Bina Read online

  Allegedly.*7

  I’d ask the Tall Man, but he is nowhere to be found.

  Nothing strange there.

  He had warned while training me that he’d disappear.

  Do you know how long I’d serve if I were caught?

  I’d never see daylight, he said.

  That answered it.

  phoned and said the Tall Man had shot himself.

  Interesting, I said.

  And was it in his mouth, the back of his head or under his chin?

  She changed the subject.

  I knew she was lying

  Because I think she was the Mole.

  I knew a Mole would have to lie

  Because she would need a neat ending.

  I’m not for neat endings.

  The Tall Man would never shoot himself

  Because the Tall Man had no interest in being dead.

  The Solicitor said the tape is damning and will damage us.

  There’s no us, I thought. There’s no us at all. There will never be an us. There will be a bill and there is me.

  It’s not me on the tape, I said. They’ll have to search long and hard to find a damning tape of me doing anything other than dropping off trays for Meals on Wheels and lying in bed.

  You are the one who is here, he replied. The other fella*8 is gone.

  How the tape became damning of me I didn’t intend to understand. Do you want to see it? he asked. Certainly not, I said.

  I’ve much better ways to be wasting time than watching tapes.

  The Solicitor returned to his babble about co-operation and interviews and said he’d need to be present at every interview. Unless you co-operate, he said.

  How many ways are there to say to this man that the co-operation he’s after is impossible because I have no information.

  I’ll co-operate when they find a tape that has me on it. They have nothing on me.

  What about the glass in the bag? said he.

  But I put down the phone as my answer.

  You have to stop hanging up the phone. He was firm.

  Lookit I am awful sorry, I said, but the phone dropped.

  It’s dropping a bit too often, came back his noticing.

  The Tall Man trained me well. If you like, he trained me tall. He said leave no tracks. He said talk in riddles. He said eventually they give up.

  They were not giving up.

  They were not giving up because I was a woman and I was grabable.

  In some situations, dire ones, the Tall Man said ending your life would be a reasonable solution. Like the woman who set the chip shop on fire, I thought. Did I ever tell you the end of that story?

  Well, once the charred ruins of them four buildings were revealed, it became clear the woman from the chip shop was responsible. She went missing, the papers said. She is missing, the papers said. Find her, the papers read.

  Those statements chased her into the sea.

  Poor lamb.

  Whatever about the smell that was bothering her, a cold death is a nasty one.

  Once she was dead, people were sympathetic.

  They said it was unnecessary. That she’d made a mistake, but nobody should be driven to take their life. The Tall Man even mentioned the story of the chip-shop woman. He likely told me the story of the chip-shop woman to illustrate what to do when I found myself in the situation I now find myself in.

  He did this because he knew he’d be putting me in this situation.

  The day I took the card out of my purse and looked at it and couldn’t remember what to do with it, that was the day, the minute, the moment I could briefly see Phil’s point of view. I could see why she might be right. My dawning moment. My indisputable minute, if you like, and I’ll warn you, you’re going to have many of them but there will be one you’ll remember until you don’t remember.*9 And the saddest part of all is, at that point, there is no one whatsoever to remember for you and so I am warning you here and now to write it down. All of it. Record it the way I am here or they’ll make it up on your behalf, the people who go about making things up, like Phil’s angry daughters. Never have daughters, they get into your knicker drawer and make a mess. Did I already tell you that? See if it’s noted above. I can go back and check in a minute. Always make a note someplace. Shove it up your sleeve, in your pocket, down your sock, but carry that slip of paper always. I still recall my moment of not recalling because I am not yet quite in the condition by which I can no longer write to you. My moment did pass. But it has not wholly passed. Just fragmented. I put the card back into my purse and set the purse aside. And under my watch is a small piece of paper stuck, it says bank card in tiny writing. I put the same note into my coat pocket with take out money on the reverse. A small message that reminds me I did not know what to do with my bank card. That was the first sign, truth be told. And if you’ve someone useful nearby you can tell them where it is recorded, so they can retrieve it for that interview they will give you when you stop remembering enough for them to start noticing all that you forget.

  More’s the pity you don’t get to select which parts you’d like to forget quicker, for I know what I’d choose and at this stage you too probably know what I’d choose.

  Because if I haven’t succeeded in conveying that much to you, put this whole pile of papers into the fire.

  After Eddie.

  What you’ll remember.

  What you’ll regret.

  What you’ll never quite know.

  Can you imagine if eulogies told the truth of a person? He was rancid and awful and needed a good clout. I wish he’d died sooner and faster and left me in peace. I am glad to see the back of him, bar the door on both sides, back and front in heaven. Don’t let him in. Or, she ruined my sheets and there was never a clean cup in the house. She yowled and howled and shat and spat and I am glad the horror is over. Or, she was alright. Nothing special. There needs to be a won’t be missed list to go with all these poems and clever rhymes on remembering.

  *1 See, Malarky: A Novel in Episodes.

  *2 Now I’m thinking on it, wasn’t this exactly what the Tall Man did turning up to visit me here the day I came out of prison? He knew they’d not look for him that day because they assumed he’d never come on such an obvious day. Wasn’t he clever?

  *3 It could be said that he delivered me unto it. I might say this in the court, that if anyone should be on trial it should be Eddie. But they wouldn’t heed me. No one listens to me.

  *4 The Solicitor wants to discuss self-immolation with me. What is your interest in self-immolation about? Come again, I said, what is it?

  I thought so, he said

  No further questions.

  *5 Eddie’s father’s twin brother. Another great man for avoiding Eddie. He’d hardly been seen since Eddie’s accident, terrified he’d be scuttled with him because he was his father’s twin.

  *6 Eddie’s father’s twin. Still avoids Eddie 100% of the time. Phoned me the other day to ask where was Eddie. I said gone to Canada. He said he owes me money, could I ring him. I cannot, I said. He’s yours. Ring him yourself.

  *7 Would she ever send a signal and let me know? There’s a thing now about the afterlife: all this devotion and no one ever sent me a signal from the beyond. Did they send you one?

  *8 He speaks of the Tall Man. Actually he said his name. I had to shout at him to be quiet. He was very confused. It’s very truculent between us.

  *9 And then we’ll have lost you.

  My name is still Bina and these are my remarkings.

  Remarkings are different from warnings.

  But you will find warnings within the remarkings

  If you are careful enough to notice them.

  And if you don’t, I can’t help you.

  It’s how it has to be.

  I’ve had to mix them in now.

  I’ve had to speed up.

  Time is against me.

  There was a woman.

  There was briefly a woman.r />
  And God love that woman

  Whom I won’t name.

  I still pray for her

  There’s not a day I don’t think about her.

  Eddie had a woman.

  This is the woman of whom I write.

  I felt bad and glad for her

  Glad because she might get Eddie gone

  Bad because if she took him on

  She was due a very terminal life.

  I tried to be warm with her

  While I also tried to warn her with my eyes

  And

  Grimaces.

  Small smiles

  Tight ones.

  The Unfortunate is what I’ll call her, since she might wish never to be reminded of the six weeks she spent near that forty-gutted rupture of a man. She might have it assigned as a dreadful migraine that finally passed. Never to be revisited or remembered. Scorched out.

  The Unfortunate was useful and kind

  Thoughtful

  Deliberate

  In her actions

  In her intentions

  This woman

  Who had the misfortune to temporarily attach herself to Eddie.

  There was no one much around these parts to interest her.

  Her stoicism was her biggest trial

  And her warmth

  She should have surrendered that soonest.*1

  Eddie was abysmal

  He’d bark vaguely at her.

  Tell her to take things

  Items.

  Get. Give. Hand me. Hurry.

  Tell her to bring things to incomprehensible destinations and then claim he’d said leave it by the gate.

  He constantly asked her where things were, as though she were a walking inventory of everything he’d touched, seen or ever thought about, long before she even existed.

  This is the thing about Eddies.

  Eddies have everyone running around after them, serving them, fetching for them, and when something is needed for someone other than themselves they are nowhere to be found. They are geniuses at selfishly shelving themselves out of the way.

  I did try to intercede

  And then I stopped.

  Because

  Soon enough he had the two of us run wide.

  And me cooking extra food for her

  And her refusing to eat

  And wanting to be no bother

  And when she was bothered

  We were both bothered

  We were so bothered

  The two of us

  By Eddie.

  I will be truthful

  Are you ready for this?

  I did pray Eddie would die during the time in which the Unfortunate was around

  I had a novena of Masses offered with this intention

  I atoned by sending word above that I would take the Unfortunate in and house her instead.

  If the Lord could relieve us of Eddie

  I could imagine her bereft

  And me baking things to make her feel better

  While silently knowing between the mashed-up pastry folds

  We were both far better off

  Now Eddie was buried.

  Except Eddie is not buried.

  Others are buried

  Phil is buried

  Because Phil was wrong

  And that will get you buried.

  I have noticed that it’s the decent people who are buried

  While it’s the parasites and demolishers who endure.

  Hence it’s well worth joining the dead

  Rather than remaining

  To only more mashing and din.

  But why?

  Why didn’t I release myself from Eddie, given the means I had to do it, what with the Group and the Tall Man.

  But

  See

  Here

  Now

  That’s the difference between

  Murder

  &

  Mercy.

  The Group are for mercy

  Not murder

  You couldn’t contradict that.

  I intend to say it in the court

  But I may not have the chance.

  You’d be surprised how little is said in court

  of any consequence

  This has surprised me.

  By the time the Judge finally has a chat with you

  It’s over and all decided

  And he/she looks at you cross

  And says you shouldn’t have done it

  And that’s not the time to start saying

  Well, you know, Your Honour,

  Maybe there are a few things we could talk about out the back

  Or over a bun.

  If Phil knew

  Where I am now standing

  She would see

  She was wrong.

  Are you listening, Phil?

  Because you should be.

  I hope the two ears are roasting on you.

  Wherever you are.

  I hope your lobes are singed hot beneath the soil.

  He talked at her.

  Eddie talked at Bina.

  Loudly

  Non-stop

  He planned aloud what would never happen.

  Like progress.

  Eddie couldn’t talk in a normal voice.

  Most people cannot talk in a normal voice if they are stocious drunk but Eddie couldn’t manage normal even at 9 o’clock in the morning.

  He shouted.

  He was always shouting.

  He shouted when he was asking me to turn on the kettle.

  He shouted even to tell me the day looked warm.

  I imagined he was deaf because I prefer that to the truth he was ignorant.

  Because he never listened if you told him anything.

  He just shouted.

  Eventually I stopped listening.

  I had to.

  No sane person could actually listen to his slop and remain sane.

  That voice was like a lawnmower inside my ear

  finding nothing to mow but stones.

  They say they have evidence

  Evidence against me

  Evidence from Eddie.

  Someone phoned and warned me. I don’t remember if it was or not as I stopped answering all phone calls and the messages mounted and blunted into a big blur of voice. I did this because I knew it would force the Solicitor to come to my door.

  I don’t know why I wanted to bring him to my door to deliver the news, but I can be stubborn this way. I think he knew I was doomed. I knew I was doomed and I wanted to look at his face for confirmation. I was weary of third-hand phone calls from some poor young one appointed to blather at me.

  Nobody is telling the truth. Nobody is telling the truth about the new evidence.

  That’s what Bina thinks.

  And it’s very annoying.

  The way people do this to old people

  Especially when they are accusing you of murdering someone.

  Especially when you’re facing 14 years for aiding, abetting or counselling.

  Who knew a conversation could get you 14 years?

  I should have known.

  I’d already seen this with Eddie.

  It was a conversation that lumbered me with Eddie to begin with.

  Phil said she suspected Forty Guts deliberately crashed his motorbike into my wall.

  There are people who do it.

  Do what?

  Crash into your car or your wall to get the insurance money.

  Why didn’t he just knock at the door & rob me?

  Because you’d never let him in if he came to the door.

  She was right.

  Phil was right

  And it’s very hard for me to record this. My hand is trembling with resistance, but it must be writ.

  I have wondered about many things.

  A lifetime of wondering and waiting has led me only to wonder even more, all over the back of these bills and papers. To wonder how much, how much longer
and how much worse. And this is why I have ceased and lain down. The worry of wondering has me flattened.

  I have wondered how Tomás knew to send the Tall Man to me

  I have wondered how he found the Tall Man.

  I have wondered about both.

  I have wondered whether Tomás knew I was still housing his nephew Eddie and whether he wanted to be gone, so as to not face him, or was his intention that I put Eddie into his house once he was gone? Maybe he thought that in going he’d relieve me of Eddie.

  I have wondered if Eddie knew I helped Tomás.

  This is what worried me most.

  I had to help Tomás have his exit without impediment.

  I had to put up with Eddie for fear he had information on that very exit.

  You could not send Eddie into a house with a man who’d lost half his face and all his dignity, who was living quietly, but living in dreadful pain. He lived quietly for a very good reason. He didn’t want to go into a nursing home, didn’t want to bring attention to the fact he couldn’t physically cope. He let it be thought his other brother*2 was there with him. For all I know he told them Eddie was there too. He lived quietly because he was determined not to die loudly. He was too proud to die loud and disgruntled, with an abundance of fuss and prayers. He was right about that.

  I think perhaps he knew I was holding Eddie back from him and his way of appreciating it was his intention for Eddie to go into his house once he was dead.

  It was strange how that worked out.

  Eddie wouldn’t go.

  Eddie had no intention of moving.

  Sure why would he move?

  He felt himself in charge here.

  He had colonized my home & land to suit himself

  And filled it with an amount of rubbish no solid nation would tolerate.

  I was focused on Eddie not knowing

  Not knowing I had helped Tomás.

  And then there was still the other brother