GLASGOW.

MATT watched the countryside speed past him, and was enthralled. It was almost a blur, going past at a hundred miles an hour, but Matt still made out all the rolling hills, the ancient fields, the flowing streams, the aging farmhouses, the walls built by farmers that are long gone. They could all be made out, individually, but flashed out of sight right as they were noted. And then the eyes moved to the next landmark, before flickering out of sight. Matt loved these sights. He could watch the country fly past his window all day.

And to think Matt needed convincing to take this train ride. He never even cared for trains all that much. When he took New Jersey Transit when he started out working he hated it. The subway was fine but he never sought out riding it. For this particular trip he had to be convinced to take the train from London. He could have joined Emily and Olivia in flying to Edinburgh, but Ed convinced him. Take the train, it’s supposed to be amazing, Ed told him. And here he was. Matt was now surprised by his own awe. This was a level of beauty and excitement he wasn’t accustomed to feeling. And he was even more surprised that in the midst of this, in the midst of this epic scenery, Eddie was fast asleep.

Then again, Eddie was the only person that Matt knew who could fall asleep in an airplane seat and actually sleep soundly. And sleep he did for pretty much the entire flight from Newark to Heathrow. And somehow he managed to fall asleep again, barely four hours later.

He must have not slept the day before, Matt guessed. Whether it was anxiety or excitement, it’s unclear. And in all honestly, it’s doubtful that Eddie has slept soundly in the past few months. Matt felt the time exhausting for him, and he was a degree removed from it. But still — in spite of that, in spite of his very real emotions, couldn’t Eddie at least stay up to see this awesome scenery?

Matt sipped his tea, which he didn’t really like. He mostly hated tea, but he wanted to fit in to this country — he hated being seen as a tourist. So he had bought a large tea at the Costa in King’s Cross Station that he nursed until it chilled. By now it was completely cold, and he hated it even more. He’s sticking to coffee from now on. The coffee can’t be that hard to find, right? Glasgow isn’t New York, but surely there’s some good coffee there?

He stared out the window again. He came then to the realization he should wake Eddie up. The train cabin was quiet — the other passengers were either reading or, like Matt, focused on the scenery. So he didn’t want to shout. He figured to either shake the Navy surplus coat Eddie was using as a makeshift blanket, or just poke him with a little aggression. Loving aggression. It would be worth it, Matt thought. This is a memory that Eddie would hate to miss. And this train was Eddie’s idea, after all. The whole trip was.

Not that Matt needed any convincing to go, of course. Last summer, when the plan was first discussed, Matt was supportive from the get go. it made perfect sense. They both loved their Granny, and heard so many stories about her family. Wouldn’t it be interesting to check out where the family was from? To walk the streets where they walked, see the sights that defined their city, and their lives? And it beyond just a vacation. Matt saw it as a kind of way to memorialize Granny, to honor her memory as a woman so proud of her heritage.

The first conversation the two cousins had about this trip was Thanksgiving. And they fleshed out ideas during Christmas. Annie, Eddie’s mom and Matt’s aunt, went into rehab that January, around the time that Eddie and Olivia went back to college. She wasn’t there to say good bye to them. She came out in February. Things had been looking better. Eddie called and texted Matt about the other logistics, and Emily and Olivia were both on board.

And Annie then relapsed the day before Easter. It was a rough day. It was full of emotions, all the worst kind. Matt doesn’t even remember church that day, not even the food of Easter Dinner. That about says it all.

So in spite of it all, Eddie was asleep. But Matt had to wake him up. He had to save Eddie from his own melatonin. Matt decided that the poke was a better bet than the shuffling of the pea coat.

The countryside continued racing past. The train had picked up speed. The hills and fields and crops and streams and farmhouses all became a little less focused, a little more difficult to pick out individually. The clouds also started to gather: it looked like rain was coming, but the boys expected that. It was May in the UK, after all.

To get a good angle for the poke, Matt cleared the space between the two of them. He moved one of Eddie’s folders that he placed on the table between their seats when the train first left. The folder had a map of Glasgow, or specifically the part that mattered to them, at least.

Eddie had taken the time to mark the important spots, where they intended to go. The home where their great-grandmother was born and raised. The church their great-grandparents went every Sunday, and married at just before immigrating. The Necropolis, the great big cemetery where some ancestors were buried. And the shipyards where almost every man in their Granny’s family went to work from the day they hit puberty to the day they died.

Beneath that were a few copies of censuses, church records, and some photos Eddie took from the family album. One photo was lying askew, almost out of the folder. Matt glanced at the photo — it was of their Granny when she was young. She was standing in front of some hotel, a big sandstone structure. The back read “Mary in Glasgow, 1953.” It was Granny’s first and only time in the city of her parent’s birth. Not long after she came back to America, she met Granddad and the rest was history. She always met to go back, see the sights once again, but things never quite aligned.

Matt looked at the photo once again and realized just how much Granny looked just like Aunt Annie. Matt always thought his Mom had the most of the Robertson genes, the most of the Scottish blood. But Annie has all those genes too.

Matt put the photo safely back in the folder. He went in for a firm poke in the shoulder. Eddie roused from his sleep, with a gaping look of surprise on his face. That face almost made Matt laugh, which he needed in that moment.

Eddie moved stiffly in his seat, and remembered where he was. “Are we in Scotland yet?”

“Nah. I don’t think so, at least. We left some town called Crewe, in England, a little while back. We have maybe a couple hours to go until we get to Glasgow.”

“Cool,” Eddie replied, straightening up and putting the coat in the empty seat. “That’s not too bad. Not long ’til we’re there.” Eddie picked up the coffee he bought at King’s Cross, took a sip and only then realized it was cold.

There was a pause, and Matt was about to go back to watching the country go by when he could see a sort of distant stare coming from Eddie. As though he was bothered by something.

“Ed, you feeling alright? You gotta check out this — -”

“Tired. But fine, for sure.”

Eddie finally looked out the window, and saw the countryside race by him.The hills and the fields and the streams and the stone walls and the farmhouses. Like Matt, Eddie is briefly in awe, finally. He remembered why he chose to take the train.

“It’s wild that we’re actually here. I‘m glad we’re doing this.”

“Me too, man.” Matt wanted to say a little more, to be a little more direct and honest about how glad he was here, with his kid cousin, doing this. But those three words were enough.

The two cousins stayed up for the rest of the ride and watched the countryside as it raced along. It was just what they needed to see.

*****************************************************************

EDDIE got off the train and onto the platform of Central Station. He was pleasantly surprised that the station did not reek of piss.

He immediately felt a little embarrassed by this thought. Embarrassed by the fact that a small part of himself felt he accidentally signed him and his cousin up for a journey to a city that wasn’t worth the air and train fare.

Eddie had heard the stories of Glasgow from Granny. A Glasgow that was a bustling, hustling, industrial city based about building ships and train engines. It also sounded like a dirty, sooty, poor city. And as far as the boys could tell in the books they’ve read, it was a dirty, sooty, poor city. Sure, industrialization has passed, and there were a couple of years where “Glasgow: City of Culture” was not a sarcastic jibe. But it was still Glasgow.

When Eddie was first planning this trip, right after Thanksgiving, he told his closest friends at college. Each of them were perplexed by his choice. Glasgow? The city whose soccer fans riot a couple times a year? Why go there? Why not go to St. Andrews, or Skye, or Loch Ness, or literally anywhere else in Scotland?

But Glasgow was still a city, and it had been home to many people over the decades. And it had been home to their people. Granny’s parents. Granny’s people. Eddie and Matt’s people.

Well, some of their people, at least. The ancestors they shared. There was always a certain sense of confusion, as if the lead up to a joke, when a young man named Eddie Molinari, of Brentford, New Jersey, described Glasgow as the city of his ancestors.

But it was true, dammit. His Mom and his Aunt Jennifer were Campbell’s. Granny was a Robertson. Eddie had an attachment to the Molinari wing, full of standard Italian-American New Jersey types, the kinds who were very active in their local Catholic parish and attended the saint’s day festivals and gave money to UNICO. But his Italian grandparents had passed when he and his sister Olivia were very young. Ancestral identity isn’t just transmitted by DNA; it’s transmitted by stories and storytelling. And Granny told him how to feel about his Scottish family, told him stories of their ancestors. And it was powerful enough to withstand the years, and Granny’s death.

But enough of all this. Eddie was back to thinking of the smell of Central Station. Matt was leading the way from the platform, through the main entranceway, and onto Hope Street. Eddie was running to catch up. He did pass a waste bin that reeked, but aside from that there was minimal stench to be found here. A good start.

“You even know where we’re going, dude?” Eddie joked.

“I’m the one paying for the hostel, remember? I better know.”

The two cousins headed out to the streetscape. Reddish sandstone buildings lined the whole avenue, some looking better and more well maintained than others. They surveyed the retail: an old school hotel and restaurant adjacent to the station, a Tesco, a pizza place (Matt gave a face of disgust for a split second at the thought of their quality), multiple betting shops, and an electronics store.

Matt pulled out his phone, and checked the direction of the hotel, which is on Renfrew Street.

“Maybe we should just get a cab. Looks to be about a mile northwest.”

“Sure.”

They head to the section of the street near the main Central Station entrance and hail a cab. They get into a black taxi, the kind both the boys always associate with stereotypical depictions of London, along with the Eye and Big Ben and phone boxes. But the cabs must have made their way to Scotland, for they got their luggage inside, told the driver the address and sped along.

This cab driver was not the safest man on the road, for he drove like his life depended on making it to Renfrew Street as soon as possible. They raced down Hope Street and made a left on Sauchiehall Street.

“Oh wait, we’re on the main drag of Glasgow now, Matt.”

“Buchanan?”

“Nah, that’s another street I think. East from here, maybe?”

The profile of the streets were consistent: the red, Victorian sandstone multi-story buildings dominating with the occasional more modern glass-based storefront poking out every block or so. The same mix of betting shops, small supermarkets, ethnic restaurants and struggling service storefronts as before.

It was a little hard for Eddie to imagine “Mum,” his great-grandmother, who died before he or Matt were even born but was the subject of so many family stories, walking down these streets as a young woman. What was here before the betting shops and the Tesco Express’s? Butchers, Bakers, grocers? Dark, damp pubs that women like Mum weren’t allowed in? Maybe an ocean liner’s office, the place where Mum and Granny’s father bought tickets to leave for New York?

They sped along in the cab, turning north to the Mackintosh building. This Eddie was vaguely aware of, from a tourist guide he’d read in preparation. The Mackintosh was an art school campus built by a renowned Scottish architect at the turn of the last century. It was one of the original modern architectural achievements; large windows and straight lines and slightly weird proportions.

They passed the building, and could see charred remnants. The greyish sandstone, sticking out in a sea of red, was blackened in so many spots. Behind the burnt facade one could see that the roof and the back of the structure was partially caved in. It looked as though no one had tried to save it. And no one seemed to want to repair it.

“What the hell happened here?” Matt asked.

“Fire last June.” said the cab driver, in a clearly Scottish brogue. “Just awful like, whole buildin’ so beautiful.”

“Last June?” Eddie was surprised. That was nine months ago.

“Why haven’t they repaired it? Or started at least?” Matt asked, also confused.

“Fire was so bad they just don’t know where to start. Too big a mess to fix now.” The driver got back to focusing on the road.

They soon passed the charred remains of this art school. Matt and Eddie didn’t say anything until they got to Renfrew Street and checked in.

*****************************************************************

THE boys walked up the steep, rusting staircase to their room. Matt originally wanted a little taste of the hostel vibe, which he experienced once on a spring break with his college buddies. He honestly wanted to take in the city that way, 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.

But ultimately the women of the trip overruled him. The four of them were staying at an average hotel on Renfrew Street. Not exactly the opposite of a hostel, but far enough.

It was two in the afternoon, and Matt was feeling the jet lag. He needed a second wind. He noticed a little Keurig machine in the lobby, and quickly grabbed the little pod of tea, slapped it into the machine and set it to brew.

“I thought you hated tea.”

“Yeah, but I need the caffeine. Any caffeine”

The two of them went up to the front desk. Matt checked in, only to find out that the rooms weren’t ready. Not a big deal, especially since Emily and Olivia’s flight had been delayed getting into Edinburgh and they wouldn’t even get here for another hour or two. So he asked the front desk to drop off their luggage, so they could explore a little.

“Might as well get our bearings a little,” he said to Eddie.

“Definitely.”

The sun was out somewhat, as much as it could be in the middle of May in Scotland.

“Hold on Ed, let me grab a hat from my bag first.”

Matt opened his luggage and began to fumble around for his ballcap. As he uncovered his clothes, Eddie noticed 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 do you wear white socks?”

Matt gave a little smirk, almost of surprise, 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 didn’t know what he was referring to. 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.

“Remind me.”

Matt found his cap, and zipped up the luggage to hand to the hotel employee.

“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 as they headed out of the lobby. He was surprised by this. Matt was never sentimental like this. He took Granny’s loss stoically, from what Eddie remembered.

But then again Granny’s death didn’t come as a huge surprise: her health had gone downhill after two or so years. People had time to accept it. Except Eddie’s mom — she didn’t take it well. Death was hard for her, especially the death of someone she loved all her life. Annie found grief very hard. And she made it hard for Ed.

Eddie grimaced a little at that memory and pushed it aside. Matt picked up on that — though he wasn’t sure if the grimace was for Granny, or perhaps for Aunt Annie. Matt knew full well that his Aunt has had a rough time processing grief.

He had at times felt this was too much for Eddie: that dealing with Granny’s death here, while still having worry for his Mom. Eddie was only a sophomore in college. Matt was a full six years older. 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 rough patches in the past couple year. Even though this trip was something Eddie wanted, Matt had tried to be aware that this may be a tough time for him.

So Matt thought fast and jumped in with a joke: “On top of the socks she’d send rolls of quarters. Like six or eight rolls of quarters. My dorm had a card reader for the washes, so I couldn’t even use them. 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, at least not when I got there.”

They look around at the offerings of Renfrew Street.

“Speaking of which, can we get food somewhere before the girls get in? Maybe some Guinness or whatever?”

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. But Eddie wasn’t really a kid anymore: he’s turning twenty tomorrow. And 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.”

They spotted a pub a block or so away, from the sign and lettering on the facade. They headed down the block and were crossing the street as Matt’s ringtone went off. He was a little startled, slightly surprised by the idea that after a seven hour flight and five hour train ride that he was still reachable by anyone in an instant. He almost stopped in the middle of the road before regaining composure and calmly pulled out the phone. It was Emily.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Hey, you and Liv land?”

“An hour ago actually. Plane made up a ton of time. Or maybe the delay was full of shit — who knows? I slept but Liv didn’t — let’s not plan on a late night or anything.”

“It’s only three, why are — “

“I’m just saying. We’re about to get on the train right now, so I think we’ll see you boys in like an hour or so, okay?”

Ed gathered that Matt was talking with his sister, and waited by the entrance of the pub.

“Okay, sure. We’re getting a beer but you — “

“Really?”

“I mean, Ed suggested it — He and Liv can both drink over here.”

“I guess — just kind of surprised, that’s all.”

“What do you mean? We literally had beers at Christmas toge — “

“I know, I know. Just thought, like, considering — “

“Sure, but remember-” Matt turned away from Ed’s direction and lowered his voice a little, despite being out of earshot,

“Remember Aunt Annie only drinks at home. I don’t even remember her ordering anything at a bar, honestly.”

“Okay, let’s just not talk about this right now, okay? I want this to be a good cousin’s trip. I’m fine with a pub, we can meet you there after we check in. Is it close?”

“About a block. The Griffin, on Bath Street.”

“Okay, sure. See you there.” A pause. “Love ya.”

“Love you.” Matt hung up and walked over to Ed.

“Have you ever had a Guinness?”

“Your dad gave me the bottled ones last Thanksgiving, and thought they were kinda shitty.”

“Nah, dude — you’ll want the real stuff on draft. They’ll have it here for sure.”

The pub was full of rich warm colors, warm in a way that felt comfortable even on a Sunny May afternoon like today. The wood panels on the wall, the warm dark wood of the bar, the red leather upholstery of the booths — the whole place was enveloped in coziness.

The two of them pulled up seats at the bar, and ordered Guinness. The barkeep poured them just as you should — fill them to the level of the harp, let them sit for just under a minute, then held them up at an angle and gradually turn it upright to fill right to the top. Not a drop spilled, and the foam line right where it ought to be.

Matt and Ed both took gulps more than sips. Their upper lips turned into Guinness mustaches. Matt saw Ed in this and let out a little laugh.

So often when the two of them were together it was for family gatherings, and Matt always felt such intense guilt when he drank at those. To see his Aunt in the state that she was in — not at every gathering, but many — was so uncomfortable to him, not only because he had to watch her drunk but do so while feeling that neither he nor anyone else could address it. To call her out or acknowledge it or even just ask her felt like a solution that would only beget more problems. It was an internal paralysis, that only added to his guilt. He knew that his Mom especially felt the same way — she told him and Emily as much — but the paralysis struck her just as badly.

And so they barely drank at these dinners. Sometimes the men would all join on a craft beer or two, and Emily and her Mom would maybe have a glass of wine, but that was it. Anymore and the pangs of guilt would be too much.

So to be removed from that for once, to be in a warm cozy pub and have a nice Guinness and just be able to appreciate this drink as something quite nice without having to feel as if you were somehow adding to the problem of alcoholism — that was nice, Matt thought. Much better.

Matt suddenly realized that Ed had been quiet for a little while.

“You good, man?”

Ed was finishing up a sip.

“Gotta say — this isn’t that much better than the bottled stuff.”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“Do I want to acquire it, though?”

An innocent question, but Matt suddenly recognized that perhaps it was not.

“I mean — not if you don’t want to, I guess. Dark beer ain’t for everyone.”