One year ago today, two of my best friends passed on. Johnny Cade, who had never done anything extraordinary in his life until the day before he died. The other, a rebel without a cause. I spent their last days with them, but at the time, no one knew it was their last days. I reckon if anyone had of known, we wouldn't have spent those days hiding, paranoid, in a city so far from our home.
Soda and I went out to the flower bed and picked some wildflowers that had survived the cold bite of autumn; they were mostly weeds. Mom's flower beds died not long after she had, my brothers and I never did take care of them. I felt some guilt about that tear at me.
We separated the flowers into two piles, Two-Bit promised he'd bring some from his own mother's flower bed when she left for work. She'd have a fit when she found out, but he knew it was worth it. His mother never punished him, anyway.
"Hello, there, Curtises!" Two-Bit called from the doorway. He let himself in, and the screen door slammed shut behind him.
"Hey," Soda said. "Did you get the flowers?"
"Yeah, I did. Ma's gunna have a fit, I tore her garden up," Two-Bit grinned. He laid some daisies down on the table next to ours.
"Two-Bit, you pulled the roots up," I said, looking at his mother's flowers. He shrugged, then started digging around in the icebox, looking for chocolate cake.
When Soda and I were done with the flowers, I hunted down two strings, and tied them into bouquets. They looked pathetic, but none of us had any money to buy anything better.
I picked them up, and stuck them into the two empty mason jars on the table.
Darry walked into the kitchen, looking at them. He smiled.
"They look good, are yall ready to go?" he asked. I nodded and picked one of the jars up, and walked into the living room. Darry picked up the other one, and followed me.
Steve was sitting on the couch. I didn't even hear him come in.
"Come on, let's go, guys." Darry said as he switched off the lights and walked out the front door.
It was nippy outside, and the sun was starting to set. It brought me back to one year ago, getting ready for a fight with the Socs. Not that it did any good: they still bothered us. More now than then, I'd say.
Once at the lot, Darry laid his jar of flowers at the bottom of the streetlight. Since Dally hadn't been buried in the cemetery, we wanted to get the flowers as close as we could to the spot he'd died at. Since it was in the middle of the street, we settled on the bottom of the lightpole he had been shot under.
Over the past year, we hadn't really hung out at the lot as much as we used to; I guess it was just associated with bad memories, that we'd wanted to forget. We couldn't forget though. We never would.
We starting playing football at my house, in the backyard. I started watching the stars from the front porch. I reckon the lot was associated with good memories too, Johnny and I had always watched stars there. The last time we did, though.. definitely a night I wanted to forget.
I looked down at the poor excuse for a bouquet. A piece of paper was glued to the jar.
Dallas James Winston
November 9, 1948 - September 10, 1966
It was a sort of marker for him in a way. Like I said, he hadn't been buried in the cemetery. In fact, we weren't really sure what had happened to his body. Cremated, I reckon. We never really had paid homage to him; I guess now was as good a time as any. We'd placed flowers on Johnny's grave a few times throughout the year, though.
I sighed. Dallas died two months shy of his 18th birthday. On the day he would of turned 18, I wrote him a note, telling him happy birthday. I'd never told him that while he was still living, he probably would of smacked me. Birthdays weren't special to him; to him it just meant another year he'd survived, not lived.
"Come on, let's go see Johnny now." Darry said. The five of us made our way to the cemetery. It was a two mile walk, but no one complained. Not even Two-Bit, who normally would of whined about his feet hurting.
Johnny was buried in the back corner of the cemetery, not far at all from my parents. His marker was just a stone plate stuck in the grass.
In Loving Memory
John Lewis Cade
March 1, 1950 - September 10, 1966
I set my jar of flowers on the corner of the marker, so his name was still showing. I laid my palm against it, then stood back up. Soda put his arm around me. The back of my eyes pinched, but I wasn't going to cry in front of everyone. I was surprised, really. I'd made it without Johnny for a whole year. Each step was more painful than the last, but I'd made it through just the same.
I'd forever hold onto the memories I'd shared with Dallas and Johnny. I was glad that I'd gotten to spend their last days with them. I was glad I was with Johnny when he died, that he wasn't alone when he passed on to the other side.
I could look back on the memories and smile now. I didn't vainly try to force myself to stop thinking of them like I'd wanted to in the beginning. I thought of Dallas's smile, one that he hardly wore. It was meaningful when he did, though. I thought of Johnny, the friendship we shared since childhood.
Though not physically here, Johnny's legacy would live on. As would Dallas's. They lived in my mind, and in my heart. Through the memories we all had together.
Those memories would last a lifetime.
