I Never Planned on You

by Stefanie Jenkins

  There is another knock on the door. “Come in,” I say softly. My eyes rise from the floor up the mirror to meet Zach’s. His eyes are full of pain and sadness like mine. I give him a mix of a forced smile and a pout; it has been kind of like my go-to expression when I am forced to be around people. It helps in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, but fuck, who are we kidding, the tears haven’t really stopped lately. I don’t have to hide in front of my brother though, of all people. He knows the pain I’m in.

  Walking up behind me, he places his hands on my shoulders and stares at me in the mirror. “Dad said it’s time to leave and pick up the Hankses before we head to the funeral.”

  I nod, but again I don’t move. My shoulders begin to tremble. Zach spins me around so fast I think I might have gotten whiplash. “I don’t know how to do this,” I cry into his chest. His arms tighten around me. “I can’t breathe, Zach. I don’t know how to be without him—his laugh, his smile, his love.”

  Zach lets me break down in his arms for a few moments. The only sound in the room is my loud sobs. Zach pulls me away from him for a moment, and I can see tears streaming down his cheeks before he places his forehead on mine. “One day at a time, Dani. We’re going to take it one day at a time. And we’re going to do it together, okay?”

  I have no words, so I just nod my head. He leans in to kiss my forehead and grabs one of my hands. “Come on, let’s go get this over with.”

  My brother is hurting just as much. I hate this for him, I hate this for me, I hate this for the Hankses and my parents and for anyone who had met or would have met Emmett.

  The ride over to the funeral home is silent. Dad and Mom are in the front of the minivan, Mr. Brian and Ms. Natalie are in the middle row staring out the window at nothing, and Zach, Haylee, and I are in the very back row. I sit in the middle, and they both hold my hands. We would be going from the funeral home to the church followed by the cemetery riding in the limo.

  Once we arrive at the funeral home, we all exit the van and switch to the limo to be church-bound. The last time I was in a limo was prom last spring. It was one of the best nights of my life. I’d danced the night away with Emmett and our friends, and then we’d spent the night in a hotel room together, which included a smorgasbord of breakfast foods delivered to our room the next morning by room service. I smile sadly at the memory, and I don’t even realize we’ve pulled up to St. Vincent’s, the church that we grew up at.

  I take a deep breath and squeeze Zach and Haylee’s hands, trying to find the strength to get out of the limo and walk into the church knowing that Em awaits us to say goodbye. Haylee looks over at me with tears in her eyes and running down her cheeks and attempts a small smile at me. Her smile punches me in the gut. She looks so much like Emmett, I almost can’t bear to look at her. They both had the most beautiful blue eyes—we’re talking like Caribbean ocean blue; they were eyes anyone would have no problem getting lost in. In fact, I got lost looking into Emmett’s eyes many times. They also had the same smile, so when Haylee gave me even the weakest smile, I saw Em and my heart broke just a little bit more.

  I feel the limo beginning to cave in, and I need to escape. I quickly release their hands and jump up and out the door to try to catch my breath. I wrap my arms around my waist in hopes no one will try to comfort me.

  I am so sick of hearing “I’m sorry for your loss. He was a great guy. I will miss him. He’s at peace now.” What the fuck do all these people know? He was at peace here on earth too.

  I stop in the vestibule of the church when I see the casket straight ahead. No, I can’t do this. The only time I was supposed to be in a church walking toward Emmett was when we were to get married and promise to spend the rest of our lives loving each other. Not now, not like this, not until we were old and gray and had plenty of babies, grandbabies, and possibly great-grandbabies—definitely not at eighteen.

  Zach puts his hand on my lower back to gently escort me into the church. As we walk up the aisle, all eyes are on me—“the one Emmett Hanks left behind.” How am I going to make it through this? We take our seats in the first row along with Haylee and her parents. My fists are wound so tight, I almost think blood might start dripping from my palms from where my nails are digging into my skin as the funeral begins. Lisa Lois’s version of “Hallelujah” plays on the speakers throughout the church as the minister, Father John Ryan, makes his way to the altar.

  In death, the same as in life, I can’t remove my eyes from Emmett, who is lying in the mahogany casket just feet away from me. Even with a closed casket, I can sense his presence. I want to run up to him and tell him, “Wake up, baby. Please just open your eyes, joke’s over.” I picture him opening his eyes and grabbing my arms yelling, “Gotcha!” followed by his laugh. Shit I loved his laugh—a laugh I will never hear again.

  As the music gradually gets louder, I feel my strength quickly fading. This is real life. I am supposed to say goodbye, and I’m not ready. The trembling begins in my shoulders followed by my hands shaking. I can’t do this. The tears begin to fall again, and I feel my brother’s arm grip tightly around my shoulder and pull me to his chest. Haylee grabs my hand and squeezes so tight she could almost break my hand, but I would welcome that pain, just so that I can feel anything else besides this gut-wrenching ache.

  I can hear sobbing throughout the church, but I try to block it out. I can only deal with my own grief at the moment. That may be selfish, but it’s all I know how to do at the moment. It’s my pain, my loss. Father John begins to talk, but I block him out.

  I force my mind out of this horrible place and remember the good times we had. Closing my eyes, I leave the church filled with people behind and travel back to a time when Emmett was alive.

  “Have you made a decision yet on what you want?” the man behind the counter at Daily Scoop whose name tag read “Eric” asked me as I browsed the different flavors of ice cream in the case in front of me. I tilted my head and thought of the four different flavors I’d just tasted: cotton candy, double fudge brownie, caramel swirl, and chocolate chip cookie dough.

  “Yes, can I get two scoops of mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone?”

  I felt arms wrap around me from behind, and Emmett laughed in my ear softly. “You always do that.”

  I turned my head to face him but kept our position with my back to his front. “Do what?” I said teasingly.

  He kissed my temple. “You always taste a bunch of flavors and spend all this time deciding what you want and literally every time you get the same thing. Every. Single. Time.” He laughed at me again.

  “What can I say? I know what I love, and that will always be mint chocolate chip ice cream. Our love affair goes way back.”

  Emmett ordered a scoop of chocolate and a scoop of peanut butter brownie in a bowl topped with Reese’s Cups. He always joked it was the ultimate Reece’s Cup lovers. Even though he gave me shit for my predictable order, he did the same thing, although he didn’t try all the different flavors.

  “While I appreciate your love affair with mint chocolate chip ice cream, do you want to know what I love?”

  I leaned back into him while we waited for our ice cream and closed my eyes, taking in the moment. Nothing could top this amazing feeling right now. I nodded to him, wanting to know.

  “I love you, Danielle Jacobs.”

  I slowly turned around to face him and placed my palm over his cheek. Was this really happening? Did he just say he loved me? “You love me?”

  He nodded. “I’ve loved you my whole life, I’m pretty sure; it just took me a little while to say it aloud. You don’t have to say it back if you don’t want to.”

  I was so shocked that I didn’t even hear Eric call that my ice cream was ready. I was still staring at the amazing guy in front of me who’d just admitted that he loved me.

  Emmett stepped forward and took the ice creams from Eric and handed me mine. He went to walk toward the register, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward me.
“I love you. I always have and always will.”

  Emmett’s eyes filled with so much love that he scooped me into his arms and spun me around. It startled me so much that I ended up dropping my ice cream on the floor.

  “Oh no!” I shouted and giggled.

  Emmett looked down and waved to Eric to ask for a new one and said that he would pay for the one that dropped. He turned to face me again and brushed his lips lightly across my mine.

  “I love you, Cupcake. Forever and always.”

  I lifted my arms around his neck, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. He pulled me in for another kiss, and my heart felt so full, I didn’t care that I was only fifteen. When you know, you know.

  I’ve zoned out for most of the funeral, standing and sitting when necessary just because I see those around me doing so. Haylee somehow found the strength to get up there to give the eulogy. She talked about how Emmett was always there for her, looked out for her, what a great friend he was, and shared a few memories. But what I hated about her speech the most was the term “was.” He was a big brother, was a best friend, was my love, was a strong athlete—none of those present tense, because this is now a world without Em in it. He was in this world but no longer is.

  I had finally gotten control of my tears and refused to look at Haylee while she gave her speech because I wouldn’t have been able to hold back. After Haylee spoke, Zach stood at the microphone and read a poem called “The Dash.” It’s a poem about the day you were born or the day you died not mattering, but it was how you lived your “dash,” the life in between the dates. What a joke—the date you die does matter, especially if you are taken too soon. Emmett wasn’t supposed to die at only eighteen. He had plans—he told me so.

  I feel like I blink and the service is over. My father, Mr. Brian, Zach, two members of the lacrosse team, and Haylee and Emmett’s cousin, Cooper, all rise and walk toward the casket to be the pallbearers to escort the casket out to the hearse. Father John says one last prayer and how we will lead Emmett to his final resting place. “Bridge Over Troubled Water” begins to play; Ms. Natalie used to sing this song to Emmett when he was baby.

  Throughout this whole time no more tears have fallen, but I also don’t feel anything. As the funeral director leads the men and the casket down the aisle, Mom wraps her arms around Ms. Natalie and begins to follow them. Haylee and I join our hands and try to find strength in each other for this walk, but both of us are drained of strength at this point. We are just going through the motions. I take a deep breath and exit the pew, and Haylee and I slowly stride to the limo.

  The drive to the cemetery is a bit of a blur. I stare out the window with my hand on my chin holding up my head. My other hand plays with the folded piece of paper for the poem I’m supposed to read graveside, “If Tomorrow Starts Without Me.” Isn’t it ironic that tomorrow will start without Em? It’s not a matter of if—it’s a fact.

  Mom hands me a tissue, but I push it away. There are no more tears. A fog has rolled in over my mind. I’m not sure sunshine and blue skies are in the forecast of my life anytime soon.

  M y phone has been buzzing all night and day with phone calls, texts, and social media notifications. They all read the same: “Happy 18th Birthday, Dani!” Having a birthday four days before Christmas always sucked, but my parents had always made sure I felt special by making a big deal out of my special day. But there is nothing happy about today. I am officially an adult, and the saddest part of that is I can say at only eighteen I have not only found my once-in-a-lifetime love but also lost him. I’m not talking about high school romance bullshit where you grow apart or break up because of the distance of college. I mean full brokenhearted, world torn apart, grief-stricken loss. What a way to start off adulthood, huh?

  I’ve managed to stay in bed all day avoiding the living as I have for the past two weeks. That’s all I’ve been doing the past two weeks. I’ve replayed Emmett’s last voicemail over and over; his voice has been instilled into my brain, but I fear one day it may fade. I refuse to let it.

  There is a knock at my door, but I don’t acknowledge it. Whoever is on the other side knows I won’t tell them to come in which is why I hear the door begin to open, and I roll over onto my side and pretend to sleep. If I close my eyes long enough, maybe the darkness will just consume me completely. Whenever I manage to fall asleep, I see Emmett in my dreams. Some are memories from the past, others are wishes for what our future would have looked like.

  The bottom of the bed dips as my brother sits down. I can tell it’s him because it’s not large enough of a dip to be my father, and my mom always makes such a commotion when she comes in here.

  Zach has been gone the past the two days, back in Philly to take his exams. His professors let him push them back a week since there was a death in the family. I heard him come home earlier when he and my dad were talking just outside my room. I feel his hand on my ankle, but he doesn’t say anything, just leaves his hand there. This is his way of letting me know he’s here without saying anything since he thinks I’m sleeping. Actually no, he probably knows I’m not sleeping, just avoiding conversation. I don’t open my eyes to look at him, but I can hear his heart breaking, as mine has. The only difference is that mine is fully shattered. The more days that pass without Emmett break it even more.

  Moments pass before either of us say anything. Zach squeezes my leg and says, “I know you don’t want to do anything, but Mom has been cooking downstairs all day, and the Hankses will be here soon. Mom would really like it if you came down for your birthday dinner.”

  I haven’t had much of an appetite lately. My parents have forced me to eat but have at least been nice enough to not make me come downstairs to eat meals with them. It always amazes and confuses the hell out of me when people think food is what people want when someone dies. I overheard Mom say that there were nine lasagnas delivered to the Hanks house. If they feel anything like I do, then I imagine most of that food is going to waste.

  I guess my luck has run out since they are forcing me to come join them to celebrate this stupid day. There was a time when my birthday was so special, my parents always made sure it was separated from Christmas, and then later Emmett made a huge deal out of it since our anniversary was just right before. December used to be my favorite month; it brought me such joy with my birthday, Christmas, and our anniversary. Now it is just a reminder of all I lost and will never have again.

  Maybe if I continue to ignore Zach he will just leave me alone, but highly unlikely. I decide to just pull the cover my head so he’ll get the hint. I think I’ve won when I feel him get up off the bed and expect him to leave. Instead he crouches down close to my face and pulls the cover back. My eyes are swollen and red still. I haven’t showered in a few days, and I’m wearing one of Em’s old T-shirts. I haven’t worn this one yet, so it still smells of him faintly. His clothes are mainly what I wear now—anything to feel him close to me again. Zach places one hand on mine and strokes my hair back off my face with the other one.

  “Hey, look at me.” I don’t want to open my eyes again to see him. “Please, Danielle, look at me.”

  Slowly, I open my eyes and meet his blue eyes. My brother and I look so much alike, I understand why people think we are twins.

  “Please, just come down for dinner, and then you can come back up right after. But you’ve shut us all out, and this is one day that I am asking—no, I’m not asking, I’m begging you to not shut us out. We are all dealing with this as a family, getting through this together, and you are making it difficult.”

  I go to speak, but he cuts me off, cupping my cheek. “I know you’re hurting—and trust me, I get it, Dani, I fucking get it—but shutting us out isn’t going to fix this. Now I suggest you get your ass up in the shower and change your clothes and join us downstairs. Don’t think about it being your birthday, just a dinner with us all together.”

  He rises and stalks out the door, closing it a little harder than even he possibly expected
, causing me to jump from where I’m lying on the bed. Together…Zach said it would be us all together, but he lied. We will never all be together again. I throw the cover back over my head and lose myself in the hollow of the darkness.

  “Why, baby, why did you leave? You are supposed to be here. It’s my birthday…you used to tell me how important these were, and now it just doesn’t matter because you’re not here. Please come back.” My tears overwhelm me into sleep.

  I feel the bed dip and the chill of the air as the blanket is pulled from my face. Blinking my eyes open from my nap, I expect to see my mom or Zach, but I see my best friend’s beautiful face. Her eyes are heavy with sadness like mine.

  “Hey, birthday girl. I’m here to help.”

  Help? How can she help me? She can’t bring back her brother. She crawls up the bed and snuggles in next to me wrapping her arm around me how Em used to.

  “I know today sucks—fuck, every day sucks—but please come downstairs. I’m worried about you.”

  How can she be so selfless that she is worried about me? It has been only eight days since her brother was placed in the ground. “Your mom made chicken Parmesan, my mom’s recipe. She knows you love it. And we picked up a triple-chocolate cake from Annette’s. Come on, D, let me help you get a shower and dressed and then go down. I have a feeling our parents aren’t opposed to coming up here and eating in bed with you. I sure as hell know Zach and I aren’t. If you don’t want to shower, that’s fine too, but I think it might make you feel better.”

  Haylee wraps her arms tighter around me. “I miss him too. I miss him so much. I’m so angry still. I have a hard time getting out of bed. I walk past his door and expect to see him standing in the doorway smiling at me even though he hasn’t even lived at home for months. I know it’s crazy but…”