Fiona reads the letter and the world starts to spin around her. She can't think, she can't move, she can't breathe. She doesn't know what's going on or where the kids are or whether or not she's going to be late for work. She grabs hold of the banister to steady herself, and tries her best to remember how to breathe. She makes her way up the stairs and remembers how to walk, but she does so slowly.
The door to Ian and Carl and Liam's room is closed and Fiona enters without even knocking. She's alone, which she's grateful for. Ian's bed is exactly how it looked yesterday and she sits down, rubbing his sheets between her fingers. Ian won't lie in this bed for another four years. She won't do his laundry, she won't eat dinner with him, she won't wish him luck on a test he has that day, she won't see her baby brother for another four years. And on that last note, Fiona takes Ian's sweatshirt that is lying next to his bed and she holds it to her nose. It smells like him, it smells warm and safe, the way she always felt around Ian. She curls her knees to her chest and she suddenly starts to sob.
"Hey, I just dropped off Debbie and Car . . ." Lip enters the room hastily and he stops when he sees her. Fiona looks up at her brother and she feels an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and loneliness. Lip never hugs Fiona. He only hugs her on special occasions, but he can tell this is different. That his sister needs him to tell her everything's going to be okay.
He sits down next to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. Fiona stares at him for a few more seconds before collapsing into his arms, the scent of bitter alcohol and cigarettes enveloping her. They just sit there for what feels like hours, Fiona sobbing and Lip pushing her hair away from her face.
Dear Fiona,
First of all, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. But I'm leaving, I enlisted and I'm leaving this morning. By the time you get this, it'll probably have been 12 hours already, so I'm sorry about that too. I just can't be here anymore, it's nothing you did or that anyone in the house did. It's got nothing to do with you; I just need to do what's right for me and I think what's right is taking some time away. And by time I mean four years. I know you're going to be sad and you're going to blame yourself but I don't want you to. That's the last thing I want. What I want is to tell you that I love you and to thank you for raising me for literally my whole life. I wouldn't be the person I am today without you, Fi. I'll write as often as I can. Take care of everyone for me.
Love,
Ian
Lip doesn't speak for a week when he reads his letter. But then again, nobody really does. Christmas morning is bittersweet, because no one wants to open their presents without Ian. Lip has about ten flashbacks to Christmas past, where he would sit next to Ian and they'd always open theirs together. His gifts sit untouched, in the far corner of the room, where the remaining Gallagher kids keep glancing, trying to imagine Ian smiling and laughing. But there's no Ian, there won't be for a really long time.
He starts thinking about things. About how he'd never told Ian how much he loved him and how he was the best little brother and best friend that anyone could ask for. He remembers when he found out that Ian was gay – wincing at how little he was at the time – and he remembers when they found out that they were only half brothers. Ian had told him that they were family and that he was happy with who they were, Lip smiles at the memory, thinking of how much Ian loved being a family.
Ian was only a year younger than him but Lip had always felt like he was about a million years younger. He trusted Monica even though he was old enough to know he shouldn't, he was nice to people who didn't deserve kindness, he laughed too hard at stupid jokes, he put all of his love and faith and trust into Mickey fucking Milkovich. After spending all seventeen years of Ian's life protecting him, Mickey Milkovich was the one person that Lip couldn't save him from. He'd fucked with his head, fucked him up completely, it was the reason he'd left.
Lip seethes with rage and the thought and it's then that he decides he needs to have a talk with Mickey. He can hardly see as he marches on over to the Milkovich's house, blinded by anger and hatred. He doesn't stop to chat when Mickey answers the door after five minutes of obnoxious banging. He punches him in the face as hard as he can, and doesn't feel any pleasure at the sight of blood running down Mickey's cheeks.
"What the fuck, Gallagher?" Mickey demands when he falls to the ground.
Lip kicks him in the stomach equally as hard, "Pretty tough guy, huh, Milkovich? Bet you could take a few fucking hits –" he kicks him again. Mickey does nothing, which takes Lip aback for a moment, but he ignores the surge of pity. "You think Ian liked it when you kicked him like this? When you fucking beat the shit out him cause you're a little pussy who's afraid to be gay?"
Mickey pushes Lip away then. "Fuck you, man, you got no fucking idea what you're talking about, alright?"
Lip pushes him back. "Yeah, I think I got a fucking clue. And you know what? It's your fucking fault Ian's gone! It's all your fucking fault that he's gonna get himself killed out there!"
Mickey hesitates before managing, "What ever happened to Lip 'I don't give a shit about anyone' Gallagher?"
"I don't give a shit. But I do love my family, and I love my brother. You fucking ruined him, Mickey. He's not Ian anymore, you ruined him. Don't fucking think about writing him or calling him or doing any of that gay shit. He's better than you, he's better than everyone in this whole fucking town. If you care about him, at all, you'll stay the fuck out of his life. Or whatever life he has when he comes back. If you don't, I promise, I swear on my mother's life that I will kill you. I will beat your fucking head in, I'll shoot you, I'll knife you, I'll do anything to make sure Ian has a good life and that he's not stuck in this shitty town because of some slum shit like you."
Mickey doesn't try to get another word in, he just nods. Lip shakes his head and leaves without any other acknowledgements.
Dear Lip,
What is there to say? I guess by now Fiona's told all of you guys about me leaving. And yes, I know that she's pissed at me and yeah, I kinda figure that you're pissed at me too. But I also know that you get that I had to leave. I love Mickey, Lip. I really fucking love him, but he doesn't care enough to love me back and he just expects me to deal with that and still fuck him. I can't do it, if I do, I'll just keep drinking until I'm a full fledged copy of Frank. You were right, dude. He's not good for me. But whatever, just forget it, I'm gonna spend the next four years trying to forget him. I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me all of these years. You've protected me from everything for as long as I can remember – I just started laughing – remember when you told me I was too cute for the ghetto. Hopefully I'm not too cute for the army. I was just thinking about that time that you had Karen give me a blowjob, and I started laughing at that too. Jesus, that feels like forever ago. I feel like I was a different person back then, and maybe I was. I hope I didn't piss you off by saying the word 'Karen' but it was just nice to reminsice. I love you, man. I hope that that's not too sentimental for you. See you in a couple of years, I hope.
Love,
Ian
Debbie finds her letter a week after Ian leaves and it hurts just as bad as if she'd found the letter the day he left. She'd always been very observant of the Gallagher household and she'd always taken note of how Ian was by far the nicest of all of them. He never wanted to hurt anyone's feelings, he never called anyone out on their shit, he always tried to be the most stable and constant member of their family.
Ian would help her with her math homework, and he always stole her a donut from the Kash and Grab whenever she won a debate match. He held her hand and kissed her head when she'd put her trust into Frank and he'd let her down once again. He got Mandy to give him some of her old Barbie dolls to give to Debbie when Carl destroyed all of hers.
Ian really was a great brother and Debbie thinks in the back of her mind that she didn't appreciate him enough. She clings to Lip and Fiona because they're the mom and dad of the house, she hangs out with Carl because he's only a year younger than she is and she takes care of Liam because he's a baby and she loves babies and she loves the feeling of being able to take care of something. But she never found a reason to spend time with Ian, even though he was the only one of her brothers that always had time for her.
Debbie begins to think about the army. Ian had always wanted to enlist for as long as she could remember, but she never thought that he actually would. And he didn't even tell anyone, they hadn't had a huge Gallagher group hug or anything. He just left without saying goodbye. She'd be sixteen the next time she saw him – if she ever saw him again. Maybe she'd have boobs, maybe her teeth had straightened out, maybe she had a boyfriend. Ian would miss all of that, he was going to miss a good portion of her teenage years.
And then there was the chance that he'd die.
But Debbie doesn't want to think about that, she wants to vomit at the thought.
All she can do is go into Fiona's room and cry into her sister's arms, while she imagines Ian holding her hand and kissing her head.
Dear Debbie,
Hey princess, I know you're really mad and you have every right to be. But I need you to be brave – who else can I trust to take care of Carl and Liam? Who am I kidding, you're always brave, no matter the situation, I can always count on Debbie Gallagher to end up smiling at the end of it. I want to promise you that I'm going to come home, it's gonna be a long time until I do, but I'm gonna come home. I bet Fiona will put balloons all over the house and she'll make V help her make a big cake. You guys will all buy party hats and streamers – maybe you can even make me that apple turnover you make that I like so much? As soon as I come home, I'll give you a nice long hug and I can tell you face to face how sorry I am. Because I really am sorry. But sometimes, Debs, you've got to go away to get help and I'm leaving so that I can fix myself. I love you, and I'll see you . . . soon, I guess?
Love,
Ian
Carl feels betrayed beyond belief. Ian has always been his favorite person in the Gallagher household, he's always been his best friend and the person that he can confide in. And now all of a sudden, he's gone. No long sappy goodbye that he would've dealt with if it had come down to saying goodbye to Ian.
He'd never admit it - admitting sappy shit like that is for fags – but he doesn't know what he's going to do without Ian around. Who's going to teach him all those new knifing grips? Who's going to take him to the park to play samurai swords with him? No one. Fiona's too busy, Lip doesn't go for that type of shit, Debbie's wouldn't be caught dead doing boy stuff at her age and Liam was only a baby. Ian loved spending time with him, it was never some sort of burden, it was just the kind of person he was.
Four fucking years, Jesus, he'd be fifteen by the time Ian came back. He'd probably have lost his virginity by that point, he'd already promised it to some skank down the street who wanted to wait till he was fourteen to fuck him. Carl remembered he'd told Ian this and Ian had laughed hysterically and said "Nice one, man."
A life without Ian was gonna be a shitty one, that was for sure. When Monica eventually returned, who was gonna do everything they could to distract him from the hurt when she left again? Sure, Fiona was his mom. He'd convinced himself of that a long time ago. But his relationship with Ian had always been something special. And for the first time in over a year, he stared to cry, knowing that Ian couldn't come into their toom and make him feel better.
Dear Carl,
Listen, bud. If I was talking face to face with you, I know you'd tell me that I'm being a huge pussy. And maybe I am, but this shit's good for me. It's what I need and it's what I've always wanted to do. You'll be all grown up when I come home – god, that's pretty scary to think about. And when I do come home, you and I are gonna sit down and have a long talk together. I'll teach you knifing grips then if you're still a little sociopathic devil. You can tell me all about your adventures in sex and smoking and drinking and whatever else Lip and Fiona let you do when you're fifteen. I want to hear everything, I'll sit there for hours if I have to just to listen. I'll write you whenever I can, and I don't want you getting scared that I won't come home. You know how fucking tough I am, I can outrun anyone. I love you. Oh, and do me a favor? When Liam gets old enough to understand, tell him I love him too.
Love,
Ian