I Love Him Too Much

"You have the right to remain silent, but anything you do say may be given in evidence against you in a court of law."

Oh, God, why am I doing this? The question dances in my mind for the millionth time, tormenting me. But I know the answer: because I love him. I'd do anything for him. I'd do anything for any of them. I've always said it, and meant it. But I never, ever expected things to go this far.

The handcuffs are snapped around my wrists. I, Clarke Isaac Hanson, am under arrest. Under arrest for something I didn't do. Under arrest for holding up our local store at gunpoint, when, in reality, I was driving around in my car, thinking. Under arrest for something he did.

"Please," I manage to choke out. "Can I say goodbye?"

The tears forming in my eyes must touch the officer's frozen heart, thawing it a little, because, after exchanging glances with his colleague, the handcuffs come off, albeit temporarily.

I look around at my family, all eight of them gathered in the front hallway, witnessing my unjust humiliation.

My mom, white as a ghost, holding onto the stairway railing for support, staring at me like she doesn't know me anymore, like she doesn't know who I am. Her blue eyes, so much like his, are overflowing with salty tears, and, more tears of my own forming, I move towards her, putting my arms around her, feeling like a little boy again as she hugs me back. "Oh, Ikey," she murmurs, as I bury my face in her hair, the familiar scent taking me back to years ago, when she'd cuddle me if I cut myself, or had an argument with a friend. As I pull back, she kisses me on the cheek, finally breaking down and sobbing, right there in front of everyone. I can hear her eyes screaming at me: Why did you do it, Ikey, why did you do it? I desperately want to tell her that I didn't, that I'm still the same Ike she knows and loves, but I can't. I made a promise.

My dad's arm automatically goes protectively around her shoulders, and he stares at me with troubled brown eyes, probably a mirror image of my own right now. Sighing, he releases my mother and moves towards me. We stand there, looking at one another, neither of us knowing what to say. To him, this is his oldest son, letting him down. If it were me, I'm not sure I'd know what to say either. Without saying anything, I throw my arms around him, feeling him patting me awkwardly on the back, as if he's not sure he wants to hug me anymore, what with me being a felon and everything. But I know I'm not a criminal, and he's my dad as much as I'm his son, and if I want to hug him, then I'm allowed to. I don't want to let go, but I know that I have to. "Dad…" I croak out, but he shakes his head. He doesn't even want to talk to me.

I'm innocent!

Avery's next. I look down at her, thinking how much she's grown up lately. She's so pretty now. He always said that, his voice ringing in my head now. Avery's a very beautiful girl, and believe me, I've seen a lot of beautiful girls. Everyone thought he was so sweet for saying that. He was right, though. Avie's gorgeous, even when she looks so concerned and worried, as she does now. She's pretty young, but she knows something's up. Suddenly, she smiles up at me, revealing her front teeth, which haven't quite grown in straight. She tugs me down until I'm kneeling, then throws her arms around me, kissing me on the nose. "I love you, Ikey," she says quietly.

Thank God for Avery.

"I love you, too, honey," I tell her, holding her tightly, somehow controlling my tears and frustration, bottling up the raindrops threatening to trickle down my cheeks. Avery's crying. She knows I'm going away. For a long, long time. Not wanting to look at her, I kiss her again, squeeze her tightly, and let her go, watching as she runs clumsily over to my mom, wrapping her arms around her and crying into her chest.

Mackie's not all too sure what's going on. "Where you going?" he asks.

I don't trust myself to speak. Instead, I lift him up, ignoring his protests, and hug him, kissing him on the cheek.

"Eww," he moans, wiping away the kiss. I forget that when you're seven, a kiss from a family member is a fate worse than death.

I laugh, holding up my hand. "Gimme five, little buddy."

"Nuh-uh." Mackie takes my other hand and puts it in the same position. "You deserve ten." And with that, he slaps his tiny hands against mine, giving me a huge, gap-toothed grin.

Zoë and Jessica. They're standing together, Jessie holding our squirming sister tightly by the hand. Zoë first. She's easier. I pick her up. "Hey, baby," I murmur into her tiny ear.

"Ike!" she gurgles.

Laughing, I rub her back, and she burps in my face. "Ike!" she says again.

"Bye, Zo."

"Ike!" She giggles this time, blowing me a kiss.

I pucker my lips for a real one, and she complies, planting a huge, wet one half on my lips, half on my cheek. "Bye," I coo again, right into her face.

"See ya!" she lisps, giving me a smile and a wave, then struggling to be put down.

As I place her gently on the floor, I turn to my oldest little sister. She always used to think it was hilarious when I called her that. She didn't quite get how she could be my oldest younger sister. "Jess," I whisper.

She stares at me, her eyes with an expression much like our father's. I plead visually with her to open up to me, not to push me away, and it works. She hugs me, starting to cry, making me want to cry again myself. "Ike," she sobs. "Ike, why did you do it? Why do you have to ruin this? Why?" Then, as if she can't bear to be near me, she flees, bolting upstairs, my mom running after her.

Why AM I doing this? Oh, yeah. Because I love him.

Zac and Taylor are standing close together, and I notice for the first time that they're holding hands, a symbol of reassurance from one to the other. I wonder which one of them needs the reassurance, and what our room will be like for them without me.

Zac breaks away and comes to me, his arms flying around me. I hug him back, his body noticeably wider than mine and I find myself contemplating that if Taylor had been the same size as him, rather than me, if Zac would have done this for him too. Zac's always hated being bigger than Taylor and myself, complaining that because we were so skinny, it made him look fat. Of course, it was bullshit; Zac didn't ever look fat, only more built than either of us. But suddenly I found myself envying him. If only I had been the big one, not Zac, then I wouldn't be in this mess. Not that I would wish it on Zac, but still… It would have been nice if it hadn't been possible for this to happen.

"I know you didn't do it."

Zac's words startle me out of my reverie. "What?" I hiss in his ear, still holding him.

"I know…you didn't…do it," Zac repeats, as if talking to a six-year-old. "I know, Ike. I know."

"Don't talk crap. Of course I did it. I admitted it."

Zac just whimpers, squeezing me so hard that I think I might break. Zac's notorious for his bear hugs. Usually because victims end up with bruised ribs. "I love you," he murmurs, for the first time in years. We don't normally say it, we just know it, but at times like this, it's nice to hear.

"Love you too, little buddy."

He nods his head in acknowledgement, and I feel his soft cheek moving against mine. "Remember, Ike, I know you didn't do it," he tells me.

As he pulls back and takes both of my hands in his, squeezing them tightly, I feel a surge of love and gratitude for my fourteen-year-old brother welling inside of me. Even though I'm prepared to take the flack for this, it's nice to know that there's someone to believe in you.

Zac lets me go, his warm, wet brown eyes connecting with mine, and I notice he's crying. I don't want to leave him. I don't want to leave any of them. I don't deserve to be ripped away from my family.

Finally, it's him. He walks towards me, and hugs me tightly, taking me by surprise.

I hug him back, even though I'm not sure I want to. This is his fault, after all. This is his punishment I'm taking.

"Thank you, Isaac," he whispers meaningfully into my ear.

Thank you. What does he expect me to say? Oh, you're welcome, Taylor. I don't mind spending years in jail for you. For the millionth time, I wonder why I let him talk me into this. It was because he cried. He knows I'm a sucker for tears, especially his, for some inexplicable reason. Seeing Taylor cry always makes me want to eat my head or something. I just can't bear to see him upset.

So when I returned home to find him, sitting in our room, gun in one hand, bag of money in the other, rocking backwards and forwards, crying his blue eyes out, you can imagine how I felt. I was there in a flash, arms around him, holding him while he cried, like the good older brother that I am. When he told me what happened, I couldn't believe it. "Why?" I asked, a reasonable question, if you ask me.

He told me he didn't know. "It's like it wasn't me, Ike, it was someone else!" he wailed.

Then, he broke the news. "They know, Ike. They know it was me. I heard somebody shout that it was one of those darn Hanson kids! THEY KNOW!!!"

"They don't know it was you, though. Just one of us," I pointed out, a fatal mistake I realized, now that I had hindsight. "There are seven of us darn Hanson kids."

"Only three of us are tall enough," he sobbed. "And Zac's too…big… They know it was either me or you, Ike." Then, his eyes seemed to light up. "Ike… I can't let them know it was me… I mean, I have a reputation… I'm supposed to be a good guy, and Mom already hates me for breaking that vase, and I'm trying to impress Haley Winters, and…oh, God, they can't know it was me!"

He began to cry hysterically again, me still holding him, stroking his hair soothingly.

"Ike, do you love me?" he suddenly blurted out.

"Of course I do."

"Would you do anything for me?"

"You know I would." I didn't realize I was quite so blind. I didn't even know what he was getting at.

"Would you…say it was you?"

"What?!" I just stared at him, wondering if he was joking, but his red-rimmed, blue eyes were deadly serious.

"I mean, think about it. It's your first offense, and you've never even had a parking or a speeding ticket. I've had about ten of each. And people would expect it more from you."

"Why would people expect me to hold up a corner store?" I asked, incredulous over my brother's suggestion.

"No, they wouldn't, but they certainly wouldn't expect me to. And, come on, if my fans know I did it… Do you want to be responsible for mass suicides of lots of pre-teen girls?"

"I have fans, too," I pointed out, wondering how I had suddenly become responsible for his actions.

My brother looked at me with those big, pleading blue eyes. "I know.. But Ike.. Please…" His eyes were watering again. "I can't go to jail. And you won't cause you're such a good guy. Please, Ike, please?" Now the tears were flowing thick and fast, and my heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds. "Ike…please…I'll do anything. I love you!"

That was him going for the jugular. My brother crying and declaring his undying family love to me would definitely get to me. He knew that. I reasoned over what he had said. He was right; I didn't have so much as a speeding fine to my name. I'd never been in trouble with the police. Tay, on the other hand, had speeding offences, parking offences, and had been caught at an underage beer-fest before. The police were more familiar with him than they were with me. Maybe if I gave the money back...

"Tay, did you hurt anyone with that thing?" I nodded towards the gun.

"No, no, of course not," he sobbed. "I really don't know what came over me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, Ike, save me, please, I'll do anything…"

I looked at him. He was obviously an emotional wreck. And, I'll never know why, but a sense of brotherly love and responsibility overwhelmed me, and I found myself agreeing, Taylor throwing himself into my arms, still crying.

Now, standing in the same way, Taylor in my arms, I curse myself for being so stupid. When I'd given myself up to the cops, and tried to give the money back, they'd laughed in my face. Now I'm under arrest. For Taylor's crime.

"Mr Hanson, I'm going to have to ask you to come with me now." The sergeant's voice cuts into my thoughts.

I nod.

Taylor looks at me, anguish mixed with gratitude in his teary blue eyes. "Thank you," he whispers again. "I love you, Ike."

Again, I just nod and push him away, watching as he stumbles over to Zac and begins to cry in his arms. I look round at my family. My mom at the top of the stairs, hugging a crying Jessica; my dad with his arms around Avery; Mackenzie and Zoë sitting on the floor, looking around them; and then Taylor and Zac, both crying, each clinging to the other desperately.

This was what I had done. But then again, it wasn't. It was what HE had done.

The officer and sergeant frog-march me out to the squad car, piling me into the backseat. As it pulls away, eerily muted and understated - no sirens wailing, no lights flashing - I stare out the window, through my open front door at my family in the hall, finally allowing the tears to roll down my cheeks.

Why did I do it, any sane person would ask. But no one, except a Hanson, could understand why. I did it because I love him. But, as my house fades into the background, I wonder if I love him too much.

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