Glasgow: Chapter 3

THE boys walked up the steep, rusting staircase to their room. Matt, splitting the difference between splurging and frugality, decided that they would stay at a youth hostel for the week, but booked a private double room. He wanted a little taste of the hostel vibe, which he experienced once on a spring break with his college buddies, but without replicating the part of the experience of dealing with loud Australian bunkmates waking one up returning to their beds at four in the morning.

The private rooms were on the top floor, So they had two flights of the steep stairs to traverse. When they got to the door, Eddie attempted to unlock it, only to find it was slightly jammed. Eddie, who was short but stronger than he looks, cracked it open after a few moments of pushing.

The room was basic: two twin beds of narrow mattresses, simple sheets, a little desk. The windows were curtained. Matt took the bed nearest the windows and unfurled the curtains. The windows looked down on Renfrew Street: a sight of more sandstone buildings, more little shops. Not bad, he thought.

It was three in the afternoon, and Matt was feeling the jet lag. He needed a second wind. He searched for a coffee machine in the room and saw just a little electric tea kettle and two bags. He turned it on.

“I thought you hated tea.”

“Yeah, but I need the caffeine.”

The two of them claimed drawers and began to unpack. To the two of them that really meant to throw whatever could fit into the drawers in as quickly as possible.

As they filled the limited drawer space up, Eddie noticed in Matt’s suitcase a giant value pack of white Hanes tube socks. Matt was the kind of guy who prided himself on having socks in bold colors or patterns (some of which he had just shoved into the last journey). Eddie wasn’t sure if he could remember seeing his cousin in such basic attire.

“Dude, since when you wear those?”

Matt glanced into his suitcase, half-surprised. As if the socks had appeared out of thin air. He had a little smile.

“Did Granny ever tell you about the care packages she sent Emily and me, when we went to college?”

Eddie vaguely remembered. Granny had died in his sophomore year of high school, so he had never been a recipient, but it certainly sounded like something she would have done regularly.

“Sure.”

“She was always concerned about us doing laundry. Got hooked up on it. Every couple months she’d send this big box to me at College Park, heavy as shit. She’d buy some giant jug of detergent, some dryer sheets, and these socks.

“It was more socks than I’d ever need, so I stashed them away. Kept a couple bags of them after she passed. I hate white socks, but it was a cute gift. I found them in my apartment the other day. Thought it made sense to bring them, wear ’em here of all places.”

Eddie smiled vaguely. He was surprised; Matt was never sentimental like this. He took Granny’s loss stoically, from what Eddie remembered. But then again her death didn’t come as a huge surprise: her health had gone downhill after a period of years. People had time to accept it. Except Eddie’s mom — she didn’t take it well. Death was hard for her. Including her own.

Eddie grimaced at that thought, and pushed it aside. Matt picked up on that — the sad thing about the past few months of planning this trip is that Matt had gotten quite used to noticing when Eddie was processing his own grief.

He had at times felt this was too much for Eddie: that dealing with Aunt Annie’s death while contemplating Granny at the same time would be too much for him. Eddie was only a freshman in college; Matt liked to joke to him that he was his “kid cousin” but was true in a lot of ways. Eddie had gone through some hell in the past couple months, and even though this trip was something he wanted, Matt had tried to be aware that this may not be the best thing for Eddie.

So Matt thought fast and jumped in with a joke: “On top of the socks she’d send rolls of quarters. My dorm had a card reader for the washes, never had the heart to tell her.”

Eddie smirked, the dark thoughts fully receded. “Free money, huh?”

“I mean yeah, but you can’t buy much with quarters. No quarter beer nights in College Park when I was there.”

“Speaking of which, can we get food somewhere? Maybe some Scottish beer?”

Matt took a sip of the tea he made, thoroughly unimpressed. The thought of Eddie wanting to go to a pub confused but amused him. This would be hardly the first time the two of them had had beers together. But Matt knew Eddie was still slightly uneasy about inebriation, which was hardly surprising, considering.

“Sure, man! Anything beats tea.”

Eddie mentioned the name of a local pub by the hostel he read about, and the two of them locked the door (with minor struggle), headed down the steep stairs, and out onto Renfrew Street.