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— I forgot, he said, to only her.

She nodded, once.

— Weird, he said.

She nodded.

— It was grand, he said now to his brother, Darren.

He was sitting on the stairs in Aoife’s parents’ house. He didn’t know where Darren was. He could hear voices in the background.

— Where are yeh?

— Liffey Valley.

— Hate tha’.

— Give me cancer any day, said Darren.

— I’m a lucky man.

It was Jimmy who’d phoned Darren. He’d forgotten to tell Aoife — he really had; he kept testing himself — and now he felt the urge to tell everyone, to get it out there as quickly as possible, so everyone who needed to know would hear about it properly.

— Yeh shoppin’?

— Kind of, said Darren.

— With Melanie.

— Yeah.

— How’s she doin’?

— Grand. Great.

— Congratulations there, by the way.

— Thanks, yeah. I was goin’ to phone you.

— I know. You’re grand. Da told me.

Darren and himself weren’t close, but that meant nothing. They were brothers. Jimmy decided: he was going to find Leslie.

— So yeah, said Darren. — Everything’s grand. She’s had to give up the kick-boxin’ and the crack cocaine. Other than that, it’s business as usual.

— Great, said Jimmy. — We should meet up for a pint.

They wouldn’t.

— Yeah, said Darren. — When?

The air was full of the unexpected. Jimmy reminded himself: he had cancer. He was telling the people who mattered and they were responding.

— Don’t know, said Jimmy.

— When suits you?

— Wednesday? said Jimmy.

— Okay, said Darren. — After work?

— No, said Jimmy. — Before.

— That’d be good, said Darren.

Jimmy didn’t actually know if Darren drank, if he was a drinker the way their father was a drinker. He doubted it. Or if he was a wine drinker, a bottle or two at home with Melanie — although she wouldn’t be drinking now. She’d be guzzling the infusions, some blend of rhubarb and nettle that guaranteed the kid would be a fuckin’ genius.

— What’s that? he said. — I lost yeh there.

— About six, said Darren. — I’ll come in straight after.

— Straight after what?

— Work.

— Oh grand, said Jimmy. — You still have a job so.

— I have, yeah, said Darren. — I’ve hidden it.

— Good man.

Darren was a lecturer, out in Maynooth.

— You? said Darren.

— I’m grand, I think, said Jimmy.

— Nostalgia’s always big in a recession.

— Fuck off, said Jimmy.

— Am I right, though?

— You might be, yeah. I’ll tell you all about it when we meet. And you can stick it in one of your fuckin’ lectures.

— Where?

— In the middle. I don’t care.

— Where’ll we meet?

— I don’t mind.

— Where’s good near you?

— Don’t know really, said Jimmy. — I’ll ask some of the younger ones in work. Then we can go somewhere different.

— That makes sense, said Darren. — And look.

— What? said Jimmy.

— I’m sorry — yeh know?

— You’re grand, said Jimmy. — Thanks. I’ll let you get back to your shoppin’.

— Duvet covers, said Darren.

— Brilliant.

— I’ll photograph them for yeh, send you the jpeg.

— Lovely, said Jimmy.

— Wednesday so.

— Yeah, great, said Jimmy. — I’ll text you the pub.

He stayed on the stairs for a while. He could hear the rest of them in the front room. Talking low, just a bit above whispering. He thought he heard a sniffle. Aoife, maybe, or maybe her mother.

He’d stay put for another minute.

He followed the boys into the bedroom and closed the door.

— Listen, lads, he said. — I’ve a bit of news.

Jesus.

The three of them stood in a huddle between the radiator and the bed. The boys were taller than Jimmy now. He felt like the kid.

— Don’t worry about this, he said. — It’ll be fine.

He looked from face to face.

— I’ve got bowel cancer.

They stared at him. They were waiting for the punchline but they knew there wouldn’t be one. Jimmy was the world’s biggest bollocks. What he’d just done was illegal — or it fuckin’ should have been.

The boys were still waiting to be rescued.

— So, said Jimmy. — So. I wanted to tell yis—. Jesus, lads, I’m sorry about this.

— It’s cool, said young Jimmy.

And that saved Jimmy; he could go on.

— It’ll be grand, he told them. — It’ll be a bit — I don’t know — inconvenient. For a while just.

— It’s cancer, said Marvin.

— Yeah.

— That’s not inconvenient, Dad.

— Yeah, said Jimmy. — Yeah. Come here.

He put an arm around each boy’s shoulders. He had to reach up to do it. He felt himself going, falling over, but they held him.

— I’ll be grand, he said.

They were stiff there, angry, frightened. Jimmy was talking right into the side of Marvin’s head.

— It’s not the worst of them, he said. — The cancers, like. And we’ve found it early enough.

— What’s that mean?

— It’s confined, said Jimmy. — It hasn’t spread, you know.

He could feel the boys trying to control their breath, trying not to push away.

— It can be beaten, he said.

— How? said Marvin.

He was the stiffest, the angrier one.

— Well, said Jimmy. — Chemo and surgery.

— What’s chemo? young Jimmy asked.

— Chemotherapy.

— I know. What is it?

— Chemicals, said Jimmy. — I suppose that’s the simplest way to — I don’t know.

They were still clinging to one another. He wanted to sit down.

— They nuke the bad cells — the chemicals, you know. Basically.

— Sounds good, said young Jimmy.

— I’m lookin’ forward to it, said Jimmy. — It’ll be like goin’ mad in a head shop.

The boys tried to laugh.

— I’m really sorry about this, said Jimmy.

He let go of them. They seemed to expand, to rise above him. He wanted them back. But he sat on the bed. They stood there in front of him. They were awkward, polite, lovely. And separate — they stood like young men who didn’t really know each other. They waited for permission to go.

— I’ll be grand, said Jimmy.

Marvin nodded. Young Jimmy was going to cry.

— It’ll just be.

— Keep an eye out for your mam.

— For fuck sake, said Marvin.

Jimmy laughed, delighted. He held his hands up.

— Sorry, he said. — Yis hungry?

They were starving. They were always fuckin’ starving.

— Sort of, said young Jimmy.

— Me too, said Jimmy. — But I’ll be tellin’ May and Brian about it — the news, yeh know. Downstairs. But I wanted to tell you first. I thought you could handle it.

— Man to man, said Marvin.

He was an angry kid.

— There’s no good way, Marv.

— S’pose.

— Boys, said Jimmy. — I love you.

— Love you too, young Jimmy whispered.

— Yeah, Marvin whispered.

Jimmy got up off the bed and hugged them again. They let go a bit, properly. They cried a bit. The snot flowed.

— Check your shoulders, lads.

They were back down and dry-eyed in time for the arrival of the Chinese. They all sat around the table. It was a bit of a squash — it had been since the older pair had taken off and become the world’s tallest Rabbittes, or Egan-Rabbittes. Aoife glanced at Jimmy. He shook his head; he’d wait till they’d finished eating. Young Jimmy looked pale, although he was still ploughing into the Chicken Cantonese Style.