Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly.
I wouldn't call my little sister "emotional." That word is usually used to describe the weak or dramatic, and Carly is neither of those. I would say, however, that certain emotions affect her more than others. When she's happy, she's actually ecstatic. When she's sad, she's devastated. She just…feels things harder than most people.
So when our dad was killed in an aviation accident, I wasn't surprised by her screaming, nor hysterics, nor reoccurring catatonic behavior. It only confirmed what I immediately knew when I received the news: I was going to have to be so much more than just a source of strength for her. I was going to have to be rock solid.
Don't get me wrong; I had a moment or two when I lost control. I yelled, I smashed things, I walked around angry at everyone and everything…between you and me, I was a mess. Just not in front of Carly. She needed me to be so much stronger than I was. Though I was determined, I just did not have the emotional capacity to look after her, the way she deserved, solely on my own.
I tell you all of this because, despite our family's tragedy, my sister is the luckiest girl in the world to have Sam and Freddie by her side. They've been so incredible throughout this entire thing, looking after her and keeping her company, especially during the times I needed to sneak away and just break down. During the service, each friend flanked her sides, Sam to her left with her arm around Carly's waist and Freddie to her right, gently stroking her hair. She had cried so much during the days leading to the funeral that I was convinced there was nothing left. Her face was absolutely blank, but she was clinging to the both of them so tightly that her knuckles were white. Even Gibby stood behind her, patting her shoulders. They remained clutched to her as she dropped the white rose in the plot. I'm not sure she would have been able to remain standing on her own two feet without them. Her anchors in the turbulent sea…she really is the luckiest girls in the world.
All of the attendants came to our apartment following the service. I was hesitant, you know, with all the people so eager to console Carly and I. I thought it may be too much for her. Luckily, her friends were there to navigate her through the overly grabby relatives, the awkward colleagues, and the concerned neighbors. She would occasionally look my way, silently letting me know how much she wished she could crumble. She plowed through, however, putting on a brave face throughout. Her friends remained faithfully by her side the entire reception.
As I cleaned up the apartment, I felt the need to check on my sister. Sam was passed out on the couch and Gibby had drifted off to sleep in the arm chair. I was headed upstairs when I suddenly remembered the place she seems to gravitate to whenever she's ready to fall apart…and I was willing to bet money that she was with the person who always seemed ready to put her back together again.
When I reached the roof, I was happy to see that I was correct in my suspicions. There on an outstretched quilt were Carly, shaken with sobs, and Freddie, who silently held her and rocked her gently. He pressed a kiss to her temple, then buried his nose into her hair. She clings tightly to his frame, just as she did during the service. He's whispering something to her, which I can't make out, but whatever it is it seems to calm her down a little. He places another kiss in her hair as her crying subsides. Freddie always had a way of putting her at ease. One time, I jokingly called him the Carly Whisperer. I'm not so sure that's a joke anymore.
I don't know whether or not they are together. Truthfully, I don't think they know, either. It's evident that they care a hell of a lot about each other, though, and if I trusted my little sister's heart with anyone, it would be Freddie, hands down. I'm beginning to think that she feels the same way.
I smile and slowly back away from the scene, leaving them to their privacy. I descend the stairs, beyond grateful that my sister has such amazing, loving people in her life. The image of her clinging to Freddie, knuckles white, remains with me for a while, only intensified by the sight of Freddie clutching back just as fiercely.
Her friends, always ready to put her back together again, to catch her when she falls. To keep her going when she is no longer able to stand on her own.
Despite everything, Carly is one lucky girl.