Every word burned against his fingertips, the past few months suddenly feeling like a lie. Sodapop knew what love was, the romantic kind. He remembered Darry rounding up him and Ponyboy for dinner at the diner, his father wanting to surprise their mother with a candlelit dinner. Soft and sweet, that's the way Mrs. Curtis could talk to anyone. She could talk to her husband like that even when he was yelling at her after a long day at work. That was love.
Sodapop craved that. So many kids on their side of the town hoped and wished for relationships far from the ones their parents had, not him. They were perfect with the curtains drawn and perfect with the hot water shut off, they were perfect when no one was looking. Sodapop wanted to feel that kind of love no matter who it was. He could even fake it to just feel something close to what his parents had. He thought that he and Sandy had that.
Ponyboy and Johnny were gone, they were missing, a boy dead in the park. All three of them were just kids with futures ahead of them. Sodapop felt something in the pit of his stomach, something was happening, everything was changing in those few short days. Sandy was distant and she never called but he had bigger things on his mind. Someone had to know where his brother was.
Just like clockwork, Sodapop went to the mailbox when he woke up. Part of him was hoping someone would write a letter saying they knew where Ponyboy and Johnny were, and it was all just a big mistake and they were safe. He knew it was a long shot but Sodapop was a sucker for happy endings. That might have been his downfall, he was always blind to the shadows creeping up on him.
There was a letter, the cursive lettering looking awfully familiar, but his excitement clouded his judgement. It was addressed to him, a return address from Florida. "How could they have managed to hide out in Florida," he wondered aloud.
"Darry I think we've got news!" he bounded into the house, not wasting a moment to rip open the envelope. Darry stood looking over his shoulder as he began reading the words out loud. His jaw clenched, his fingers dug into the paper, the words couldn't come out. He remembers shoving Darry's hand off his shoulder, racing to his room and letting the tears fall out. He cried all night, losing Ponyboy and now Sandy in the same week proved to be too much.
It wasn't his, that's all that kept ringing in his ears. She was in Florida now, shipped off to live with some relative. He reread that letter over and over again. "Please don't try to contact me." That last line was in his dreams, it followed him in the shower the next morning, and he swore it was written in every magazine he put out at work. He didn't tell Steve, not yet. He was embarrassed.
He began to question every aspect of his relationship. When had the lies started? Sodapop needed to know when it was that Sandy fell out of love with him. The drives to the diner stop being enough for her, she became numb to the perfect fairytale that Soda had always imagined for them. They were so young that the idea of love seemed so grown up to her, she wanted to just have fun for one night. Soda had a pretty good idea of how that went down. He questioned his own feelings, did he love her? Or was a part of him so consumed in imitating his parents' perfect relationship that he was so in love with the idea of love that he'd settle for anyone. It destroyed him.
Sodapop needed a distraction, he threw himself into finding Johnny and Ponyboy. He questioned Two-Bit over and over again, grilling him on what he remembers from that night. He eventually stopped because it made Two-Bit feel so awful for offering those girls a ride. All he really knew was he arrived after Dallas left and departed when the boys were walking home. Sodapop expected Dallas to be much more torn up over Johnny being missing, he knew something. He decided to pay Buck's a visit.
Dallas wasn't there, probably out causing some trouble. With some time to kill he sat down at the bar, his thoughts beginning to swirl around Sandy again. He would have stayed with her he didn't care if it wasn't his. He wanted to hate her, but hating wasn't in Sodapop's DNA. Part of him was still holding onto that idea of the white picket fence.
"This'll calm you," he looked up to see Buck sliding a drink in front of him. It was the good stuff, not the cheap beer that he hid at the back of the fridge that Darry must have always seen but never moved. He must have heard about Ponyboy, who hadn't? He didn't know that the love of his life had just left him. He didn't know that he was moments from breaking down. He wanted to punch someone, something.
Dallas arrived back a couple drinks later, Sodapop stumbling up the stairs behind him, questioning him on where the boys were.
"Look, do ya think I'd be here if I knew where the fucking kids were?" his patience was wearing thin. But so was Soda's sanity, so he pushed his way into the tiny bedroom.
He'd seen that sweater too many times to mistake it. It'd originally been his after all. Part of him always knew that he should take whatever Dallas said lightly, but being lied to like this hurt. His jaw clenched, fists curling at his side. He wanted to deck him. Maybe it was the liquid courage, or the lack of sleep, maybe the hurt had gone straight to his fists. He debated it. But Dallas was dangerous and a fight with him was something he wouldn't be able to walk away from so easily. He scribbled a note and left.
Darry didn't yell at him. He just helped him in to bed. They were tired, there was nothing left for either of them to do. Soda didn't tell him about Dally or the sweatshirt or how he'd gotten so hung up on this little blonde.
With a wicked hang over and a pen in his hand, Sodapop began his letter to Sandy. It was different from the one he'd written Ponyboy. That one had been a "see you soon". This was entirely different, it was a "will I see you". He didn't know, he'd be there in a second if she'd take him back. He had always been so love drunk, high on life even. Maybe he needed a new drug.
Ponyboy was back, it seemed that he and Darry wasted no time in getting back to fighting. He stared at the letter as their voices floated around him. She didn't even open it, she didn't care. She never loved him. She didn't want him back. He felt sick, his vision blurred. He needed a shot, maybe a cigarette.
He cooked dinner, it turned out alright. For once he wanted something to go right, he needed it to. He was caught in a downward spiral and he didn't know how to pull himself out of it. And then he snapped.
"Well, it's not that easy, is it, Soda?" Ponyboy'd drug him into their fight. He was always in the middle. The unopened letter. The fighting. Johnny. Dally. The trial. The half-drank bottle of vodka under his bed. He'd cracked, he finally reached his breaking point. He ran, he didn't know where he was going but he hoped it was far.
The next few days were a blur. He went to work and then to the bar. It was the same cycle, it seemed like it'd never end. Sandy was his first love and it just seems like you'll never get over your first love. He drank until her name sounded like any other girls who came into the DX. He drank until he couldn't remember how soft her hair felt. He fought, too. He fought because he was mad at everyone, including himself. A few busted knuckles later and he might forget about how angry he was.
He changed, the reckless Soda that came out during fights and drag races was now always present. There was no off switch. Drinking his last beer before closing he wondered if he'd ever get back to normal. Something had to give.
A girl came in and sat next to him. She struck him a smile, his good looks could get him that, even after not sleeping in two days. She seemed so familiar, he knew they'd met before. Had they gone to school together? Maybe one of the boys dated her. But he was drunk and her cat-like eyes lost their familiarity as he bought her another drink.
"Girl like me shouldn't be walking home alone, don't you think?" her words felt like silk, her voice a purr.
The familiar feeling zapped his senses back to life. He stood, following her out the door. He was excited, he didn't know what was going to happen next. He needed that sense of thrill back in his life.
He had found his new drug.