Page 193 of Playing By Ear

Saturday, 14 May

The next day stretched out like a rubber band refusing to snap. Martin’s rally was well and truly over, and he’d slipped into unconsciousness overnight. The house fell silent again, and there was little to do but…be.

Still, Jamie saw to the usual Saturday care activities. He cleaned his father’s hair with the dry-shampoo cap, then brushed it out into its full auburn and silver glory. Then he washed Martin’s face and trimmed his beard. Finally, he filed and buffed his fingernails.

Throughout it all, he sang along to whatever tune was playing from the “Songs to Pop Yer Clogs By” playlist he and his dad had assembled a few weeks prior. It contained fifty-six tracks, one for each year of Martin’s life, though most came from his and Mickey’s heyday in the late seventies and early eighties.

As he performed these tasks, Jamie watched for signs his father was coming to, even for a moment. Then they could say a proper goodbye and set aside last night’s bitterness. But Martin failed to wake.

That evening, the MacKrays took turns sitting with Martin in singles or in pairs while the rest watched the Eurovision final in the living room. Aunt Rosie had dubbed the family’s somber gathering “The Eurovigil.”

“I’ve had that Gaslight Anthem song ‘’59 Sound’ stuck in my head for hours,” Jamie told Perry as they filled their plates in the kitchen before the contestants began. “That one line, ‘Ain’t supposed to die on a Saturday night.’”

“That song was the first time I realized I wasn’t alone in wondering about the final song of a person’s life.”

“Same,” Jamie said. “What if it was a song you hated, or an advert on the radio? At least with the playlist my dad had me make, I know the last song he hears will be one he loves. Unless he’s pure sick of those tunes by now.”

Jamie looked into the living room and went on high alert as Uncle Raymond entered from the hall.

“No change,” Ray said, his posture stooped.

“I’ll go up next, Dad.” Miranda hugged him, then patted her bulging belly. “Maybe this one would like another word with his namesake.”

Jamie turned back to Perry. “I should be there when he goes.”

“You should do whatever you feel is right, but know this.” Perry’s touch slid down Jamie’s arm until he grasped his hand. “You’ve walked so far with him down this hard path. Whether you’re literally by his side or not, he’ll feel you with him.”

Jamie gave his hand a grateful clasp, the only reply he could offer. Perry was both right and wrong. It was the very fact of coming all this way with his dad that made him want to see out the ending.

Still, he settled on the couch again, at least until the drawn-out Eurovision jury vote began. Then he went upstairs.

Belinda was alone at Martin’s bedside. From the wireless sound system’s speaker, Roger Daltrey was softly crooning “The Song is Over” for approximately the 1,365th time that week.

“Same as ever,” she told Jamie. “I try measuring his breaths to see if they’re slowing down. Sometimes they do, but then they speed up again.” She gazed at their father’s silent form. “It’s like time’s standing still.”

Jamie had no words, so he simply touched his sister’s shoulder, hoping she no longer minded him being handsy. Then he turned to Layla. “Go outside?” he asked, trying to rouse her with an excited tone. The dog didn’t budge, only tilted her brows to look at him with somber eyes. “Okay.”

He went back downstairs and sat beside Perry for the broadcast’s final half hour. Belinda joined them a few minutes later while Martin’s sisters went to sit with him.

Finally at half past eleven, it was time for the televote results. Lucy bounced on her toes with anticipation, somehow still awake despite the late hour.

Watching his niece with a love that made his chest ache, Jamie imagined for the first time being a father himself. Why did death make him want to bring new life into the world? Maybe it was a primal instinct to continue the species, or a fear of dying alone—or simply a fuck-you to death itself.

Perhaps it was being surrounded by family that had birthed this sudden drive. Another child would bring them joy, give them more reason to hold him close. But why did he suddenly need that?

No, the bigger question was, why had he stopped needing that? It wasn’t natural to live apart from family, even one as tarnished as this.

The last ten years seemed to blur, his six lonely wee flats blending into one. Meeting Perry had lifted Jamie into a living wakefulness he’d not thought possible. Was it mere coincidence that he had been called back into his family’s embrace at the same time? It was as if he’d quietly lived offstage until the day he met Perry, then floodlights had filled his eyes as the world around him came to life.

He put his head on Perry’s shoulder and looked around the living room, grateful for everyone who was here.

Wait.

Everyone was here, watching to see if Ukraine or Russia would overtake Australia.

Which meant…Martin was alone.

Jamie vaulted to his feet and dashed into the hall.