What the fuck just happened to me?
— Too fucking right, Renton says, and we start to swap experiences, focusing on the similarities: the geometric shapes and colours, the little people, the positivity and lack of threat, the sense of being welcome and guided by a higher intelligence. Then we move on to the differences; me sliding face first through snow down the side of mountain, then rocketing upwards, and Spud elaborating about a very warm, womb-like chamber, conscious that he was heading down steps, that notion of descent being his overriding sense of things…
… I can’t help smugly think that it’s typical of fannybaws Murphy to be consigned to a fucking dungeon, while Super Si explodes up mountainsides and surfs the blue skies. Begbie remains silent, starting into space. Renton, his sly rattishness enhanced by my special eyesight, says, — See, oan ma trip wi Carl, the walls fell away like boards, opening up intae a clear blue sky. I soared intae this flame, which blasted ays intae the stratosphere. He blows out air he’s compressed in his cheeks.
We look at Begbie, who has opened his eyes, and is rubbing at them. He obviously has the layered vision, like I still do, though it’s less pronounced and settling down now. — What did you get out of it, Franco? I ask him.
— Fuck all, he says. — Just some vivid colours n flashin lights. Only lasted a couple ay minutes. Load ay shite.
Renton and I look at each other. I can tell he’s thinking exactly what I am: This cunt? An artist? My fuckin baws.
— Did you take the third hit right back? Renton asks.
— Aye, of course I did. You fuckin gied ays it.
— Spud?
— Ah feel bad, man, thinkin aboot aw the chorin ah did, he says in agitation, — n that’s how ah’m aw ill now, Mark, but ah nivir –
— It’s okay, man, take it easy, Renton tries to calm his rambling.
I turn to Begbie. — Well, I experienced a lot more than some flashing lights, Franco. That was fucking phenomenal. I had a sense that I had fused with every member of the human race and I was moving as one with them, yet still somehow an individual.
— Did you see the wee Lego dwarfs? Renton enquires.
— Yes, but mine were more like spherical. Not exactly like acid-house smiley guys, but definitely from the same stable. It defies easy explanation. It was so vivid, but now it seems hard to put together in words exactly what I did see.
— I took off, Renton says. — I stepped into these flames and shot right intae the sky. I could feel the wind oan ma face, smell the ozone in the air. Did anybody experience being present at a feast, like the Last Supper? That’s quite common.
— No, I tell him, and look to Spud.
— Naw, man, ah just went doon aw these stairs intae that cellar, but no scary, like aw comfortin and warm, like gaun back tae the womb.
— Franco, nae Last Supper images? Rents presses.
— Naw, says Franco, looking annoyed, — like ah sais, jist some flashing lights.
Then Spud goes, — Ah’m really no feelin sae well…
— Yir heid? Renton asks.
— Naw… aye… but ah feel aw seek n dizzy, and then he lifts his T-shirt. The wound is damp with leakage, some sort of discharge. Spud groans, and his eyes roll into his head and he flops back into the couch and passes out.
Fuck…
26
SPUD – HOSPITAL EYES
I’m pure seek, man, really seek but, here in the hozzy, n Franco’s come tae see ays, which is an awfay surprise cause eh’s no that sort, n that isnae meant as any diss oan the cat. It’s jist that ye think eh likesay disnae care aboot folk. Ah mean, eh’s goat ehs new burd fi California and his bairns, the new yins, no the auld yins, n eh seems tae care aboot thaim. So ah suppose that hus tae count for something. Aye, ye huv tae be fair n say that cat has made the transition fae sinking fangs intae prey in the jungle, tae sittin in a comfy basket in front ay the fire n huvin a long purrrr tae ehsel. He tells ays that ah’ve been oot for twenty-four hours. — Aye, ah goes. They cleaned and dressed ma wound and ah’m oan an antibiotic drip, n ah shakes ma airm n looks at the bag hooked up. — Ah mind ay nowt, ah tell um. — Thoat it wis yon DMT.
— Listen, mate, Franco goes, — ah ken thaire wis something dodgy that went on wi this kidney stuff. Ah’m no gaunny press ye though. But if something did happen, ye kin talk tae ays aboot it. It’s no like ah’m gaunny go oan the warpath n set aboot any cunt. Those days are long gone, that’s just no my world any more.
— Aye… ah ken that, Franco, changed man n aw that. That wis mad the other night thaire but, ay?
— Aye, Franco says, then eh admits, — Played aw that DMT stuff doon. It wis fuckin wild but ah didnae want Renton tae ken. Him and Sick Boy thegither: it eywis annoyed the fuck oot ay ays when they went on aboot drugs, fuckin drugs, fuckin drugs aw the time. Ah mean, take the cunts or dinnae; but dinnae fuckin talk aboot them twenty-four/seven!
— What did ye see but, Franco?
— Enough, mate, Franco says, like it’s a wee warnin.
But ye kin git away wi mair now wi Franco, n ah’ve goat the licence ay invalid status, so ah pure press it a bit. — What dae ye mean, but?
— Ah mean ah dinnae want tae talk aboot it, eh goes. — It’s personal. It’s in ma heid. If ye cannae keep what’s in yir heid private, wir aw fucked, ay.
Ah’m gaunny say, but we telt you, but ah jist goes, — Fair dos, catboy. When ye gaun back tae the US of A?
— Soon, mate. We’ve got the big auction comin up this week, follayed by the exhibition next weekend. Melanie’s come ower, n we’re enjoying huving time thegither withoot the bairns aboot, much as we love they wee angels. We’re steyin at ma sister Elspeth’s. It’s aw workin oot nicely.
— How’s Elspeth?
— Fine… he goes, — well, no that great, but ah think it’s aw jist wimmin’s stuff, ay?
— Aye, it’s good whin yuv goat people. Ah’ve jist goat Toto but he’s at ma sister’s now. Andy, ma laddie, he’s daein well, but he’s doon in Manchester. Lawyer but likesay, ah hear the pride crack ma voice. Still cannae believe it but. Takes eftir Alison in the brains department. — Comes up tae see his ma… You mind ay Ali, aye?
— Aye. Is she well?
— Barry. Teacher now, ay? Got another felly eftir me, hud another bairn, a laddie again. Ah feel masel choking up. Ah did huv chances tae huv a better life. Ah loast love. That hurts, man. That hurts ye in places other things cannae. — Aye, it’s jist me n Toto now. Ah worry cause ma sister’ll no look eftir him if anything happens tae me. The doc said ma hert stoaped n that ah wis deid for four minutes.
— This is connected tae the kidney thing?
— Sortay naw, but aye. It weakened ays gaun through aw that n pit a strain oan the hert.
— This kidney thing, he looks at ays again, — ye want tae tell me what happened? Ah swear it stays between us.
Ah hus a wee idea n looks at him. — Awright, but you’ve goat tae tell ays aboot your DMT trip first.
Franco hauls in a breath. — Awright, but likewise for your ears only, right?
— For sure, catboy.
Franco’s eyes sortay widen. Ah mind ay whaire ah seen um like that before. Whin we were bairns n thaire wis a deid dug oan Ferry Road: a gold Labrador. Perr animal hud been hit by a car or a lorry gaun tae the docks. Back then people didnae eywis look eftir dugs right. They wid git a dug, then jist lit it roam durin the day. Sometimes dem poor puppies wid mob up in Pilrig Park, n even go feral, till cooncil dug catchers goat them and pit them doon. We wir aw sad, at the deid dug, likesay, lyin thaire, stomach ripped open, head smashed in, gore n blood streakin ower the road. But ah mind ay Franco’s eyes, they were sort ay aw innocent and wide.