by Ciara Smyth
“Yes. Please tell me.” I reached to hold her hand. “If you want to, of course.”
“It’s not a secret, although it’s been feeling like one lately,” she started. “The only reason I didn’t tell you is because I thought you might not want to hear it. You never asked why I was here or why Mum was in America even though I mentioned those things and it made me think you didn’t want to know anything about my life back home.”
I’d been ignoring it for my own selfish reasons. More guilt to stow deep down and never examine.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to pry,” I said, hoping that was a good enough explanation for me being totally rude.
“The reason I’m here staying with Oliver’s family in the first place is my parents are in America. My little brother needed surgery. A kind you can’t always get on the NHS. We don’t have any money so Uncle Harry paid for everything and they went to the States because the best surgeon is there. Uncle Harry insisted on the best. I agreed to stay here until they get back so they wouldn’t have to worry about me or spend any more of his money bringing me with them.”
She said all this in one breath like she’d been holding it in since I met her.
My mind flooded with questions I didn’t know if it was OK to even ask. What was wrong with her brother? Could he die? Had he always been like this or did he get sick suddenly? Had he had the surgery yet? Did it work?
“What’s his name?”
“Noah.”
“Tell me about him.”
Ruby told me all about Noah. How he had a specific type of cerebral palsy and the surgery was meant to improve his walking and balance and reduce muscle spasticity (which Ruby had to explain to me). It had to be followed up with a lot of physical therapy. She also told me that Noah was Ariana Grande’s biggest fan and that he wore a Spider-Man outfit six days a week. Her family had gone out early to have a bit of a holiday and then they’d be staying awhile for recovery and aftercare. She said complications were rare, but she still panicked every time her mum phoned just in case. When they got back Noah would be spending a long time getting intensive physical therapies in a treatment center in London. Thankfully it was a short commute from their home. Ruby was putting off uni until next year because she wanted to be around to help and get a job to help pay for some of the cost of all the traveling and extra things they needed. It surprised me that they didn’t have money. Somehow I’d assumed that because Oliver’s family were rich, Ruby’s family were too. But it didn’t surprise me that Ruby would do that for her family. I thought about her story about the gymnastics classes, the way she rescued (stole) kittens, her period campaign, and how even after I messed up and lied to her she still wanted to be there for me and help me with Dad. She would do anything to care for the people she loved.
Unlike me.
She was so cheerful and positive and though she was obviously sad that her little brother had to deal with such big things, I couldn’t see in her the horrible things I saw in myself. The frustration and tiredness and self-pity. The shame or anger or hopelessness.
“I think next year when things are a bit more settled I’m going to try and do something like what Beth was talking about at uni. I did psychology A level—do you think that would be relevant? It sounds so cool. Do you think she’d let me tag along to a meeting or something?” Ruby chattered, and she seemed lighter and happier than ever. And it was the first career option she’d considered that had lasted more than fifteen seconds.
“Probably,” I said, swallowing the horrible thoughts.
Now that Ruby had finally been able to tell me something that was so important to her, she was giddy and free like she might float away on a strong breeze. But the lightness I’d felt earlier vanished. A ton weight of guilt kept me firmly grounded.
“You should ask,” I said, swallowing it down. “Maybe you could get a job there after university. You could branch out to films and TV and work on improving lesbian representation in the media.”
“No more suicides or turning into hawks at the end.”
“And a thousand percent more kissing.”
In a spontaneous burst, Ruby threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly. “I’m really glad I told you, Saoirse. It doesn’t feel right keeping something so big from you.”
“I’m glad you told me too.”
She pressed her lips to mine and when she pulled back, her flecked hazel eyes locked on to mine, able to make my skin tingle without a single touch.
“If you ever want to talk about anything else, I want to hear it too. Even if it isn’t ‘fun.’” She air quoted the word, like the silly game we’d been playing was over now.
But it was one thing for to Ruby show me something that only made her seem more beautiful, show how strong she was when her family was under pressure. If I told her about Mum, she would see all the ugliest parts of me and I didn’t want her to see that. She was staying home to help her family, and I had applied to leave the country without thinking about my own mother. I couldn’t tell her any more than I had already. There was no point sharing my flaws and failures and ruining everything when it would all be over soon.
“I don’t really have anything else.” I grinned.
Move along now, nothing to see here.
Ruby hesitated. “Where’s your mum?” she asked, forcing lightness into her voice as though the question had come from nowhere in particular.
My jaw clenched involuntarily and I forced it to relax.
“She’s around. Her and my dad are divorced, that’s all.”
True.
“Do you still see her?” Ruby asked.
“All the time.”
True.
Ruby’s forehead crinkled. “Oh, OK. Will I get to meet her before I go?”
“Yes, of course.”
Lie.
23.
SAOIRSE
Do you think people who have been friends for years can suddenly fall in love?
SAOIRSE
PS honestly. How did you do it this time? I haven’t seen you in ages.
MY LORD AND SAVIOR, OLIVER QUINN
Saoirse, I’m very flattered, but I’m just not that into you.
MY LORD AND SAVIOR, OLIVER QUINN
And I had a helper.
SAOIRSE
I’m watching When Harry Met Sally. He’s confessed his love to her by listing a bunch of things she does. Oh and tell Ruby she’s a filthy traitor.
LORD OF THE FLIES, OLIVER QUINN
Keep your dirty talk between you two, thank you very much.
SAOIRSE
Do you though? Think best friends can suddenly start fancying each other? I mean surely if you weren’t interested in them in the beginning then after years and years of being friends, are you not just settling?
LORD OF THE FLIES, OLIVER QUINN
People change though. Maybe when they first met they weren’t right for each other, but after experience and time, they grew together. I mean some people get married, divorce, and then years later get married again. Anything is possible.
SAOIRSE
Didn’t know you were such a romantic.
LORD OF THE FLIES, OLIVER QUINN
I’m a man of hidden depths.
SAOIRSE
So why don’t you have a girlfriend then?
LORD OF THE FLIES, OLIVER QUINN
I don’t know. No one has ever really seen me that way I think. I’m the party guy, not the boyfriend guy.
SAOIRSE
I think you’ll make a good boyfriend someday.
LORD OF THE FLIES, OLIVER QUINN
Because of my dashing good looks and honed lovemaking skills?
SAOIRSE
No, because of your cool car and vault full of gold coins.
24.
2. One person teaches the other a skill (as seen in Say Anything . . ., Imagine Me & You).
One of the unchecked boxes on our list was for one of us to teach the other a skill. You know, like how the sporty char
acter (the man usually) gets behind the adorably clumsy character (the woman, obvs) and helps her swing a golf club. Or the rich cultured one brings the average Joe one to the theater and teaches them to appreciate the beauty of the opera. We discovered that neither of us was the sporty one, unless you counted Ruby’s gymnast past, and I was not going to attempt headstands. Neither of us was rich or cultured either. In fact, we were two distinctly unskilled people with no great talents in life. No penchant for oil painting or the violin or singing or even computer games or podcasting or making zombie-themed zines, basically anything that makes a character quirky and interesting.
“Do you think we’re just two really boring people?” I lamented over the tub of melting vanilla ice cream I held limply in my hand. We were on a picnic blanket on the sand, in the fading evening light, me on my stomach, Ruby on her bum with her knees pulled into her chest. The thrum of people packing up their beach bags and kids for the day played in the background.
“Of course we’re not,” Ruby said, shaking her head. “You always jump to the worst possible conclusion.”
“Are you sure? We’re both eating vanilla ice cream,” I pointed out. “I’ve never even tried most of the other flavors.”
“Well, technically I’m eating the ice cream.”
I looked across at her and then down at my hands. She’d stolen my ice cream without me noticing.
“Thief,” I said, reaching for my tub back.
“No way. You were letting it melt.”
“Fine.” I gave up. “I must have some kind of skill or hobby. I . . . I can . . . um . . . nope. I’ve got nothing.”
“Same,” Ruby agreed, cheerfully licking the spoon.
“But we’re not boring?”
“No. We’re normal.”
“In rom-coms, the girls always have a special skill.”
“Yeah, well, it’s usually always a women’s magazine journalist or personal assistant. What is it with rom-coms and journalists?”
“That’s true. Maybe I should be a women’s magazine journalist?” I sounded like Ruby.
“Do you even read any women’s magazines?”
“No. I already know all ninety-nine tips for driving my man wild.” I turned and sat up, pulling a cardigan over my shoulders, the warmth of the day leaching out with the cool breeze over the waves.
“Maybe we should find you another passion, babe.”
“Babe,” I repeated, mocking her English accent. She flicked me with her forefinger.
“What do we do, then? We don’t have anything to teach each other. Unless you want to hear about what I learned about Prussia for Leaving Cert history? To be honest, it feels like the exam was ages ago now, so I don’t actually remember much anymore,” I said.
“Why don’t we both learn something new?” Ruby suggested. She stretched her feet out, digging her toes into the sand, and the last rays of sun lit her up like the light was coming from the inside.
“Ukulele?” I offered.
“No, something practical that we can actually use in real life.”
“Budgeting?”
“All right, something a bit less practical. Like . . . cooking? We could take a cooking class.” She brightened. “That’s a great idea. It’s something we can both use, it’ll be fun, and every time you make fresh fettuccine you’ll think of me.”
I pictured future me in the kitchen of a cozy flat. There’d be music and candles and Ruby would be playing with our dog while I flambéed stuff.
Our dog? What a ridiculous thought.
Ruby was very much a cat person.
Cooking was a good idea, though. I hadn’t considered how I would feed myself if I went to uni or moved out. I hadn’t got any of those jobs yet but surely somewhere would soon find themselves in need of a totally unqualified teenager? Even if I stayed living at home, cooking something that was not frozen pizza would probably come in handy. I should have done it years ago and saved myself the torture of trying to force down whatever Dad had boiled to death.
“You’re brilliant,” I said, and kissed Ruby’s freckled nose, more freckled now than when we’d met.
“I know.” She reciprocated by nibbling on my bottom lip, “You should be celebrating the day you ever met me.”
“I do,” I said seriously. “I got a free bottle of vodka that night.”
“You’re such a romantic.” Ruby fluttered her eyelashes at me. “That’s why I l—”
We both froze to almost comic effect.
“Why we,” she started again, the frozen moment vanishing unacknowledged, a glitch in the matrix, “are so good at this montage thing.”
A few days later we stood in my old school’s home economics kitchen with four straight couples in their thirties gazing adoringly at each other, sparkling rings blinding us from the left hand of each of the women, and one seriously old man on his own. Ruby nudged me when she saw him and made a sad face, so we took the bench behind the old man. It was us and him on one side of the room and the loving couples on the other.
Being in school was weird. It had the eerie abandoned feeling of summer, but it struck me that it was probably the last time I’d ever be in this building properly, unless you counted when I picked up my results. I hadn’t thought about it on the last day of school, maybe because I knew we’d be back in the exam hall in a couple of weeks or maybe because I was concentrating on how much I wanted the bell to ring so I could leave.
Everyone had been running around the halls spraying silly string and getting their shirts signed in permanent marker. I just wanted to get out of there, finish my studying, and avoid the friends I’d already left behind. As I was walking down the steps to the front gates, I spied Izzy from the corner of my eye. She was holding a Sharpie and I had a feeling she was going to ask me to sign her shirt even though we hadn’t spoken in months. That’s the kind of person she was. The sentimentality of the day would make her think we could somehow make it up. But I spotted Dad in the car park and practically sprinted to the door. I wasn’t mad at her anymore. I had been angry with my friend who’d known I was going to get my heart broken and didn’t tell me. But Izzy wasn’t my friend anymore and I simply didn’t care. I didn’t want to be rude and refuse to sign, but I also didn’t want to sign and pretend that I would look back fondly on memories of us, as if the last eight months had never happened.
Relationships change and the past isn’t some static thing you could keep forever like a photograph. No one else seems to understand that. Just because something happened, it doesn’t mean it will mean the same thing to you forever. It changes with you. The friendship you cherished, the wife you adored, the child you raised. It can all become meaningless so easily, which means it was always meaningless from the beginning and you just didn’t realize it.
But if everything is meaningless, you might as well have as good a time as you possibly can.
I squeezed Ruby’s hand and she kissed me on the cheek. I couldn’t help but wonder if the other couples noticed. Sometimes I forget that I’m a lesbian. As in I forget that it’s statistically unusual and that some people have strong feelings about it. Even though I’ve encountered a few thoughtless comments or downright cruel ones, especially at school when I first came out, for the most part, the people in my life don’t care. But people still looked. I saw it when Hannah and I walked down the street. People would glance at our clasped hands. Briefly. Sometimes they smiled, occasionally they frowned, mostly they just moved on to noticing the next thing, but it always made me feel watched. Sometimes it’s the little things. Being noticed doing something that would be invisible if I were with a boy.
“Good morning, everyone. I’m Janet, your instructor today.” A small but round woman with an enthusiastic smile bounded into the room, rubbing her hands together. The couple opposite us dropped what they were doing immediately and paid rapt attention. The old man in front of us turned up the level on his hearing aid.
“You’re all beginners here, is that right?” the woman aske
d. She had the fervor of one of those American preachers and I got the impression she really fucking loved cooking. She also didn’t wait for an answer.
“By the end of the morning, you will be beginners no longer. You are going to learn basic skills you can take home and practice, and if at the end of the day you feel like By God I love this cooking malarkey, you can sign up to my six-week course starting in September, where you will learn the answers to all those burning questions like, What the hell is a scallop? Can I make it at home instead of paying twenty euros for a starter in a restaurant? And why does everyone act like making risotto is so hard when it’s just mushy rice?”
I chanced a glance at Ruby, who was hiding her mouth behind her fist.
“But today . . .” The woman dropped her voice and the old man rattled his hearing aid pack like it was broken.
“We’re going to learn how to make . . .” She paused for dramatic effect and I bit down on my lip so I wouldn’t laugh out loud.
“CHICKEN PIE!” She yelled the last word and the old man jumped. The kiss-ass couple opposite us started to clap but trailed off when no one else joined in.
“There is no need to be that excited about chicken pie,” I said to Ruby.
“Maybe it will be the best chicken pie of our lives.” Ruby jazz hands’d and all three kiss-ass couples shushed us simultaneously. It was kind of spooky.
Janet set us about the steps of making pastry and peeling potatoes. The main steps were actually written on a handout, but she still stood in front of the class explaining why you cook potatoes from cold water instead of pouring boiling water into the pot. The kiss-asses were making notes. Ruby and I inspected the paper instructions.
“You want to peel and I’ll make this into bread crumbs somehow?” I said, surveying the pastry ingredients with suspicion.
“OK, but what about him?” Ruby nodded in the direction of the old man, who was holding a potato peeler in one hand and the sheet of paper right up to his nose in the other.
Ruby looked at me with puppy-dog eyes and I sighed and nodded.
Half an hour later Ruby and I were in stitches.
Morris, our new old-man friend, was mostly lovely but seemed deeply suspicious of anyone as peppy as Janet. When she cheered because the Kiss-Asses made an edible sauce, he said, in what he thought was a conspiratorial whisper but was actually a roar over the clattering din of the kitchen, “I think she’s on one of those legal highs you hear about on the news.”