Not My Problem

by Ciara Smyth

The other is doing something amazing with my life and coming back to a school reunion and rubbing it in everyone’s faces. I’d invent an app that everyone uses and I’d rock up to the reunion and people would be using it and they’d be like, Oh, Aideen, nice to see you after ten years. Are you on Flubberygiblets? and I’d shrug like I didn’t even care. I invented Flubberygiblets, I’d say. Everyone would think I was class and then I’d be like, Have you met my wife, Kristen Stewart? We’re flying on a private jet to Maui tonight to have lots of sex and lip biting. Fuckity bye, assholes.

“There are few holes in this,” I said. “One: I guarantee I’m not going to be wondering what you’re doing years from now.” I’d be too busy making love to my wife, Kristen Stewart, on a bed of Flubberygiblets™ money.

“Well, of course there’s no list. It’s all a load of bolloxology, but I’m not going to let that get in the way of making fun of you, am I?” “Heaven forbid.” “They would if they could. They try and ban everything fun.”

“Yes, sir. Right back to class.” I waved him off with a cheery goodbye and when the door swung closed I gave him the finger. It’s the little things that keep me going.

“You should try mixing sugar into your coffee during the day instead of cocaine, Kavi.”

“How is that you live a life of scheduled pee breaks and yet you still somehow manage to find the time and energy to correct my grammar?”

Me and the rest of the class had been traumatized by the last fifty minutes of our lives. I didn’t think Mícheál was ever going to be able to talk about it. At one point he tried to intervene and . . . well, at least he’d escaped with his life, if not his dignity. That was something.

At that moment Mr. Kowalski stepped out of his office. Immediately Kavi flopped onto my shoulder and began wailing at the top of his lungs. “SHE’S THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN THE WHOLE WORLD BUT SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW I EXIST.” He flailed backward and collapsed on the sofa with a hand over his forehead like an old movie star dying of consumption.

Mam was already home when I got there. I tensed, on the lookout for signs of Dad. Nothing. My shoulders dropped. I should have realized he wasn’t there when I didn’t see the mark of Satan hovering over the building.

Holly and I bounced on our exercise balls during registration. I would have abs of steel soon. You wouldn’t be able to see them because of the comfortable layer of squish on top, but that was fine with me.

Ronan shuddered. “Miss, you cannot be telling us you’ve had sex.” “There are a few nuns wandering the halls of this place, Ronan. I am not one of them. I’m sorry that comes as a surprise to you.”

There was a moment when the whole class realized that Ms. Devlin had heard him say it. I think every single person held their breath. Ms. Devlin looked at Ronan like he was a spider and she was considering whether or not to squish him.

“Aideen cannot take part in PE today because she is suffering from hysteria.” Ms. Devlin sighed. “Aideen, tell me, what is hysteria?” “Um, you know, when bitches be crazy?” I said. “This is your most offensive illness yet.”

“How are you tits deep in work and it’s only nine fifteen?” “I’m always tits deep,” she said absently. “I walk around brushing work off my nipples on a twenty-four seven basis.” “Sounds chafey,” I said.

She gave me one of her Meabh stares. The one that was half teacher, half international despot.

“This is good,” Laura said, her voice wavering. “It smells like rubber and sweaty hands,” I said, “but whatever tingles your jingles.”

Ronan was trying to huff the next morning. But it’s hard to really take someone’s bad mood seriously when they’re sitting on a bouncy ball with their arms folded and their bottom lip pouting.

“What are you talking about?” I said with my most beamingest smile. “This is my natural face.” “Your eyelids are rainbow colored,” she said. “That’s one of my diseases, miss. Kind of insensitive of you to make fun of me.” “Miss Cleary, you are wearing a full face of makeup. If I dragged my finger down your face there’d be a groove in your cheek.” I sighed dramatically.

After a second she let out a shriek of frustration so sudden it made me jump. I’d only ever heard one other person over the age of two make a noise like that, and weirdly it was in the exact same room. I made a mental note that if I ever wanted to try some therapeutic screaming, the acoustics in here were great.

We reached the door to the sports hall. She closed her eyes and took one more deep, calming breath. When she opened them she had a perfectly neutral expression. The kind serial killers probably used when they wanted to look “normal.” It did not look normal.

“But if you’re sitting on your phone, you’re not going to go to the school website and look it up. Not when you can watch scenes from musicals performed by a cast of old mops on TikTok.” I couldn’t argue with that. I had an overpowering urge to see The Sound of Music with Captain von Trapp played by a Swiffer. And all the von Trapp kids could be dustpans with googly eyes.

She gave me a long look. “You remind me so much of myself at your age. Unfocused. Out of her depth. You’re not a bad kid. You do need some discipline though.” “Sadly, caning is now illegal, miss.”

“The Geneva protocol prohibits biological warfare, Aideen. Nice try. Up you get.” “I can’t. I literally cannot move. I live here now. The birds will take me eventually. Try to move on with your life. Don’t blame yourself.” “If you’re still spouting nonsense, then you have a few more laps in you. Take it at a walk.”

Could the almighty not do me one single solid and strike me down right now? In ye olde testament it sounded like he did a lot of striking and smiting and yet when you needed a good smite into a pile of dust or a pillar of salt or whatever, he was nowhere to be found.

“Do you know what syphilis is?” she said, smothering a smile. Unsuccessfully. “An old-timey disease?” “It’s an STD that causes sores on your genitals, rectum, and mouth.” “Wow. Are you implying I couldn’t have syphilis because no one would want to sleep with me? That’s rude.” “No. I’m sure you could get syphilis from anyone you want,” she joked. Then she flushed.

Eventually I just turned the ringer on because I thought it was better than checking it every two minutes and getting in trouble that way. Of course last class of the day I got a reply and Mr. Smith practically ate the face off the class trying to figure out whose text tone was an audio clip of Kristen Stewart saying, “I am, like, so gay, dude.”

I knew she’d done it to make me happy but all it felt like was that she’d taken something that made me happy in the past and tried to use it as a bandage for my pain now. Pain that she caused. It tainted the good thing.

“So you’ve never used one to, like, get someone to do your homework or something?” “That sounds like a great idea, but frankly if I start handing in good homework at this point of my education, I think it would only be a red flag.”

“I don’t think you can make people stop being dicks,” he said thoughtfully. “They either will or they won’t on their own time. I don’t need them to be on my side. I just need someone who is, so I’m not alone. I need people I can talk to. And I have that now.”

I didn’t know what it was like to be Meabh, and I certainly would never get what it was like to be Kavi, but I knew what it was like to feel alone.

I was confused for a moment. Why would I come with her? Then I realized she meant for me to sit beside her for the debate. “Sure,” I said, trying not to sound surprised. You don’t want other people to know your first thought is, Why do you want to sit with me?

Somehow my mind always jumped to making excuses for her. I still wanted to find a way that it wasn’t her fault. As I walked home I tried to figure out why I did that. Why did I always want to see the best in her and ignore the worst? Then the voice came, like it always did, when I least wanted to hear it. If you accept that there’s a problem, then you have to do something about it.

“I like your hair,” I said, and I privately congratulated myself on being smooth with the ladies. I like your hair. That was going to go down in history as one of the great lines.

Kavi and I pressed our ears against the door. “Like old times,” he whispered. “It was two weeks ago.” “Old times.” He smiled wistfully.