I Never Planned on You

by Stefanie Jenkins

  She doesn’t continue, but I can feel the back of my neck getting wet with her tears.

  “Okay.” I say it as a soft whisper but loud enough for her to hear me. I can’t sit here and listen to my best friend cry. I sit up and she follows. She throws her arm over my shoulders and leans her head against mine.

  “We are somehow going to get through this. I haven’t fucking figured out how, but maybe we can figure that out together. I’m not ready to get through tomorrow or the next day, but how ’bout we just start with dinner, birthday girl?”

  I nod my head, and she smiles at me. “Come on, stinky. You’re smellin’ pretty ripe, like the guys’ gym-bag-level stinky, and we know I can’t handle that.”

  Her comment makes me laugh. I actually laugh for the first time since the accident. The memory of Haylee throwing up literally after I dared her to smell one of the guys’ gym bag comes to mind, and I actually fall over laughing.

  “Come on, it’s not funny. That was so gross! I can’t believe you actually made me do that.”

  “Hey, I didn’t make you do anything, Hails. Not my fault you can’t refuse a dare.”

  After a few more minutes of laughter, we both wipe our tears away. I instantly feel guilty for our laughter just now since Emmett will no longer laugh, no longer reminisce over memories, no longer sit on this bed with me or have his arm around his sister. My tears turn from happy to sad. I look back at my pillow, and Haylee can sense my hesitation.

  Before I can go back under the covers, she hops up and grabs my hand. “Oh no you don’t. Shower, missy—now!”

  Haylee smacks my ass while pushing me into my bathroom. I close the door behind me, turn the shower on, and strip out of my clothes before stepping in. I let the warm water run down my hair and face, hoping it will drown me. At least in the shower I can’t see my tears as they mix with the water. I hear the door hit the wall stopper, and I know that Haylee is sitting in the doorway. I don’t need to look out the curtain to confirm; it was always our thing. No need to stop our conversation just because the other needed to shower, although there was one time I was not alone and she started talking to me, and it almost got very awkward. Lucky for me and Emmett, he remained quiet till she got a phone call and left. I am also glad she didn’t reveal any crazy secrets that day. I’m pretty sure if she would’ve brought up boys, kissing, or sex, Emmett would have made it known he was in the shower with me.

  This time, though, it’s different. Neither of us say anything as I shower and clean the few days of filth off my skin. After I turn the shower off, Haylee hands me a towel, and I dry off before stepping out. I walk out into my room to see Haylee standing in front of my desk looking at all the photos on my bulletin board of me and Emmett. Some include her and Zach as well. I walk past her and grab underwear, a bra, black leggings, and Emmett’s Washington Capitals hoodie. I turn around the same time Haylee does, and she takes in my choice of attire. Her breath catches, and she wipes away the stray tears.

  “I’m sorry. I know I seemed big and tough earlier, but I just can’t… I’m sorry.”

  Before she can run out of my room, I grab her into a hug. I hug the shit out of my best friend, who is now an only child. I hold her while she cries and somehow find the strength to not crumble myself. I pull back and place my forehead on hers, and we both take deep breaths.

  “Come on, you forced me out of bed and to shower, and I’m sure Zach has already eaten all the chicken Parm, so maybe we can get downstairs for the dessert.”

  She gives me a weak smile before turning toward the door. I release her hand.

  “I’ll be right there. I’m just going to brush my hair real fast.”

  She nods and exits the room. I walk back into the bathroom and open the drawer where my brush is and find one of Emmett’s shaving cream bottles. I reach into the drawer and pull it out, lifting the lid so I can smell his scent. I close my eyes and envision him standing in front of me just inches from my face. I inhale, trying to control my breathing to keep from having another meltdown. I quickly put the lid back on and throw it back in the drawer, slamming it shut. Fuck brushing my hair. I grab a hair tie off the counter and pull my brown waves into a messy bun on top of my head.

  This is about as good as it’s gonna get for me. They should just be happy that I’m out of bed. I don’t have to eat; I can just shuffle around the food on my plate so it looks like I have, but to avoid anyone else coming into my room today, I will have to humor them and join them.

  The first seventeen birthdays in my life got better each year. Now it has become a day I’ll dread for the rest of my life.

  I t’s been five weeks since Emmett passed, and Mr. Brian asked for my parents’ help with clearing out Emmett’s room from the apartment. Ms. Natalie didn’t feel up to coming, so Mom went over to their house to hang back with her. I knew this day would eventually come. I guess I was hoping we could have put it off longer or maybe I could have gotten out of it completely.

  The spring semester will be starting at UPenn soon. Zach doesn’t plan on getting a new roommate; my parents can afford the rent, so no need for him to fill the empty room. He can set it up as a guest room. I’m surprised he doesn’t move out of there completely. It’s bad enough for me being at home without Em, I can’t imagine how my brother lives at that apartment alone.

  My father drives us all in the minivan, and sitting in the back, I am having flashbacks to driving toward the funeral home for Emmett’s funeral. There is small talk throughout the car, otherwise it remains pretty quiet. It’s all there ever seems to be anymore these days—quiet.

  We arrive at Zach’s building, and as we start walking to the main door, I look over and see my brother’s Jeep and next to it an empty space where Emmett used to park his. I stop and stare at the empty space. Closing my eyes, I remember our first time visiting this place last summer. Emmett carried me over the threshold as if we were a married couple when he brought me here to see it.

  I hear his voice in my head as if he were beside me. “Welcome home, baby! Next year, when you join us here at school, this is your home. I already talked to Zach about it, but you’ll move in for real and we can start our next chapter together.”

  I am snapped out of my memory to see Haylee standing next to me, holding my hand. She gives me a brief smile, and although I return it, I turn my attention back to the empty parking space before following her lead back toward our family.

  Walking into the apartment, we are greeted with an eerie silence. I notice the door to Emmett’s room is closed. I guess Zach keeps it closed since there isn’t a reason to go in there. Are we really about to do this? This can’t be happening. Maybe he is still just on vacation, at lacrosse camp like he had gone to all those years. My brain still refuses to accept he’s gone. No, it’s not just my brain; it’s my heart that refuses to believe it too.

  Zach comes out of the kitchen area with Sharpies, scissors, and packing tape. My dad and Mr. Brian had carried boxes up for us to pack the stuff up. Mr. Brian said that most would be packed up and put into Emmett’s room at their house and could be dealt with when ready, some taken to the church donation bin, and we could take whatever we wanted to take. I plan to take as much as possible. These are all I have left of him. Someone else doesn’t need the memories; they wouldn’t understand the importance of the suit he wore at special events, his favorite tie to wear on our fancy dates, his winter coat that he would wear when we would travel to Liberty Ski Resort for fun weekend getaways, the blankets that we would use to snuggle under after using our bodies to show how much we loved each other. Instead of assisting in packing everything, I want to get what I want and get out of there. I already feel like the apartment is shrinking in size.

  We are all standing around when Mr. Brian announces, “Come on, guys, let’s get this over with before I don’t have the strength to anymore and change my mind.”

  We nod somberly, yet no one makes a move from where we are sitting and standing in the room. My dad chimes in
, breaking the silence and placing his hand on Mr. Brian’s shoulder. “Bri, you know we don’t need to do this now. We don’t need to clear out the room just yet. We can take our time, do this when you’re ready.”

  Holding up his hand, Mr. Brian cuts my dad off. “I know there’s no timetable for this, Adam, but we need to do this. All of the stuff that you all don’t want to take—” He looks at Zach, Haylee, and me. “—we’re just boxing up and taking back home to later sort through thoroughly.”

  We all again nod in silence, taking in what is about to happen, but yet again, no one makes a move. We are all consumed in the silence and somberness that encloses the small apartment where Emmett lived his last days.

  It’s Mr. Brian who eventually makes the first move toward the bedroom door that is still closed and stands there with his hand hovering over the handle. It’s visibly shaking. Movement to my right brings my attention back this way to see Haylee wiping her eyes with her sleeve but doing it in a way she hopes no one will see. I pull my knees to my chest and take a deep breath. I need to be able to do this. Get this over with so that I can leave. It’s too painful here.

  Mr. Brian lets out a loud exhale, loud enough for us to hear from the other side of the room, before he turns the knob and walks inside. My dad follows, then Haylee rises from the couch. Zach walks toward me and takes a seat on the table in front of me, grabbing my hands in his.

  “You okay?”

  I don’t say anything, only nod, because my brother would know if I was lying. Nothing about this is okay. Five weeks and this is still not okay. He squeezes my hand, stands, and extends his hand to me. I stare at it before looking back at the door and trying to decide how easily I could jump over the couch and run out the door and away from here. In my mind, I keep running. In reality, though, I place my hand in my brother’s and allow him to pull me to my feet.

  Together, hand in hand, Zach and I walk toward Emmett’s room, where for three months, we would discuss our hopes, dreams, and future, love each other, laugh with each other, and only occasionally yell at each other, followed by making up with each other. I could do this. I had to do this. My grip on my brother’s hand tightens as we walk through the doorway and watch everyone else begin to fold and tape up boxes, pull things from drawers and the closet, and lay things on the bed.

  Haylee goes to open the top drawer on the nightstand, and before I can tell her not to, she slams it shut and lets out a loud giggle. Her laughter breaks through the uncomfortable silence but for the tape gun and cardboard. She looks over at me as does everyone else. Realizing what was in that drawer, I blush. It was no secret that we were together in that way, but it’s another to see your brother’s collection of lubes and lotions.

  “How about I take care of that drawer,” I say, then bite my lip and walk in that direction.

  She scrunches her nose up and nods. “Probably a good idea, D.”

  I reach for a trash bag from the dresser and begin to clean out the drawer. I don’t plan to use these again, and there’s nothing grosser than using someone else’s private items like that. My face puckers at the thought. Once the drawer is empty and other nonsexual contents are on the top of the nightstand, I walk over to grab an empty box to start gathering up belongings. I place photos, books, and random memorabilia that we have collected over the years and fill that box up. I write my name on it and tape it up and gather a second box. I begin going through the rest of the dresser drawers and throw T-shirts, long-sleeved shirts, flannels, a few hoodies, and his favorite pair of gym shorts in the box. I go through the motions and don’t concentrate too hard on what I’m doing, or else I’m going to break down. While I am in the process of taping up the second box, my brother is working on the desk drawers.

  “What is this?” He pulls out a box, wrapped in beautiful paper—the paper is beautiful, not necessarily the wrap job on it, which means that Emmett wrapped that himself. There is also a card along with it with “Cupcake” written on the front in Emmett’s sloppy handwriting. I stare at the present and card as my brother walks over to me. I am still staring when he touches my arm to grab my attention after apparently calling me over and over. Snapping out of my trance, I lift my eyes to meet Zach’s.

  “Well, I guess this was meant for you.” He places it in my hands, and I don’t know what to do with it. I can feel a bigger lump forming in my throat than earlier. He had bought me something and wrapped it? Am I supposed to open it now? Do I wait? I keep it in my hands and back up till I’m fully seated on the bed, unsure what to do next.

  Haylee takes a seat next to me. “Do you want to open it?”

  “I don’t know. I mean yes…no…I don’t know.”

  “You can go to my room, sis, if you want to do it now in private.”

  I nod, acknowledging him. I look around the room and think this is it. This isn’t like in P.S. I Love You where the husband knew his time was coming to an end, so he wrote her letters to help move on. Emmett didn’t know he was going to die that night. He planned to leave the library and come back to this apartment and see me. He didn’t know that he wouldn’t make it home.

  This is my final gift from Emmett. I go to get up from the bed to move to Zach’s room, but I’m scared. I somehow found enough strength to come here today, but this is just too much. I set the item on the top of my boxes and continue cleaning out the room so that we can go through this as quickly as possible and I can go back home to my bedroom to be alone in peace…or whatever form of silence my room provides. I look up from where I am standing to find everyone’s eyes on me as if they were waiting for me to either open the gift or break down. I brush them all off and go back to the pile I’m currently working on.

  Over the next three hours, we go through and pack everything up through tears, recalling memories brought up by some items and laughing at the ungodly number of empty orange Gatorade bottles. The man was seriously obsessed. The best part is that they weren’t even out in the open; most were shoved in the back of the closet or behind the dresser. By the time we’re done, we’ve found thirteen. Maybe that was Emmett’s way of sending a message to us to lighten the mood. He was always so great at that. Making light of the hard things.

  Walking out of the room for the last time seems harder this time than when I had to head home for the funeral since now the room is completely empty. It’s as if Emmett never lived here, all things Emmett packed up and put away. I don’t want to break down in front of everyone yet again, so I grab my bag and shove the card and box in there and walk out the door without another word. Once I am in the stairwell, I allow the silent tears to free fall.

  After loading the boxes in the van and Zach’s Jeep, who is coming home for the weekend, we head back to Annapolis. The ride home is quiet, everyone still wallowing in their memories. After dropping Mr. Brian and Haylee off, my dad tells him that we will come back with dinner and to help unload the boxes. Today has been another emotionally draining day, so when we get back home, Dad helps me bring the boxes into my room.

  “Dad, is it cool if I just stay home instead?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” I fake a yawn. “It’s just been a long day, and I’m pretty tired. I just wanna lie down.”

  With sad eyes, he nods. He takes one last look at the stack of boxes, pulls me into a hug, and kisses the top of my head.

  “I know it hurts still, Danielle, but we will get through this.”

  “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

  Dad holds me a little longer. “Okay, well, you get some rest sweetheart. I’m going to go pick up some pizzas and take them over. We will be back later. I’ll bring you some leftover slices.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  He kisses the top of my head before pulling away. I shut the door behind him as he exits, and I flip back and forth between staring at the pile of boxes and the bag that contains Emmett’s present. I walk over to my dresser and pull out a T-shirt, one of Emmett’s lacrosse tees that says “Stop Staring at my Ball
s.” I grab my bag and sit with my legs crossed on my bed. I pull the gift and card out and stare at them. One day I’ll be able to open them; however, that day is not today. I place them on top of my nightstand and grab my headphones, turn the music on, and lie back, bringing the covers over my head.

  T oday is February 17, 2012.

  Today is Emmett’s birthday.

  Today was his birthday.

  Today he would have been nineteen.

  My Emmett will never celebrate another birthday.

  He will forever be eighteen.

  Today everyone is headed to the cemetery to take flowers to the grave site. I haven’t been back to the cemetery since the funeral. What’s the point? I just see it as a reminder of what’s no longer here—him.

  I walk into our kitchen and find Mom cleaning up from breakfast. No matter how many times she asked, I still refused to change my mind about going with them. I reach into the fridge for the bottle of orange juice with my back to my mother when she asks again, “Are you sure you won’t come with us? Your brother is coming down to join us.”

  Zach had returned to school and started his semester in an attempt at getting back to normal. He keeps himself busy with his schoolwork. I haven’t been to visit him since we packed up Emmett’s things, nor do I plan to. I can’t be in that place. I’m not sure how he can stay in that apartment himself. I went from visiting almost every other weekend to none at all. He has only been home once since he came back to visit the weekend Em’s room was packed up, but he checks in daily via text and phone calls with me. I know him well enough that he is probably sharing any scrap of information I give him— not that there’s much— with my parents since everyone is so worried about me.

  I choose to ignore my mother’s question. She steps closer to me and places her hand on my arm. “It might help going there and us all being together.”