((A/N: Major warning for character death, descriptions of war, emotional turmoil, language and other disturbing content. Read at own risk. Otherwise, hope you enjoy!))
Man, I can't wait to get home and drink and drink until my liver is shot.
Man, I can't wait to get home and drive my car too fast and feel the road under my feet. Just the thought of throwing my cigarette butts out the window as the streets and people fell away was making me drool. God. I wanted a cigarette more than anything. I kept asking the doctor to give me one but he wouldn't because he says my lung is collapsed. It doesn't feel collapsed, hell, I can't feel anything. This scag they're pumping into me is like ambrosia. I don't know how I'm writing this with my fingers melting off and my head full of cotton.
This place is groovy. I can dig it. Post-OP is better than pre-op. Doesn't smell like puke quite as bad. And Soda is here. He hasn't moved a lot since he got out of surgery. He hasn't moved a lot since the grenade went off. I thought he was dead but he started whining. I was crushed under a jeep and I still don't remember how I got out. I still don't remember carrying Soda four miles. I still don't remember the ambulance finding us and I sure as hell don't remember my leg getting infected. All of that happened after I blacked out.
The most important thing I ever did in my damn life and I can't remember it. It's so funny. I'd laugh but that makes me feel dizzy. I haven't laughed but once since we got here. It was when I asked the nurse if Soda was alive when Soda stopped whimpering.
"He's alive son, but he's in limbo." The doctor said real serious like.
"What'd you mean limbo?"
"I mean he's in the stage where he dies if he doesn't want to live hard enough."
I laughed. I laughed so hard I puked and the nurse had to sponge me off. I laughed because Sodapop wanted to live more than anyone I knew. He had a lot more than all of us boys. Soda had two brothers, one in college to be a lawyer and the other the co-owner of a construction company. He had a fiancé. He was going places.
Me? I had nothing waiting for me back home. Just a drunk dad and a wife who prefers girls. Sly Perkinson wrote to tell me she was with Sylvia. I thought that was a hoot. I knew she was sleeping with Sylvia. Sylvia is a rotten bitch. But you know what? I'm so mad about it I can't be mad anymore. Its funny. That's what I get for marrying so young.
In Saigon I decided I was going to pawn the ring when I got home. I was going to pawn the ring and buy Soda something with it.
But I guess I won't have to now. Soda is dying. I know what dying looks like, I know what slow death and fast death and unexpected death looks like. Soda is suffering. He can't make up his mind yet. He's not sure if he wants to die or not. I'm sure he'll do it when he's good and ready.
Sorry about the stain right there. I swatted a fly.
There are flies everywhere.
Every-fucking-where.
It reminds me of that part of Gone With The Wind. We buried Johnny with that book. Ponyboy said he read the entire thing to Johnny before he finally kicked the bucket. Johnny was in so much pain. My leg is burned something awful and I can't imagine what it must feel to be charred all over. At least it was the shrapnel that got Soda instead of fire.
"Hey Soda."
"What, buddy?" I thought I heard him mumble."
"As God is my witness, as God is my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again."
"W'at's tha-that supposed tuh mean?"
That's when I knew Sodapop wasn't really there anymore. That quote was the only thing I remembered from Gone With The Wind. I had it tattooed on my other bicep. I got it the night of Johnny's funeral. I was so drunk I don't remember it either. I have this thing where I don't remember things unless I don't want to remember them. I don't remember what my ma's face looked like but I remember ever detail of Dal as he died on the wet asphalt.
Funny. It's all funny.
"Pepsi, can I tell you somethin'?"
"Sh-sh-sure."
"If you die, I'm going to kill you."
Soda snorted.
I want to shut my eyes and sleep but I gotta keep writing. I don't know if Soda'll be alive when I wake up. Hell, I don't know if I'll wake up dead. I don't want to die and I honestly don't think I am about to but then again everybody says I'm a cocky bastard. I think I'll go to heaven anyway. It ain't because I'm good or nothing, but God knows I tried my best.
There's music. I can hear music and I don't think I'm dreaming it. It's The Hollies. It's the radio in the corner and the nurse is talking to a man with a bandaged arm. I can see everything. I just realized I'm sitting up. To drain the fluid out of my lung. That's right. That's why I can't talk so good. I need to talk.
"I gotta tell you some other things too," my chest is throbbing. "I gotta tell you some things that are real important."
Soda doesn't reply. I continue.
"I ain't got many friends, Soda. I ain't got no friends 'cept for you. I'm a bastard. No one never wanted to talk to me. No one but you. I ain't got no idea why you bothered to be my friend so long. If you're gone-"
I started coughing and the nurse stood up.
"If you die Sodapop Curtis, you'll take what good I've got in this world. I ain't going to kill myself like Dal. I ain't brave enough for that. I'll let the gang string me along. I'll keep going but I won't have a reason. I'll never have a reason to do anything ever again. Nobody ever loved me, not even my mama. Nobody ever loved me but you. And goddamn I don't know if that's noble or stupid. All these years and I ain't got no idea what to think of you and all I do is think about you."
The nurse hurried now, past all the beds and the calls for water and the boys swatting flies. She went for Soda. She picked up his arm and took his pulse. I couldn't see anything but shapes. Tears scalded my cheeks and I can't hold the pen right.
"There's so much I never said to anyone else that I said to you. There's so much I tried to tell you that you didn't hear. There's so much that wouldn't have happened to me if it wasn't for you. I never wanted to do anything but be alright and see you be alright too. I ain't never wanted too much but everything I've ever wanted I couldn't g-"
She pulled the sheet over Soda's face and I screamed like some kind of savage.
"HE CAIN'T BREATHE LIKE THAT."
All the other guys in the ward were staring at me but I couldn't care less.
"Steve. He's dead." Another few orderlies and nurses were there now.
"Time of death?"
"11 hours and 37 minutes, sir."
That's all I'm writing down. I ain't got nothing else to say. There's nothing to say anymore and there never will be again.
The doctor said if he wanted to live enough then he would.
Guess he didn't.
Man, I can't wait to get home and drink and drink until my liver is shot.