I Want to Scream 'I Love You'

“Mom,” I called downstairs as I shuffled around Danielle’s room. “Come help me, please?”

I found a shirt and some jeans and threw them onto the bed where Danielle sat pouting.

“No,” she shook her head violently as her brown pigtails spun around. “I want Mom to help.”

“Mom, please, come help.” I waited to see if I heard any movement from downstairs, but it was silent.

Assuming she either hadn’t heard me, or, more likely, didn’t feel like helping, I ran down the stairs to find an empty living room. Then an empty kitchen.

Had she even come home last night?

The blinking light on the caller I.D. illuminated Dad’s old, now-desolate office with a red glow. I ambled over slowly, cautiously making my way to the answering machine.

At the same time, this was my favorite and least favorite room; both for the same reason: everything in this room screamed “Dad.”

He may have died a few years ago, but this had been his room, and, in a way, it still was. Books, five inches thick, stacked upon the old desk that sat untouched for years now, each book explaining some kind of computer language or, maybe, the latest historic-fiction novel. Next to the books were picture frames, each and every one holding pictures of Mom, Dad and I, where Mom was pregnant and smiling. Actually smiling. Something she rarely ever did anymore. In the few pictures after Danielle was born, she’s tiny, only a newborn, but whoever’s holding her like she’s ten million dollars, barely letting any part lay unprotected, but smiling like they’re holding a Nobel Prize. She had that effect to her.

A long, high-pitched beep sounded as I forced myself to press play on the answering machine. Following the beep was my mom’s shaky, yet drunken voice.

“Hey honey,” she slurred, “I’m kind of in a pickle here. You see, I’ve been wrongly accused of drinking while driving. But they wouldn’t listen to me. So… if you could, maybe, come pick me up at the police station, that would be, uh, great. Oh, and bring my checkbook, too.

“Thank you. See you in a little bit.”

With a sigh, I deleted the message and walked back upstairs, barely having any energy left to push myself upwards.

Still sitting reluctantly on the bed, Danielle had her arms crossed and she refused to look at me.

“Danielle, you’ve got school in ten minutes, can you please get ready?” I asked her, patiently holding her clothes out to her.

She looked from me to the clothes, then back to me. With a scoff and a shake of her head, she shoved my hand away. “Nope,” she said, popping her lip and stuck her nose up at me.

“Okay, fine.” I set the clothes down next to her on the bed. She raised her eyebrows at me as I continued. “Mom’s not here, so you can either sit here all day or get ready. With or without you, I’m leaving in ten minutes. Make your choice.”

I turned and walked out of the room and went back downstairs, searching through the drawers for Mom’s checkbook, finding it in the fourth one I tried. I shoved my books into my backpack, I was going to be late today, so that gave me absolutely no time to run home if I forget some homework.

I ran over to the printer and pulled a few pages I had printed last night from it. I stuffed them in too.

Swinging my backpack onto my shoulder, I searched for Danielle’s and put her homework in her bag just as she walked downstairs, dressed and ready. I smiled as I handed her backpack to her and she took it reluctantly.

But at least she was ready, and I wouldn’t be too late.

One down.

One to go.

***

The door handle clicked as I slid the key in. With a quick twist, the door pushed open, the smell of bleach and carpet cleaner pouring into the hallway.

Danielle stood behind me, clutching my leg as if she were three again.

I attempted to take a step forward, but her tiny arms strained trying to pull me back.

“Come on, Danielle,” I said, as she stared into the apartment, a horrified look on her face. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“I want to go home,” she whispered, once again, pulling my leg back over towards the stairway. “Please, can we just go home?”

I sighed and reached down to pick her up. She wrapped her arms around my neck, something that two months ago she would have never done, and I slowly walked into the apartment where the some furniture from our old house sat scattered around the living room, considering I had hired the workers to bring it over. The two beds were disassembled and the couch was laying on it’s back, while a few other pieces of furniture were in boxes.

I sat Danielle down and she looked up at me, her eyes begging me to start laughing and exclaim, “Just kidding” and take her home.

Only God could’ve known how much I wanted that to be true; how much I wanted to just leave now, walk back home, and open the door to find Mom and Dad waiting. Just waiting. For us to come home.

But it doesn’t work that way anymore, and, even if it did, Dad wouldn’t be there.

Death, in a sense, is a funny thing. It seems completely unlikely. It seems like those love stories that happen only in movies.

Romeo and Juliet will never be. You won’t be best friends with a guy in preschool, and end up marrying him twenty years later. That doesn’t happen.

But death does. Death happens everyday, every minute. We, as the human race, have convinced ourselves that death doesn’t happen; that walking out of the front door isn’t like stepping into a death trap. But that’s what it is.

We’re at the mercy of hurricanes, tornados, meteorites, earthquakes, other humans. Our planet is constantly spinning at insane speeds, but we still panic when we have a pimple on picture day.

Things are set back to reality when someone dies, something I learned all too abruptly.

I scooped Danielle into my arms, carrying her back to where her room will be. There was nothing special about this room, it was the same size as mine, and it had one simple window.

“This is going to be your room, is that okay?” I asked, setting her down. She made her way over to the window, stepping carefully across the carpet.

She leaned her forehead against the glass, her hand pressed up next to it. “Why didn’t Mom love us?”

I almost fell over, being completely taken aback. She was Mom’s puppy, she loved her and followed her, and that was what her life revolved around. Granted, Mom couldn’t have cared less, so, Danielle’s question was extremely credible.

“She did,” I lied, and I stuttered as I tried to add more to it, but no words formed.

“No, she didn’t. She was always out. She never helped me with homework. And she always fought with you.” She didn’t pull away from the window, instead continued to stare out, watching the people and cars below.

I ran my hand through her hair, before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Later that night, Danielle had helped me set most of the furniture up, we’d tackled both beds and set the couch up right.

I sat on the couch, writing down my schedule as Danielle watched me carefully. I looked up at her and she just continued to stare.

“Thank you,” she said with a sigh.

“For what?” She shrugged and looked around, before looking back at me.

“For not leaving. Mom would’ve left.” Her eyes were avoiding mine, tracing circles on the carpet.

“Trust me, Dani, I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiled at me, and leaned back against the couch, letting a yawn escape from her lips.

That’s when it hit me; she grew up in one of the worst situations possible. Fatherless, unstable, crazed mother who spoiled her to no end, a sister that, well, that easily lost her temper with her.

She needed someone. Someone who could actually be there to talk to when she got her first crush. When her friends are jerks. When she’s lost and not sure where to go.

She needed someone who would be there for her, she needed an older sister that cared.

So, that was that, there was no way I could put anything before her, she was now my responsibility, and I was okay with that.

Danielle first, rest of life second.

***

“Wait,” I said, pulling away ruefully. In no way, at all, did I want to pull away, but there was no way I could handle school, work, Danielle, and the drama of dating. Even if being with him did make things seem perfect.

Patrick watched me carefully, probably searching for some kind of hint in my expression as to what was next, and though I knew the basics of what I’d have to tell him, I couldn’t, whatsoever, figure out the words.

I sighed, and he sighed too, his lips sliding into a straight line. I forced myself to look away, I’m sure he didn’t know what I was going to say, but, I had made it painfully obvious my next words weren’t going to be confessing my undying love for him.

I wrapped my arms around him and laid my head against his shoulders. I couldn’t tell him this wouldn’t work, I didn’t know how to tell him, I didn’t want to tell him.

Timidly, he hugged me back. I must’ve confused him quite a bit by now, and there was no way I could avoid that, it would’ve happened either way.

His green eyes burnt a whole through me as we watched each other, both of us waiting for the other person to say something.

Part of me couldn’t believe that I’d ever want to give him up. That was completely illogical. He cared, more than anyone I’d ever known, and, not only did he care about me, but Danielle as well. She was his little sister as much as she was mine.

This whole situation was a piece of shit. How was I supposed to choose? If I did date Patrick, I’d lose priorities. Something would be pushed to the back of my list; whether it be Danielle, or school, or work, maybe even Patrick; I’d lose a priority of some sort. Not that I’d want to, but it would happen.

I tightened my grip around him, holding him as close as I could to me, though, part of me knew this wasn’t fair to him. I was still sending mixed signals, and I should just come out and say what I need to say.

But what if things get awkward? Then what? Then I’m left without Patrick, without the only somewhat normal part of my life. But things are awkward, neither of us are going to be able to back out of this one.

“I just really wish you’d tell me what you’re thinking.” His voice was soft and faint, desperate almost, bringing a smile to my face, for some reason. But it disappeared just as quick as it appeared as I tried, once again, to sort my thoughts out.

“I’m just… I don’t think we, us, could, uh, work out,” I stuttered and tripped over my words, “and I’m sorry, because I’m not trying to send mixed signals here, or anything, because, honestly, I like you, a lot,” I said quickly, my words jumbling together at the end. “But, that’s just, I guess… what I’m trying to say is, I don’t think I could handle work, school, Danielle, and, well, a boyfriend.”

He hasn’t even asked you out and yet you assume he’s hinting he wants to be your boyfriend? Smooth. Very smooth.

The corner of his mouth pulled slightly into a smirk, but he quickly pulled it back down into a faint smile. “I swear, you worry about the smallest things.”

My body relaxed and I let out a deep breath, feeling a little better since things hadn’t changed.

“Oh hush.” I laid my head back down on his shoulder as he swayed a little, like he always did, making me smile. But, as always, Danielle entered my head, and I motioned for Patrick to follow me back into the room, considering I’d probably been out here long enough.

But, instead, I pushed the door open carefully to reveal her sleeping, her brown wispy hair falling into her face and her small, fragile hands clutching her Dairy Queen cup. I smiled at her, and looked back up to see Patrick, who wore a slight smile also. I sighed and took a drink of my Butterfinger Blizzard.

***

“Come on, Danielle,” I hurried her as she searched the room for her stuffed bunny. She shushed me and continued to search. Patrick, who stood next to me, tried not to laugh as Danielle had me wrapped completely around her finger. Jokingly, I hit his arm as he rubbed it sarcastically.

“Got it!” Danielle proclaimed, holding the rabbit up from wherever she found it. “Let’s go,” she pranced out of the room and I followed behind. Nevada stood outside the door with her clipboard in hand.

“Alright, you all ready to go, kiddo?” she asked Danielle, who nodded quickly. Nevada handed me the clipboard which held a few pieces of paper that I quickly signed and we were out.

Danielle skipped down the hallway as we walked towards the outside. She had been feeling lots better and finally, after about four days of being here, we were released.

Patrick, being Patrick, of course, came to help.

“Ready to go back to school?” he nudged me and I groaned. No one ever likes missing five days of school and then going back.

“Um, no,” I sighed, “but I guess I really don’t get that choice.”

“Oh fine, don’t come back and keep me entertained. Language arts sucks when I sit in the back. All alone. With Noelle. And all she talks about is hot guys and makeup.”

I laughed and shrugged. “So, which makeup is best for blemishes?”

He raised his eyebrows at me disbelievingly. “You don’t actually think I listen, do you?”

“I kinda hoped not. Just checking. I’m actually hoping more that you weren’t interested in the hot guys either.”

“Wellll…” he kidded, looking innocent. I fake gasped, now playing along with his little game.

“Patrick Stump, how could you not tell me?” He shook his head at me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder pulling me closer to him. I forced myself not to think about the sweet smell of his shirt or the warmth of his arm, knowing it’d kill me.

“Sure, Hayley, sure. Because I‘m obviously attracted to guys,” he scoffed, “if that’s the vibe you get, then I’m thinking I need to make a few changes.”

I chuckled, hiking my bag up higher on my shoulder as it slid down. Danielle bounced up and down repeatedly, evidently excited to be leaving the hospital.

“Nah, I think you’re good,” I told Patrick as we walked up to his car. Danielle slid in the back and I buckled her, locking the seatbelt so she’d be safer, considering we didn’t have a car seat. With a flick of my wrist, I shut her car door and opened mine, sitting down and pulling my seatbelt on also.

Patrick drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Ready to finally go home?”

Sighing with relief, I nodded. “More than you know, Stump, more than you know.”

***

“Alright,” Patrick sighed, shifting my bag from his shoulder into my hand. I quickly swung it back around so it was on my shoulder.

“Thanks Patrick, I seriously appreciate it.” I smiled at him, and he shook his head, shrugging off my gratitude, even if he did carry my bags up from the car, then proceed to help me get things straightened up around the apartment.

“Seriously, it’s no problem,” he leered, before switching into a more solemn expression. “Listen, call if you need anything. You’ve got heaps of homework, and god knows how much other stuff, so if you need help with any of it, or just feel like chatting, don’t hesitate to call.” I nodded and he jammed his hands into his pockets before leaning over and pecking my cheek. “Anything, just call,” he told me, before smiling and disappearing out the door.

Shutting the door behind him, I turned back around to find a smirking Danielle. Déjà vu was an understatement.

She crossed her arms as her sneer grew, “Told you.”