something like ring the bell and hide behind the wall. Boo!

But I was looking forward to seeing them. They would be the same. I appreciated my parents because of this. Things change. They did not. Other things in the world, relationships. I was coming home but where had I come from? It was strange. I felt very very strange. Not like at Christmas it was just a wee break, hurry home and hurry back. Not this time. Who was I coming to see anyway. Nobody. Parents and sister. Eric was a pal but at the same time, maybe I would not see him. There were other pals. Maybe I would see them. Maybe not. And who had I left behind. Nobody. It did not matter. It was my fault anyway. She did want to see me. She said she did. She said that to me. Although I did not believe her. Why should I? I was only one, one male. She had others. She had others. How could she have others? She did. But how could she have sex with other men if it was supposed to be me, if I was supposed to be her – not boyfriend, boyfriend was silly, if I had said
the word to her, she would have thought it ridiculous and so very naive, and it would have been.

Maybe she was not having sex with them, any of them. Imagine I asked her. I could not.

I knew I was not special. I did not care. People said life was too short: did they even know what it was? It was like some of them never lived.

The bus was late into the station. I sat on while the other passengers got off. There was a queue for luggage. When I stepped down I saw my backpack, the driver had dumped it out and it was on a wet spot. Thanks very much. I lifted it and got it on and started walking, stepping my feet down hard because of tiredness and a kind of cramp.

Rain. Surely not. Yes. Although sometimes close in to a building you got drops falling. That was Glasgow, just walking along the street and you felt spots. It was like somebody was doing it on purpose, maybe out a window they saw you passing and sprinkled water down on your head. You could not believe they would do it, not to a stranger. Surely people would not throw water at strangers! Yes, they like a laugh. Even good people. Although how could they be good if they did bad things. Because they are people; people are people.

A strange thing about Celia was how she had a special name for herself to do with destiny and the stars. She got it from someplace and changed herself to it. She did not tell me what it was but it was how she saw herself. Something special lay ahead of her. It was there and she could reach out. She believed that. And
for me too. I did not believe it. Well I did, but not for all people. She thought it was all people but how could it be, it was just stupid saying that. Maybe for her, not for everybody. Not me either, although maybe it could be. But not others, not ones I knew, like my parents and my sister. My family was not special except if something I did because it was me. If you asked them probably they would have said it was me, I was going to do something. But I did not think so. Only because I was at university but everybody was if they were middle class so did that mean they were all special? It was stupid thinking that. I was not special either, not extra special. I was not. I was just me, it was my life, and my life was ordinary, just nothing special at all. I knew that. Because I watched other ones and saw them. Maybe I would be a writer. I would like to be a writer because you could just be free and do what you wanted.

It
was
my life. Celia believed in other ones like in other religions people had all different lives, some better than others; it depended what you did in each; the better you did in one life the better the next would be. If you did bad things you became worse progressively, until you were not even a human being, perhaps you were a slug. Rob Anderson spoke about an ancient belief that was similar. Maybe it was the Egyptian epoch. There was good stuff to study next year. I quite fancied it, logic and stuff that took you to science, like physics, like how Aristotle was a scientist, that was what I thought brilliant, and I did not care.

Rain now definitely. A drizzle. The longer it went the heavier it would get. That was my luck, and I needed a piss. I did. That was stupid. I should have gone in the bus station. I just did not want to. And I thought it would make me walk quicker, if I did not, I would walk faster.

I had never been lucky with buses.

Our house was miles away and you could not get buses easily. Not in the evening never mind through the night. People took taxis or walked.

I had been trudging for a half an hour.

Life
was
unfair. It sounded childish saying it. Even the weather. It was as if the fates decreed it. And it was you. So you were the centre of the universe!

Celia believed that except it applied to everybody. We were all the centre of the universe. How did she work that out! It was almost beautiful but in a silly way. I challenged her on it. If it was a point to do with philosophy surely it was incoherent because if you think about Copernicus. She said it was a proper philosophical argument. But it was not, it was from religion and religion was naive. Most of it was or else just political like dad said, people getting power.

It was heavier rain than a drizzle. Had it been like this a while? Maybe. I was away thinking about things.

It happened to me. I could be walking someplace and forget where I was. I was so into my thoughts. I was not unique. Everybody is so none at all. Therefore why do we need the word? In the religions Celia respected all people were unique. But how could that be? Surely it
meant the opposite of unique? Otherwise what does unique mean? It becomes worthless. ‘Unique’. What do we mean by ‘unique’?

That was Rob: ‘what do we mean?’ Everything was ‘what do we mean?’ I liked that. He was a real philosopher. He said he was not but he was. The way he worked out stuff put the other academics to shame. That was my opinion and I was not the only one.

Not Celia. If she had known more she would have had more respect. She thought she knew about philosophy but really she did not. I smiled at the things she said. Secretly she thought she was the true philosopher. She did! Maybe she was. Except in one sense, the one sense.

Even thinking about weather, what an odd concept. Changeability. Rain on your head. Imagine rain on your head. I stopped walking and looked upwards. You think of the weather and you think of God. Rain exists so must our Heavenly Father. How childish can you get. Religion is a childish thing.

Not quite childish. What? It did seem hard to believe. There is nothing wrong with ‘hard to believe’. More like immature. People are entitled to find it so. And no wonder. Miracles! The worst aspect of ‘miracles’ was how it gave you the one individual. Miracles did not exist for everybody. That is what made it so childish. Catholics went to Lourdes and got cured of incurable diseases. Only them. God only did it for them. Oh it is a miracle for you and you alone! Not the chosen people but the chosen person. It was not conceited, it was nonsensical nonsense.

Absurd was the word. How could people think God would do it for them and them alone, it was just so childish. Childishly boastful. Oh I am cured. I had an incurable disease but God cured me. It is a miracle and He has performed it for me alone!

Why not everyone in the world who had the same disease? As though God would distinguish the one individual. Why? Because you prayed! That was so conceited. God listens to one person’s prayers. Surely everybody who had the disease would pray for a cure? Unless they were not Christians. But others would have the same; an equivalent. Muslims would have an equivalent, and Jews, and other religions.

I am cured I am cursed. You only put in an ‘s’.

The backpack was quite heavy and I kept having to shrug it up my shoulders. It was because I had brought so much home with me. A subconscious manoeuvre in case I did not return. Yet I brought the essays with me so I was as indecisive as usual. In a comedy programme on television the character shook his fist at the sky! I am warning you God, just dont you mess with me. Rain, sleet or snow. Dont you send that to torment me! Just who do you think you are?

I went online and saw the original script, and the original line was ‘Who the hell do You think You are!’ But the television station would not keep it in. The producer or whoever said they had to take it out. Because it was talking to God. Even ‘fuck’ would have been preferable. Not so much preferable, but acceptable, they would have allowed it, the BBC.

But ‘hell’! How could you refer to God as in ‘Who the hell do You think You are?’ It was too much for them, as if it would have been too much for God.

The very idea of God worrying about something like that, it was stupid. And also conceited, just so arrogant and in a male sense too, very very male, I could see that, and Jean-Paul Sartre: Rob recommended him. He was very difficult but worth it.

But this rain; and needing a piss I did need a piss, really, I did. Why had I not gone, so stupid, when I had the chance. A little thing but out of little things.

Thinking about sex. That was you, you got paid back with a punishment. Needing a pee was a punishment for thinking about sex. The explanation was straightforward. If you started going hard then soft then hard then soft no wonder you needed a piss. It was not a punishment. It was just natural, your body and bladder in a critical condition.

No point getting annoyed. Or depressed. More like depressed. The way stuff happens to one individual. Who else does it happen to!

Nobody.

Not quite true. Things do happen to other people. Me too. Some that happened recently were incredible. This was one more, one more I had to handle. I would handle.

Drizzle was not rain, it was like a sprinkling thing God threw down to help out the vegetables and plant-life, to give animals a drink.

Why was I talking about God all the time, given I was an atheist – agnostic at the very least.

Animals were out twenty-four hours a day, they did not have houses to go to and shops or cafés and even if there were shops and cafés they had no dough, they were completely rooked and could not pay for anything. That was me. Not quite rooked but nearly. Imagine being completely rooked! Not a sou, a penny or a cent. Nothing. What was fair about that? That was just so unfair. That was how unfair life was. No wonder people wondered. Some had fortunes, others had nothing. You did not have to be a communist to see that. I was not a communist and I could see it. Others did not. Celia only looked when I said it. Her family was not rich in her own estimation but actually they were loaded. Her mother was a doctor and her father was in business. Imagine saying that to my father: ‘Honestly dad, her family is really not rich at all.’ He would burst out laughing. What about mum, mum would just gawk, but she would smile too.

It was a different world. Down there people were rich. You did not know they were rich except eventually you came to realize it. An older student in Celia’s tutorial group was an aristocrat or else maybe a cousin to one. Can you be a cousin to an aristocrat and not be one yourself? She and Celia were friends. When the aristocrat visited they had lunch in a local bar. Celia went too, just to see. He was tall and skinny and hardly spoke but he smiled at people and was not standoffish. He worked in ‘the City’ which meant ‘stocks and shares and the movement of capital’.

Strange to think how this morning I was there and now I was here. Since it was after midnight it was not today but yesterday.