Thoughts Into The Past
I stared at the gold plated plaque above my son's crib and smiled, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. With his covers pulled up and him sleeping soundly I turned to see Sherri leaning against the inside of the door frame with a mug of hot chocolate. The corners of her lips turned up revealing her perfect wintery smile. I beamed back at her with such affection a blind man could see. After all these years, all of our neighbors knew I had a strange attraction to the creamy coco liquid, not nearly as much as the attraction towards the woman with cherry colored hair before me. We bartered; her with the mug of coco and me with a light kiss on her ruby lips. I pulled away and smiled goofily back at her. She rolled her eyes and reached over my shoulder, running her fingers through my long light-brown hair. Over time, mine had gone less red and fallen more towards hazel, while Sherri's only gotten a deeper, sexier I might add, shade of crimson.
"Oh Pony, after all these years you still act as if any kiss was our first." My eyes drifted back to the golden plaque, as they usually did when I felt a wave of nostalgia. "Stay Gold" it read in large, distinguished font. I thought back to that night when I had turned 18. Before then, about back a year I had not seen Sherri in a while much to my dismay. An invitation was sent out to the university she was studying at. About three days later, I was staring longingly at the mailbox on the curb of the road. Soda clapped his hand on my shoulder and smiled reassuringly.
"Don't worry Ponyboy, there's no way she wouldn't come, and after you quit goin at it with the smokes there's no way she won't see the man-gold under that tuft of hair." I returned his smiled with a sad upturn of the lips. The mail truck came around the bend and I ran out meeting him, grabbing the mail and seeing the pink envelope peeking out from behind the bills. I thanked the mailman fiercely and my eyes shot right to pink letter. "From Cherry," it read as I ripped it open and yelled out in triumph, she was coming to the party.
Three days later, after the party burned out and the sun was going down, I climbed up onto my roof, Cherry following me. We gazed at the beautiful view before us. The sun drowned in the horizon, its grandiose rays glimmering in the darkness of the clouds. Brilliant shades of gold and titian spanned the sky and the pale moon peeked at us from behind the war of hues. She smiled at me with that smile that turned heads in any room.
"Pony, what is your new year's resolution?" Suddenly, her hand touched mine and I noticed how close we were to each other. My skin shot up like static at her touch and with newfound confidence I replied,
"To fall in love with a certain red-headed beauty." My eyes stared deep into hers and they quickly filled with panic. What? Had I really just said that? What kind of creep will she think I am? My thoughts were quickly shut up as she put her hand behind my neck and pulled me into a kiss that seemed to last for hours, when it finally ended she pulled away and I grinned at her goofily.
"In another day-dream I see, well you can dream in our bed once you go and buy the drinks for Darry's wedding." She gibed jokingly. "Remember, he's only bringing the old crew along with some of Carrie's friends and parents. My mind shot back to present and I turned back to her and nodded while yawning hugely.
"Alright, I'll get a good red wine with the beer, a nice thing to have on a slightly chilly outdoor wedding," I confirmed with her. She nodded and I emptied my mug of the sweet, dark, and rich liquid. I glanced back at my son Johnny before giving Sherri one last peck on the cheek and I grabbed the keys to our Mustang II Ghia and walked out the door.
I glanced up and down the shelves for some good quality beers. Even though Darry had refused I help pay for the wedding in anyway, he said it was okay to buy the drinks. He had a nice job as an architect now; he was a fairly famous contractor in the area around Tulsa. It was a little more than an hour's drive from our nice comfy two-story in Stillwater, after I had graduated from OSU (Oklahoma State University) we had moved not much more than a mile and a half away. I smiled as I set my eyes on some cases of Samuel Smiths. I was about to reach for the case of beers when a startled yelp came from the counter. I cautiously turned to see a masked figure with a burlap sack pointing a revolver at the old cowering man behind the counter.
"Put the money in the bag or I blow your brains out your ears old man!" It was a young man's voice; he could be no older than I am now. He thrust out the pistol towards the old man as he crouched in fear behind the counter out of sight of me. This was not good, if the man didn't put the money in the bag now, he might get shot. I had to react quickly. My eyes shot between all the corners of the high-end alcohol and general goods store. The robber had not seemed to notice me as I was crouching and reading labels on bottles. I didn't move, as movement attracts the eye. My eyes drifted to my front pocket in my jeans that had my keys in them. If I moved even slightly, the jingling would galvanize the man of my position.
Next to me were some large, tower bottles of champagne. I glanced between the man with the gun and the bottle. Oh god I hope this works. I revealed myself slowly to the robber by speaking softly. "Hey man, just calm down, I'll get you the money, it's in the back. Just don't hurt old George there." My adrenaline spiked enormously as the gun shot out in my direction. Sweat poured down my face and my leg twitched, telling me to run. I ignored the urge and stood still, putting my hands up in the air.
"Who the hell are you?" He hollered at me with a slight southern accent. I tried to remember the hood language I had used so many years ago to hopefully lessen his grip on the gun. No, I shouldn't do that; he might think of me more as a threat, this isn't Tulsa. I swallowed nervously.
"The keys to the where the money is kept through the door," I recalled with no detectable lies in my voice. My head nodded towards the small wooden door in the front left corner of the store. "They're in my pocket; do you want me to throw them to you?" I asked sheepishly. Now the last thing a robber does is agree with the one he's pointing the gun at. Darry told me that once; he always wanted to make sure I knew what to do if we ever got robbed.
"No, I'll- I'll search you!" He said followed by a few curses, and "Don't move". I stood still as a statue as he approached with the gun still pointed at my head. The old man who owned the store was poking his head curiously over the counter, he still didn't move past that. The robber jabbed his revolver into my side as he leaned down and patted my pocket. He smiled some nasty black stained teeth as a jingling sounded through my pants. He pulled out my keys and looked menacingly up into my eyes.
"No funny business or you'll be dead in seconds!" The mask manned turned and the gun left from my side, he was about to raise it back to the old man when I shot into action. My hand rocketed out towards the champagne bottle and I grasped it in my hand, at the same time cracking the bottle up into the back of the masked man's skull. The bottle shattered, glass and champagne showered down around me as the man grunted and fell. I sighed in relief and leaned back against the shelf. I smiled to myself, happy to be alive. I guess I still got some Greaser in me, I thought. The old man, now seeing the threat was extinguished, quickly grabbed the phone and dialed for the police. Once he had explained to them the situation he hung up and turned back to me.
"You saved my life! Is there anything I can do to repay you sir?" I nodded quickly at him and gestured to the cases of beer beside me.
"Few cases of Samuels and a bottle of fancy red wine?" I suggested, still in disbelief at what just happened.
"Yes, yes! Please take anything!" I nodded to him and crouched next to the body of the robber and picked up the revolver that had clattered to the ground. I opened the cylinder and gazed curiously and sighed at what I saw. No bullets. Whelp, you can never assume anything. I set down the gun pulled off the mask covering the man's face to reveal a probably 17 or 18 year old kid with curly, sandy hair. A wave of sorrow washed over me in realization. This was almost the exact scenario Dally had been in before he died. I'm glad I was the one to end it here. I don't know what happened to this kid to bring him to do what he was doing, but I might have just saved a life.