AU/ Hi everybody! Just to let you know, I'm still writing "Lies of a Button Man", (if you are reading it) this was just something to cure a little writers block. :D Plus, I love my dearest Two-Bit to death and hadn't written anything for him yet! Thank you S.E. Hinton and The Beatles! Thank god for you! In my mind you make a great pair!
So for the disclaimer, I don't own The Outsiders, S.E. Hinton does, I don't own The Beatles or any references to famous things or people in this. Blah, blah blah. You get it.
Summary- Just a long oneshot about Two-Bit and his love for his girl Lizzy. Various stages of his life, by year. Based on "Dizzy Miss Lizzy", by The Beatles. On with the show we go!
~1964~
There she was. Right in front of me.
Maybe it was her hair. Her red hair was shiny, and flowed down to her shoulders in soft waves. Unlike most girls, she didn't have the ends curled up like Nancy Sinatra or Pattie Boyd, whom they all admired. Nor did she use a ribbon that matched her clothing. She just let it down, nice and natural.
Maybe it was her face, that was most appealing to many. With creamy white skin with freckles, a narrow yet rounded face, it was something nice to look at throughout the day. Nicer then some of the greasy hoods that showed up in my class. Her lips were pretty. Rounded, and stained the color of raspberries, perhaps it was her bubblegum. They were the lips I dreamed of kissing every night. I can remember my dreams clearly. There were whispers in them, ones from my classmates, "Did you hear that Two-Bit kissed Lizzy?"
Maybe it was her eyes. That's what made me feel. They were blue, the most vibrant blue, like the ocean. I had never been anywhere tropical or near the ocean, hell, I'd never been anywhere far outside Tulsa. But I knew her eyes were something right from the ocean. Pretty sea blue.
Or her voice. It wasn't soft or quiet. It was loud and bold, with a little bit of attitude to it. A little higher pitched but a bit of rasp too. Still sweet, but bold. Like sour candies you could buy for five cents a bag at the gas station.
I think it was all these things. All these things that made me a little dizzy.
It was true. Whenever I saw her, whenever I heard her voice, my legs seemed to turn to grape jelly and quiver, my head felt like it was going to fall off. It was like getting off the teacups ride at Tulsa's Summer Fair. I would stumble over my own two feet until I found something to steady myself.
That's what was happening now. I could feel it. I put my arms out beside me until I grasped the side of the booth we were at. I clumsily sat down in it.
She was at the jukebox, talking to some friends. I could recognize a few, there was Peggy, who I remembered as a bitch, and Eleanor, who seemed nice enough. Peggy was one of those rich snobs who lived on the other side of town and looked at everyone like they were a pile of the stuff Sodapop used to clean up after rodeos. You know what I mean.
Lizzy just stood there, curling her red hair between her fingers. She was grinning widely. I guess Peggy said something funny.
Suddenly, water as cold as ice splashed in my face. I flinched at it and closed my eyes, wiping away water with my eyes.
Upon opening them, I saw the face of Sodapop Curtis.
Stupid little punk. Though he was a nearly two years younger then me, he thought he was the king of all things old. Only fourteen, his handsome face was still round like a little kid's; a sign of not going through puberty yet. His dark brown eyes were always dancing with delight of finding a way to brighten a person's day, even if it meant a prank. And it worked. Except for Dallas, that is because Dally would pummel him for sure if he pulled anything. Dally was only a year older then him, yet one hundred times tougher.
Still, I couldn't hurt the kid if I tried. After all, I wasn't one to hurt people. Putting a smile on their face was more of my thing.
"Did that wake ya' up?" He said smirking.
I chuckled. "Did it look like I was sleeping?"
"No, but it sure did look like nothing was going on in that brain of yours," Suddenly said a smart-ass voice. Both Soda and my head turned to face Steve Randle.
His hair was freshly greased, his face looked as if there was dirt on it. If there was one thing Steve was good at it was fixing cars and living up to the stereotyped greaser image. Tough, witty and cocky. Fast with a switchblade, could pack a good punch. Everything people thought all greasers were like.
"If you have a brain, Two-Bitty," Sodapop sneered, joining in laughter with Steve. I too found myself laughing.
"Course I have a brain, how'd you think I come up with jokes?" I snorted between laughs.
Of course this wasn't whole hearted laughter. The whole time my eyes were on Lizzy.
She was at the jukebox. Her little hands went and put a quarter in the machine. A grin pulled up on her lips and the music began to blast: "Ba da la bamba!"
She started to dance. From the twist of her heels, to the wave of her hands, she was always on the beat. That girl really really knew how to rock and roll.
And inside, I got this feeling, an impulse to go dance with her.
Sure glad I did.
~1965~
She sure looked pretty in her dress. It was yellow, and a little too nice to be wearing at Buck's. Still, she was grinning and fit right in here.
I was drunk. As usual. I think she might be too. Or crazy. Because it would take a lot of guts to change the jukebox up front from Hank Williams to Martha and The Vandellas. I guess she had them.
She saw me and waved drunkenly. "Hey Two-Bit!" She hollered.
"Hey Miss Lizzy!" I yelled back from across the room, and made my way to her. The room was a little crooked, like we were on a boat or something. Swaying, like waves.
My foot hit something hard.
"Shit," I squeaked before falling to the ground. My knees hit the cold cement floor with a thump. Ouch. My chest heaved, as though I had knocked the wind out of myself. I didn't know if I did, maybe it just hurt alot. I felt the cold of the floor on my face and my spilt beer all over my shirt.
"Jesus Murphy, Two-Bit!" Lizzy cried before she came stumbling over. This was an accident waiting to happen for sure. A drunk kid on the floor, a drunk kid coming over. What are the odds? Maybe ninety-five percent chance. Let's leave the other five percent to some magic, maybe Ponyboy will use his wizarding powers on her. Remember, I'm drunk.
There came her feet. Beige and brown cowboy boots. I never noticed them before until now. Their pretty tuff.
She tripped. And fell. Right on top of me. It wasn't so bad. Jesus, she wasn't that heavy at all. I remember in the seventh grade when the one-hundred-fifty pound Patty-Anne fell on top of me, after being pushed during a fire drill. I had nightmares about it for about two months.
Her dress was lopsided, her hair was messy and she was laughing uncontrollably, as well as I was.
"Let's do that again, ballerina," I choked out.
She threw her red head back, giggling.
"Anytime. You were looking like Fred Astaire, Mr. Mathews."
"If I'm Fred, you can be Ginger Rogers!" I exclaimed.
"I've got ginger hair!"
Suddenly, Lizzy's eyes bulged, then she drew in a breath.
The next thing I knew my face was covered in Lizzy's vomit.
~1966~
"Bonjour," Said Lizzy, as she came over and kissed me on the cheek. We had been going out for around a year now,sometimes on and off. It worked for us quite well. I wasn't the type of guy to stay with one chick forever, and a wild girl definitely couldn't be held down with commitment. We still loved each other, very much, but we didn't mind if a little flirting went on with members of the opposite sex (Preferably blonds for me). What can I say, it's our nature.
"Madame," I said, tipping an invisible top hat.
Her face was anxious, which was strange from her usual smile. This made me worried, and my stomach did turns.
"I gotta talk to you, Two-Bit," Lizzy said, gently taking my hand.
"Are you pregnant?" I blurted out, suddenly. Sorry, but it was the first thing that came into my head.
She laughed and I gave a sigh of relief.
"No, sorry if you wanted some munchkins," She said, shaking her head, then her face turned solemn. "What I came to to tell you is that my old man got a job transfer."
"And?" I asked, cocking my eyebrow.
"To San Fransisco. I'm moving there with my family," Lizzy said, her voice seemed to be strained.
All I could manage was "Oh."
Lizzy was leaving. Leaving me and the wild and helter skelter of Oklahoma behind her back. I might not ever see her red hair again, or her pretty face. I might not ever be able to share a dance with her, or sweet kisses. If I was lucky I'd get to crack one last joke to her.
Thinking this over, my eyes began to burn. It was odd. I can't ever remember crying, not ever. It was strange to feel tears now, when I was eighteen.
I felt Lizzy's hand on my face. It was cool, relaxing in a way. I placed my hand over top of hers.
"Ya' know what?" She started, "As soon as I finish school, I'll come back here and we can get it on again. Ya' dig?" I nodded.
"Feel free to have other girls, Two-Bit, I understand," Lizzy said, and I muttered and "Okay." Though she gave me permission, I wouldn't. I couldn't. Not without thinking of her. What would the gang think then? Two-Bit's taste for ladies has gone slack, maybe his redhead leavin' made him go soft. Maybe I should have a girl around, just for show.
"It's only less then a year. It won't be long before I beat it out of California and come back to Tulsa," She tried to say reassuringly.
"Less then a year your be back in time for me to marry you?" I joked.
She winked. "Hopefully," She said before kissing me sweetly one last time.
~1966~
They're dead. Both of them. Why? Why did they have to die? They were only kids for Christ's sake!
Johnny. How can someone so innocent die a painful death? The poor kid. He was only a kid, and hadn't done much livin' before dying. That's what makes it so cruel, I suppose. It could have been me, I'd be fine with that. I've seen all that I've wanted to see, done everything I wanted to do (except for Bridgette Bardot, but that will never happen anyway). But Johnny? All he got was no love from his Ma and Pop. He was only sixteen. I can keep playing the "Why him?" game forever, but there really is no justice to why that happened to a kid like him.
And what about Dally? Most people would say if there was anyone who deserved death it was Dallas Winston. I disagree. He may have been a mean, cold, messed up kid, but there is no sense in him dying the way he did.
I slowly turned the knob and opened the door to my house. It's a mess. My kid sister just had her seventh birthday party; I guess they didn't get around to cleaning it up.
I went and took a seat on the sofa. God, my back ached. So did my jaw. Ad nose. And basically everything. Being in a rumble, watching your friend die, hearing another friend just died, then talking to the cops all in one night must do a little number on you.
On the coffee table beside the sofa was yesterday's paper. Talking all about Ponyboy, Dallas and Johnny. Beside it, was today's mail, I guessed. Absent mindedly, I picked it up and began shuffling through it. I don't know why I was doing it. Inside, I did know. I was looking for a letter from Lizzy. We didn't really write to each other, we more talked on the phone. Glory, I missed her.
Hopefully it wouldn't be long.
~1967~
"TWO-BIT!" Lizzy screamed, jumping off the bus while it was still moving. The bus driver shouted something in retort, but she didn't even notice. She was running right for me and I was to her. I don't think I've ever run this fast in my life. Wait- there's that time when Steve and I lit a condom on fire in the boy's change room, right before gym class ended. We were so scared of Mr. Burtone finding out that we ran like the devil.
I finally reached her. She jumped on me, wrapping her legs around mine, putting her arms on my neck.
We kissed until cars were honking at us to move. And so we did.
We moved to the sidewalk, where I took a good look at Lizzy.
Though times were changing, the Hippie revolution was starting, Lizzy looked almost anti-boho. Clad in a black beaten leather jacket and leather pants with her old cowboy boots, she looked almost ready to hop on a motorcycle.
"I see the hippies haven't gotten you yet," I said, grinning.
She shrugged, smiling. "I'd rather dress like Jim Morrison then Jimi Hendrix."
"Who do you like better?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
She made a whistling noise. "Hrmm. That's tough, but I think I'll have to go with Jimi. What about you?"
"I agree with your statement."
"You sound like we're in math class," She said giggling.
"No way! Math ain't got anything to do with Mathews!" I exclaimed, grinning.
She laughed. "I forgot how much I love you."
I returned the chuckle. "Touche."
We kissed again and again, until people started to stop and stare.
~1967~
I want to marry her. I want her to be mine forever. Glory I love Miss Lizzy.
We were at a party at Soda's place. Man, Darry (he went out of town for a few days for work) is gonna be pissed after he's seen what we've done to the place. Or what we will do. After all, I've only been here half an hour.
Lizzy came out of the bathroom and walked over to me.
She whispered in my ear, "Wanna go outside for a minute?"
I nodded, taking her hand and went outside with her.
I stood on the driveway, awkwardly, while Lizzy went into my car and put on the radio.
A few seconds later The Kinks were blasting and Lizzy came back over to me.
She started to dance in a silly manner. She wasn't drunk though, which was strange.
I began to dance with her, and she leaned in to kiss me.
Suddenly, I blurted out, "Lizzy, marry me!"
She laughed. "I guess I'd better because it would be unsuitable to have a bastard."
"What?"
"Your going to be a daddy, Two-Bit."
The last thing I saw was her pretty face before I fainted.
~1968~
It's a boy. It's our little boy.
Though I'm still a kid at heart, I feel something different. I'm a dad now. I've got a little piece of Lizzy and I that's alive. And the thing is, I'm happier then ever. Getting drunk, going to parties, winning a rumble, or poker games doesn't even come close to this. At first I was scared shitless about it, but now, I'm so happy it happened.
I guess I learned to like the little critter.
I look at Lizzy, who looks like she's going to pass out any minute. But she won't. She wouldn't miss seeing the little thing for anything.
The doctor comes over and hands me the baby.
He's so tiny. I don't think I've ever seen anything so small (Except for bunnies and stuff like that, but they don't count because they aren't people. And for those dimwits who would argue that, bunnies wouldn't grow up to be doctors or lawyers or anything, so no, they aren't people).
He's got a tuft of red hair that sticks out from his blanket. And his eyes, they're my eyes. Gray, comical.
He's just about the cutest thing I've ever seen.
"Hand him over," Says Lizzy impatiently. So I do. I carefully transfer the little bundle into her arms.
She takes one look at him and gasps. There's so much love in her face, a connection with him that can never be broken.
"I'm your Mama," She whispers, and a tear rolls down her face. Before I know it, I'm starting to cry too.
"And I'm your Pop," I said, smiling.
This is the best thing in the world.
After we look at him for a little, Lizzy says, "What are we going to name him?"
I laughed. I remember a few months ago when Soda asked me that:
"So what are you planning on naming the kid?"
Lizzy and I laughed. "I don't have any idea," Lizzy said, looking at me. "What about you?"
An idea popped into my head. "Rumplestiltskin!"
Lizzy burst out in laughter and so did Soda.
"Definitely! Rapunzel if it's a girl," Lizzy cried.
"Only a pair of drunks like you two would name your kid Rumplestiltskin," Sodapop said.
"Hey," Lizzy protested, "You very well know I haven't had a drink in seven months, and can't for the next two."
Soda rolled his eyes, "I know, I know, it's hard being a girl."
Lizzy sighed. "I miss being not pregnant. It will be worth it though, right Two-Bit?"
I remember my stomach getting all queasy when she asked me that.
"What do you like?" I asked Lizzy, "Either then Rumplestiltskin."
She bit her lip. "I don't know what suits the little fellow."
It went quiet for a moment. We were both thinking. This kid wasn't any John, Dave or Michael. Wait, he could just be. What if there was a tuff abbreviation for a plain old name? Let's start with Michael: Mike, Mikey, Micke, Mick. I like Mick.
"What about Mick?" I asked. Lizzy made a face. "It reminds me of Mick Jagger a little too much."
I cocked an eyebrow. I wasn't going to ask. Who knows what she'd done in California.
Suddenly, Lizzy's eyes lit up. "What about Mickey?"
Mickey. A little ginger Mickey. It was perfect. Plus, it was after our second favorite person in the world, Mickey Mouse that is. I hope Soda likes it, and it doesn't bring back memories of his horsey.
"That's his name, I suppose. Mickey Mathews. Got a bit of a ring to it, don't it?"
"What about a middle name?" She asked.
"I say either after Johnny or Dally."
"Dallas sounds better then Johnny. See, Mickey Dallas Mathews or Mickey Johnny Mathews," She paused,"Or Mickey Two-Bit Mathews."
I said quietly, "You don't have to name him after me."
Lizzy looked at Mickey, then at me. "But I want to. I know you're gonna make the best father, and I want him to know that, for all his life. Even when we're dead and buried I want him to remember you."
I sighed. "Alright, his middle name is Two-Bit."
"And that's the way we rock and roll," She said, looking adoringly at Mickey.
I laughed. "That's the way you rock and roll, Miss Lizzy."
She laughed too. "It's now Mrs. Lizzy, please and thank-you."
~1969~
"Aw, poor Mickey won't stop crying," Lizzy said, holding him in her arms. Right, poor Mickey. He had been wailing ever since I got home from work. That's right, I dowork. A baby means you can't really be a bum anymore. So I got a job before he was born. As a repairman. It doesn't pay the best I had hoped for but it gets us by. And we're perfectly happy. As The Beatles say, "Money can't buy me love."
"Why don't we take him for a walk?" I asked, as I changed out of my work shirt to a plain white t-shirt, slipping my leather jacket over top. That's right I still wear it. The age of Greasers is over, but I think it still looks pretty damn tuff.
"Fantastic idea," Lizzy said, grinning. "Let me put my sweater on first, hold Mickey for me, will 'ya," She muttered handing Mickey over to me.
He was crying still, tears streaming down his face.
I started to rock back and forth with him, singing to him, making funny faces. And guess what? He laughed. And smiled his little smile.
"I'm ready to go," Lizzy said, entering the room. Upon seeing Mickey laughing she stopped and smiled in awe. "You must be magic, Two-Bit."
"I got it from when I went to Narnia."
She cocked an eyebrow. "That must have been fun."
"Sure was."
"Let's take this little critter for a walk," She said, smiling at Mickey...
Once we had Mickey in the stroller, he was crying again. More like screaming, actually.
We walked. Walked and talked. I love her. Probably more then anything in the world, except for Mickey of course.
Now we were passing by the ice cream joint, where music was loudly blasting. I recognized the song now, it was "Long Tall Sally".
Lizzy gave me a look. One she'd given me many times before. It was mischievous, silly and even a little romantic for me.
She walked away from the stroller, and started to dance. And sing along. All on beat, all perfectly. Mickey was laughing.
I couldn't laugh. I suddenly felt as if I had just spun in circles or got off a midway ride. My legs were starting to give out. Oh no. Oh no.
I guess I'm feeling a little dizzy for Miss Lizzy.
~The End~
