Not My Problem

“I don’t get it.”

Kevin blinked at Oliver over his soda. “Don’t get what? They’re three girls coming out of the bathroom. No one gets why they go together.”

“No, no, not that,” Oliver said impatiently, eyes flicking between his companions and the cluster coming out of the bathroom door. “How can they think that doing that is at all good for them?”

“Taking a dump,” Ian asked stupidly, grinning briefly at Kevin.

Oliver huffed and turned away from them, every inch the gay kid they only hung out with because every soda was on him. “You two totally don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“Kevin, please tell me at least you know what they do in there.”

Kevin shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve walked in on Mariah doing it a couple times. It’s not my problem, I don’t say anything.”

Ian spluttered. “You’ve walked in on--”

“No! No, no no, no, no!” Kevin shoved him roughly, his own face flushing beet red. “Get your mind out of the gutter! Jesus Christ!”

Against his will, Oliver giggled, stifling it behind his hand. He took a sip of his soda and watched Ian shrink away from Kevin’s furious embarrassment.

“Then what did you mean,” Ian pressed bravely, rubbing his shoulder.

Kevin sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. Oliver glanced at him and stepped in. “Do you know anything about bulimia?”

Ian squinted. “Bulimia as in throwing up to stay skinny?”

“That’s the one,” Kevin muttered into his soda. “Mariah does it all the time.”

“How is that not your problem,” Ian asked, perplexed by the very idea of personal boundaries within a team. Within a family.

Kevin looked to Oliver again. “Oliver, help.”

“Nonono, I want to hear the rationale behind this, too.” He twisted his fingers together delicately and rested his elbows on the tabletop like swans on a still lake. Kevin rolled his eyes.

“It’s... It’s just not my deal, okay? She didn’t say anything when I kept having those nightmares last year--”

“The ones about the funeral?”

“Yes, that one,” Kevin snapped, glaring at Ian peevishly.

“Okay, sorry,” Ian said, backing his chair farther away from the table. The feet scraped on the tile floor of the food court, squeaking loudly. “Anyway?”

Kevin sighed again, clearly not wanting to talk about it. “Point being, there is an unspoken rule that our problems are our own, not each others. We don’t ask, we don’t tell, we don’t come to each other for help. We protect each other from other people, yeah. But not from ourselves. Definitely not from ourselves.” Kevin’s voice trailed off with the last statement, as though he was trying to reassure himself that he was doing the correct thing.

Ian’s nose scrunched. “I thought Rei was all touchy-feely ‘Sharing is Caring’ and shit?”

“Yeah,” Kevin shrugged. “We don’t talk to him a lot. He’s clueless of most of what goes on.”

Oliver giggled again. “He’s clueless anyway, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Kevin smiled indulgently. “Of course not, Oliver. Feel free to bad mouth my cousin behind his back at any time. I do it enough to his face.”

“Jesus, what did he do to you?” Ian pulled his chair back to the table, screeching across the linoleum flooring like a bad marker on a dry erase board.

“My problem,” Kevin snapped. “But if you have to know, he abandoned us. I’m sure you remember that part.”

Oliver took a sip of his soda and leaned back in his chair, tracing the girls across the large room with his eyes. “They obviously don’t look healthy,” he said, totally oblivious to the argument raging across the table.

Snapping his eyes to his best friend and her troupe of girls, Kevin frowned and returned his eyes to his soda. “Can we maybe talk about something else? Please?”

“Someone should talk to her about it sometime,” Oliver said casually, removing his eyes from the group.

“And you’re her best friend,” Ian added, knowing Kevin was going to be pissy with him for pushing the issue. “If anyone should care about her, it’s you.”

“What, are you saying I don’t care now,” he exploded, eyes spewing hatred. “Of course I care! Her mom practically raised me! It kills me to see this happening to her!” He choked and dragged a hand over his face, checking for any stray tears that might have escaped. “I love Mariah,” he said quietly, turning away from his friends.

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself,” Oliver noted, trying to be gentle.

Kevin folded his arms on the table. “I do love Mariah,” he mumbled. “I’m doing the right thing. She’ll hate me if I rat her out.”

Ian mimicked Kevin’s pose. “Tala stopped eating a few months ago. He almost died.”

“It’s for her own good, Kevin,” Oliver added. “She’ll forgive you, eventually.”

Kevin took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay. I’ll...tell, I guess.”

“No. Not ‘I guess.’” Oliver crossed his arms. “You’re going to do it.”

“I’ll do it,” Kevin repeated, nodding like he was going to back out at any second. He looked at Ian, and then at his soda.

“Who would I tell?”