Maybe I needed another cup of coffee, but I felt too jittery already. I didn't know why I had decided to come back here, back to this place I had escaped. And it was escape. I got that college scholarship and I never looked back.

Weirdly enough it was Darry who called me and convinced me to come back, for awhile. This wasn't going to be a permanent move, by no means would this be permanent. I'd had enough of Tulsa, believe me. I'd had enough of the gangs and the socio-economic divide. I liked the cities I'd lived in and the little apartments I'd lived in and there was no drama, there was no social strata. There was just me and my editors and my occasional beer at a pub, munching on peanuts and watching sports.

Darry called and asked, in his blunt Darry way, if I would consider coming back, and the reason surprised me, although if I'd thought about it it really shouldn't have. But the truth was I hadn't thought of any of this, not my older brother working himself to death in roofing and doing the odd construction job, not my middle brother lost in the jungles of Vietnam, and not my old friends who were just going to sink in the lower class neighborhoods we all grew up in. I'd just wanted out.

After me and Soda left Darry only had the rest of the gang to focus on. Dally had been sent away for something awhile ago, something involving a mugging and money and maybe drugs, I didn't even know. He'd be gone for awhile. Steve had graduated high school and got shipped off to Vietnam right along with Soda. Johnny, depressed and suicidal and drinking more and more, hadn't passed some psychological test for getting drafted, so I guess he lucked out there. The years of his parents mistreatment paid off in the end. Two-bit didn't get drafted, either, but that was just because his number hadn't come up.

So Darry had called me because he was concerned about Johnny's drinking. I listened to him explain it all in my little apartment in St. Louis, thinking about my upcoming deadlines and wondering what any of them had to do with me anymore.

And now I was back, drinking too much coffee and feeling that funny constricting feeling as I got closer to my old house. It was still Darry's house. I was going to work for the paper in Tulsa, and live with Darry, God help me, and try to help Johnny. And how exactly would I do this? I'd taken some classes in college regarding psychology and alcoholism, and Johnny was pretty unlucky, having genetic predisposition and environment to contend with.

I had a few bags that the cab driver helped me carry to the front porch, and I thanked him and paid him and just stood on the porch, feeling like a lost 14 year old again. Things even smelled the same, like eggs frying and sunlight on grass and old cars. The smell of home. And what I didn't expect was to sense my parents near for the first time in over a decade, and their presence surprised me and brought tears to my eyes, which stung until I blinked them away.

"Ponyboy," It was Darry, and he looked older. There were lines around his eyes and his hair had receded a bit, and he didn't look quite like the strong older brother I remembered.

"Hi, Darry," I said, wishing Soda were here to be the middleman. I pictured the smoky jungle scenes of Vietnam that they showed on the news, tried to picture my happy-go-lucky brother there with a gun in his hand. I couldn't seem to do it.

I went in and found things pretty much the same as when I had left. It was just quieter. The T.V. wasn't even on. No one was here but me and Darry. The house used to be full, radios and T.V.s blaring, people knocking over lamps and knick knacks.

Darry offered me a beer and I accepted, and we both sat down in the living room to watch some sports. I sipped my beer and thought about Johnny, but I was too tired to deal with any of it today. Tomorrow, I'd start to wade through the mess he's made of his life. I remembered when we were younger and he would cry and say he wanted to kill himself, and how cold I'd feel when he said that.

Darry and I didn't say too much to each other, but we never really had that much to say. It wasn't a comfortable silence, but I tried to remember that I was an adult now, no longer the spacey 14 year old that Darry had to look after. But it was hard to break the feeling of those old roles, and I felt it again, felt my 14 year old self trying to please him, and usually failing.