Not My Problem

by Ciara Smyth

  We did this for four more days.

  I made up excuses to escort her to and from work. She didn’t ask me what the hell I was playing at because some part of her must have suspected and she was afraid that if she asked, I might tell her. I let my phone die and didn’t charge it. I couldn’t face Meabh and Kavi asking me why I still wasn’t at school. They’d be mad, but my sober companion act with Mam was working, and that made it worth it. As far as I could tell she hadn’t had a drink since Sunday evening, or maybe Monday morning.

  The problem was, the week had felt like forever. It was exhausting, staying on her all the time, and by Sunday I was getting a knot in my stomach, wondering how long this could go on for. It may have felt like forever, but it had only been a week. Was a week enough for her to start keeping it up by herself? For her to want to keep it up?

  The decision was taken out of my hands. We were watching Fair City when someone rapped on the door. Mam and I looked at each other, confused. We didn’t know people who dropped by. Mam shrugged and was about to get up and answer it when a thought occurred to me. Had Meabh or Kavi found out where I lived and come round to check on me? Or Holly.

  “No,” I said suddenly, “you sit. I’ll get it.”

  It wasn’t Holly. It wasn’t Meabh or Kavi either.

  It was weird to see Ms. Devlin outside school. Obviously I knew she didn’t sleep in the gym cupboards and probably had some kind of real life with a partner and children and that sort of thing. But as much as you can know these things, it is never not weird to see your teacher outside of school. It is doubly weird when it’s not a supermarket or McDonald’s but your actual doorstep. Even weirder, she wasn’t wearing gym gear. She had on jeans and a stripy top and she was wearing glasses. I’d never seen her glasses before and yet now that I had it was very clear that she was meant to wear them. They fit her face.

  “Uh, miss . . . ,” I said, gathering myself. “I know I’m your favorite student and all, but it’s a Sunday. The Lord’s day and all that.”

  “Can I come in?” she asked, ignoring that she was interrupting my good praying time.

  In response, I slid through the smallest gap I could manage and closed the door behind me.

  “May I come in,” I corrected her, flashing her a beaming smile. “Sorry. It’s not really a good time, miss. My mam . . .” I sort of trailed off, not sure what would be a good enough excuse.

  “I’d really like to speak with your mother, Aideen. I’ve been calling her mobile but it’s off.”

  I was confused for a second; then I remembered it was my mobile she’d been ringing.

  “She’s really sick, miss. She’s in bed now actually.” I dropped my voice to a stage whisper as though I was trying not to disturb her.

  Ms. Devlin raised her eyebrows. “Lurgy, is it? Gangrene? Quinsy?”

  I made a mental note to google quinsy.

  Forcing a laugh, I shook my head. “No, miss, regular old flu.”

  “Have you been off caring for her?”

  That was a trick question. The social would have something to say about me missing school to care for my mother.

  “No, not at all. She’s come down with it today, just as I was feeling better.”

  “So you’re feeling better,” she said. It wasn’t a question. It was another trap. Although I’d kind of walked into that one myself.

  “Well. I mean. I feel a bit better but I’m still not feeling great. Probably contagious. You’re probably getting all my germs right now. Good thing you didn’t come in the house or you’d be caught in a swamp of germs. It’s so thick with the bastards in there that the air is legit green. I swear.”

  Ms. Devlin sighed. She pushed her glasses up her nose and peered at me pointedly.

  “You don’t look like someone who has had flu, Aideen.”

  “Miss, unless those glasses have some kind of James Bond body-scanning powers, I’m not sure how you can prove that.”

  Ms. Devlin looked at me evenly, waiting. Then I realized what I’d said.

  “I mean tell that. I don’t mean. I mean you can’t tell by—”

  “Save it,” she said in her PE teacher voice. “I’m not here to prove anything. I’m here because you didn’t come to school all week and no one could get through to your mother.”

  “I’m fine, miss. It was just the flu.”

  “So I’ll see you in registration tomorrow?”

  I hesitated.

  “Aideen,” she said, and her voice became quiet and more serious than usual. “This is a matter that I should only be discussing with your mother for the moment, because you are a minor. But your attendance since September has been dreadful, and with this week’s absences you are dangerously close to the limit. The school has some discretion but I know that they are this close to contacting the education welfare board and that means there will be an investigation. There could be a fine, which I know you don’t need.”

  I couldn’t help but flush at the implication. I thought about what Ms. Devlin must have seen coming here. Things that I forget to see. Rubbish strewn all over the streets and burned-out bins, cars blaring dance music that paused to let one of the boys out and then squealed off, broken beer bottles in the building’s entrance and the smell of the bin room seeping through the walls. Maybe I should have let her in the flat. It was nothing special but it was clean and tidy. I didn’t want her to think that it was like the outside. But really the thing she said about education welfare was a bigger problem. That’s just a fancy term for the social worker who gives you hassle about going to school. I couldn’t have them coming to the flat. I was barely keeping it together for me and Mam. I couldn’t put on a show for the social too. I had a terrible feeling that I would burst. Or that it would burst out of me. The worries. That I might break down and actually tell them that I couldn’t sleep at night because I was afraid that Mam would get up and leave and that she would come back drunk hours later. Or that she wouldn’t come back. I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t betray her like that. I wouldn’t give myself the chance to either.

  “I’ll be in tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll be there early! I promise. Let me walk you out.”

  Ms. Devlin was not stupid. She knew I was getting rid of her, but I wasn’t stupid either (at least not about this), so there wasn’t much she could do about it right now. There was the worry that she’d pull a Goody Two-shoes busybody move and call the social about her concerns, but maybe if I acted really good for a few weeks she’d forget about it. She could move on to the next charity case she wanted to rescue.

  When I closed the front door, my first thought was that I’d left enough time for Mam to find the drink I was convinced was still hidden in the flat, and then I wondered what I was going to do tomorrow when I couldn’t mind her all day. Monday. The salon was closed on Mondays. She’d have the whole day to fuck it up. But when I entered the living room it didn’t look like she’d budged an inch. She was curled up with a cup of tea and beginning to doze off. I crossed my fingers—you know, like, my metaphorical fingers—that this week had been enough to give her a head start. Mam wanted to stay sober, I reminded myself. She needed me to help her this week because the first week was the worst. Probably.

  “Who was that, love?”

  “Bloody number eight saying we had his Amazon package. I told him we didn’t and sure I went downstairs and there it was sitting in the window beside the postboxes.”

  “Next time he comes round, you tell me,” she said sternly. “I don’t want you talking to the likes of him.”

  She cared about me. I knew Mam knew why I’d been following her around all week. Hopefully she’d feel too guilty to start drinking the second my back was turned. All the same . . .

  “Maybe you should go to one of your groups after work tomorrow?” I tried to sound casual as I flopped back in the seat beside her. “You’ve not been because you were taking care of me all week but you said you were going to, and I’m all right enough to go back to school now.”


  “Sure thing, love,” she said, and she took my socked feet in her hands and rubbed the toes. “I’m glad you’re going back. Wee Holly must be lost without you.”

  Yeah right.

  25.

  Holly leaned into Jill and whispered something, and Jill laughed and I felt so lonely. I’d arrived into registration slightly out of breath, as I’d had to run past Ms. Devlin to get there before her. Meabh was at the front of the room but there was no free space beside her. I took a spot near the door, realizing too late that it was next to Ronan. He was making obscene gestures to the boy next to him and I did my best not to hear a thing they said. I wondered if Holly had texted me while I’d been off. I hadn’t charged my phone yet. I think I was afraid to see that she hadn’t.

  Ms. Devlin entered the room several seconds after me. She raised her eyebrow when she saw me panting on my bouncy ball.

  “Nice form this morning, Aideen,” she said.

  I laughed. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “All right, lads, I want to remind you that the student council election is on Friday this week. There’s a debate on Thursday after final period that I’d like you all to attend—”

  “You might not have a life, miss, but I’m not going to any debate after school. I’d rather be kicked in the balls,” Ronan scoffed.

  “That makes two of us. You’re dismissed,” she said, with a wave of her hand.

  It took Ronan a second to catch on. The snickers around the room were the only thing that alerted him.

  “Miss, you cannot just say you wish I’d get kicked in the balls!”

  “Certainly I couldn’t say those words, in that order, where anyone could hear me. But as long as my meaning is ambiguous, then I think it’s fine. Yes, Holly?”

  I swiveled to see Holly with her hand in the air.

  “Miss, I think this is a problem. No one is going to come if it’s after school. Can we not make it an in-school event? Like last period or something?”

  “Ronan can still go get kicked in the balls, though, if that’s okay with you,” Jill added.

  My stomach flipped as I watched Ms. Devlin consider this. I knew what this debate was. A chance for Holly to shine and for Meabh to come off as stuffy and boring and aggressive. Holly had said she wanted to beat Meabh publicly, and she wanted the whole school to see it.

  “I think that’s a good idea, actually,” Meabh said. “As many people as possible should hear our ideas.”

  Meabh still thought if she brought the best ideas people would vote for her.

  For someone who had “reading the news” in her daily schedule, I don’t know how she maintained such naive optimism. I wanted it to be true for her though.

  “I think we could work something out,” Ms. Devlin said thoughtfully. “I don’t see why seniors couldn’t take one class to engage in the democratic process. Mandatorily. And I have a first-year English class at that time. They could come too and watch persuasive writing in action.”

  Meabh and Holly wore equally smug expressions.

  One period later I was back in the PE hall. I hadn’t a clue what had happened in geography class. In the week I was away, I’d missed something vital. It had been worth it, though, I told myself. I was worried about Mam. I carried it around with me like a heavy stone in my chest but I was hopeful she wouldn’t mess up the good start I’d given her. A little part of me was happy too, knowing I’d get a chance to see Meabh soon and talk to her properly. Underneath all the worry there was a giddy flutter in my stomach and it became stronger the closer to the PE hall I got.

  “I’m glad to see you back today, Aideen,” Ms. Devlin said when I approached her with my note. “I spoke with your teachers while you were gone. Miss Hennessy told me there had been some improvement before you got ‘sick.’ I want to see that continue now that you’re back.”

  She didn’t use air quotes around the word sick, but I heard them all the same.

  “Miss Hennessy . . . ,” I said, rubbing my chin. “Remind me?”

  “Your Maths teacher,” Ms. Devlin said dryly. “The one who uses numbers instead of words.”

  “Riiiight. I’m practically a model student,” I said, and I found myself feeling cheerful, like the weight in my chest had lightened a little. “Am I getting one of those awards they give out at the end of the year? Did you call me back because you want to ask about my trophy preferences? Gold is fine.”

  “The committee will be in touch about engraving later. We want to make sure we spell your name right, of course,” she replied. “Actually, I wanted to ask you what you’ve been doing differently.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’ve been struggling in Maths for as long as you’ve been at this school. I’ve been pestering you since September about handing in homework and you ignore everything I say. All of a sudden I’m hearing you’re actually doing it. At least in one class.”

  “I had some help.” I couldn’t keep the smile from my face when Meabh came up, even if no one had actually said her name.

  “From?”

  “From a friend.”

  “Is your friend a secret?”

  “I guess not.” Why was I so reluctant to tell Ms. Devlin anything? I felt like it was like being arrested. Where anything you say can and will be used against you. “Meabh Kowalska.” There was the smile again. Betraying me.

  “Ahhh. She’s helping you when the two of you are up there slacking off.” She jerked her head toward the balcony.

  “Miss. Honestly. Meabh is not slacking.” I felt very defensive of her. “She has a sprained ankle. And I have the vapors.” I handed her my note.

  “The vapors?”

  “Yes. Vapors. From my womb.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “You’re right. Maybe I should go home and lie down.”

  “How are things at home?”

  I wanted to kick myself. I’d set my own trap.

  “Fantastic,” I said. “Could not be better.”

  A slip is a slip is a slip. It didn’t mean going back to square one. She’d had a whole week of being sober. A week was a good start. I bet in AA there was a chip for that. In Mam’s group there were no chips. Maybe I should make her a chip.

  “I could get you help in your other subjects. We talked about this.”

  “Miss, honestly, I don’t know how much more you want from me. I’ve done my Maths homework. I’m getting that trophy. Your expectations are so high.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m glad things seem to be going well. I have my eye on you, though.”

  Weirdly that didn’t make me feel nervous. It was kind of nice to think someone had their eye on me.

  Meabh was hunched over her laptop up in the balcony. I felt the giddiness ramp up yet again and I felt very aware of my body being awkward. It was full of nervous energy. Meabh had already spread pages of notes around and she had tied her hair back and she had one pen behind her ear, one in her mouth, and a long pen mark on her neck. She’d thrown her jumper off and so she was just in her school shirt. I could just see the shadow of a lime-green sports bra underneath.

  What should I say?

  Her skirt was hitched up again and her long legs caught my eye. I remembered our almost kiss the night of the party.

  How should I say it?

  I remembered seeing her in her wet T-shirt, watching her peel it off, and I felt a hot rush through my body. I wondered what she would do if I kissed her now and I thought about how much more fun that would be than doing Maths homework every PE class.

  How do you have a normal facial expression? Mine was being weird.

  A montage of images flooded my head. Even though I knew that Meabh would never consider letting me kiss her neck, loosen her school tie, unbutton her shirt, and slide my hands up her thighs on school property. It would be sacrilegious to her.

  But I could picture it.

  “Hi,” I said, hoping I sounded casual but sexy but mysterious
and exciting. It was a lot to ask of one word.

  She grunted in reply and didn’t look up.

  Okay. Well, she was working. I knew it would take a lot to distract her from work. But Ms. Devlin had often called me “a lot” so I was more than capable. I mean, granted, she meant in a different kind of way, but that was fine.

  I sat on the bench nearest to the zone Meabh had designated her work area. That zone encompassed an approximately three-mile radius of nerd debris, but I got as close as I could and stretched out on it, trying to appear as though I was just naturally lounging while scrunched-up papers scratched my leg and a pen lodged under my hip. I propped my head up on my hands and fluttered my eyelashes. Was I doing sexy right? Should I be doing this pose on a piano instead?

  “So . . . I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch since the party. Or, well, after the party,” I said, hoping to nudge her memory. “It was really fun though. Thanks for helping.”

  “Hmph,” Meabh said.

  I did not like that tone.

  “Uh . . . are you okay?” I said, reaching out and putting my hand on her arm. I felt like I was in trouble, so now was not the time to think about Meabh’s arms or to notice that I could feel her biceps through the fabric. But they were tensed. Not a good sign, but I just wondered what it would it be like if she used them to pin me down.

  Jesus, stop it. Somehow now that the Meabh is hot switch had been flicked, no pun intended, it was all I could think about when I looked at her.

  But she shook my hand off her arm.

  “I don’t have time for you right now.” Her voice was cold enough to douse my sudden hornball energy. I sat up, feeling stupid and humiliated.

  “What’s your problem, what did I do?”

  “Nothing,” she snapped. “You didn’t do anything.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She was mad. It made my heart pound, and not in the Meabh is so hot kind of way.