OCTOBER 12, 1996
“THANKS FOR COMING ON SHORT NOTICE, LOVE,” MAM SAID WHEN CAOIMHE WALKED into our kitchen on Saturday evening. “I’ve been called into work and Pete’s, uh, well, he’s still under the weather.”
Under the weather.
What a load of shit.
My dad wasn’t under the weather.
My dad had checked out.
“I told her I’m old enough to watch Claire,” I offered, still feeling annoyed over the fact that I needed a babysitter when Feely got to stay by himself when his parents weren’t home. “I don’t need a babysitter anymore.”
“You might be able to look after yourself, but your sister certainly isn’t,” Mam interjected with a look that said don’t start.
“I know you’re well able, Hughie,” Caoimhe mused, ruffling my hair. “I’m just here to keep your sister out of trouble, okay?” She smiled. “You do you, kiddo.”
“Claire and Gibs are playing in her room, and Pete’s upstairs if you need him,” Mam said, giving her a grateful look. “The kids have had dinner, but there’s cash in the jar for a pizza later if you guys fancy one.”
“We’ll be grand,” Caoimhe assured her, walking my mother to the front door. “Be safe.”
“I always am, love.”
I waited for the front door to close behind my mother before I began my interrogation. Because I had a crow to pluck with our babysitter. “Where’s your sister?”
“You know where my sister is, Hugh.” Stepping around me, Caoimhe made her way back to the kitchen. “I’ve told you a million times.”
“Yeah, but you haven’t told me when she’s coming home,” I argued, trailing after her. “Lizzie’s been in the hospital for a long time, Caoimhe.” I could hear the concern in my own voice as I spoke. “I want to know when she’s coming home.”
“Soon.”
I hadn’t seen my best friend in weeks and being told soon whenever I asked when she was coming home was driving me crazy. In fact, I felt like screaming. What the hell did soon mean anyway? Did the word refer to two hours or two days or two bloody weeks? It was a pointless fucking word that meant nothing to me.
“I want to visit her,” I pressed, glaring at her. “Liz would want me to come.”
“I already told you that she’s not allowed visitors right now.”
“Yeah, but you haven’t told me why!” I shouted, losing my patience. “In fact, you haven’t even told me what’s wrong with her!”
“She’s sick, Hugh. Like I’ve said.”
“With what?” I argued back, unwilling to give an inch.
“It’s private.”
“Private isn’t a medical illness, Caoimhe.”
“Jesus Christ, Hugh, it’s complicated, okay?”
“Yeah, well, I can handle complicated,” I snapped back. “I’m not your thick-as-shit boyfriend.”
“Hey!” Now, she was the one to shout at me. “Don’t bring Mark into this.”
“Fine.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Stop treating me like I’m a kid and I won’t.”
“You are a kid, Hugh,” she retorted. “A freakishly brainy one but still a kid.”
“I’m not going to let it go, you know,” I warned the teenager in my kitchen. “I’m not Claire or Gibs. You can’t butter me up with cookies or distract me with ladybirds.” I narrowed my eyes. “And if you don’t tell me what’s wrong with my best friend, I’ll find out my own way.”
She arched a disbelieving brow. “Are you threatening me, Hugh Andrew Biggs?”
“How could I do that when I’m just a kid?”
Caoimhe stared at me for a long, unblinking beat until she relented with a frustrated growl. “All right, genius, you think you’re mature enough for this shit-bomb of a conversation.” She sighed in resignation and pointed to the table. “Sit your ass down and let’s find out.”
With my elbows resting on the kitchen table, I held my head in my hands and listened to every word that poured from my babysitter’s mouth.
“The kind of sickness my sister has isn’t one you can see,” Caoimhe continued, tapping her temple. “It’s all in her mind. She hears voices in her head, and it causes her to flip the fuck out.” Leaning back in her chair, she pointed to the scar on her cheek. “She did that to me with her nails. My baby sister.”
“What did you do to her first?”
“Nothing,” Caoimhe snapped back, folding her arms. “That’s the whole point, Hugh. She’s crazy.”
“No, she’s not.” I shook my head, refuting her claim. “Don’t say that about my friend.”
“Oh yeah? Well, your friend is my sister, so I think I know her a little better than you,” she shot back angrily. “She might have you and your friends fooled with her sweet disposition, but it’s a mask.” Her voice was thick with emotion when she said, “I’ve tried to help her a thousand times and all she does is throw it back in my face. Or worse, blame me for her problems.” She choked out a pained laugh before pointing to her face again. “This right here is the result of her freaking out and blaming me for bringing monsters into her room.” She shook her head. “I mean, what am I supposed to say to that? Sorry about the invisible monsters that only exist in your head, dear sister.”
I had no clue what to say in response, but I knew for sure that I didn’t like her tone, so I decided to tell her just that. “You shouldn’t talk about your sister like that. It makes you sound bitter and cruel.”
“Yeah, well, sue me,” Caoimhe replied, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Because I’m fifteen and a half, and my life’s a living hell. I have an angry father in denial, a batshit crazy sister, and a mother who’s had cancer so many times, she probably won’t see me finish college, so maybe I deserve to feel a little bitter.”
“Who else knows about this?” I asked, resisting the urge to defend Liz, but I knew that if I said anything else, Caoimhe would end the conversation. And I had questions. Lots of them. “Aside from your family, I mean.”
“Lizzie’s school, her doctors and therapists, my boyfriend—oh, and your mam knows, too.”
My brows shot up in surprise. “My mother knows?”
Caoimhe nodded. “Sinead’s been fantastic to our entire family.”
“Oh,” I replied quietly, absorbing every word she spoke into my brain for future analysis. “So have the doctors at the hospital figured out what’s happening to Liz? Is there a name for it?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure they’ll find a fancy medical term to smack on her forehead and call her. After all, there are hundreds of pretty words to label someone crazy.” Placing her palms on the table, Caoimhe rose to her feet and gave me a half-hearted smile. “The watered-down version of the dysfunctional Young family.”
