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GET OVER IT

Hugh

APRIL 7, 2001

“W HAT’S WITH THE FACE ?” F EELY ASKED WHEN C LAIRE STOMPED INTO MY ROOM ON Saturday night, looking like someone pissed in her cornflakes.

“I’ve been ditched,” she declared dramatically before flopping down on my bed. “Again.”

“Ignore her,” I said, rolling my eyes. “She’s throwing her toys out of the pram because Gibs went to Dublin with Cap for Easter.”

“Dublin,” Claire huffed, folding her arms across her chest. “What possible reason would they have for going to Dublin .”

“Uh, maybe because that’s where the Kavanaghs are from?” I offered dryly. “And Johnny’s parents still own property and businesses in Dublin they might like to check in on?”

“Aren’t Cap and Gibs attending an event while they’re up there?” Feely asked.

“An event?” Springing up on my bed, Claire’s eyes bulged. “What kind of event?”

“The rugby youth’s annual award ceremony.”

“For what?”

“Cap won half a dozen trophies,” Feely explained. “Gibs is his plus one.”

“You don’t own the lad, Claire,” I reminded her. “Gibs is allowed to have other friends, you know.” I shrugged. “Besides, it might do you some good to have a little space from him.”

“Are you serious, Hughie?” My sister gaped at me like I had just told her the world was flat. “Why would I ever want space from Gerard?”

“Maybe so you spend time with your other friends,” Feely offered. “Like Lizzie?”

“Exactly,” I agreed, pausing the movie playing on my TV. “You do remember her, don’t you?”

“You mean my friend who likes to suck face with my brother?”

“She’s got you there, lad,” Feely chuckled.

“She’s still your friend, Claire.”

“She likes you more than me.”

“Most people generally do,” I agreed. “But that’s no reason to not put yourself out there.”

“You’re an ass,” Claire snickered, tossing a pillow at my head.

“Seriously,” I added. “You should call her, Claire.”

“I would if she spoke more than four words to me,” my sister replied with a sad sigh. “She’s just so sad.”

“Fuck,” Feely muttered with a flinch. “She’s not getting over it, is she?”

“Nope.” Claire shook her head. “She just keeps getting sadder.”

“Get over it?” I snapped, instantly pissed off. “It hasn’t been a year since she watched her sister being fished out of the fucking river, lad. How do you propose she gets over something like that?”

“Sorry, lad,” my friend replied, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“She only wants to talk to you,” Claire chimed in then. “Seriously, Hughie. She barely talks to anyone at school anymore, and she never answers my text messages.” Sighing sadly, Claire flopped back down on my bed. “I want to help her, really I do, but she gets so mad at me over Gerard, and we always end up fighting.”

I understood where my sister was coming from. Gibs was a thorny subject to my girlfriend, but it wasn’t fun to hear she was becoming more and more isolated.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted with a sigh. “Or how to help her.”

“Clearly you do because you’re the only one she speaks to,” my sister replied, giving me a supportive smile. “You really are going to be a great doctor, Hughie, because you’ve been working miracles on Lizzie for months.”

On the contrary, I had messed things up spectacularly for my girlfriend. Insisting on her making a statement to the Gardaí after New Year’s not only traumatized Liz but it had broken her. Like seriously broken her.

The Gards didn’t do anything about her mental breakthrough, which knocked Liz back ten damn steps.

She had retreated into her shell and refused point-blank to talk about what they said to her or how she was feeling.

She was cutting more and missing more school, had had her meds changed several times, and it was entirely my fault.

If I’d kept my mouth shut, she wouldn’t be spiraling.