Schmidt Happens

by Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

  I’m thinking, Oh, fock!

  There’s, like, muttering throughout the church. Everyone’s hoping it isn’t their kid who’s being singled out?

  ‘I bet it’s Courage Kennedy!’ Sorcha goes.

  The dude goes, ‘The renewal of our Baptismal promises is an essential part of the Sacrament we are gathered here to celebrate today. Is there a reason why you see fit not to affirm these beliefs in words?’

  He’s staring directly at Honor and he’s trying to embarrass her in front of the entire church. Not a good move with Honor. Someone should have warned him.

  ‘Yeah,’ Honor goes, suddenly standing up. ‘Because it’s all focking bullshit?’

  There’s, like, gasps in the church. Sorcha puts her hand over her mouth and I watch the colour drain quickly from her face.

  ‘Pack! Of! Focking! Bullshit!’ Brian shouts.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Bishop Brannigan goes.

  Honor looks back over her shoulder at me and she’s like, ‘I’m sorry, Dad!’

  I’m there, ‘It’s cool, Honor. I raised you to never be afraid to call it. So call it.’

  She turns back to Bishop Brannigan. ‘It’s all focking bullshit,’ she goes. ‘God. The Devil. The Virgin Mary. The Resurrection. You standing up there in your stupid focking hat. All religious belief is just superstition. Like focking horoscopes. And deep down no one in this church actually believes it.’

  Again, more gasps.

  She goes, ‘They’re all just doing it for the day out. How many of them go to actual Mass?’

  Sorcha’s old man is suddenly up on his feet. ‘Sit down,’ he goes, ‘this instant! And repeat the vows along with everyone else!’

  ‘It’s quite alright,’ the bishop goes, pretending that he’s not secretly bulling. ‘Our faith should be sufficiently strong to withstand a little girl’s questioning, however vulgarly expressed!’ and he says it in a really patronizing voice to try to make her look small in front of her classmates. ‘What do you know about Theology, child?’

  Honor goes, ‘Er, I’ve read enough to make up my own mind?’

  ‘Oh, have you, indeed? Well, what have you read?’

  ‘I read that in the year 312, before the Battle of Milvian Bridge, Emperor Constantine dreamt that he saw a cross in the sky.’

  ‘The basis of our Roman Catholic faith.’

  ‘Well, when he woke up the next morning and told everyone, someone really should have said, “Yeah, you just focking dreamt that.” And if they had, none of us would be standing here today.’

  I turn to Sorcha and I’m like, ‘Is that true? Is the whole thing genuinely based on some focking dream that some dude had?’ but the woman is in tears and she’s being comforted by her old man.

  The bishop turns suddenly angry. So much for his faith withstanding a little girl’s questioning. He points at her – his face all red – and goes, ‘You wicked child! You dare to stand up in the house of God and question the faith held by more than a billion –’

  ‘Oh, please!’ Honor goes. ‘No one is born believing this bullshit. That’s why you insist on filling our heads with it before our brains are properly developed. Oh my God, you baptize us before we even know we’re born, then you tell us when we’re, like, eleven or twelve years old that we’re old enough to believe in God but we’re not old enough not to?’

  There’s quite a few girls sobbing in the church. It kind of reminds me of a certain Christmas morning when Honor was five years old, when she picked up the microphone at the children’s Mass in the Church of the Gordian Angels on Newtownpork Avenue and announced that there was no such thing as Santa Claus. I’m seeing definite parallels here. But, just like the last time, not everyone in the congregation appreciates her telling – as they call it – her truth.

  Mallorie Kennedy is suddenly on her feet, going, ‘Why are you here, then? Why are you even making your Confirmation if you don’t believe in God?’

  Honor’s there, ‘Because focking Dave there said I had to make it?’

  ‘It’s Sister focking Dave to you,’ Sister focking Dave goes.

  Mallorie goes, ‘You should leave if that’s how you feel!’ and the woman turns around and glowers at Sorcha and it’s obvious that she’s thinking, What a waste of a good caterer.

  I stand up and I step out of the pew. The three boys come with me. I’m like, ‘Come on, Honor, let’s go home!’

  And, from the front of the church, Honor looks at me the way every father dreams his daughter will one day look at him – like I’m her actual hero. A second or two later, she comes running down the aisle towards me, a big smile on her face.

  ‘Horrible girl!’ I hear Susan Gorvey go.

  And I’m like, ‘Yeah, that’s the same skirt and top you wore to the last Mount Anville Past Pupils Networking Brunch. And everyone’s focking bitching about you behind your back!’

  I give Honor a hug, then I kiss her on the top of the head. I can honestly say that I’ve never been prouder of her.

  And that’s the moment Brian chooses to put his hand down the back of his trousers again, catch a fart in his little fist, then blow it, like a kiss, at the congregation.

  As we’re leaving, I steal a sort of sideways look at Sorcha. The girl is absolutely devastated, bawling her eyes out and looking at Honor like she thinks the girl is, I don’t know, possessed by the – allegedly – devil? And while the debate about the actual existence of God and the Virgin Mary and that entire crew is bound to continue, one fact is definitely beyond doubt.

  I will not be getting sex from Sorcha tonight.

  5.

  What to Pack in Your Going-Away Bag!

  I’m there, ‘I really don’t think we should make a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be?’

  I’m chancing my orm with a line like that. I know it and they know it.

  ‘A bigger deal than it needs to be?’ Sorcha’s old man goes. ‘It’s on the front page of the Irish Times! Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me professionally?’

  That’s his biggest concern, of course.

  I’m there, ‘Er, she’s not actually named in the story?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ he goes. ‘Everyone will know who it’s about. And I’ve got to show my face in the Law Library with everyone no doubt sniggering behind my back.’

  ‘A girl of not even twelve yet,’ Sorcha’s old dear goes, ‘speaking to a bishop like that! In front of all those people!’

  I’m there, ‘I don’t know what business it is of yours anyway. Why don’t you take your husband and fock off back to the woodshed? Pair of bell-ends. Focking Bell-end and Sebastian.’

  Sorcha cried for about six hours after we left the church. She was up all night crying as well. Then she storted again when she saw the headline in his morning’s paper: ‘What Did the Mountie Say to the Bishop?’ – which I thought was quite clever? – and then when the school rang to say they were suspending Honor for two weeks.

  Now Sorcha’s just sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space, like a woman traumatized.

  Her old man goes, ‘You’re being very quiet, Dorling.’

  And she’s like, ‘I just don’t know what to say. And I have no more tears left to cry.’

  Seriously. When it comes to drama, Meryl focking Streep has nothing on the girl.

  I’m standing in front of the open fridge, by the way, horsing into the mango and crayfish vol-au-vents and the mini ginger burgers with lime mayo and arugula.

  Hey, they were paid for.

  Sorcha’s old dear stares out the window, where three Polish dudes are dismantling the morquee. ‘All those people we had to ring and tell not to come,’ she goes, ‘can you imagine what they’re saying today? The whole of South Dublin will be talking about it.’

  Sorcha goes, ‘I think we’re missing the point here. I don’t care what anyone in South Dublin thinks.’

  Yeah, this coming from the girl who can’t take a flight anywhere without telling everyone i
n her email inbox how many native broadleaf trees she going to plant to offset the carbon emissions. She’s changed her tune. That’s all I’m saying.

  She goes, ‘The point is that Honor is a very disturbed little girl.’

  I’m like, ‘No way! I’m not having that!’

  ‘She’s possibly even a sociopath.’

  ‘What, just because she doesn’t believe in God?’

  ‘It was the pleasure she took in announcing it, Ross. It was like that time in Foxrock Church when she told all the little kiddies that there was no such thing as Santa Claus.’

  ‘I don’t think it was like that at all, Sorcha. I genuinely don’t see the comparison.’

  ‘And both times she waited until the middle of Mass to do it.’

  ‘Hey, the dude tried to embarrass her in front of everyone. You shouldn’t stick your neck out if there’s a chance you might just get it slapped.’

  ‘I was so embarrassed. And – oh my God – to think that I actually believed the Holy Spirit had come down on her?’

  ‘Spare me, would you? She told you weeks ago that she didn’t believe in God. But you were having none of it. You heard what you wanted to hear.’

  Sorcha just shakes her head. She’s really laying it on thick. ‘She used the F-word,’ she goes, ‘in front of a bishop.’

  Her old man’s there, ‘She’s out of control. Your mother and I have been trying to tell you that for years. And there’s no mystery as to who is to blame.’

  I’m there, ‘I can’t listen to any more of this.’

  Sorcha goes, ‘Ross, come back here! We need to talk about what we’re going to do about her!’

  But I straight walk out of the kitchen – although not before grabbing six or seven mini ginger burgers in my hands and stuffing two or three more into my mouth.

  I tip upstairs, where I find Honor lying on her bed – not a care in the world.

  She goes, ‘I was thinking, I should stort using my YouTube channel to get, like, free stuff?’

  I’m like, ‘Er, yeah, good point,’ a bit thrown by how not bothered she is about the whole thing. It’s like she doesn’t properly understand the hugeness of what actually happened yesterday? She certainly doesn’t give a fock about being suspended from school. ‘You should definitely, definitely do that, Honor.’

  She goes, ‘I was talking to Erika on, like, FaceTime the other day. I was telling her that Love Honor and Obey has, like, 70,000 followers and she said I needed to stort thinking about it as, like, a brand?’

  ‘Did she?’

  ‘She said I should be looking for ways to, like, monetize my fame? Kind of like Pippa O’Connor has with the whole Fashion Factory thing.’

  God, I love Pippa O’Connor. I know it’s slightly off the point, but I remember making a move on her in Tramco after Leinster lost the Heineken Cup semi-final to Munster in 2006. She looked me up and down and told me that she valued herself more than that. Still drank the appletinis I bought for her and her mates, though.

  I’m like, ‘Honor, do you want to maybe talk about what happened yesterday?’

  She goes, ‘Er, not really? Do you?’

  ‘You’ve been suspended from school, Honor. You’re on the front page of the Irish Times. And I think your mother would probably want me to say something to you, in terms of hopefully trying to get you to see that what you did was wrong.’

  ‘But you don’t think I was wrong – do you?’

  ‘Yeah, no, definitely not.’

  ‘So why are we having this conversation? I mean, why does everyone have a problem with me not believing in God?’

  ‘Hey, if I’d known the entire thing was based on some dude having a dream hundreds and hundreds of years ago, I would have been a bit Scooby Doobious myself. I certainly would have had one or two questions for Father Fehily back in the day.’

  ‘The whole Bible is like that. God appeared to Abraham in a dream. Er, no, he didn’t? Abraham focking dreamt it.’

  ‘Well, you have me convinced. The point is, if you could maybe pretend to Sorcha that me and you had the big chat, that would definitely help me.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘She hasn’t said anything, but deep down I think she’s probably worried about what this might do to her political career.’

  ‘What political career?’

  ‘Good one, Honor!’

  ‘Seriously, though – what focking political career? She’s in the Seanad. No one cares.’

  ‘That’s actually a very good point. Just to warn you, though, she might take your devices away for a week or two – your phone and your laptop.’

  ‘For fock’s sake. Seriously?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll let you use mine on the sly. She might also stop your pocket money. Although, again, don’t worry. I’ll slip you cash. I’ll take it out of her birthday present.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. Er, by the way?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Bell-end and Sebastian?’

  ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘Oh my God, that was so funny!’

  ‘Yeah, no, it was one of those lines that just came to me in the moment.’

  ‘I’m sorry, you are actually the funniest person in the world!’

  It’s impossible to be angry with this girl.

  I’m there, ‘Thanks, Honor. Although I doubt if either of them has ever heard of the band. I was thinking I should have maybe kept it for Fionn. He’s got everything they ever put out.’

  ‘So how long do you think she’s going to be pissed off for?’

  ‘Until they let you back into Mount Anville would be my guess.’

  ‘Sister Dave is such an overreactor.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about it, Honor. As a matter of fact, I firmly believe that this is the kind of thing we’ll be laughing at in a few weeks.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Or maybe months. And just to tell you, I did way worse than this in my day!’

  ‘Did you? As in?’

  ‘Okay, did I ever tell you about the time we egged a group of girls from Sion Hill – focking Pill Hill, in other words – and one of them ended up being allergic to eggs? Her head blew up like a focking Pilates ball!’

  ‘Oh my God, that is so funny!’

  ‘Oisinn had to stab her through the sternum with a focking epi-pen.’

  ‘That’s, like, way worse than telling a bishop that there’s no such thing as God.’

  ‘Trust me, Honor. One day this will just be an anecdote that’ll bring the house down in my Father of the Bride speech.’

  ‘Do you really believe that?’

  ‘One hundred percent. Like that girl who nearly died of anaphylactic shock.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, Honor. I’m in your corner – even if I’m the only one.’

  So it’s, like, Friday night. And after the forty-eight hours I’ve just had, I’m looking forward to having my usual eight or nine quiet pints in Kielys of Donnybrook Town.

  Except none of the goys has shown their faces yet, aport from Oisinn, who’s already four or five pints down the road when I arrive.

  He goes, ‘Hey, Ross,’ a definite note of concern in his voice. ‘How’s Honor doing?’

  I’m like, ‘Er, why are you asking about Honor?’

  ‘Dude, the whole country is talking about what happened at the Mount Anville Confirmation.’

  I end up just shaking my head.

  I’m like, ‘Why does everyone automatically assume it was Honor?’

  He’s there, ‘It’s just I got that text from you telling me that the porty was cancelled at, like, an hour’s notice. Then it said on the front page of this morning’s Irish Times that a girl had walked out of the church after openly questioning the existence of God and launching a foul-mouthed attack on the bishop.’

  ‘And you joined up the dots and decided it was my daughter?’

  ‘Sorry, Ross, I didn’t mean any offence.’

  ‘Jesus Christ – ta
lk about give a dog a bad name.’

  ‘So it wasn’t her, then?’

  ‘Yeah, no, it was her. It’s just I hate the way people always assume.’

  He hands me a pint of the obvious.

  He goes, ‘Is she okay?’

  I’m like, ‘She’s fine. Suspended for two weeks. Her old dear’s obviously not happy. She thinks Honor is a … What’s that word that sounds like a psychopath but hopefully isn’t as bad?’

  ‘A sociopath?’

  ‘That’s the one. She thinks she’s a sociopath.’

  ‘Poor Honor.’

  ‘Actually, I was telling her today about the time we hit that girl from Sion Hill with the eggs and you had to stab her with the epi-pen – we’re talking Pulp Fiction-style.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Yeah, no, I was using it as an example of something that seemed very serious at the time but then became a funny anecdote. I think her telling the bishop to go fock himself will eventually fall into that category. By the way, where is everyone tonight?’

  ‘No idea where Fionn and JP are. Christian is on his way. And Magnus is working.’

  ‘On a Friday night? I thought working in Facebook was a piece of piss?’

  ‘It would be a piece of piss if he just went in, did his job and came home. It’s just there’s all this, like, other stuff, you know?’

  ‘Yeah, no, he was telling me all about it at the Ireland v France match. I actually found it really boring.’

  ‘I mean, he’s working away on something, then someone says, “Oh, you’re up next, Magnus! You’re playing the Head of Compliance in the Facebook Dublin Air Hockey Championship.” Or “You’re playing someone from the Data Protection Team in the Facebook Dublin Fussball World Cup.”’

  ‘Jesus, that sounds like college.’

  ‘It is like college. The only problem is that he still has his work to do, so he ends up having to stay late to do it, which means it’s eating into our time?’

  ‘I had to move away from him. That’s how focking dull I found the whole thing.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, it’s great that he’s making new friends. He doesn’t know that many people in Ireland. But it’d be nice for me to see him once in a while. Like, just as an example, he never comes to the gym with me any more.’