Disclaimer: Borrowed characters.
It had been six weeks since Sodapop Curtis and his brothers had said goodbye to their parents. Within those six weeks big changes within the Curtis household took hold.
It seemed like the aftermath of a tornado. Chaos, struggling, confusion. But buried beneath all the rubble was the foundation of structure. Sometimes tornados didn't even leave that. They were lucky; Darry knew where it was hiding.
But it's almost as if the tornado is just waiting for Soda to become comfortable, waiting to continue its path of destruction. About to take away the foundation, the building block of hope that was all they had left.
Routines became a necessity. Schedules were made and were to be followed. It was because of these schedules and routines that rebuilding would go smoothly. The rules were easy to follow. Take turns. Share responsibility. Help each other. Keep going.
So Sodapop was surprised that he had made it this far along in the aftermath without doing a particular task. While many may not understand why avoiding this task was such an accomplishment, Soda wanted very badly to flaunt his achievement. Show off his sneaky aversion. But the only people who would understand the height of his triumph were the two that were doing the task instead.
It wasn't as if he didn't pull his own weight. Almost every single night he was elbows deep in dirty water, swiping food particles off plates. And he even enjoyed when it was his night to cook, in fact, he had traded Ponyboy only a week ago offering to do two consecutive nights of playing chef to get out of his assigned duty. And he almost always was taking out the garbage.
There's was just something about doing the laundry that Sodapop couldn't handle. Darry had given both Ponyboy and himself a tutorial, explaining what went in hot water, what went in cold. Warning them that if wet clothes sat too long, they'd wrinkle and be too sloppy looking to wear. Soda had scoffed at that. They were men. Men wore wrinkled clothing now and then.
So instead of paying attention to the rest of Darry's talk, which droned on about the difference between lights and darks, Soda had wracked his brain thinking of the different places he could take Sandy without breaking the bank.
Now Sodapop was in a real dilemma. He had a date later on that evening and absolutely no clean underwear. Not even some that could pass as acceptable. Taking a deep mental breath to fully prepare himself, he decided to do the right thing.
He walked into the room he shared with Ponyboy and began his search for enough boxer shorts and whitie tighties to make doing a load of clothes worth the bother.
Having found a sufficient amount considering the two boys rarely found the purpose of having a hamper, instead throwing old clothes on the floor (not to be touched until deemed necessary by either Darry, or lack of clothing as was the case in this scenario), Soda was on his way. Deciding to be the absolute best brother imaginable, Soda even went into Darry's room and grabbed some clothes from the hamper that gave off an odd combination of sweat and the particular aftershave Darry was so found of.
Humming absently to himself, Soda began to wonder if the whole anti-laundry campaign was all in vain.
When he got to the machine Soda dropped in the white apparel, forwent the measuring cup and poured in what he deemed was a satisfactory amount of soap and began pushing buttons until he heard the telltale clinking that signaled the beginning of a cycle.
Proud of his accomplishment, Soda felt he deserved a victory rest, and proceeded over to the couch and dropped down as if he had been denied a place to rest for days on end.
When he woke up again, both his brothers were home.
Ponyboy was in the kitchen shoving pots together in the loudest way possible apparently.
Darry was in the recliner, seemingly resting his eyes, a beer still wet with condensation sitting in his hand.
Soda sat up, and then stood. He had an announcement.
"I did laundry."
Ponyboy's eyebrows scrunched together in the middle of his forehead. Darry's face gave away the same sentiment.
Sodapop grinned. He bounded over to the machine, ready to shake out some underwear and get ready for his date, hoping that Sandy would make it worth his effort to have clean underwear on.
Pulling out the clothes, Soda stopped. He cursed the moment he thought it was a good idea for him to do laundry. Along with his underwear was a bright red towel that had been left in the machine since the last time someone did laundry. Soda continued to pull out the load. "Ah, crap."
Knowing a bad sign when he hears one, Darry mutes the television show he was watching and comes over to where Soda was standing. His face transforms from confusion to surprise into annoyance.
"Aw, Christ Sodapop," Darry says wearily, mentally calculating how much extra cash he has in his paycheck that doesn't absolutely need to be sent into bill this month.
The clanging in the kitchen stops as Ponyboy joins his brothers to see what the commotion is.
The house is silent, and Sodapop is reminded of how tornados have something called an eye, where everything momentarily goes silent and unmoving.
Soda is beginning to feel a pang in his chest as he is reminded of the obvious absence of a woman's touch.
Then Ponyboy laughs. It's loud and comes from deep inside his chest. A laugh that hasn't been heard recently. It's as if he cannot stop laughing as he looks at the atrocity before him.
Watching as their youngest brother clutches his sides and gasps for air causes the older boys to laugh as well, and before long they are all hysterical.
After a while, they get a hold of themselves, releasing a lone giggle here and there. Smiling, Darry shakes his head, thinking how he can manage wearing the outcome of Soda's first attempt at laundry.
Soda grins and looks down at Ponyboy who is grinning and shaking his head.
"I don't know what you're laughin at," Soda comments picking up a bright pink pair of briefs. He flings it at Pony's head. "Most of this stuff is yours anyways."
Pony yelps in indignation, protesting and riffling through each article, moaning in disgust when he sees that many of the items indeed do belong to the young boy. "Really, Sodapop? You made all my underwear pink?"
Darry laughs again, "Looks like your cooking isn't the only thing you add color to."
And Soda truly begins to believe he is not, in fact, in the eye of the storm, waiting for the next half to come and rip down the little semblance of security they have gathered.
The storms over and the weather is clearing up.
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