Page 186 of Playing By Ear

Martin held the tumbler in both hands with an expression of utmost focus. “Cheers. To my last toast.”

“Rather meta, but okay.” Jamie took a sip, then held up his glass again. His mind spun. What could he say that would be both honest and honoring? The same question his song grappled with.

“To family,” he said at last. “They fuck us up and lift us up.”

Martin’s smile told him he’d got it just right.

That night, Jamie woke with dread in his gut and the lyrics of Perry’s song in his head.

I was the great pretender

An actor all alone

Every friend a stranger

Unreachable, unknown

He checked the time. 3:11. His dad had let him sleep four straight hours, by far the longest without interruption in weeks. Perhaps he was drained from the long meeting he’d had with his sister Norma, drafting his new will. Jamie hoped inheriting Martin’s house and car wouldn’t put him on anyone’s hit list.

He checked Perry was still asleep, then rolled over and turned up the baby monitor’s volume.

Silence.

Dying people often had sleep apnea, the nurse had said. Jamie held his own breath until he heard a sharp snort, then a long, even exhalation. Then he stood on unsteady legs, rubbed his eyes, and went to his father’s room.

Now that Martin was in his last weeks, other family members flooded the house throughout the day and evening, so Jamie was able to nap now and again. But overnight, it was just him, Perry, Martin, and Layla.

The dog rose to her feet and shifted over to sit on her doggy bed, familiar with this routine. As Martin could no longer change his body’s position, Jamie had to shift it for him, and to do it safely, the bed had to be raised.

Usually his father grumbled a string of profanities throughout the maneuver, even though it was for his own fucking good to prevent bedsores. But tonight, as Jamie rolled him onto his right side, then propped pillows behind him to hold him in place, Martin mumbled but a single unintelligible syllable.

“You’re welcome,” Jamie said as he straightened up, his lower back protesting the exertion. “You’re lucky I’m a fullback with massive triceps for throw-ins.” He made sure the bed pad was clean and dry, then lowered the bed again using the button. When it was level with her dog bed, Layla shifted back into place, her chin on Martin’s hip and her forelegs wrapped around a fluff of duvet like a human with a body pillow.

Jamie made a note in the jotter, then returned to his room and slipped back into bed. After several minutes of trying to sleep, he picked up his phone to reread his latest text exchange with the Warriors manager, dimming the screen so as not to wake Perry.

Charlotte

How’s the ankle and the dad today? And you?

Jamie

Ankle dad me

Charlotte

Can you take breaks and let others look after him a wee while? When my partner’s dad had brain cancer, even an hour away was a gift.

Jamie

I don’t want breaks anymore

The weaker he gets the more I want near him

Is that weird?

Charlotte

It’s cancer. Everything is weird, so nothing is weird