Free The Burn by James Kelman

own. I think that’s a mistake a lot of folk make, especially males like us, men, I think we’re very
often mistaken at the very root of our own existence as human beings.
    The invalid was squinting at him. He shook his head: I’m no following your drift.
    Well look I mean you asked if I believed in God. I do, I really do. I stopped it for a while but now I’m back to having the faith. I feel on my best behaviour because of it and having
everything to overcome. The world’s just such a big place I find with people suffering the wide world over. I find it hard. You help the one person are you supposed to help them all? And then
how are you supposed to keep on living your own life into the bargain? Cause nobody helps you. Know what I mean? That’s all I’m saying, it’s no because you’re selfish, you
just dont have the power or the control except maybe a wee minuscule slice, and then you wind up getting squashed, just like a wee beetle – that’s what happened to a friend of mine . .
. when we were at college, he started to get involved in charity work for foreign countries and then he ended up in trouble.
    You’re misjudging yourself young fellow.
    Pardon?
    I was beginning to guess that just after you came in. But there again it’s my own fault; I tend no to get things right either.
    Edward scratched the side of his head.
    And then you see I’ve got to trust whoever she trusts; my missis, I have to rely on her for my character judgments. Of course it’s this bloody thing here . . . ! He shook his head,
staring at the contraption. If it wasnt for it I’d be able to give more time to things, I’d be able to do my own thinking when it comes to getting things done, and that’s
what’s important. Ach . . . The invalid’s head drooped and he sighed.
    Edward nodded, he studied the frayed bit of the carpet, how its wee threads were spread so very haphazardly and you could just reach down and straighten them out, get them into a neat wee row.
This was a memorable meeting but it wasnt nice at the time. He would always take pains to remember that. It was a promise. He had promised, and he would do it. Even when he would tell a friend
about how all this had happened he would make sure he added on about it not being nice when it happened, actually was happening at the time; it was very uncomfortable – not even the chair was
good to sit on and plus as well you had the very proximity of the old man, how him being an invalid meant you got this old smell which was really quite fuisty and you hate to say it but almost
nearly what you would call a stench, when you came to think about it, like as if he hadnt washed or perish the thought cleansed himself the last time he visited the toilet etcetera etcetera though
you dont like saying that because he was a genuine and good old guy that you had to respect for his integrity down through the years, him being involved in politics in an active way on the factory
floor, you had to really respect him. There was the door! Deborah! Deborah . . .
    Oh Lord Lord Lord.
    Edward had started up from the chair, he glanced this way and that; but whosoever was outside on the stair landing must have continued on to some other destination. He relaxed, settled himself
back on the chair again.
    Where was she though? She was late. Usually she was on time, she was quite a precise person. In fact that was quite a good thing about her and fitted in with him; they were quite alike in that
sense, him also being a person who was quite precise or tried to be. That side of things was fine but not an especial plus, not in the selling line, it was definitely not an especial plus in the
selling line: you could be as late as you wanted as long as you knew how to close a sale.
    Deborah:
    He really thought she was a great lassie, really great. It was just she didnt have the best of manners. This bad habit she had of – it was like not having a sense of humour maybe, to do
with that – quite a