The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes

by Anna McPartlin

  Jay got the attention of the girl behind the counter. ‘Can we get another one of these, love, over here?’ He pointed to his pint and then to his brother.

  Francie pushed in beside Davey. ‘How’s Rabbit?’ he asked.

  ‘Shocking,’ Jay said.

  ‘She’s in good enough form, though,’ Francie said.

  ‘She was quiet today,’ Jay mused.

  ‘What was she saying?’ Davey asked.

  ‘Just talking about the past mostly.’

  ‘Johnny?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Wonder if he’s waiting for her,’ Francie said, as much to himself as anyone else.

  ‘Well, if he is he won’t have long to hang about. I’m sorry, DB,’ Jay said, and Davey nodded.

  ‘She told me you were discussing what to do with Juliet today,’ Jay added.

  ‘Yeah, we did,’ Davey said.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I want her.’

  ‘You want her?’ Francie said. He didn’t disguise the shock in his voice.

  ‘Fuck off.’ Jay started to laugh. ‘Seriously?’

  Francie sat back in his chair. He let Jay do the talking and Davey do the answering.

  ‘I’m serious.’

  ‘Here’s the thing, DB. Just because you screw teenage girls doesn’t mean you can raise one,’ Jay said.

  ‘Georgia is twenty-five.’

  ‘Is this because you’re lonely?’ Jay asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Because this is not about you.’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  Francie picked up the pint the waitress had placed on the table during Jay’s interrogation.

  ‘You have no idea how hard it is to raise kids. You’ve never had anyone relying on you,’ Jay said.

  ‘I know, I know. I’ve never even had a dog . . .’

  ‘A dog! You’ve never even had a plant. No, strike that. You had a plant, we smoked it and Louis got the shits.’

  Kev walked through the door, spotted the lads and made a beeline for Davey. He picked him up from behind and shook him. ‘Howya doin’, DB?’

  ‘He’s losing his fucking mind, that’s how he’s doing,’ Jay said.

  Francie was still unusually quiet.

  ‘What’s new?’ Kev said. He nodded at the girl behind the bar and pointed to the pints the lads were drinking. She nodded. He gave her the thumbs-up and sat down beside Jay. ‘So what’s he done now?’

  ‘He wants to take Juliet,’ Jay said.

  ‘Sorry about Rabbit,’ Kev responded.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Now, don’t be a fucking eejit. You can’t even take care of yourself,’ Kev said.

  Francie sipped his pint.

  Davey was beginning to get the impression the people in his life didn’t think as highly of him as he’d hoped. ‘I’m really trying hard not to be insulted, lads.’

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t be. You’re a single man who travels most of the year. I work from home and my wife is there most of the time and I swear to God sometimes I just want to kill them, or myself, or all of us.’ Kev sighed. ‘I never would but, Christ, it’s tempting.’

  ‘Your kids are under the age of five. Juliet’s twelve,’ Davey reminded him.

  ‘Because tweens and teenagers are such a dream to handle. My Adele is fifteen and her mother found condoms in her room. Fucking condoms!’ Jay’s face reddened. ‘She says she’s minding them for a friend – like we just came down in the last shower – and you know what her mother said to me? “We need to think about putting her on the pill.” She’s fifteen!’

  ‘I didn’t get a feel of a tit over a jumper until I was fifteen,’ Kev said.

  Francie laughed.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ Jay said. ‘Teenage boys are one thing, but a teenage girl . . . She’ll break you, DB.’

  Davey had time for only one pint. He left Kev and Jay consoling each other over their kid troubles. Francie walked him to his car.

  ‘I noticed you were very quiet,’ Davey said.

  ‘Jay was doing enough talking for both of us.’

  ‘So you agree I’m being a selfish arsehole.’

  ‘I think you’re losing your sister, you’re grieving, you’re lonely and everything he said in there is right. You haven’t a clue how hard it is. But I also think you and that kid fit. You caring for Rabbit’s young one seems right to me.’

  ‘Really?’ Davey hoped his friend wasn’t being sarcastic.

  ‘Really.’ Francie slapped Davey’s back. ‘Of course you’ll probably fuck it up, but that’s life.’

  ‘What about my lifestyle?’

  ‘You’ll change it.’

  ‘Yeah, I will.’

  ‘Go on, visit your sister and make your case,’ Francie said.

  ‘Cheers, Francie.’

  It was just after eight thirty and Davey was halfway to the hospice when his phone rang. It was Grace and she was hysterical. ‘The boys have lost Juliet.’

  Rabbit

  Rabbit was screaming when Molly entered the room. The doctor was trying to calm her, but he was fighting a losing battle.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ she shouted.

  ‘I’m Enda.’

  ‘Jacinta!’ Rabbit shouted into the poor man’s face. ‘Jacinta!’

  ‘Jacinta’s off, but I’m the doctor on call. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.’

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘Rabbit.’

  ‘My name is Mia, I am Mia Hayes. Rabbit’s a stupid fucking name.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It says “Rabbit” on your chart.’

  He was so engaged with the screaming lunatic in the bed he didn’t see Molly step into the room. If Rabbit noticed her mother she didn’t let on. Her IV-fluid drip had slipped from her vein and the fluid had built up in the tissue, causing swelling in her arm. ‘I just want to remove the IV,’ he said, but she wouldn’t let him touch her.

  ‘What’s all this?’ Molly said, alerting the beleaguered doctor to her presence.

  ‘I’m sorry . . .’ he said.

  ‘No need, son. It appears that my daughter is the one acting the arse.’

  ‘Go away, Ma,’ Rabbit ordered.

  ‘I’m Enda,’ he said to her mother.

  ‘Molly.’

  ‘It’s nice to meet you, Enda.’

  ‘You too, Molly.’ He leaned over the bed to shake Molly’s outstretched hand.

  ‘Can the two of you just fuck off?’ Rabbit said emphatically.

  ‘No, we can’t. Now what’s going on?’ Molly replied.

  ‘Oh, nothing, Ma. Everything is amazing. I am unbelievably grateful. Top of the fucking world.’

  ‘You need to calm down, missy.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking child.’

  ‘Then don’t act like a fucking child.’

  Clearly there was a little too much ‘fucking’ going on for Enda because he said, ‘I’ll give you a minute.’

  ‘Thanks, son.’ Molly smiled at him as he passed her. When he was gone she sat on the side of the bed. ‘If you don’t let him fix that he can’t deliver your meds and you’ll be in screaming agony in no time at all.’

  ‘I’m already in screaming agony,’ Rabbit said, through gritted teeth.

  ‘So your defiance makes even less sense.’

  Rabbit turned slowly to face the wall. ‘Did you decide who is taking my daughter?’

  ‘So that’s what this is about,’ Molly said.

  ‘Just answer the question.’

  ‘Your da and I are taking her for now.’

  A tear slid from Rabbit’s eye onto the sheet below her. ‘Wow, that’s great,’ she said. Her sarcasm and bitterness were impossible to ignore.

  ‘Say what you have to say, Rabbit.’

  ‘I’m thrilled she gets to watch me die, then you and me da before she’s shoved off to who knows where.’

  ‘Grace will take her when she has the room.’

  ‘Well, that’s everything a dying
mother could wish for.’

  ‘Don’t be so fucking dramatic, Rabbit.’

  Rabbit turned to face her mother. ‘“Don’t be so fucking dramatic.” I’m fucking dying, Ma. If I can’t be dramatic now, then when?’

  ‘You have a point.’ Molly laughed, and after a moment Rabbit laughed too. It wasn’t funny, but they laughed until their bellies ached and then they cried, laughed some more and cried again. When it had taken everything out of Rabbit and they had finally stopped, Molly apologized about Juliet’s short-term future. ‘We’re doing the best we can, love.’

  ‘I know, Ma. I’m sorry. Yesterday I thought I was OK with leaving her, but today I just want to . . .’

  ‘Punch a baby?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Kick a pensioner?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Harass some poor doctor?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘It’s OK to be angry, Rabbit.’

  ‘No, it’s not. I don’t have time.’

  Her words cut Molly deeply, but she recovered well and lifted the mood. ‘Speaking of angry, Grace hit Lenny in the face with a mug.’

  ‘She told me.’

  ‘Of course she did,’ Molly said.

  ‘Serious black eye all the same.’

  ‘She did some damage all right.’

  ‘Poor Lenny. I’ll bet he didn’t see that coming.’

  ‘It’s OK to be angry, love,’ Molly said again, gently. ‘We’re all angry.’

  ‘Thanks, Ma.’ Rabbit was crying. ‘Can you ask Enda to come back in? I really need my meds now.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Rabbit lay in the bed building bricks in her head to block out the pain and at the same time she practised her speech to her daughter. ‘Juliet, it’s the end of the road for me.’ No, too country song. ‘Juliet, I’m dying.’ Too direct. ‘Juliet, I have to leave . . .’ Sounds like I’m walking out on her. ‘Juliet, I tried my best . . .’ No, too self-pitying. ‘Juliet, I love you. I’m sorry.’ Too sad. Christ, what am I going to say? I can’t mess this up.

  If Rabbit had believed in God and eternal life, she could have comforted her daughter. She could have promised she would watch over her and protect her from above, or possibly from below, depending on how strict God was on the matter of sex before marriage, contraception and theft. Rabbit had once stolen a bag of guitar leads from a band of dickheads called the Funky Punks; it was her one and only dabble with crime and she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it. If she’d been a believer she could have told her daughter that they would see one another again and it wasn’t the end, but as much as Rabbit wished she could offer her daughter some comfort, she couldn’t lie, and if she did, Juliet would know. It would be cruel.

  Enda arrived back on his own.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ Rabbit said.

  ‘No need.’ He took her arm in his hand.

  ‘I was an ass.’

  ‘I’ve met worse. A man of seventy tried to kick me in the face last week,’ he said, examining her arm and hand for a vein. ‘Your veins are shot.’

  ‘Why did he do that?’ she asked. ‘This one is still good.’ She showed him a vein in her other arm.

  ‘He took issue with me inserting a catheter.’

  ‘I haven’t left this bed in ages. Do I have one of those?’

  ‘Yes.’ He inserted the needle.

  ‘Huh, I don’t remember getting it.’

  Enda fixed the cannula. ‘There. All done.’ He injected the meds. ‘I’m going to change your patch too.’

  ‘Enda?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Where’s my ma?’

  ‘She’s on the phone.’

  ‘Is it late?’

  He looked at his watch. ‘Just after nine.’

  ‘My daughter said she’d come back tonight. It’s too late now. She has school in the morning.’

  ‘There’s always tomorrow.’

  ‘If I’m still here.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll still be here, with that kind of fight in you, trust me.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Goodnight, Mia.’ Enda didn’t have to make any promises because Rabbit was already drifting into sleep.

  ‘Rabbit,’ she said, as he closed the door to her room. ‘My name is Rabbit.’

  Johnny

  It wasn’t often a living saint came to town. At least, that was what Johnny said to Rabbit when he tried to convince her to bring him to see Mother Teresa. Rabbit was not convinced, insisting to Johnny that her da would take him.

  ‘But I’ve only got two tickets and I want you there.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I know it’ll annoy you.’

  ‘I’m not going.’

  ‘Please! I’m really sick and she might help me.’

  ‘If she could really help you, that kip she runs in India would be called the living rooms not the dying rooms – and stop playing the sick card.’

  They were lying side by side on the sitting-room floor, listening to music and staring at the ceiling.

  ‘It’s getting worse, Rabbit.’

  She turned on her elbow and gazed at him. He was still so handsome, but he always looked tired now and older than his twenty years. She sighed heavily. ‘OK, fine. I’ll do it.’

  He smiled at her. ‘Maybe she’ll change your mind.’

  ‘Doubt it.’

  ‘If she fixes me.’

  ‘If she fixes you, I’ll definitely change my mind.’

  ‘This is a big deal, Rabbit. These tickets are gold dust. We’re really lucky.’

  That made her sad, because she was staring at a beautiful boy, with so much talent and so much love to give and life to live, and he was struggling to sit up. He wasn’t lucky at all.

  The next day Rabbit’s mother insisted she wear her best dress, and when Davey picked Johnny up he was wearing a suit. Molly took a photo of them by the window. Johnny sat on the edge of the sill and put his arm around Rabbit so that he could lean on her. If you didn’t know he was sick in that photo, they looked like a happy young couple about to go out on a date, not a disabled man with his best friend and part-time carer. Davey drove them to the church. Now Johnny had to use a stick, but he insisted on walking up the church steps himself, so it took a while and Mother Teresa was speaking by the time they made it through the door.

  Although they were late, Johnny walked with his stick right up to the front and Rabbit followed obediently. He pushed in beside a woman with a large growth on the side of her head. She smelt of antiseptic. The church was packed and it was a hot day. The smell of incense, mixed with antiseptic, cheap perfume, sweat and desperation, turned Rabbit’s stomach, and when black dots floated in front of her eyes, she put her head into her hands and hoped she wouldn’t faint. Johnny didn’t notice: he was mesmerized, but all Rabbit could see was a tiny woman dressed in blue and white tea-towels. She spoke in a low and sometimes inaudible voice. He leaned forward: he didn’t want to miss even one word that fell from her mouth. Rabbit was too busy telling herself not to fall down or puke to engage in what the woman had to say.

  At the end the sick lined up for a blessing. Johnny got up more quickly than he had in a long while and, despite heavy competition, he managed to be one of the first in her receiving line. Rabbit stood behind him ready to catch him if he fell and hoping no one would have to catch her. She could see his legs shake a little, but she wasn’t sure if it was the disease or his nerves. The old woman stood in front of him and blessed him, then moved on. She wasn’t in front of him for longer than four seconds and she mumbled a prayer rather than engaging with him. When Mother Teresa was ten people ahead, Rabbit whispered into his ear, ‘Can we go now?’

  ‘Are you joking?’ he whispered back.

  ‘How many Irishmen does it take to screw in a light-bulb? One to hold the light-bulb and twenty to drink until the room spins. That’s a joke. “Can we go?” is a request.’

  He gave her a filthy look, which told her they were going nowhere any
time soon. It was another two hours before they got to leave. Davey was asleep in the car, but he woke up to their heated argument when Rabbit opened the passenger door.

  ‘No, I’ll do it myself,’ Johnny shouted, and pulled away from Rabbit when she tried to help him into the car.

  ‘Fine. Take another half an hour to get into the fucking car. After all, we’re young and we have time.’ She climbed into the back seat and slammed the door.

  ‘It went well, then?’ Davey asked, starting the engine.

  ‘Your sister is the most disrespectful person I’ve ever known,’ Johnny said. It was clear he was both hurt and angry.

  ‘You’ve only copped that now?’ Davey asked, trying to lighten the mood, but it was a losing battle: his sister was as angry as his friend.

  ‘I sat in there for three hours listening to a talking walnut tell us that suffering is a fucking gift,’ Rabbit said.

  ‘You see?’ Johnny said. ‘She’s unbelievable. That’s a saint you’re talking about.’

  Rabbit gave Johnny the finger.

  Davey shook his head. ‘Jaysus, Rabbit, ya can’t be calling Mother Teresa a talking walnut – it’s fucking blasphemy.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you start too, Davey. It’s all bullshit, smoke-and-mirrors shite talk. Why can’t you see that, Johnny?’

  ‘I should never have taken you there.’ His disappointment was almost palpable.

  ‘You’re right.’

  ‘You’ve just taken a deeply special once-in-a-lifetime experience and totally ruined it.’ His knee started jerking. He slammed his hand on it hard to try to stop it but the spasm continued.

  ‘Just stop!’ he roared, and hit his leg again, scaring Rabbit. He did it once more, and his leg kicked out, his knee hitting the dashboard. Davey and Rabbit looked at one another in the mirror. They were both savvy enough not to say anything to Johnny, who had covered his face with his hands and was softly crying. Rabbit felt terrible. She had done her best to support him, but she felt awkward in churches and he knew that none of it made sense to her, and when the old woman had talked about the abomination of abortion, it had really rankled. She shouldn’t have muttered that the nun should mind her own business, especially as she had spoken loudly enough to be heard by the monk in the wheelchair and the woman with one leg sitting next to him. They weren’t impressed. The monk had whispered to her that if she felt like that she should leave. The woman had tutted and glared at her.