Saying Goodbye
It had been four months. One of the longest sixteen weeks of my life.
Four months since I got sick. Four months since the rumble. Four months since Johnny and Dally died.
I was okay for a bit. I made it to the end of the first semester with passing grades, despite the setback from my sick weeks. I was actually looking forward to winter break, full of football in the chilly evenings, and hanging out with Soda and Steve down at the DX during the day. I hung around Two-Bit for a while, trying to feel normal in spite of the fact that Dally and Johnny weren't there to tag along.
I would try to push forward, and pretend that I had moved on. Sometimes, I would go as far as to pretend that they hadn't even existed. But, their absence wasn't exactly unnoticeable. It was sort of like someone had chopped my right hand off: the wound would heal and I'd think that would be it. I could pretend all I wanted that it hadn't been there in the first place, but the difficulty of trying to live without it would always be a reminder of what used to be.
One day after school, Two-Bit drove me to the DX to get a Pepsi. Sodapop and Steve had been off in the back working on someone's car; some other guy- James or something- was working the counter. He didn't question me when I bought four pops.
"Thirsty much?" Two-Bit had asked with his trademark cocked eyebrow.
I stared down at my hands, fingers awkwardly wrapped around the four necks of the glass bottles. It was an old habit that I was used to. It took me a moment to realize my mistake. I could feel my face flushing as I scrambled to think of an excuse. "Yeah," I mumbled, finally.
Two-Bit drank two Pepsis, though, for my sake.
A week after school let out, we got a call from the hospital. The car ride there was silent. The whole gang- well, what was left of it- piled into the station wagon. Darry, who had answered the phone call, said it was important and that we all needed to be there. He drove, with Sodapop and Steve in the two other shotgun seats. Normally, I sat in the third bench from the front, with Johnny, but today I sat behind the front seat with Two-Bit.
I'm not replacing Dally, I had to tell myself.
Reality was hitting me again that they were gone.
As Darry pulled up and we got out, the hospital sat there, looming over us, casting the same dark shade it had that night. It sat there reminding me of the thudding footsteps Dally and I made as we ran into the shadow, to Johnny, to tell him the news. Reminding me of the orange glow of the flickering streetlamps, and the flashing lights and siren of our police escort. The pebbles kicked up under our running feet, the throbbing of our wounds. And-
Just as I could feel the cold sweat break out across my temple, I felt an arm around my shoulders. Sodapop. He didn't even have to say anything. My mind stopped running wild for a minute, blocking out the memories.
We didn't have to wait very long in the waiting room before a nurse came to escort us. She was pretty, I guess, with short dark hair and eyes that were a nice blue. Soda, now footloose-and-fancy-free, winked at her, earning him a soft blush and smile.
I still didn't know why we were here at the hospital. I pulled away from Soda, falling in step with Darry, hoping he would tell me something. I caught him glancing at me out of the corner of his eye and every so often his lips would part, like he wanted to talk, before closing again. But, he stayed silent during the walk, and I decided not to bother asking questions.
Finally, the nurse opened a door to a small office and we all stepped inside. She closed the door softly behind her, leaving us with a man, who sat behind a desk, wearing scrubs and a white coat. It took me a moment to realize it was Johnny's doctor.
"Hello, boys," he said with that sad smile most doctors I'd met seemed to wear, motioning us to take a seat. There were two chairs in front of his desk and Darry told me to sit in one of them while he took the other. Sodapop, Steve, and Two-Bit stood behind us.
Darry shook the doctor's hand and I swallowed hard, averting my eyes to the desk. I noticed two containers sitting there, with black writing on white labels. J.C. and D.W., they read. Horror sat on my chest, and I hoped that it was only a coincidence that those were the same initials as Johnny and Dally's.
"-have come here to discuss your friends." I hadn't realized the doctor had started talking until I snapped my head up and saw his lips moving. His eyes flickered to look at mine before turning his attention back to Darry.
The doctor kept on talking, and I tried to tune him out. "-no charge," I heard him say. I went back to not listening before I caught the words, "keep…ashes-"
A sick realization struck me, and I glanced between the containers and Darry and the doctor. I stood up so fast I knocked the chair backward. I backed away from the doctor's now-outstretched arm, the D.W. container in his hand.
I couldn't touch those containers, much less look at them. I had to swallow the bile in my throat before letting my mind say what it knew from the beginning.
There was Johnny, sitting on the table, and Dally, in the doctor's hand.
I didn't have to think twice before my hand was on the doorknob and I was running down the hall.
Two-Bit found me in an alley behind a restaurant, four blocks away.
I had rushed out of the building like the devil was on my heels, and booked it, letting my feet take me as far away as possible. As I was running, so was my mind. Those memories kept flooding back. Johnny in the hospital. Dally running out of the room after Johnny died. Glory it hurt. The pain that I felt a little bit here and there came rushing back, all at once.
I tripped and fell in a murky puddle in the back way behind the diner. I couldn't will myself to get up, so I sat there in the dirty water. My vision was getting blurry and I was shaking. I knew I would cry. My hands trembled as I fumbled around in my pockets looking for a cigarette to calm me down. It took me a moment to remember that I had decided to go cold turkey, less than a week before.
My breathing began to get ragged and I fought for air. I didn't want to cry. I couldn't. Johnny wouldn't want me to, and Dally would think me to be a pansy, wherever they are now. But, no one was there to look and I knew I couldn't fight it any longer, so…
"Soda!" a cry came. "Darry! I found 'im."
Two-Bit came striding down the alley, and just the sight of him stopped my tears. I would not let him see me cry.
Two-Bit was one of the many that you just didn't cry in front of. But, unlike the others, who thought you weak if you did, Two-Bit felt bad with you as well as for you. He seemed to feed off others' vibes, and if there weren't any good, happy ones, his mood took after the majority: gloomy and depressed. And a world where Two-Bit was somber was one I didn't want to live in.
"Hey, buddy. Have a nice jog?"
His eyebrow was lifted in that way of his, and a cautious half-grin was on his face.
I couldn't find it in me to speak, so I settled for nodding.
Two-Bit came over and parked himself next to me, the puddle now soaking through both of our jeans. We sat there a good while, me not saying anything and him not pressing me to talk.
Eventually one of the waitresses came out from the diner to take out the trash and she yelled at us hoods to "get lost," and to "find something better to do than creeping 'round back alleyways." We got up and jogged back down the alley, but not before Two-Bit mouthed off some smart remark. The waitress threw something at him, and I had to pull him along before he could say something else to get us in trouble.
The station wagon was parked around the front of the diner, and Darry, Soda, and Steve stood outside of the car, waiting. The small ounce of worry that Steve managed to express on his face vanished as soon as he saw Two-Bit and me walk up.
"Ten minutes, Two-Bit, ten minutes. You said you had found him ten minutes ago."
Two-Bit replied with a smile and a shrug, and Steve rolled his eyes, muttering about how we had made him wait in the cold.
I hadn't noticed the chill until Steve complained about it. Now that I thought about it, staying sitting in that puddle behind the restaurant hadn't been the best idea. My rear end was soaked, and the water from the puddle seemed to be freezing to my legs now.
"Let's just go," I mumbled, anxious to get home to shower and change.
Darry raised his eyebrows at me from overtop of the opposite side of the car. "'Let's just go'?" he questioned. "You're not going to explain why you ran off?"
Soda glanced between us as we shared a stony gaze. "Darry, he's right; we should go. It's cold out, and Steve over here is about to freeze his tail off. We can talk about this when we get home."
Darry kept his eyes on me but stayed silent. "Fine," he reluctantly agreed, after a few seconds.
He got in the car and started it up, and Soda and Steve followed suit, taking their places in the shotgun seats. I hopped in the back with Two-Bit, keeping my head against the window and my eyes closed for the whole ride.
When we got back home, Darry didn't question me. He took one long look at me, his eyes softening, and silently decided not to bother interrogating. He walked off to the kitchen, and I pretended I didn't see where he put the paper bag holding the containers of my friends' remnants…
I didn't even cry like I thought I would, when I got in the shower later on, where the water would have mixed in with my tears and the noise of it running would've hid the sound of my distress.
I was surprised when I saw Cherry a few days later, in town.
"Ponyboy," she called.
She stood at the corner, outside of the store Two-Bit and I were about to walk into. She wore one of those red, plaid scarves most Soc girls seem to have, and was wrapped up in a kind of expensive-looking pea coat. She looked real nice, as always, the color in her cheeks almost matching the red of her hair.
Two-Bit raised his eyebrow teasingly, his eyes flickering in Cherry's direction. "I'll leave you two alone," he muttered to me as he walked by and to the door of the store.
I walked the few steps towards her, praying that Two-Bit wouldn't lift anything.
"Hi, Ponyboy," she greeted softly, looking at her shoes.
"Hi."
"How have you been?"
I shrugged and looked away from her bowed head. "Alright."
"You doing anything for break?"
"Nah, just staying in town. You?"
"My parents and I are going to Colorado to ski. We're leaving today, right after they pick up something from the store," she says, nodding her head to the shop behind her.
Typical. She was a Soc after all, and they tend to do fancy stuff over the winter break, like skiing or going to California, or something. I suddenly remembered how Johnny always wanted to go sunny Los Angeles, and realized that while all these Socs went almost every holiday, he would never get to go there once.
I stared at the ground, not really feeling like talking after having that thought. We stood there for a few minutes, in silence, the chilly wind blowing against our faces. There wasn't really much to say; it was hard being from two different worlds.
She looked up suddenly, and I met her green eyes with mine. "Ponyboy, do you think it's possible to start over, even after you've lost someone you deeply cared abo- loved."
The question shocked me. I'd lost people I'd cared about, and loved too. But I got the feeling that she hadn't meant the kind of love that I reserved for my parents.
"I guess," I said with a shrug.
She started talking again, so low and fast I could hardly hear or understand her. "…remind me of him. But less angry and hard and cocky, more sensitive."
I figured she was talking about Bob, or even Dally. Perhaps Dally had shown a soft side around her, while Johnny and I had been away in Windrixville. Who knew that there was someone as hard and as angry as Dallas Winston, I'd thought, standing there, listening to Cherry talking about these two boys' likeness.
I didn't know she had been talking about me. No, not until she kissed me.
It all happened fast. It took me a moment to process her and to decide whether or not to kiss back or to pull away. I ended up doing the latter as I heard the door to the store open, Two-Bit slinking out.
She was apologizing profusely, cheeks ablaze with a shade of red I'd never seen. Two-Bit stood just feet away, one eyebrow cocked in a way that said I'd have a lot of intrusive questions to answer later on. Me- well, I was more in shock over the fact that I'd kissed a girl- or, rather, that a girl had kissed me.
"I'm so sorry, Ponyboy. I don't know what I was thinking. It's just- never mind." Cherry looked back at me, her eyes filled with tears and her face flushed from the cold and embarrassment.
I shrugged my shoulders, sort of speechless. "S'okay," I mumbled, feeling the heat in my own cheeks. I looked back at Two-Bit, where he stood waiting. "I, uh, gotta go, Cherry. I'll see you later."
I walked past her and ahead of Two-Bit, not really in the mood for whatever teasing that would follow once we caught up with one another. I felt real bad leaving Cherry there on the curb, in tears, as she waited for her parents. It's not that I hadn't dreamed of kissing a pretty girl or thought of Cherry from time to time. Something just hadn't felt right about what happened.
It wasn't until later, as I sat on the bus (away from Two-Bit) and thought about it, that it hit me. She was just looking for a replacement. When Bob was killed, she moved to Dallas, who she was already sort of in love with anyway. But when he was gone, she looked to me to replace them both.
I wasn't mad. It was hard to blame her when I was still grieving too. It was actually kind of funny to see how Socs and greasers adapt, how we're the ones who felt too violently and how they're too aloof. We get it all out in the beginning, blow off some steam in a rumble or in a fight, maybe, while they conceal it, swap out the missing piece, and move on.
I was surprised to find Steve in my room, on the Saturday morning before Christmas- Christmas Eve. He'd yanked the pillow off of my head, sending the book I'd been reading the night before- The Catcher in the Rye- falling to the floor.
I dug that Holden Caulfield pretty well, even though he seemed to be the Soc-y type. He was depressed too, for different reasons, but our situations weren't too far off from one another. We were from different worlds, but what Cherry had said all of those months ago was right: things really are rough all over.
"Get up," Steve growled at me, starting to pull off the comforter.
Despite it being winter, I'd slept without my shirt, and the chill of the morning assaulted my bare skin. Knowing his quick temper, I didn't dare tell Steve to go away, instead only tugging back on the covers, hoping he'd eventually leave me alone.
"Darry wants you outside, now get up."
"Well, he can wait, can't he?" I glanced at the clock on the night stand. "Glory, Steve, it ain't even eight yet. Whatever Darry wants can wait 'til lat-"
I barely got the sentence out of my mouth before Steve grabbed me by the arm and jerked me upright. He got his face right up in mine as he spit his words out to me.
"You look here, Ponyboy, I'm about fed up with your whinin'. You ain't the only person who lost someone, ya got that? Now, if you don't get your sorry, bed-huggin' behind out of this bed and go outside, I swear-"
"Let 'em go, Steve," came a voice from the doorway.
It was Sodapop, looking somber- almost depressed- his voice coming out monotone.
Steve was still in my face and breathing hard. He scowled at me one last time and then reluctantly released my arm from his grip, leaving red nail marks. He backed away slowly and stormed out of the room.
Soda stood there a moment longer, before mumbling, "I'll see you out back," and leaving too.
I sat there, shaken, eyes starting to blur with angry, embarrassed tears. It was no secret that Steve didn't like me, but never had he told me off or yelled at me like that. I could still feel where his fingers dug into my forearm- the pain only a light throb- as I slowly got out of the bed to put some clothes on.
I decided not to lollygag, but still trudged my feet as I headed out of the back door.
Steve looked up to glare at me as I joined him, Darry, Sodapop, and Two-Bit at where they stood in a circle. There was two-foot deep hole in the ground and we all stood over it.
"What's this about?" I asked, my voice coming out in a croak. I accidentally met Steve's grimace directly and suddenly my shoes became interesting to look at.
Darry cleared his throat. It took a few moments before he could speak, though.
"It's been a hard past few months- for all of us. And- um- I think it's time we had some closure…For Dallas and Johnny."
He kept pausing; he didn't know what to say. He also kept fiddling with a paper bag, the crinkling being the only noise in our silence. It didn't take a genius to know what was inside of it.
"I'd like to say a few words."
We all turned to look at who had spoken.
It was surprising when Two-Bit started to speak, and yet, at the same time, it wasn't. Somebody would have had to say something eventually and who better than the most talkative out of us. Of course, he was also the least serious, contradictory to this somber moment, but somehow it felt right.
"Dallas Winston was a Grade-A assho- jerk"-Darry shot him a look- "and Johnny Cade was sort of a pushover. But both of them would have your back no matter obviously had their own things goin' on with Johnny's good-for-nothin' folks and Dally being well…Dally. But they never forgot our little gang. Which is why we shouldn't forget them.
"We're all guilty of trying- I know I am. But that's not fair to them and their memory. Um, so yeah. To Dallas Winston and Johnny Cade." He pulled a flask out of his jacket and dumped some liquid- liquor no doubt- over the hole.
Leave it to Two-Bit to end on a note like that. We all sort of snickered, just to have something to do that wasn't crying. Sodapop started wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands, laughing as he said, "Is that rum, Two-Bit? Dally hated that."
Two-Bit smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Whiskey was his poison. Afterlife Dally will just have to be pissed off."
We were all in a better mood after that. Why not acknowledge them and be happy that we knew Johnny and Dallas rather than try to forget them? Of course it was a lot easier said than done when it came to burying them.
Sodapop thought we ought to take turns scooping dirt over the canisters with our friends' ashes. He said it'd be a symbolic and nice way for each of us to personally say goodbye. We ended up going oldest to youngest, leaving me the last person to put dirt down. My hands shook as I took the handful of soil and patted it down. This was really it.
The tears came like a flood. And once the dam burst, there was no stopping it. I was trembling and washed over with shame and anger and relief. It felt so good just to let go that I didn't feel embarrassed that I was sobbing like a baby.
Someone came up and wrapped the arm around me. It took me a second to realize it was Darry. Something deep, deep down inside me wished Soda was the one doing the comforting, but at the same time I was glad it was Darry. I never gave him enough credit; he'd lost the same people I had and yet he still managed to be strong for me and Soda. I put my arm around him.
My tears let up a bit and I watched as Steve finished filling in the grave, less symbolically. As our little ceremony came to an end, Two-Bit's last serious words said it best. I told him they were kind of cliché, later on, just because I could. Still, what had come out of Two-Bit's mouth was once again fitting.
"Gone but not forgotten."
(A/N): Hello! Long time no write. It's been a busy school year (once again). I hope you liked this one-shot. I've had this idea since forever and I've been writing it for a while now. But yay I finally finished. What are your thoughts? Too cliché or dragged out? Please review and check out my other stories!
DazzlinPinkLemonade