“Good old Maude,” he said, smiling. “Who knew that a writer could actually make such a good living? And they say that the world is full of philistines. Your wife wrote her thesis on her, didn’t she?”
“She did,” I admitted. “She even turned it into a book. But it’s probably best not to call Alice my wife. She really doesn’t care for it.”
“I must have a chat with her about the novels, because reading them now, one by one, I can finally see what all the fuss is about. The only thing I’d tell Maude, if she was here, is that she runs the risk of sounding a little anti-man at times, don’t you agree? All the husbands in her novels are stupid, insensitive, faithless individuals with murky pasts, empty heads, micro-penises and questionable morals. But I suppose she had a good imagination, as all writers must, and she was simply making things up. I seem to recall that she didn’t have a very good relationship with her father. Perhaps that’s come into play in her work a little bit.”
“That must be it,” I told him. “I can’t think where else she might have got such ideas.”
“Did your wife mention that in her biography?”
“A little bit, yes.”
“Did she mention me in her biography?”
“Of course.”
“How did I come out of it?”
“Not well,” I said. “But perhaps a little better than expected.”
“All right. How about you? Were you in it?”
“Yes.”
“How did you come out of it?”
“Not well,” I said. “Perhaps a little worse than expected.”
“Such is life. By the way,” he said. “I don’t mean to sound indelicate but I’m finding it a little hard to sleep with the constant sounds of lovemaking coming from your bedroom. Last night I woke up to hear your wife screaming your name out in rapturous pleasure with all the passion of a young nymphomaniac let loose in the dressing room of an under-seventeen boys’ football team. Good for you, my boy, especially after all these years. I admire your ardor! But if you could keep it down a little, I’d appreciate it. I’m a dying man and I need my sleep.”
“Actually, I don’t think it was my name she was calling,” I said.
“Oh it was, it certainly was,” he insisted. “I heard it over and over again. Oh God, Cyril! Yes, Cyril! Right there, Cyril! Don’t worry, that happens to everyone sometimes, Cyril!”
“That’s not me,” I told him. “That’s Cyril II. The boyfriend. I haven’t actually met him yet but I’m assuming that you have.”
“Tall, miserable-looking streak of piss?”
“I don’t know, but let’s assume so.”
“Yes, I’ve met him. He looks in on me every so often and shouts at me as if I’m deaf, the way English people do with foreigners because they think it’ll make them understand them better. He told me that he was playing Pugni’s La Esmeralda all week in the National Concert Hall and I just shook his hand and said Good for you.”
A nurse came to visit every second morning to check up on him, and most afternoons Alice would take him for a walk around Dartmouth Square. As it became clear that he was reaching the end, however, I asked Alice whether I might move in too so that I could be with him when he departed this life for the next.
“What?” she said, looking at me with an expression on her face that suggested she was astonished that I would even ask such a thing.
“The thing is,” I explained, “if he were to take a turn for the worse, you’d have to phone me and by the time I got here he might already be gone. But if I was already here, that wouldn’t happen and there’s the added advantage that I could help you with his care. You’ve done so much for him as it is. You must get exhausted. What with your job and looking after Liam and having raucous sex with Cyril II.”
She stared out the window as if she was trying to think of a good reason to say no. “But where would I put you?” she asked.
“Well, it’s not as if it’s a small house,” I said. “I could take the room at the top, the one that was mine when I was a boy.”
“Oh no,” she said. “I haven’t been up there in so long. It’s probably very dusty. I consider that part of the house to be closed.”
“Well, I could reopen it. And I’d be happy to clean it up myself. Look, if you’d rather I didn’t, then that’s fine. If you don’t want Charles to spend his last moments on earth with his son—”
“Adoptive son.”
“Then I can’t blame you. It would be totally understandable. But if not, then I really would like to.”
“And what about Cyril?” she asked.
“I am Cyril. You don’t have a brain tumor too, do you?”
“My Cyril.”
“I thought I was your Cyril.”
“You see, this is why it will never work.”
“Cyril II, that’s who you’re talking about, is it?”
“Stop calling him that.”
“Well, he’d have to be incredibly insecure to be threatened by me,” I said. “I am, as has been clearly established by this stage, not exactly a ladies’ man. Look, I know it would be an unconventional arrangement but it wouldn’t be for very long. I won’t cause any trouble, I promise.”
“Of course you will,” she said. “You always cause trouble. That’s your role in life. And I don’t know what Liam would say.”
“He’d probably be very happy to have his mummy and daddy together under the same roof at last.”
“You see? I haven’t even said yes yet and you’re already causing trouble. With your little jokes.”
“I just want to be with him,” I said quietly. “Charles, I mean. I’ve made a mess of most of my relationships and it’s been a strange one between the two of us but I’d like it to end well if possible.”
“Fine,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “But this won’t be a long-term arrangement, as long as you understand that. When he’s gone, you’re gone too.”
“I’ll take a lift from the undertaker as he carries the box out the door,” I said. “Promise.”
That night, when Liam returned home, he seemed startled to find both his parents eating dinner together in front of Coronation Street.
“What’s this?” he asked, stopping in the center of the kitchen and staring at us both. “What’s going on?”
“Everything’s changed,” I told him. “We’re getting back together. We’re even thinking of having another child. You’d like a little brother or sister, wouldn’t you?”
“Shut up, Cyril,” said Alice. “Don’t worry, Liam. Your father is just teasing.”
“Don’t call him that,” said Liam.
“Cyril is just teasing you then. He’s moving in while your grandfather is still with us.”
“Oh, all right,” he said. “But why?”
“To help out.”
“I can help out,” he said.
“You can,” said Alice. “But you don’t.”
“It won’t be for long,” I told him. “And he is my father after all.”
“Adoptive father,” said Liam.
“Well, yes,” I said. “But still, the only father I’ve ever known.”
“And what about Cyril?” he asked.
“What about me?”
“No, the other Cyril.”
“Cyril II.”
“Stop calling him that,” said Alice. “Cyril is fine with it. He’ll be home soon and I’ll make the introductions then.”