‘And I’ve got more for you.’ She picked up a bag from the floor, but by the time she’d pulled out a woolly cardigan Rabbit was sound asleep. Marjorie slumped into the chair, all pretence gone. Her eyes filled and, without making a sound, she allowed fat tears to roll down both cheeks. She stared at her best friend and it was as though, Davey thought, she was looking at someone she didn’t quite recognize. The woman in the bed wasn’t her Rabbit. Rabbit had lost a lot of weight in the past two weeks, her skin was paler and dry, her shaved head clammy, and her knuckles dwarfed her fingers. She was an odd colour, somewhere between grey and blue. The last time they’d seen one another, Marjorie had been in town shopping for her trip and Rabbit had come from the newsroom to meet her for a coffee. She was wearing her blonde wig and makeup; her skin was clear, following an intense facial she’d had the day before.
‘It was just two weeks ago,’ Marjorie whispered.
Davey moved across the room to her, took Marjorie’s hand and they walked outside together. The canteen was still open.
‘Come on,’ he said.
Over coffee, Marjorie filled Davey in on Rabbit’s struggle during the past year. ‘It’s been hard. Every blow took that much more out of her.’
‘She’s still fighting,’ he said.
‘I know.’ Marjorie’s eyes filled. ‘And it’s only going to get worse from now.’
Davey didn’t say anything. He knew she was right, but he wasn’t ready to accept it. He just stirred his coffee with one hand and rapped the table with the other. Neither had the will to make small-talk, or the stomach to engage in their usual flirty banter. They drank their coffee, lost in their own misery.
‘I should go,’ Marjorie said, and stood up.
‘I’ll walk you to your car,’ Davey said.
‘No need. You go back to Rabbit.’
They walked together along the hallway to Rabbit’s door. They stopped and faced one another.
‘I was really sorry to hear about the divorce.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ve never apologized for my part in it . . .’
She stopped him by placing her hand on his arm and shaking her head. ‘No, honestly, it wasn’t you, it was me. Neil is a lovely man and I did love him once, but then I didn’t and I faced sleepwalking through the rest of my life or . . .’
‘Cheating with me.’
‘Being with you woke me up and I’m grateful.’
‘How about Neil? Is he grateful?’
‘He’s seeing someone else and she’s pregnant. I hear they’re very happy.’
She looks sad. I should never have gone there. I’m a selfish arsehole. ‘I should have kept in touch.’
‘No. You shouldn’t. I didn’t want you to.’
‘Rabbit was keeping me up to date with everything. She said you handled yourself so well despite everyone piling in to judge and criticize.’ Christ, I could at least have sent an email. What the hell is wrong with me?
‘Every marriage break-up needs a bad guy.’
‘Is your mother talking to you yet?’
‘No.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘My mother is a cold bitch, Davey. She always has been. Why do you think I spent so much time at your place when we were kids? I would have killed to have a mother like yours.’
‘I thought it was because of me,’ he said, and they laughed a little.
‘Goodnight, Davey.’
He watched her walk down the hallway before steeling himself to open the door to his sleeping sister. I let everybody down. I can’t do that any more. I have to get my act together. Be an adult, Davey. Fight the urge to run.
Johnny
Molly had made flapjacks and mugs of tea for everyone. In the sitting room, Francie and Jay were on the sofa, Davey was on the floor, sitting between them even though there was plenty of room for three – the lads liked to stretch out. Grace was swaying on the rocking chair and holding her tea high: if it spilled, it would miss her. Jack was bent over the video recorder, shoving in a tape to see if it was good enough quality to record over. Miami Vice appeared on the screen and he paused the tape. ‘Molls,’ he shouted, ‘have you seen Miami Vice or will I keep it?’
Molly appeared at the door with another plate of flapjacks. ‘I don’t give a shit about Miami Vice.’
‘Ah, great,’ Jack said, rewinding it. ‘It’s a fresh enough tape.’
‘Time check?’ Francie said, chowing down his third flapjack.
Molly looked at the clock above the mantelpiece. ‘Five minutes to show time. I’ll make more tea.’
Rabbit sat on the window ledge, watching for Johnny. ‘He’s going to miss it.’
‘Nah,’ Jay said. ‘He’ll be here.’
Marjorie appeared, holding a mug of tea. Francie and Jay bunched up so that she could sit with them. She was a tiny thing, half Rabbit’s height, with wild curly blonde hair and baby-blue eyes. She looked younger than her twelve years. Wearing her best Sunday dress and little ankle socks with a pink frill under her favourite patent-leather buckled shoes, she sat up on the sofa, waiting for the show to start.
Rabbit was still glued to the window. Where is he?
Molly entered with a fresh pot of tea and the lads all offered her their cups for a refill. She made Grace get off the rocking chair to pass around the flapjacks. Jack refused tea: it would distract him from pressing Record on the remote at the exact second the show started.
‘This will be the first, lads,’ he said, finger hovering.
While Grace was serving flapjacks, Molly stole her place on the rocking chair.
‘Ah, Ma!’
‘Don’t ah-Ma me, Grace Hayes. Now give me a flapjack, love.’
Rabbit stayed quiet: still no Johnny. Where are you? Just when she thought all was lost, he rounded the corner with his hair tied up and his black leather jacket open and flapping. It was a second before she registered the girl he was walking with, arm in arm.
The programme started and Jack went to press Record but in his excitement he knocked the remote off the chair. ‘Oh, Lord, no!’ he shouted, jumping to his feet.
‘Da! Get out of the way,’ Grace ordered, from her position on the floor next to Davey, who was hunched over and peering through his father’s legs.
‘Ah, for God’s sake, Jack, will ya move yerself?’ Molly said.
‘Calm down,’ Francie said. ‘We’re not on till halfway through.’
Jack stood up. ‘Maybe I’ll wait till you hit the stage. That way I save the tape.’
‘No, Da, record now,’ Grace said.
‘Why?’
‘Because I want to see meself in the audience.’
‘Right.’ He pressed Record just as Johnny entered the room with the mystery girl.
‘There you are, son,’ Molly said.
‘Hiya, Mrs H. This is Alandra.’
Molly nodded and smiled, but everyone else looked at Alandra as if she was an alien.
‘Marjorie, sit on the windowsill with Rabbit. Francie, Jay, bunch up for Johnny and Alandra,’ Molly ordered. Everyone did as they were told as the two TV presenters talked about the bands that were about to hit the stage. When they mentioned Kitchen Sink, the lads roared and Jack clapped his hands together. Then the room fell quiet and everyone watched the first band intently. No one spoke. Everyone faced forward, except Johnny, who was staring at Alandra, and Rabbit, who was staring at Johnny staring at Alandra. She was tall, with long black silky hair and olive skin, rocking a simple black dress and big silver jewellery. She wasn’t just the coolest person Rabbit had ever seen in real life, she was also the most beautiful. Johnny was mesmerized. Rabbit fixed her glasses on her face, holding them against her forehead, and focused on not crying.
When Kitchen Sink were finally introduced the room exploded. Even Davey, who was usually so reserved, raised his arms and hollered. On screen, Davey clicked his sticks together, ‘One, two, three, four . . .’ beat the drum and the band kicked off. Jack wiped away a tear
and Molly rapped on the armrest in time with her son. Rabbit shifted her gaze from Johnny on the sofa to Johnny on stage. He sang so beautifully it made her want to cry even more.
‘Are you all right?’ Marjorie whispered.
‘Fine,’ Rabbit said. ‘Why?’
‘’Cause you look like you’re in pain.’
‘How?’
‘Your face is doing this.’ She demonstrated.
‘Oh.’ Rabbit straightened it and glanced at Johnny, who wasn’t focused on the TV but on the cool girl, who had intertwined her silver-ringed fingers with his. The sight made Rabbit’s stomach knot.
Afterwards, when the band were done and the presenters had cited them the next best thing, Jack rewound the show and watched it ten times over while Molly cleared up and the band went into the garage to work on a new song. Marjorie wondered why Rabbit didn’t want to watch them rehearse.
‘It’s boring,’ she said.
‘Seriously?’ Marjorie didn’t believe her friend for a second.
Instead they went outside to sit on the wall. It was a warm night and some lads were playing football on the green. After a while Marjorie joined them. Rabbit remained on the wall, determined to find something interesting in Marjorie and the boys chasing a ball. She heard the side door open and, without turning, she felt Johnny behind her. Alandra was stuck to his hip and they were still hand in hand when they stopped in front of her.
‘So, what did you think, Rabbit?’ he asked.
‘Good.’
‘Just good?’
‘Great.’
‘Good.’ He turned to Alandra. ‘Alandra, this is my good friend Rabbit.’ He turned back to Rabbit. ‘Rabbit, this is my girlfriend, Alandra.’
‘It’s so nice to meet you, Rabbit,’ Alandra said, putting out her hand to shake Rabbit’s.
My girlfriend? When? How? Why? Rabbit shook Alandra’s hand.
‘Well, we’ve got to get going,’ Johnny said. ‘See ya later, Rabbit.’ He raised his hand in the air, and she watched them walking down the road together. My girlfriend! Makes me wanna puke, Rabbit thought.
It was dark when Francie and Jay left. Davey called Rabbit in from the wall and Marjorie off the green. ‘Hey, short stuff, let’s go,’ he shouted. Marjorie grinned at him and ran over, happy to do as she was told.
‘Hey, Davey, I thought yous were amazing,’ she said, as they followed a very unhappy Rabbit inside.
‘It’s only going to get better from here on in,’ he promised.
‘When I’m old enough, will ya take me to one of yer shows?’ she asked.
‘Marjorie, when you’re old enough, you and Rabbit will be at every show.’
Marjorie jumped and screeched a little. Rabbit made a face.
‘What’s with you?’ Davey asked.
‘I have a life, you know,’ Rabbit said.
‘News to me.’ Davey closed the door.
Later, when Marjorie was clad in her Tinkerbell nightdress and jumping on the bed, singing a medley of Kitchen Sink’s songs, Davey found Rabbit sitting on the stairs.
‘What’s going on?’ He sat down beside her.
She looked behind her. ‘Grace won’t get out of the bathroom.’
‘I’m not talking about that.’
‘When do you think the Spanish girl is going home?’
‘She’s here for a year at least, maybe more.’ Rabbit looked like she was about to cry. Davey put his arm over her shoulders. It was out of character for him to show affection to his sister, even if he felt it in spades, so the move was slightly awkward. Rabbit looked from his arm on her shoulders to his face.
‘He’s too old for you, Rabbit.’
‘It’s only four years. Me da is three years older than me ma,’ Rabbit said.
‘Four years is a lot when you’re only twelve,’ Davey said.
‘I’ll grow up, then.’
Davey laughed a little and nodded. ‘OK.’ He got up to bang on the bathroom door.
‘And, Davey,’ Rabbit said, ‘when I do it’s going to be great.’
Rabbit
Rabbit woke up in a foul mood. Jacinta came as soon as she was called.
‘I need another stupid patch.’
‘I just changed it an hour ago when you were sleeping.’
‘Well, I’m in agony so it must be faulty.’
‘Just relax for a minute.’ Jacinta felt Rabbit’s forehead.
Rabbit pulled away like a bold child. ‘Leave it, leave me.’
Jacinta checked Rabbit’s chart. ‘I can give you a shot.’
‘So just do it, then.’
Jacinta left to get the medication. Rabbit stared at the ceiling, counting to ten in her head. When Jacinta reappeared, Rabbit closed her eyes and waited. Once the shot was administered and she felt the liquid rip through her veins, she relaxed enough to respond to Jacinta’s shock question.
‘So, who’s Alandra?’
Rabbit opened her eyes wide. ‘What? Why?’
‘You were shouting “Fuck Alandra” in your sleep,’ Jacinta said, battling to curb her smile.
‘I was?’
Jacinta nodded.
Rabbit sighed. ‘She was a girl I used to know a long time ago.’
‘A girl you didn’t like?’
‘She was lovely and always kind to me. I was just a jealous kid who wished really bad things would happen to her for the entire time she went out with the boy I loved.’
‘Like what?’ Jacinta asked, as she sat down.
‘Like being hit by a car, run over by a train or brought down in a plane.’
‘Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you.’
Rabbit gripped the bed, closed her eyes and her body stiffened. She moaned softly and tears trickled towards her already damp hairline.
‘Count to ten.’
‘Sick of counting to ten.’
‘OK, I’ll count down from ten. Ten, nine, eight . . .’
‘Please, please, stop,’ Rabbit begged.
‘Tell me about Alandra.’
‘It’s not working.’
‘Give it another minute.’
‘Please, please, please.’
‘Tell me about Alandra.’
Rabbit inhaled deeply and opened her eyes. It’s OK, you’re OK, just keep talking, Rabbit, and the pain will fade away.
‘She was a stunner, and by the time she left she had a great Dublin accent,’ Rabbit said, and smiled at the memory.
‘Why did she leave?’ Jacinta asked.
‘Her father got sick.’
‘Your boy must have been very sad to lose her.’
‘He didn’t seem to be. He was always so aloof and hard to work out.’
‘Even for you.’
‘Back then, especially for me. It took me a while to learn how to read him.’
‘You’ve stopped gripping the rail.’
‘It’s passed.’
Jacinta fixed Rabbit’s blankets. ‘Want to go to the loo while I’m here? I can bring in a bedpan.’
‘No.’
‘Is there anything else I can do?’
Rabbit was in tears again. ‘Just let me sleep.’
Jacinta nodded. ‘Goodnight, Rabbit.’ She closed the door and left Rabbit alone, blinking at the ceiling. The medication had slowly spread through her body, reaching the top of her head, making a dead weight of her brain, clearing her mind of cognitive thought. With numbness restored, her heavy lids closed and she disappeared into the welcoming darkness.
Rabbit Hayes’s Blog
25 September 2009
One in the Hand . . .
Two days after the operation Marjorie began to refer to me as the ‘One Tit Wonder’. She’s been waiting a whole two weeks for my big reveal. The truth is, I was scared to look. I just couldn’t seem to bring myself to stand in front of a mirror and strip off. It sounds vain and stupid – after all, it was only a breast, for God’s sake, but it was my breast. My left one, specifically.
My mother pointed out l
ast night that I was left-handed and right-breasted, which is a kind of symmetry in itself and, apparently, better than some piece of silicone shoved under my skin. I haven’t decided. First, I have to beat cancer. Then I’ll think about replacing parts.
So today came along and Marjorie visited with more food than Juliet and I could eat in a year, flowers, wine, two mastectomy bras, a prosthesis and a partridge in a pear tree! It was time to face the music. ‘Get it out,’ she said. So I stood in my bedroom, and just as I started to take off my top, she shouted, ‘Stop!’ and proceeded to whip off hers quicker than Matt the Flasher outside Nelly’s Newsagent’s. In seconds she was standing in front of me bare-chested with a stupid grin. I ripped off my pyjama top and there it was, my right breast, next to ugly, scarred flatland. I didn’t want to cry, but I did. I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t me. Marjorie was quiet. We both just stood in front of the mirror, staring. She didn’t try to comfort me or stop me reacting. Instead she handed me a hanky and there we stood until my eyes and nose stopped running.
By the time we replaced our tops my new physique didn’t seem as horrifying. I’m not saying I’ve fully embraced it, but I feel better than I’d thought I would. And Marjorie? Well, she put her top back on and complained bitterly that, even though she still had two, my one was bigger, and you know what they say . . . ‘One in the hand . . .’
I love my best friend.
DAY THREE
Chapter Five
Molly
MOLLY AND JACK sat outside Mr Dunne’s office, waiting to be called in. Molly held a large file, thick with details of the various trials for which Rabbit was considered eligible. She clasped it to her chest and rubbed the tips of her fingers on its edge, up and down, up and down, up and down. Jack hung on to a plastic bag, eyes glued to the black hand on the large white wall clock moving silently to mark each passing second. In the background, somewhere in the corridor, a radio was on and voices were debating whether or not the Americans should intervene in Syria. Jack’s stomach grumbled. Molly shifted her hand from the file to her pocket and pulled out a bag of nuts and seeds for him. He took it without a word and ate the contents, all the while keeping his eye on the passing time.
The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes Page 8
