He squeezed his eyes shut.
— You alrigh’?
It was his da. Worried. Quiet.
— Yeah, said Jimmy. — I’m grand.
His eyes were open again. He looked at his da.
— I just remembered somethin’, he said.
— Oh-oh.
They were side by side at the table.
— D’yeh know wha’? his da said now.
— Wha’?
— I see a man cringin’ like tha’. The way you were now. Yeah?
— Okay. Yeah. Go on.
— Well, I say to myself, there’s a man who’s nearly back to normal. He’s done somethin’ stupid. Am I righ’?
— Yeah.
— I knew it, said his da. — An’ between you, me an’ the fuckin’ wall —
He looked around, like he was in a shite film, checking to see if anyone was earwigging. Then he leaned in, even closer to Jimmy.
— I’m delighted, he said. — That’s all I’ll say.
— Thanks.
— Is it serious?
— No, said Jimmy. — No. Not really.
— It won’t kill yeh?
— No.
— Grand.
He’d slapped the cunt twice. At least. He remembered being pulled away, and someone getting between the two of them. It was the father in him. He’d explained it — he’d tried to, to Noeleen.
— When I saw his hand.
— Okay, listen —
— I just saw red. He’s twice — he’s fuckin’ three or four times her age.
— I know, she’d said. — And here’s what, Jimbo. It’s exactly where you wanted to put your own hand. Now, for God’s sake, listen —
He smiled at his da.
— I’ll mingle, he said.
— Good luck, said his da.
He didn’t know how many were in the house. He actually didn’t know how many there were in the family. There were his sisters, Sharon, and the twins, Linda and Tracy. There was his brother, Darren. Where’s Les! There was his gang, the kids and Aoife. There was Sharon’s young one, Gina, tall and gorgeous and twenty-one, and Sharon’s other kid, Craig. Her husband, Martin, had become her ex-husband since last Christmas, so they wouldn’t be seeing him again. Martin had seemed alright when Jimmy had met him the first few times, but he’d turned out to be a bollix. Mean with the money, and just plain mean. But Sharon had stuck with him for a while — a good while. Craig must have been fourteen now, and Martin had only left some time in the summer. Anyway, he was gone, so that was one less.
— What’re yeh doin’?
It was his da again.
— Countin’ the family, said Jimmy.
— Why?
— Just curious.
— How many is there?
— I’m not finished, said Jimmy. — Eleven so far.
— Did yeh subtract tha’ culchie cunt?
That was Martin.
— I did, yeah.
There was Darren’s pregnant Melanie, and their two, Fay and Fergal. That brought it up to fourteen. Should he include the unborn kid? Better not, he decided. Just in case.
— What’re you smilin’ at?
— Nothin’.
There were his ma and da. Sixteen. Melanie was already huge, even though she wasn’t all that pregnant — Jimmy wasn’t sure. Time had gone weird on him. It was the way she was moving, and the colour of her face. She looked colossal. And lovely.
There was his other sisters, the twins. They were identical but one of them had five kids and the other was a lesbian. How had that happened? They’d been mad about the same boybands and real boys when they were thirteen or so, the last time Jimmy had really known them. Anyway, there was Tracy’s five, Glen, Alex, Shauna, Jordy and he couldn’t remember the name of the youngest, the bullet-headed little bastard who’d charged into him earlier. Five kids, and she was only thirty-three or so. The young one, the only girl, was following Mahalia everywhere, holding onto Mahalia’s new H & M hoodie. There was Glen Sr, Tracy’s husband. He was usually out the back, smoking and avoiding everyone. He was okay, the few times Jimmy had actually spoken to him. That made twenty-two — he thought. Then there was Linda’s partner, Louise. This was her third Stephen’s Day, so she qualified.
— She’s sound enough, his da had said once, when Jimmy had asked him what he thought.
— You’ve no problem with her?
His da shrugged.
— No, he said. — I wish she was better lookin’. A bit more — yeh know. I’d love to be able to flirt with my daughter’s wife, yeh know. But she’s grand. She’s good for Linda.
— What does tha’ mean?
— I don’t know, to be honest. Your mammy said it. So that’s the line. I’ll tell yeh but. She plays a great game o’ pitch an’ putt.
— Wha’?!
— Wha’ d’yeh mean, Wha’?
— You play pitch an’ putt with a lesbian?
— I’ll play pitch an’ putt with annyone. Is there a rule tha’ says I can’t?
So Louise made it twenty-three.
The twins weren’t nearly as identical as they used to be. There was more of Tracy, but she looked happier, or at least smilier. Linda didn’t look unhappy, and maybe she’d just had less to drink than Tracy. Glen Sr must have been the designated driver, wherever he was. Out in their mini-van, waiting for it all to end.
Anyway, Louise had two kids, Max and Faith, and she’d brought them with her. They were both adults, and they lived in New York — or they used to — with their dad. This was the first time Jimmy had seen them.
Darren was beside him.
— What d’you make of Mad Max?
— He hasn’t said a word.
— Gas, isn’t it? His mother’s gay, his father’s a vegan and he thinks he’s walked into a house full of weirdos. He’s terrified.
— Your woman can’t be a vegan too, can she?
— Faith?
— Yeah.
— Doubt it.
— She’s a big girl, said Jimmy. — It’s a nice name, isn’t it? Faith.
— She’s an atheist.
— I wasn’t watchin’ them eat, were you?
— I was, yeah, said Darren.
— Did they eat the turkey an’ ham?
— Well, Beyond the Thunderdome ate nothin’.
— At all?
— At all.
— Jaysis. An’ Faith?
— She ate her own and his.
— Excellent.
It was the strange thing about being in a packed room. You could talk away and no one heard you.
— His first.
— Wha’?
— She wolfed Max’s dinner first, said Darren. — Took a breath, then went down on her own.
— Brilliant. How’s Melanie?
Darren looked at Jimmy over the top of his glasses.
— She’s fine.
— Good. She looks great.
There was a scream. The house was full of screams. No one really gave a fuck. Even the women had copped on. The kids would sort themselves out.
— How are you? Darren asked him.
— I’m grand, said Jimmy. — I got a trumpet for Christmas.
— I got a train set, said Darren. — But I don’t have cancer.
— Neither do I, said Jimmy.
Darren was looking at him over his specs again.
— Why don’t yeh get lenses, Darren?
He was a superior little cunt sometimes.
— D’you even need those fuckin’ glasses? You spend most of your time lookin’ over them.
— You don’t have cancer? said Darren.
— No, said Jimmy. — I don’t. I used to. That’s the way I’m lookin’ at it.
— When does the chemo start?
— Couple of weeks.
— What does it involve?
— Happy Christmas, Darren.
— Okay, said Darren. — Sorry.
— Grand, said Jimmy. — What d’yeh think but? Do I include Faith an’ Thunderdome in the family?