Disclaimer: Susie Hinton owns our favorite characters. Tim McGraw owns the song, and basically the plot. Thank them for letting me borrow them for our entertainment. :D

A/N: Like I mentioned, this is a songfic, based off of the song "Between the River and Me" by Tim McGraw. Each chapter will have a few lines from the song in the beginning, eventually making up the whole song. Each chapter will be based off of those lines.

This chapter's kinda short. I'll try to make them longer.

XXX

I was fifteen when my daddy died
Mama worked two jobs just to get by.

--

He was gone. That drunk son of a bitch was dead.

I stood by his grave with my head bowed and my arms crossed by my stomach. The old black suit I wore was his; I didn't own one. My mom took one look at it on me and burst into tears.

Yeah, my old man smacked us around a bit, but he was a good man when he wanted to be. She loved him. He'd kick me out of the house, then coax me back with five bucks or so the next week. It wasn't nothin' to make a living off of, but it got me gas in my car to take my girl out.

"Hey Steve, you doin' alright?" a voice said to me, accompanied by a hand on my shoulder.

"What?" I asked, turning to my best friend, Sodapop.

"I said, you doin' okay?" he repeated.

"Oh...yeah," I answered with only half a mind.

Sodapop Curtis had been my best friend since we were seven; he knew me better than anyone. His folks died a couple years back in a car accident. Just last year our two friends Johnny and Dally died, too. Seemed to me like everyone was droppin' dead...

"...and now, we say our last goodbyes to Bradley William Randle as we lay him in the ground, and let him rest in peace," the preacher was saying. I wished he'd shut up.

I put an arm across my sobbing mother's arms, feeling them shake with every cry.

I felt bad for her more than anyone. Honestly, I didn't care that much that my dad had just died. Yeah, I know, what a lousy thing to think. I can't help it. He was a gambling, drinking, fighting asshole, to put it lightly. I mean, how do you think he died?

Now, don't jump the gun and call me a horrible person. I ain't saying that if I had the chance, I wouldn't bring him back. Sure I would. I'm just saying that I ain't gonna miss him. And if I was granted the power to bring back the dead, he wouldn't be my first choice anyhow. More like my fifth.

"Hey little buddy, you gonna be okay?" Soda's older brother Darry asked me. He was 21 years old, and had legal custody over Soda and Pony. He was like my brother. Darry was like everyone's brother.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I snapped. I didn't mean to, it just came out that way. Mama cried harder at hearing me talk like that. She needed to get over it.

Darry gave me an understanding nod, and went to hug my mom. She accepted it, and cried into his arms for what seemed like an eternity. I left them alone and went over to what was left of my gang.

Isn't that nice to say? What was left of them.

"Hey Steve, how ya holdin' up?" Two-Bit asked, trying to be cheerful.

"I'm good. I'm fuckin' fantastic, in fact," I barked. No one said any smart remark like usual; they all thought I was upset. Truth was I was just annoyed. Was asking how you feel supposed to make you forget someone had died?

I looked over at Pony and saw how uncomfortable he looked. Almost sad, in fact. Poor kid was young when his folks died. Young when his best friend died. Hell, he was still young. I would've apologized for my attitude, but I wasn't sure I knew how.

I decided I hated funerals and death altogether.

-X-

"Steven Randle!"

I groaned at the sound of Mama's screeching voice. Too much booze and smokes had strained her vocal chords to the point of sounding like un-tuned violins.

I put the wrench I had been using on the engine of my car, careful not to let it bang down on it too hard, and walked inside the house through the garage. I leaned in the doorway, wiping the oil on my hands onto the back of my jeans.

"Oh honey, don't do that, that'll stain," she said. I immediately stopped. I didn't care if it stained or not, but I didn't want to make her upset. She had finally stopped crying.

"What'd ya need?" I asked, watching her put away some dishes she had just washed. Ever since Dad died, she'd been real big on cleaning.

"I wanted to tell you that I got a second job," she said quietly, stopping and turning to me.

"Second job? I work full time now, you don't need a second job," I informed her. I graduated school last year, and had worked part time. I had just switched to full time after Dad died.

"That money's for you. Use it for college or something," she said, raising her arm to wave away imaginary smoke.

"Like hell I'm going to college. I barely got through high school. 'Sides, I got a good job. I ain't goin' to some college," I said, now raising my voice.

"Steven, I'm getting this job," she stated matter-of-factly.

"What is it?"

"Waitressing. At The Dingo."

I almost exploded.

"Mom, you ain't gettin' no job at no Dingo. I wouldn't even work there!" I yelled. There was no way I was letting her work there.

"Steve, with my past, that's the only place they'd except me. I'm doin' it," she said through gritted teeth and stormed out of the room. I swear, sometime I wondered who was the parent and who was the kid in this family.

But that was that, I stopped arguing. Mama could be as stubborn as an ass sometimes.