Alone Together {Patrick Stump}

Chapter 29

Dad was awake. And alive. And he wanted to see me. It was too much to believe. I didn't want to believe it.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Like, absolutely positive?"

"Yes, we are," Andy smiled. "I talked to the doctor and he said if you stayed in bed and rested, you could see him tomorrow."

"Okay, Uncle Andy," I said excitedly. "I am kind of tired, so I think I'll take a nap. You guys can go see Dad if you want. I'll know you're down there if I wake up."

"Call if you need anything," Pete said, kissing my forehead. I laid down and pulled up my sheets.

When I woke up, it was early morning. Uncle Joe was passed out in a chair in my room. I sat up slowly, careful not to wake him. I adjusted, but then Uncle Joe stirred. I held my breath, but it didn't work. He sat up and smiled sleepily at me.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I feel okay," I replied, shrugging.

"Do you think you feel up to going to see your dad today?" he asked. 

I nodded. "Yeah, I do. I really want to go and see him as soon as I can."

We waited a while longer, to give the others time to get up and my doctor to come make sure I'm fit to leave my bed. After I was cleared to move about the hospital, Joe helped me into a wheelchair and rolled me down to see Dad. He stopped outside a door and knocked.

"Come in!" came Pete's voice from the other side. Joe opened the door and pulled me in after him. I smiled when I saw Dad's face, awake. His face brightened when he saw me, but he still looked sad and pained.

"Hey, Dad," I smiled. "How are you feeling?" I could see tears brim his eyes when he saw my leg.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "This is all my fault. I'm the one that suggested you come along on tour. It's my fault you got hurt." He was crying. I wheeled myself over to the side of the bed and laid my hand on his arm.

"It's okay, Dad, I'm fine," I said softly. "I'll be okay. It's just a small injury, nothing major. I'll heal just fine."

After about two more weeks in the hospital, Dad and I were both free to go. The tour had to be pushed back to far, we felt so bad for all the fans. We made our way to the first show, which was supposed to take place in early May. We stood backstage of the arena while the opening acts performed. When they ha finished and it was almost the guys' turn, Pete turned to me.

"You should come out with us," he said. "Grab your guitar and perform with us. We've talked it over, and we all agreed. It'll be a blast, I promise."

"I don't know, Pete," I said, unsure. "With my leg, I'm not sure how long I'll hold out."

"We can set a chair out there and you can sit when you need to," he countered. He really wanted me out there, didn't he?

I sighed. "I guess," I said finally. "But only because I know you're persistent and won't give up until I give in." He hugged me.

"I'll do anything I can to make it up to you," he whispered. "You didn't deserve to be in that wreck with us, especially when I got out practically unscathed."

"It's okay, Uncle Pete," I whispered back. "It wasn't anyone's fault but whoever hit us."

"Let's go, guys!" Joe called as the others made their way onto the stage. Uncle Pete and I separated, grabbed our instruments, and made our way after them. I stood at another microphone that was set up near Dad.

"How are you doing tonight, West Palm Beach?" Uncle Pete said into his microphone. The crowd erupted in noise. "We are so very sorry about having to push back this tour, but I'm sure you all know why? Our tour bus got in a pretty bad accident on the way here. It put most of us in the hospital for some time. Now that we've all recovered, we're glad to be down here performing for you all! But, before we begin, I'd like to introduce someone special. Everybody, this is Lyra Stump." I smiled and waved a little as the crowd clapped and cheered loudly.

"Lyra is Patrick's adopted daughter," Uncle Pete continued. "Patrick, if you'd like to tell the story." Dad nodded and grabbed his microphone.

"Several months ago, I was browsing through files with an adoption agent from a local agency," he explained. This was the first time I was hearing my adoption story. "I came across the file of a young woman who was fifteen years old. Her file had a few interesting details that caught my eye. Now, on the file, it said that she enjoyed Fall Out Boy and the music we make. That wasn't what I noticed first, though. I noticed her picture. Her pale blue eyes and long blonde hair, the scratch above her left eye. I took in all th detail. Then, I read her file. Everything in it just hit me, and I knew I had to find her. We figured out where she was, and I went in to talk with the woman who ran the place. After about two months of paperwork and waiting, we were ready to sign the last paper, the one that would grant me full guardianship. Before I could sign that last paper, I needed to meet the girl from the picture. I had to see her in person, talk to her. The moment she stepped in that room, I knew she was meant for this life." He was looking at me while he spoke that last sentence. I felt like I could cry, but I didn't. I'd cried enough since I'd lost my parents. I'd cried enough since I lost my grandfather. I'd cried enough.

The crowd clapped and cheered happily at the story. I walked over to Dad and hugged him tightly, making the crowd cheer even louder.

"I love you, Dad," I whispered.

"I love you too," he whispered back. "Now let's show them all how amazing you are." We pulled away and I took my place at the other microphone. We began to perform, and I sang and played with Dad and my uncles. It was an amazing feeling, to hear the roar of the crowd as they screamed and yelled the words with us. It felt amazing to know that I went from being bullied and alone and depressed, to safe and loved and lightly less depressed in a matter of months. I loved my family more than anything, whether they were my blood relatives or not.