The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes

by Anna McPartlin

  She stood up when the pain in her abdomen was more severe than the one in her heart. She was on her feet for only a few seconds before she doubled over. ‘Oh, my God!’ she whispered. ‘What the . . .’

  She sat down again and waited for it to pass. When a few minutes had gone by, she stood up and finished packing her clothes, but when she made it to the car she must have been about seven shades paler than when Davey had last seen her because he said, ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Have you had your appendix out?’ she asked.

  ‘No. Why?’ He looked worried.

  ‘Did my ma?’

  Davey turned down the radio and thought about it. ‘It was Grace.’

  ‘Can you ring her and ask her what it felt like?’

  Davey put the car into gear and backed out of the driveway. ‘We’re going to A&E.’

  ‘We don’t need to go to A&E. I just need someone to tell me the symptoms and then I’ll know.’

  ‘We’re going to A&E.’

  ‘That’s stupid.’

  ‘It’s not stupid.’

  ‘Do you know how long they’ll make us sit there? I’ll be twenty-one by the time we get through.’

  ‘Don’t exaggerate.’

  ‘Me ma has cancer and we’ve been stuck in chairs for eight hours at a time.’

  ‘Oh, Christ. OK, call Grace.’

  Juliet rang her aunt and put her on the speaker. ‘Grace?’

  ‘Hi, Bunny. I hear you’ve moved to your nan’s. I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday.’

  ‘It’s OK, and thanks for everything.’

  ‘You’re always welcome, you know that.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘So what can I do for you?’

  ‘When you had your appendix out, what did it feel like?’ Davey shouted.

  ‘What did he say?’ Grace said.

  ‘He asked what a dodgy appendix felt like,’ Juliet said, grimacing as she spoke.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m in agony, Grace,’ she admitted.

  ‘Left or right side?’

  ‘Middle.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Middle and low, like I’m going to give birth to a bowling ball.’

  ‘Take me off speaker,’ Grace said.

  ‘What?’ Davey said.

  ‘It’s not appendix, Davey. Now take me off speaker.’

  Juliet did as she was told and she put the phone to her ear. ‘Have you had your period before?’ Grace asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you checked your pants?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Ah, no.’ She blushed.

  ‘I think you’re getting one and the sooner you get to a chemist the better.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘It’s going to be all right,’ Grace assured her.

  ‘Um . . .’ Juliet said. ‘I don’t have any money.’

  ‘Put me onto Davey.’

  ‘Ah, no. I’m fine, please, Grace.’

  ‘I’m not going to embarrass you, I’m just going to tell him to give you some money and let you off at a chemist. Then I need you to buy a box of regular tampons, a box of maxi pads, just in case you don’t feel comfortable using the tampons, and some painkillers.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘You’ll be fine, Juliet.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘I’m sorry I’m not there,’ she said, and Juliet nearly cried because she wanted her mother. She handed the phone to Davey, who seemed more distressed than she was. She watched him as he spoke to Grace. He was nodding and saying OK a lot, like she had before him. He put down the phone.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘No A&E. Excellent. We’ll find a chemist and then everything will be great.’ He was trying to act cool but he was sweating and couldn’t look her in the eye.

  He knows. I’m so embarrassed I could die.

  They reached the chemist, where Davey took fifty euro out of his pocket and gave it to her with a nod and a thumbs-up. She got out of the car and felt the world falling into her pants. Oh, no. The jeans she was wearing were black and tight. She was afraid to look down at herself as she walked across the road but she hoped that the blood was not showing. She pulled at her T-shirt, trying to make it longer than it was. The pain no longer bothered her; it was the humiliation she was most concerned about.

  When she made it to the door of the chemist she instantly noticed two men behind the counter. No, no, no. This isn’t happening. How can I be so unlucky? Crap, crap, crap. She could feel Davey watching, waiting for her to open the door and go inside. She looked back at him and he gave her another thumbs-up. Kill me, kill me now. She walked inside and instantly one of the men asked what he could do for her. I could be standing in a shop for an hour and an adult wouldn’t ask me what I wanted but, oh, no, today I get the friendliest most helpful man in the world. I hate my life.

  ‘I’m just looking,’ she said. Why did I say that? She felt another gush so she hid behind the foot-cream stand and crossed her legs. What am I going to do? It was then, when Juliet was reaching the stage of blind panic, that a young woman appeared at the makeup counter. She sighed with relief, straightened up and went to her. The girl was pretty, sporting a diamond nose-ring and a bar in her tongue.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ she asked.

  Juliet leaned towards her and lowered her voice. ‘I really need your help.’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I’ve just got my period and I’m with my uncle,’ Juliet whispered.

  The girl gave her a knowing nod. ‘First time?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘How bad?’ Her eyes moved from Juliet’s face to her crotch, then back again.

  ‘Bad.’

  Another knowing nod. ‘Pain?’

  ‘I’m in bits.’

  ‘OK.’ She took Juliet’s hand and led her past the two men, who were now happily engaged with other customers. Behind the shop there was a clean single toilet. The girl directed her inside. ‘Wait there.’

  Juliet locked the door behind her and sighed with relief. She took her pants down to reveal something akin to a murder scene. ‘Oh, no.’ She sat on the loo. She really wanted to call Della: first, to tell her that she’d got her period, and second, to apologize for always thinking she was bragging when she moaned about it. She now understood she was not bragging: this was nothing to brag about. She cleaned off as much of the blood as she could with tissue, nearly crying when she got some on her hand. She wiped it off and felt a little sick. A few minutes passed and she began to think that the girl had forgotten about her when a knock came at the door.

  ‘It’s only me,’ the girl said. Juliet opened the door a crack and a packet of maxi pads, a box of tampons, baby wipes and a fresh pair of knickers were shoved through. ‘Do the best you can with those.’

  ‘Oh, thanks so much.’

  ‘Have you ever practised using a tampon?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It might be a big ask here in the shop. Maybe you should keep them for later.’

  ‘Oh. OK. Um . . . where did you get the knickers?’

  ‘They’re mine.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’m going out straight after work and staying over, so you were lucky.’

  ‘I really appreciate it,’ Juliet said, making a start with the wipes.

  ‘It’s no problem. I got my first period on a fishing boat with my dad and two brothers,’ the girl said.

  ‘That sounds awful,’ Juliet said, removing her jeans.

  ‘I was wearing a skirt. My brother slipped on the mess.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Juliet wrapped her soiled knickers and binned them.

  ‘He thought it was fish guts so I got away with it.’

  Juliet’s stomach turned.

  When she finally appeared from the toilet cubicle, the girl turned on a tap so Juliet could wash her hands. When she was done she was handed two pills and a glass of water. Juliet downed them.

  ‘Two every six hours. No more,’ the girl warned.

 
‘I promise.’

  ‘Good.’ The girl smiled brightly. ‘It’s shit but you’ll be OK.’ She took the tampons, wipes, pills and maxi pads, put them into a large brown-paper bag and handed them to Juliet.

  Suddenly Juliet welled up. ‘Thanks.’

  The girl hugged her quickly and they went back into the shop.

  Juliet paid at the till, and when she was leaving the girl winked at her. If the two men knew what was going on, they had the decency not to show it.

  Juliet walked across the road to where she could see her uncle preparing himself to talk to her. She sat in the car uncomfortably, hoping she wouldn’t stain the seat. She handed him his change.

  ‘Keep it.’

  ‘It’s the guts of thirty-five quid.’

  ‘Buy yourself something nice.’

  He was really trying his best to be cool, but he was so far from cool that Juliet felt a lot better about things, even a little bolder.

  ‘I’d like some new knickers,’ she said.

  He paled a little. ‘Great. No problem. Any place in particular?’ She burst out laughing. ‘I’m only joking.’

  ‘Ah, Jesus. I was thinking we’d go home and you can get changed and then we can see yer ma. How about that?’

  ‘Could we stop for some food too? Suddenly I’m starving.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘It’s on me,’ she said, holding up the money.

  When they arrived home, Juliet grabbed her case out of the boot and high-tailed it up the stairs to the waiting shower. She spent a long time standing under it before she took out the box of tampons. She read the instructions, then rang Della.

  ‘Yo,’ Della said.

  ‘Yo, yourself. I need help.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘How do you put a tampon up without hurting yourself?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Agony?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Hungry?’

  ‘Starving.’

  ‘I swear, Juliet, there isn’t enough sugar in the world.’ Della sighed deeply, conveying her distress.

  ‘So, tampons?’

  ‘OK,’ Della said, ‘but you’re going to need to relax your hoohoo.’

  ‘How do I do that?’

  ‘I breathe into it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I dunno – I just do.’

  Juliet spent another fifteen minutes trying to negotiate safe passage of a tampon into her hoo-hoo. By the time she was done she was running out of phone credit. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  ‘OK, call me later.’

  ‘I will, and thanks.’ She hung up. She changed her clothes. She felt clean and the pain was gone. She headed down the stairs with new pep in her step.

  ‘Are you ready to eat?’ she asked Davey.

  ‘Anywhere you’d like.’

  She mentioned her ma’s favourite local restaurant. ‘After all, it is a special occasion.’ She grinned, and even though she was the one joking about it, she still blushed a little.

  ‘Oh, for fu– sake.’ He covered his eyes much like Granda did when he wanted to hide from something he couldn’t face.

  ‘You were brilliant,’ she said.

  ‘I was a dick. I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘Exactly.’ She walked back to the car.

  Johnny

  The single from Kitchen Sink’s EP was riding high in the Irish charts and the record-company executive was coming along to see them play and to talk about making an album. The queue lined the entire street. Girls were wearing T-shirts with pictures of the band on them; some had only Johnny’s face. There were a few guys but it was mostly girls – loud girls. Rabbit passed them until she reached the front of the queue and knocked on the glass part of the door.

  ‘Ah, who do ya think ya are?’ a girl said.

  ‘I’m with the band,’ Rabbit said, waiting for one of the security guys to answer.

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  The girl looked at her friends and back to Rabbit. ‘Can you get us in?’

  ‘Don’t think so.’

  ‘Why not?’ She put a hand on her hip. She was aggressive, and even though she wasn’t as tall as Rabbit, she was a great deal wider, with fists the size of barrels.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Rabbit rapped on the glass more urgently.

  ‘Yer one doesn’t think her shite smells.’

  Rabbit thought about running away and calling the lads from a phone box, but just as the girl put her hand on Rabbit’s shoulder, Johnny appeared and opened the door.

  ‘It’s him!’ the girl gasped, as he grabbed Rabbit’s hand and dragged her inside.

  ‘Yip, it’s me. See yis at the show, girls.’ He waved and closed the door behind them. The girls screamed and word of his brief appearance spread through the queue, sending most of it into frenzy.

  ‘I thought I was going to be punched,’ Rabbit said.

  ‘Good thing I was passing.’

  ‘They’re all mad.’

  ‘Well, I’m pretty irresistible.’

  ‘Don’t be a dick.’ She scrunched up her nose, then pushed up invisible spectacles. Johnny loved it when she did that: it reminded him of the little girl who used to follow him everywhere and hung on his every word until Alandra had come along and changed everything. Even though they had spent the summer touring together, Rabbit was no longer Johnny’s little shadow and he missed her.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ she asked.

  ‘You.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’ve grown up so much.’

  ‘Oh, don’t say that! You sound like me da. He had two drinks and started crying about it at Uncle Gem’s wedding anniversary. I was mortified.’

  They walked up the stairs together, and halfway up, Johnny’s knees gave way – he flailed for the rail but fell hard like a sack of potatoes. Rabbit rushed to his aid but he didn’t want help. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ He batted her away.

  ‘So stand up.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard.’

  He grabbed the rail and pulled himself up. ‘I’m just tired.’

  ‘You’re always tired.’

  ‘Well, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re very busy.’

  ‘There’s something wrong,’ she said.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong.’ He tried to walk away from her but his body refused to help him.

  ‘There’s something wrong, Johnny,’ she insisted, her eyes blazing.

  ‘You say that again and you’re outta here!’ he shouted.

  She stood silently, watching him prepare to take his next step. He walked slowly up the stairs and she remained where she was, observing him. He wasn’t so much unsteady as unsure. She said no more, just waited until he was out of sight before she sat on the stairs and chewed her nails.

  Ten minutes later Francie found her there. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You’re late for sound check.’

  ‘So why aren’t you there?’

  ‘I’m surplus to requirements now. Haven’t you heard?’

  ‘You might not be our engineer any more, but we still need ya, Rabbit. Come on, get off your arse and let’s go.’

  Rabbit followed Francie onto the stage. Johnny was sitting on a speaker and directing Davey, Louis and Jay. He was displeased about the sound coming from the keyboard, and Davey kept making a mistake in the same part of the song.

  ‘Are you just trying to annoy me?’ he asked Davey.

  ‘Yeah, everything I do is about you,’ Davey said. He was frustrated with himself and Johnny wasn’t helping matters. Francie walked onto the stage.

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘Sheila was having a meltdown.’

  ‘So bin the mentaller.’

  ‘Listen, man, I love ya, but if ya call me girlfriend a mentaller again I’ll punch you in the face.’ Francie put on his guitar.

  ‘Sheila is off her nut and you’re off your nut to be wit
h her,’ Johnny said.

  ‘You’re crying out for a hiding.’ Francie took off his guitar.

  ‘Ah, clam down, Francie, will ya? We all know she’s fuckin’ nuts,’ Jay said.

  ‘Shut it, Jay,’ Francie snapped.

  ‘Or wha’?’

  Davey stood up behind the drums. ‘What the hell is going on?’

  ‘Francie’s too busy running after a fucking loon to take care of band business,’ Johnny said. Johnny never cursed; he and Rabbit’s dad were two of the few people Rabbit knew who didn’t treat the word ‘fuck’ as a verb, noun and/or adjective. It was so strange and jarring to hear the word fall out of his mouth, even more alarming because of its aggressive delivery. Francie moved forward to hit him. Jay grabbed Francie by the arms. Francie swung around and punched his brother on the nose. Louis ran out from behind his keyboards with his arms outstretched.

  ‘All right, all right, enough of this.’

  Jay tripped Louis, who fell on both his outstretched hands. ‘Oh, shite! Me finger.’

  Jay stepped over him, then punched Francie back, catching him in the eye, and Francie reciprocated with a kick to his twin’s balls. Jay head-butted Francie. They fell to their knees at the same time, bloody-nosed and black-eyed.

  ‘What the fuck, Johnny?’ Davey said, pointing to the twins.

  Johnny walked off the stage, leaving the boys and Rabbit to stare after him.

  Davey helped the two boys to their feet. Rabbit gave Jay a tissue and he held it to his nose. Davey examined Francie’s eye. Louis lay on the floor, screaming blue murder about his finger.

  ‘Well, this is brilliant. You couldn’t let it lie, Francie,’ Davey said.

  ‘He shouldn’t have got involved,’ Francie retorted, pointing at Jay.

  ‘’Cause you decking Wet Boy would have worked out well? He’d be fucking dead,’ Jay said.

  Francie nodded. Jay had a point: Johnny was a lover, not a fighter.

  ‘Rabbit, go down to the dressing room and find out what in the name of fucking fucksy is going on with him,’ Davey said.