I Never Planned on You

by Stefanie Jenkins

  It takes eight trips to load everything up in my car—well, sixteen if you count going down and up the stairs. Wiping the sweat across my forehead, I am worn-out. Maybe I shouldn’t have packed so much. I take one last look around my room and swallow the lump in my throat. This is going to crush my parents and Zach. I need to stop thinking about it before I change my mind. I wipe away the tears falling down my cheek as I take one last look at the room I grew up in—the one I had slumber parties with Haylee in and danced around to Katy Perry for hours, where I told my mom I was in love, where I used to get in popcorn fights with my brother and have heart-to-heart talks late at night. It was the place where I would share my deepest secrets with Em, watch movies, and laugh. I could sit at the window and watch him and Zach play basketball in the driveway even though they both sucked at it. This was my space to be me since I was a little girl. If only those walls could talk of the good times and bad, the heartache and the friendship, the love and the bonds. It would also speak of goodbye.

  I at least had the decency to write a short note for my family. Too bad I’ll be gone by the time they get back from the restaurant and see that I’m gone. “I’m sorry,” I say aloud but not really to anyone. Maybe it’s to myself, maybe it’s to my parents in hopes that when they walk in here and find my note they would hear my voice, or maybe it’s to Emmett, wherever he is now. I’m sorry that I’m not strong enough to face this all without him, that I have to leave.

  By the time I close my bedroom door and walk down the stairs toward the garage, my phone buzzes.

  ZACH: Hey, are you on your way?

  I ignore the text and keep walking to my car. When I get in and start it up, I sit there, close my eyes, and take three deep breaths…

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  I can do this. I have to do this. I have to be strong.

  I pull out of the garage and down the driveway, refusing to look back on the life I’m leaving behind.

  “Dani, where are you? We’re all here waiting for you to get here so we can order. Can you call and let us know you’re at least on your way?” – Dad

  “Danielle Kathryn Jacobs, this isn’t funny. What is this note? You left? When will you be back? This isn’t funny. Call us.” – Mom

  ZACH: Where are you? Are you okay?

  “Danielle, it’s mom. Where are you? Please call someone back. It’s been two months. We…I need to know you’re okay. Please, sweetheart, call us. I love you.” – Mom

  MOM: Danielle, I need you to call me! Please!

  MOM: Please just let us know you are safe.

  “Dani, for fuck’s sake, you need to cut this shit out and come home. You’re being a bitch making Mom worry about you. We’re all worried about you. Just let someone know you’re fucking alive!” – Zach

  ZACH: We need you. I need you.

  HAYLEE: Just tell us where you are and we can come get you.

  HAYLEE: I miss you!

  “Where are you? Please talk to me, D. I need you back here.” – Haylee

  “Enough is enough, young lady. Get back here now. I know you are hurting—we all are—but this is not how you go about doing this. When we told you it was time to move on, we did not mean this shit.” – Dad

  “Getting ready to leave for college. I don’t know where you are, but I wish you were here.” – Haylee

  “Dani… You know what? Fuck this shit.” – Zach

  “How can you be so selfish putting us—putting the Hankses through this. Mom and Dad need their daughter, I need my sister, and Haylee needs her best friend. I know you are in a dark place, but for the love of God, Danielle, come home.” – Zach

  I can’t imagine the pain I continue to put my family through by staying away. It’s been six months, and the calls and texts still come through. I finally texted Mom back, letting her know that I was alive, but that I needed to do this, that she shouldn’t worry about me, and that I was fine. Fine. There is that word, a word that women have been using since the beginning of time to falsely describe how they are feeling. No one is ever fine; they can always be better if they choose to use the word fine. I know she will continue to worry, though, that I am okay and wondering where I have found myself these days. I told her I was alive, but most days I’m not sure that I really feel that way. I died the same night Emmett did if I’m being honest…one year ago today to be exact.

  One year of pain.

  One year of anger.

  One year of what-ifs.

  One year of replaying his last voicemail just to hear his voice.

  One year of remembering what was, not what is.

  One year of asking why.

  One year of moments never getting to share.

  I’m sitting on a swing in a small town in North Carolina called Surf City. The sun is rising, which always makes me think of Emmett, not that every other part of the day he isn’t on mind. I’m sure my family and the Hankses will be headed to the cemetery today. I thought about going back, but then the reality of today sets in. How have we survived a year already?

  I look out over the ocean, happy that even though it’s December, it is still fairly warm. I have only a light hoodie and a pair of capris. This weather is definitely not the weather I am used to. The ocean reminds me just how small we are in this world, yet the pain we deal with is so much greater. My world crumbled, and I’m just not ready to accept a life without Emmett Hanks in it. Will I ever be ready?

  I feel like the number of tears I’ve cried could fill this ocean and still drown us all. That’s how it feels—like I’m drowning. What I am feeling changes on a daily basis. Even if it is excruciating pain that overtakes my mind and body, it is still something which is more than I can say for how I’ve been living the past year. Sitting on this playground swing, it reminds me of the front porch swing we used to hang out on at my parents’ house. I look over at the empty one next to me and wonder what life would be for us now had the accident not have happened. Emmett would be in his second year of college and I in my first, living together at the apartment, or maybe we would have ended up getting our own place. Would there finally be a ring on my finger with the promise of forever?

  I reach over to the empty swing, wishing to the gods above that they would send Emmett back to me, just for five more minutes. Fuck, who am I kidding—if they could give me five more minutes, then why not ten? Fifteen? One day? Why stop there—why couldn’t they give me forever back?

  I think back to the conversation we had at my parents’ house before he left for college, when I joked that we would have to bottle up his kisses in a jar for later. Oh how I would give anything and everything to have that jar now.

  My phone vibrates and even though I know it’s a bad idea, I look at the incoming text message.

  ZACH: I told myself I wasn’t going to do this today, but here I am reaching out knowing you will ignore this. Dani, I know you are hurting today and every day for the past year, but come the fuck home.

  ZACH: Whatever you are facing and battling, we can do it together. We are headed to the cemetery around 10, and then Mom is having lunch at the house. I don’t know where you are, but please come home. If not for you, then for me, for Haylee, for mom and dad. We all need you for fuck’s sake. I miss him too you know.

  ZACH: Please just answer me. I’m going out of my mind that you are out there somewhere by yourself and you won’t let me help you. I’m your big brother and I’m supposed to protect you from all things big and bad, and I couldn’t protect you from this, so I feel as though I’ve failed you. D, I didn’t want to do all of this over text, but I know that you wouldn’t answer if I called you, and I would be limited on what I could say via voicemail.

  ZACH: I have to have faith that you are actually reading these texts and not just ignoring them. I need you today and every day, Danielle. Please, I’m begging you. I love you, sis.

  I drop the phone in the sand as my tears continue to fall. My grief overtakes me the same way a Categor
y 5 hurricane would wipe out this area. The pain tears through me as if it just happened. Will it always feel like this?

  I open the reply message on my brother’s text message and almost type a response. In my head I see it perfectly…

  ME (DRAFT): I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left the way I did. I’m sorry I let you all down. I’m sorry he’s gone. I’m sorry for so many things out of my control. I knew that I would be alone the rest of my life, and everyone told me I needed to begin to move on with life, so that’s what I attempted to do. I moved on from my old life, a life with daily reminders of what I had lost. I know you all meant for me to move on from Em, but I’m just not ready to let him go. No matter what I did, I still felt empty. The pain never went away no matter what I tried. I know you all think I’m crazy, and yes, maybe I am, but I needed to do this. Everything always was so easy with Emmett. Even if it was something I was doing without him, life was easy. I felt…I feel that I need to relearn how to do everything including how to breathe. I need you so bad, Zach, to help me. Every day I wake up feeling like I can’t breathe, that I’m drowning. I want to wake up and this year was all a lie, a bad dream, and I wake up in Emmett’s arms. Please help me. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I don’t know how to live in a world without him? I want to come home. I am too far away to meet you there at 10, but I will be there…

  I read and reread my words over and over, and my thumb hovers over the Send button. I am so close to hitting it, but instead my thumb moves to the Delete button and I hold it until the entire response is gone. I want to come home…but I want Emmett back, and well, we don’t always get what we want. I close my phone and place it back in my pocket.

  After the sun has fully risen, I stand and walk down to the shore and breathe in and out, imagining Emmett’s arms around me giving me the strength to make it through the day, through tomorrow, through the rest of my life.

  “I’m so sorry, baby.”

  I pull my phone back out and grab the headphones from my hoodie pocket and plug the cord in. Recently I discovered a new song by Michael Schulte, and it’s been playing on repeat. I shuffle through the songs and press Play on “You Said You’d Grow Old With Me.” I hit the Repeat button and put the earbuds in my ears. Blocking out the world, blocking out the reality, I sit down in the sand and pull my knees to my chest and play this song and cry. I cry for the past and the memories, I cry for everything we’ve been though and have yet to go through, I cry for all the plans that will never happen, a love cut short, a life ended too soon. I cry and I pray for strength to be able to get by. My silent tears continue to fall against the sounds of the ocean. I cry for the thoughts I want to turn off, and I cry for the life I hope one day that I will be able to have—one that includes being able to see my family again. I pray that that day happens, although prayers these days don’t really go answered much, so I won’t hold my breath.

  I sit here for hours, and when I next look at my phone, it says it’s 10:00 a.m. I picture my family and the Hankses at Emmett’s grave, hovering and seeking comfort within each other. I imagine them telling stories of Emmett, maybe from when he was younger as a wild, rambunctious kid always getting into trouble with Zach, or maybe from when he was protecting me. Maybe a story from his lacrosse days when we thought he might want to continue professionally, but that wasn’t where his heart lay—his heart was with me. I think of the funny and happy moments of Em’s life, but with that brings the sad ones.

  I think about calling Zach to tell him I’m okay, but I change my mind. It’s better this way, better for them. They need to move on from not only Emmett, but me too.

  Three years later…

  A fter ignoring my family and friends’ calls, texts, and requests to come home for the holidays, it was finally time to stop running away from my life. When I had left the day after graduation, I did not really have a destination in mind other than the fact I needed to get as far away from that town as possible. After spending time in Surf City, North Carolina, I needed a change. I randomly picked a town on the map and drove north to Manchester, New Hampshire. As I drove through Maryland, I felt as though I had held my breath the entire time, overwhelmed with memories of the past.

  I wasn’t even sure if my brother would answer the phone when I had called him three days ago. I sat there on the couch looking at my phone for hours before I had enough courage to press Send.

  Ring. Ring. Ring. He’s not going to answer. This was a mistake.

  “He…hello?” Say something, Dani. He sounded half-asleep. I pulled the phone back to see that it was only 9:30 p.m. He cleared his throat. “Hello?”

  “Zach?”

  “Dani?” His breath caught on the other end of his phone. It was so good to hear my brother’s voice. “Dani, are you there?”

  There was no denying the emotions battling inside me now. My voice was brittle. “Yeah, I’m here.” I allowed the tears that I was holding in to release. We both didn’t speak for a few moments, and I pull my phone back to confirm he hadn’t hung up. The call was still going. There was some shuffling in the background. I hoped I hadn’t interrupted anything. Maybe I should just make up an excuse to hang up. No, I can do this. Just breathe.

  “I didn’t think you would answer.”

  “What?” His voice raised slightly. “Why wouldn’t I answer? Dani, you’re my sister. Of course I would fucking answer.” I pulled my legs up under me on my couch. I felt like such an asshole that I’d ignored him for so long.

  “Where are you? Are you okay? Shit, I’ve had this conversation in my head over and over again for years, and now that I finally have you on the phone, I don’t even know what to say.”

  I laughed. I guess it wasn’t just me feeling like this. “Well, that’s funny because I’ve been sitting here for hours rehearsing what to say, and a few times I almost backed out from calling you altogether. But just hearing your voice, I know I made the right choice.”

  “I’m so happy you called.”

  “Me too. Zach?”

  “Yeah, sis.”

  “I want to come home.”

  ZACH TEXTED me his new address, a house in a small town just outside Philadelphia. When I park in front of the house, I don’t see my brother’s Jeep, but for all I know he sold it. There is a black Toyota Tundra truck parked in the driveway, so he must be home.

  I take a deep breath.

  Knock. Knock.

  I look back at my car and wonder if I could run back to it and drive off before my brother even opens the door. No, Dani, you can do this. Breathe in and out. I push those thoughts aside and decide to keep my feet planted where they are. I really want to see my brother. I remember how good it felt to hear his voice after all this time.

  I raise my hand to knock again, and the door opens. Standing there is a man about six foot two inches, with brown messy hair, and he’s shirtless—definitely not my brother. Wait, maybe I have the wrong house. I quickly check my brother’s text and then look back at this man, who is looking me up and down. I feel my cheeks warm at his stare. It has been a very long time since a man looked at me like that, at least that I’m aware of. I’ve kept to myself the past four years, no men, hell, not even very many friends. I’m not sure how I feel about this man, a stranger, staring at me like that. I’m not sure if I should run or worse, reach out and touch his tight stomach muscles. What the hell is wrong with me?

  The man raises his eyebrows at me, waiting for me to speak. Finally, the words come to me. “I’m sorry, I must have the wrong place. I was looking for my brother, Zach Jacobs.”

  He looks me up and down once more and then smiles. “You’re Danielle?”

  I shrug. “Dani, yes.”

  He puts his hand out to shake my hand. “I’m Kyler, Kyler Lawson, your brother’s best friend.”

  His words almost knock me off my feet. Had he not been holding my hand at the moment, I would have fallen over. Umm no, you’re not his best friend. That job is Emmett’s.

  “Zach should be home
any minute. He got held up at work. Why don’t you come in?” He opens the door wider and steps to the side to allow me to enter the house.

  “So, you just hang out at my brother’s house when he’s not here?” I ask, confused. I have no knowledge of who this stranger is and why he’s in my brother’s house.

  “Oh no, I live here too.” My brother failed to mention that part to me on the phone—he lives with a roommate. What else did he forget to mention? Maybe this was a bad idea. I begin to look around. This place is cute.

  “Well, I need to get in the shower and head out. Feel free to make yourself at home, and just yell if you need anything before I leave.”

  I barely hear the last part of that because my eyes were fixated on the collage of photos on the wall. Some are of my brother and this new guy, Taylor…Tyler…Kyler, whatever it was, and him with an older woman I assume is his mother. There are some empty nails with photos missing too. That’s weird. But it’s not the empty nails where photos once hung that catches my attention the most. It’s the collage frame that includes photos of Zach and Emmett; Zach, Emmett, Haylee, and me; Zach and me; and even one of me and Emmett and from the summer before he died.

  I won’t cry, I won’t cry, I repeat over and over. I start to take deep breaths in and out to try to prevent an anxiety attack. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

  “Holy shit, Dani, you’re actually here!”

  I hear my brother’s voice from behind me. I turn around to see him standing in the doorway wearing black slacks and a white button-up shirt rolled at the sleeves. The edge of a tattoo is peeking out of one of his sleeve. Holy shit, my brother grew up. He sets his work bag and jacket down on the chair in the living room and runs over and throws his arms around me. I have to catch my breath. My brother is so grown up, he looks like an actual adult—and I missed the whole thing. I wrap my arms around him. God I missed him so much.