Page 155 of Playing By Ear

“Steroids,” Jamie said. “Took a double dose this morning for the occasion.”

“Ah.” Stuart sighed. “So many visitors telt me how well he looked. ‘Surely he’s on the mend,’ a few of them said, like he’s had the flu instead of brain cancer. He put on such a show, they cannae see how he’s declined lately.”

“Nah, he saves that for us.”

Stuart gave a light snicker. “I tell you what, I thank God every day he’s still himself. Loads of brain tumors take away people’s personalities and memories.”

“It still might do.” It was all a roll of the dice, which brain sector the tumor’s tendrils infested next. “But aye, I think if he’d had a choice between mental and physical decline, he’d choose the latter a hundred times out of a hundred.”

“You think?”

“Don’t you?”

“Dunno,” Stuart said. “Sounds like torture, being totally aware of losing your body.”

Aunt Norma appeared in the doorway to the living room. “He’s ready.”

With Jamie and Stuart on either side and the aunties behind, they got Martin on his feet, then out to the hall, and finally, step by slow, mountainous step, up the stairs. As they climbed, Martin stopped to examine each framed family photo on the wall.

“I can bring these pictures up into your room if you like,” Jamie offered.

His dad wrinkled his nose. “And have them all staring at me while I shite the bed? Nah.” Then he tilted his head. “Maybe this one.” He jutted his chin at a photo of himself with Jamie’s mum—her smile uncannily similar to that of her children—Uncle Mickey, and Aunt Frances. Even a quarter of a century ago, Martin had already been the last of them.

As they reached his bedroom, Belinda and Layla returned, the latter rumbling up the stairs.

Martin sat on the edge of his bed for well over a minute, catching his breath, before letting Stuart and Jamie help him into his pajamas. Then his sisters came in to kiss him goodnight, promising to visit every evening after work. Stuart went downstairs to see them out.

Once Martin was settled into bed, Layla jumped up to join him, making the mattress sag. She turned three times, then sank down at his side.

Jamie showed Martin the camera for the baby monitor, though he would be careful never to call it that. “I’ll be in the next room, but if you need me you don’t have to yell cos I’ll have this with me.”

His father frowned. “You gonnae watch me sleep?”

“God, no. You think I wanna look at your ugly coupon 24-7? It’s got an audio-only mode. I’ll keep the video off unless you call for me.”

Martin shrugged. “I’m used to being surveilled by the polis, anyway.”

“You’ve got nothing to fear from those bastards now,” Jamie told him.

“Wa-hey, another brain tumor upside,” his dad mumbled as his eyes closed.

On impulse, Jamie gave his arm a quick squeeze. Then he offered Layla a few strokes and straightened her ear where it was squashed against his dad’s side. She didn’t open her eyes, but the tip of her tail twitched, and then they were both still.

Jamie turned and saw Belinda standing in the doorway, arms crossed and cheeks wet with tears. She flailed an arm to beckon him, then hurried into Jamie’s room. He softly shut Martin’s door behind him and followed her.

“It’s been a long day,” he said.

“I’m not crying because of Dad.” She swiped her cheeks hard, as though angry at their moisture. “It’s you. You’re so good with him.”

“Am I?” It didn’t feel that way. It felt awkward and painful.

“And it struck me all at once that you’re back, and, well…” Her voice cut off in a stream of tears.

Unsure what he wanted to do but having seen plenty of TV dramas, Jamie stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.

His sister’s weeping strengthened into great gasping sobs as she clung to him. “Get tae fuck, Jamie,” she choked out.

“No, you get tae fuck.”