You're standing on a chair, trying to attach the other end of a line of streamers to the opposite corner of the room. You bite your lip, standing on your toes which are dangerously close to the edge of the chair as you stretch to reach the corner.
"Come on, come on..." You mutter under your breath.
"(Y/N)!" Someone screams your name.
You look over your shoulder to see Patrick standing in the center of the room whose floor is covered in pink and purple and white balloons. He looks a lot better than he did months ago. His skin is no longer gray and his signature smile is back on his face.
"What?" You ask him, failing to hide your annoyance with him.
"What are you doing?" He approaches you.
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm trying to put up these streamers for Gabby's party." You look back at the corner of the room, trying once again to tape the streamer into the corner of the room.
"(Y/N), let me do it," Patrick begs you.
"You're shorter than me, Patrick. If I can't get it, you won't be able to either."
He sighs, disregarding your insult, "I just don't you getting hurt."
"I won't get hurt, Patrick," You mumble, putting all your strength into reaching out the farthest you can and attaching the streamer to the wall. You smile at your accomplishment and safely get down from the chair, turning around to face Patrick. "See? Not hurt."
He rolls his eyes and grabs the chair, taking it back into the dining room and placing back at the table covered with snacks and drinks - chips, pretzels, dips, soda, punch, the works.
"You know," You follow him in there, "Just because I'm pregnant, doesn't mean I can't do things, Patrick."
"I'm just looking out for you," He murmurs, leaning on one of the chairs and looking over at you, "I don't want you getting hurt. I don't want anyone getting hurt. This family's gone through enough hurt." You frown. He heaves a sigh and brushes past you, "Did you get Gabby's dress out from the basement?"
"Yeah," You respond, walking into the kitchen he disappeared into, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of vodka. "She's getting dressed right now."
Just then, your daughter races down the stairs and into the kitchen, dressed in her favorite Disney princess dress with her hairbrush in hand.
"Mommy, can you put my hair into a ponytail?" She asks sweetly as Patrick turns away, grabbing himself a glass and uncapping the bottle.
"Sure thing, birthday girl," You reply, taking your daughter's brush and ushering her over to the nook. You sit down at the table and your daughter stands in between your legs as you brush her thin blonde hair back.
Patrick sets the bottle down and picks up his glass, putting it to his lips and drinking the clear, strong liquid. You stare at him as you continue to brush your daughter's hair.
It's true that Patrick's gotten better since the surgery, but he's picked up a bad habit of drinking whenever he thinks about what had happened. You know it's bad, but you're hoping that the habit is just a habit and he'll grow out of it.
He finishes the glass and sets it down in the sink, walking out of the kitchen.
"Mommy, when are people going to start showing up?" Your daughter asks.
"Soon, Gabby, very soon," You tell her before asking for a hair tie. Your daughter holds up a pink hair tie and you take it into your possession, pulling her hair through it. You turn her around and brush her bangs out of her face and to the side, smirking. "There you go. You look like a true princess."
"Not without this," Patrick says, returning from wherever he went and bending down, placing a plastic crown on Gabby's head. She gasps in surprise as Patrick smiles down at her. "Now you look like a true princess."
"I can't believe I almost forgot my crown! Thank you, Daddy!" She exclaims, kissing Patrick on the cheek before scurrying away. You sigh and set her hairbrush down on the table.
Your husband sits down across from you and remarks, "I can't believe she's five years old already. Where did the time go?"
You laugh, "Tell me about it. The older she gets, the older I feel." Patrick chuckles, agreeing with you.
The two of you sit there in silence for a little more before the doorbell rings. You get out of the chair with slight difficulty - due to your growing stomach - and start for the door, Patrick following you. But before either of you can get the door, your daughter answers it.
"Uncle Pete! Aunt Meagan!" She exclaims. The couple wishes your daughter a Happy Birthday and each gives her a hug.
"Hey guys," Patrick greets them, smiling widely and slipping his hands into his pockets.
"Hey, so, where are all the people?" Pete asks as he walks over to you and Patrick, your daughter running away with Bronx and Saint.
"They're coming," You reply as Patrick wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to him.
"Well...I hope she likes the gift we bought her," Meagan remarks, clinging onto Pete's arm, "I spent nearly an hour in the store trying to pick out the right one."
"I'm sure she's going to love it," Patrick retorts, smiling.
*****
A little after everyone arrives to the party and gets settled in, it's time for cake and presents.
When asked what she wants to do first, your daughter answers - without hesitation - that she wants to do presents. So you gather everyone around and Gabby rips through the presents, squealing in excitement with each present she received.
She quickly thanks everyone before saying it's time for cake. Patrick brings out the cake and sets it down in front of her, leaving you with the task of lighting the candles while he dims the room.
Everyone sings "Happy Birthday" to your daughter - all horribly off key, except for maybe Patrick. The song ends and your daughter closes her eyes, making her wish before opening her eyes and blowing out the candles. The room erupts in cheer as your daughter beams with joy.
The cake is cut and distributed among all the party guests, the kids disappearing to the backyard the instant they received their pieces of cake. Bronx, Saint, Ruby, and Gabby all climb up into the tree house you have.
"So," Bronx says, sitting next to Gabby, "What'd you wish for?"
"I can't tell you," She responds, poking the pink-frosted cake with her plastic fork, " 'Cause then it won't come true."
"You can tell me," Pete's older son assures your daughter, "That whole 'if you tell someone your wish, it won't come true' thing is only between kids and adults. You can tell other kids your wish, though, and it'll still come true."
"Really?"
"Really."
Gabby contemplates whether or not she should disclose to Bronx - as well as the other kids her wish, but it doesn't take long for her to decide to tell him. "Well...I first wished for daddy never to be sick again. Or that if he is sick again, our tree becomes a tree mint tree so that he gets better quicker. I also wished for mommy never have to be angry with daddy again. Because they were fighting a lot before he became sick and I didn't like it. And then I wished for my new brother or sister to be a sister, because I don't want a brother."
"But brothers are cool."
"Sisters are cooler."
"Yeah!" Ruby, who's sitting across from them agrees, "Girls rule and boys drool!"
"No. Boys rule and girls drool," Saint corrects her.
"Nu-huh!"
"Yuh-huh!"
"MOM!" The four of them scream in unison.
Author's Note: Well this completes the "Scared" short story. I hope you liked it, it was really fun to write. BUT IT'S NOT OVER. I know you guys didn't want Patrick to die, but I really want to write an alternative ending where he does because for some weird reason I like writing sad stuff. It'll probably just be two parts like this ending was. I don't know when it'll be up, but stay tuned for them if you're up to reading them. Anyways, thanks for reading! You guys are amazing and I love you all so much! -Rachael