It's 1975. After Sandy returns home with her baby, Soda commits himself to take the child on, despite it being another man's. Life seems to be sunshine and roses until, in 1968, Sandy leaves Soda and their daughter. But life goes on and 10 year old Rosie thinks the world of her father. Until she finds out who he really is.
Daddy was a greaser. He was a strong man, even after Mama left us. He turned the other cheek, not once did he break down and not once did he let me see him cry. He was passionate about keeping me clean and preserving my innocent mind. He failed horribly and by the age of 7, my mind had already been corrupted. Yes, this associated itself with the fact that I was once left to be babysat by my daddy's friend, Dallas Winston. He had taken me in his lap as I played with his bleach blonde hair, whilst he chugged away at his beer, cursing the whole time. I did not like Dallas Winston. I met him when I was only 3, along with five other men who were suddenly part of my life but where parts of Daddy's past life. My third year of life was a transition year. That was the year Mama left us. She left in the dead of the night from our two room apartment. The next morning, when she was absent from the apartment, me and Daddy very well knew what it meant. I may have only been 3 years of age but I wasn't dunce. I knew what had happened.
"Daddy, is Mama gone?" I had asked, slowly inching towards him. He grabbed me into an embrace and brushed his face against my golden curls.
"Yeah, baby girl. Mama's gone." he replied, his voice quivering. That is when he retreated into his room and I heard him crying through the walls.
Knocking upon his door, in my own small voice I said, "Don't cry, Daddy."
"I'm not crying." he snapped at me. "Daddy doesn't cry. Ok? Remember that, Rosie." he informed me. And so, it is truth when I say that my daddy didn't cry.
Shortly after Mama left us, we had to evacuate the apartment and move back to Daddy's previous home. There lived my uncles, Darry and Ponyboy. Although I was an outgoing child, when introduced to these men, I stared at them blankly, unsure of what to say. You must understand how a 3 year old is to comprehend that someone's name is Ponyboy. When Daddy told me of his name, I envisioned a clumsy boy with tall ears that stuck out of his head and a bushy tail that shot out from his back. Ponyboy did not meet my expectations. He was a average sized 17 year old with reddish hair that was greased back. His green-grey eyes sparkled but all that stood out to me was that he was not the Ponyboy I saw in my juvenile head. When he extended his hand towards me with a smile pasted on his face, I did nothing but stand there and blinked at him.
"You're not a ponyboy." is all I said. In which, he threw his head back and let out a deep laugh, the kind of laugh that erupts from your core and rings through your ears, making it contagious to everyone who hears it. Soon, we were all laughing, me, Daddy, the ponyboy and the older man who was assumed to be Darry.
"Of course I'm not a ponyboy. I'm the Ponyboy." he informed me as he winked with his sparkling set of eyes. Next up was Darry, the 23 year old who looked like a worn out 30 year old with his hard grey eyes and the fatigued look he carried with him. Unlike Ponyboy, Darry did not smile. Yes, the edges of his lips were slightly curved upward but it was nothing compared to Ponyboy's toothy grin.
"Hello, Rosie. I'm your uncle, Darryl." That was how he presented himself and that was what I was instructed to call him. Uncle Darryl. There were four other men who were brought into my life that day. They went by the names of Steve Randal, Daddy's best friend, Johnny Cade, Keith "Two-Bit" Matthews and, yes, Dallas Winston. I did not know it at the time, but, these men would turn out to be my best friends. Yes, they were much older than me. That is why I tented to lean towards Ponyboy, the 17 year old, and Johnny, the 19 year old. But my story does not take place while I was three, no, it takes place when I am 10 and my life suddenly becomes an open book. Just as 3 was a transition year, 10 would also be one that turned my world upside down. Just picture this: everyone you've ever known and ever trusted turning out to be a totally different person, everyone turning out to be someone insanely different from what they made you believe they were.