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Jimmy

One Week Later

brIGID CALLS JIMMY TO give him the heads-up that Jane is coming home from Switzerland a day early, and Jimmy tells her he’ll go pick her up at JFK.

“How’s she doing?” he asks. “I’ve been trying to leave her alone while they get her started on the juice.”

“So far, so good,” Brigid says. “Everybody’s very optimistic.”

“After just a few days?” Jimmy asks.

“That’s what they’re saying,” Brigid says.

Jimmy says, “You know, you’re not nearly as good a liar as your sister is.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that, Jimmy,” Brigid says.

“My ass you don’t,” he says. “I was born at night, kid. Just not last night.”

He’s waiting for Jane when she comes walking out of the United terminal. Jimmy has a parking space right out front, having fake-badged the airport cop who’d told him to move along, he couldn’t stay there.

Jimmy grins at her before taking her bag.

“You look like shit,” he says.

Jane gives a sad shake to her head. “Well, mister, there goes your five-star Uber rating,” she says. “I’m going to write off your rudeness to jet lag.” She kisses him on the cheek. “Oh, wait. I’m the one with jet lag.”

Jane does most of the talking as they make their way out of the airport and toward the Belt Parkway, going into detail about Fiona Mills, making it sound as if the two of them had been on some sort of cruise.

“Seeing her,” she tells Jimmy, “was better than any medicine they gave me.”

Jimmy doesn’t respond, focusing the way he usually does on the Belt, the New York version of the Daytona 500. But his hands are tighter than usual on the steering wheel, and he knows it’s not just because of the traffic.

“Sounds good,” he says finally.

“Sounds good?” she says. “My friend coming back from the dead sounds good to you?”

“I don’t want to hear more goddamn happy talk about her!” Jimmy snaps. “I want to hear about you.”

“Whoa,” Jane says. “I know this sounds like a question you should probably be asking me. But are you okay?”

“Are you ?” he asks.

“All things considered, yeah,” she says. “The good news is that because of the drugs I’m taking, I don’t have to do another round of chemo. Bottom line? My prognosis is a lot better than when I went over there.”

“Is that so?” Jimmy says.

Before Jane can answer, Jimmy yells, “Stop lying to me!”