I sit down to update my other stories and this mess comes out. I must have been in the arguing mood?
ECLIPSED
"You just had to cut in tonight, didn't ya?" I ask from behind him, my eyes narrowed in on Soda's reflection. I've caught him mid-spit, the foam of Crest trailing down his chin.
"Huh? What are you talkin' bout Pony?" He manages to look confused. Even innocent. Always playing dumb.
I shake my head, because we both know his game. "You know what you did," is all I can stand to say to him and the roar of the rushing faucet blasts back against my bitter words.
He ruined the night, and it's easy to shoulder him out of the way now, to take my place at the sink inside the greenish glow of light, the both of us framed in a medicine cabinet mirror. Soda just stands there motionless, his toothbrush tucked useless inside his right jaw, while I go on about my business.
Attacking each tooth with fury and minty paste, washing my face and applying just the right amount of acne cream dead center target of a stubborn chin zit that won't die, gargling Listerine for the recommended length of time, or at least until it burns so bad your eyes water and you have no choice but to spit out the liquid fire. All of this while pretending Soda isn't here beside me watching my every measured move.
But I'm real good at ignoring people.
I don't even pay attention to Darry when I try and slip past him coming in to join the bathroom rituals, but the doorway's too tight of a squeeze, and I end up knocking him with an accidental shoulder shove. "Hey, watch it," he mutters, but I can tell he's too tired to give me any more lip than that.
"What's wrong with that kid now?" I overhear him asking, but you can tell he's not really that interested in an answer.
Soda acts like he's in the dark anyway and sighs, "Beats me," and I head to my bedroom, glad that my lying brother moved back into his own last year.
A trace of tonight's cologne brushes by my nose when I yank my shirt over my head, then I slip out of my jeans, the good ones. But all this, the cologne, the ironed shirt, the chivalry and manners, the good jeans and the tamed hair, none of it mattered to Maria DeLuca when The Sodapop Curtis just so happened to waltz in the joint. I think I even heard her quiver as my own date melted into the red booth across from me when he looked in our direction and flashed the famous smile.
I breathe out my frustration and flip off the light, imagining the scene ending a different way. My heart hammers its vengeance when I envision my fist cracking those perfectly straight white teeth while the sheets I slide in work to cool me off. It isn't long before I feel guilty for this violent thought and remember a time when I was only proud to be Soda's kid brother, content even in his shadows. Nothing could stop my love for him, but now that I'd like to step out into the sun and carve my own patch of space, East Tulsa doesn't feel big enough with two Curtis brothers playing the same field.
The familiar commotion outside my door, all the nightly noises of water racing through pipes, the back and forth of bare feet and conversation fade away with the hallway light. And when Darry's door is closed by a strong and heavy hand, I wait for Soda's to follow, his always marking the official end of a long day, our final curtain call.
But the creak of my door slowly opening instead and Soda's silhouette appearing in its frame somehow doesn't surprise me. "Wanna tell me what I did?"
Of course he's gonna take this head on, and I suddenly feel like some whiny kid again with Soda having to come in and settle me. I've grown up, I'm not fourteen anymore, I'm sixteen now and far from who I was, and I sit up to have a more manly conversation. But that's not so easy wrapped up in the plaid blankets of my childhood wearing nothing but underwear.
"Soda, you broke in on my date man. Just when I was actually gettin' somewhere with Maria you come over and ruin everything." My voice keeps rising and I'm getting angry all over again.
"What?" Soda sounds incredulous and his hand rubs along the wall until it meets the switch, but my ceiling light blinds us both and he shuts it right back off. "Cause I walked over to say hi to my brother and his friend?"
I'm still trying to recover from the brief sixty-watt attack that has me pressing against my eyelids and those white orbs that swirl and explode behind them, but I don't miss a beat. "Right Soda," I say with sarcasm, "you walked over to say hi to me." I blink until my vision clears and I can see the outline of my brother, can make out the defensive anger in his stance.
"Yes Pony, that's exactly why I walked over. To say hi to you. Whaddya want me to do, not say hi to the girl sittin' with you?" He couldn't be more condescending.
"No, you can say hi, but I'd prefer you not wink or flirt or touch her elbow when you make her laugh or hold her hand past the point of a normal nice-to-meet-you hand hold. I mean hell, you might as well've made out with her right in front of me."
Soda's laugh has my blood rushing to my face and ears, heating my cheeks and making my pulse pound. "Ponyboy, that ain't flirtin'. That's called being friendly. That's just my personality, who I am."
I'm out of the bed in a hot second, my finger aggressive and pointing, most likely unseen. "Yeah Soda, that's who you are alright. You throw yourself at everybody, but when you throw yourself all over another guy's girl and say it's just your personality, that don't make it right." I've gotten so loud Darry yells out across the dark house for me to shut it.
I stand in Soda's sudden quiet until it's broken by the loud sigh of someone giving in. "If that's what you think I do," he says softly, defeated, "I'm sorry man. I'd never try to steal your girl Pony."
He forges the peace between us when he squeezes my shoulder and gives a goodnight that sounds almost lonely, then heads for his room leaving me with a bowling ball thud in my stomach because I believe him. Maybe he really can't help who he is.
Sitting high above the East Tulsa Pool, I pick at my scabbing sunburn. The dead skin peels off in delicate little sheets, leaving my shoulders splotchy, a collage of pink and tan.
I blow my whistle and point at the brat who's ready to dive in the shallow end. "Hey, can't you read kid? No diving," but he does it anyway. I knew he would. That little shit's pissed me off all summer. God I hate this job.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Soda manning the concession stand, an electric fan keeping him cool, sheltered from the brutal sun and yet he's still ten shades darker than I'll ever be, laughing with the teenage crowd that's gathered around as if he's making them all cocktails instead of snow cones and shitty hamburgers.
After Lou fired him from the DX for fighting, a paying customer no less, I'm the one who told him about the sudden job opening in concessions. Now when he's not delivering pizza all over our side of town for Gino, he's slinging candy and popsicles for Darlene, the same pool manager who used to kick him off these grounds for roughhousing or lewd conduct at least once or twice a summer.
And of course I just had to pick lifeguard position. Thought I'd get to play hero and save a few lives. What a dope I was. All I do is melt in the heat, yell at little hood rats and threaten to drown them when they start mouthing back and swearing at me. Oh well. At least I got some CPR training out of it. But there's my big brother over there happy as a clam. Falls on hard times but always seems to land on his feet. Not that I'm jealous or anything. I realize I'm glaring at him from across the pool when he throws me a wave and I only nod back, sling off my baseball hat, take a swan dive into the deep end and think about not resurfacing.
xXx
"There he is, the lifeguard of all lifeguards," Soda announces my approach while he's wiping down his counters and closing shop. The sun's finally set and the waterlogged patrons have been sent packing right along with it, the chain link gate locked behind them. "I'm almost done Pony. Just lemme lock up the freezers and we can go. Here," and he tosses me a Dum Dum.
"I don't like root beer flavor." I scrunch my nose and hand it back. He casually shrugs, yanks off the wrapper and shoves it in his mouth, clicking it around his teeth while he finishes up. I lean haggard against the aqua cinder block wall right next to the pool rules and practically fall asleep standing up, the night air making me shiver after being burned all day.
"You need to start wearing zinc oxide," he nags when we head for his car, "or you won't have skin left by the end of summer. And keep your t-shirt on. Even when you swim."
"Yeah, I wouldn't look like the biggest nerd on the planet if I did that," but I know he's right. I light up a smoke and shake my head. "Please tell me your day was better than mine."
The thinnest crescent of a moon hardly lights our path and we're both surprised when a soft sultry voice floats out of the crumbling parking lot, "Soda, you mind giving me a lift?" We turn around to find Hot Lana leaning against the hood of her car looking all helpless and sexy. Lana's the boss lady's daughter and nobody can believe someone that smokin' came from someone like Darlene. But of course it's no surprise she's developed a thing for Soda.
"Sure Lana, you got car trouble? Want me to have a look at her?" Soda asks with genuine concern as he walks over and I wonder if I should even follow. I do, but a few steps behind.
"Oh nothing's wrong with the car. Just its silly little owner." Her giggle couldn't be cuter. Or more fake. "Seems I put my keys in my mom's purse and they're long gone about an hour or so." Soda's right in front of her now and she reaches up and gently pulls the lollipop out of his mouth. I turn away from the awkward scene when she lays it on her own tongue and wraps her lips around the stick, then throws her arms around my brother's shoulders. Jesus I'm not in the mood for parking lot porno and just want to go home.
"Oh hey Lana," he says as he takes her hands and unclasps their hold from the back of his brown neck, "have you met my brother Ponyboy?" Dear God, what is he doing?
Lana hardly looks over at me but manages to put on a polite smile, then bites down hard and shatters what's left of the root beer sucker. "Yeah, I've seen you around Ponyboy. My mom keeps talking about what a sweet boy you are, and a hard worker. Nice to officially meet you." I smile back at her, because she really is pretty, though mostly cause I'm actually relieved to hear my boss likes me and thinks I'm doing a good job.
But Soda isn't stopping here and it slowly dawns on me what he's doing. Even though it's obvious Lana only has eyes for him, I break into a cold and sickly sweat when he completely pawns her off on me. "Oh shoot y'all," he snaps like the worst kind of actor or some cartoon character when the light bulb appears above his head, "I forgot to clean the grill. Pony, here's my keys, you can drive Lana home and come back for me right? I should be done by then." I'm too shocked to say a word and he won't give Lana time to even think of protesting his little sting operation as he shoves us both in his rundown Buick and waves us off with a devilish grin. I'm gonna kill him.
The ride to Lana's house is painfully uncomfortable, even though I try and talk to her, to fill the silence. But we both know she's disappointed Soda didn't give her the time of day.
xXx
My headlights find him sprawled out on top of a picnic table and his smile's a mile wide as he jogs over to my door. "Sooooo," he drawls while draped around my window, "you'd better tell me your key made it into Lana Steelman's ignition." But I don't laugh with him at his crude wisecrack and his thumb signals me to get out and let him drive.
It takes until about Independence for him to realize I'm not speaking to him. That something's wrong. "Alright alright, what'd I do now?" he asks me turning down the radio.
"Soda, why the hell would you even do that?" My sudden outburst whips out and lashes at him across the console. "Do you know how embarrassing that was?"
Soda remains calm which really means he's had enough of me. "No Pony, cause I don't get embarrassed. And I don't see why you would when all I did was give you the chance to take a pretty girl home. Sue me. Better yet, nail me to the cross."
"Soda, Lana's like... twenty. I'm barely sixteen. She wants nothin' to do with me."
"No she's nineteen," he corrects me quickly, "which still makes her technically a teenager. Look, I'm just tryin' to help," he says and his words are getting firm. I can tell he thinks I should be thanking him instead of yelling at him. "And lately it sure seems I can't do anything right by you."
"The fact you think I need help is downright insulting. I don't need your help. I don't need your hand in any of this. I can get girls on my own thank you very much." I get that he was only trying to help but I can't stop this rolling thunder.
And now I know he's reached his limit when his dangerous "Hey" slices the air. He doesn't like it whenever I stand my ground with him. "First you're pissed at me cause you think I'm so much of an asshole I'd steal my own little brother's date. So tonight I try and be nice and give you a chance with the hottest piece of ass I've seen all summer and you're still givin' me shit." He rolls up his window when a light rain starts and I bite the inside of my cheeks, trying to remain calm. "Christ Pony, why don't you make up your damn mind."
"Oh I already have. I know what I want. And it ain't your help," and I air quote help. "In fact, I wish you'd just stay away from me when we're out and run into each other." I'm too exhausted and frustrated and sun poisoned to even know what's spewing out of my mouth. And the windshield wipers have put me in some kind of trance.
I stare foreword knowing that Soda's staring dead at me, hardly driving, but I wouldn't dare tell him to keep his eyes on the road. The sharp turn he takes into our driveway sends me sailing and I crunch against the passenger door like the gravel under our tires.
We both sit on idle while the patter of rain drums against this steel cocoon we're trapped in. Finally he says low and slow, "So you want me to act like we're not brothers, like I don't even know you? Is that what you really want? Huh?"
And now all I have to do is eat my words. That's the only thing he wants to see right now. He'd love to watch me take them all back and force me to gag them down and beg his forgiveness and then maybe this situation could be fixed, made right. For him that is. But I'm too full for stuffing my words back in. "Yeah that's right, like you don't even know me," I say coldly and go for the handle to break away, climbing out into a solid rain, knowing he'll make me regret this.
I slam my door on his heated words that hiss and coil, snakes set for the strike, "Alright then Ponyboy Curtis. If that's what you want...you got it."
"So what was it like livin' in Ohio?" I ask Allison and hand her the menu. Surely it's gotta be as boring as Oklahoma but she's good looking and I've got to find something we can talk about.
"I miss it. As soon as I graduate I'm going back. Maybe go to Kent State." She looks sad and I guess I've killed the mood. I kick it in reverse and start over.
"Yeah, it's gotta be hard leaving friends behind. But hey, I can help you meet people. Show you 'round school once it starts up." And I will. It's got to be intimidating to be the new student.
Her smile is warm with appreciation. "I'm glad I met you Ponyboy." And with that, I'm in. Our conversation flows freely and I'm thinking Allison and I might really have a connection. And did I mention she's good looking?
A rowdier crowd rolls in shifting the atmosphere of the diner and I don't even need to look to know who's pack it is. The heads that have turned, the shouted greetings from guys like us, and the girls who are chattering and whispering give it away. I look to find Steve and Soda walking in with all their perfected swagger, while their three cronies Shifty Loman, Jimmy Fulton and Jo-Jo Hawkins bring up the rear.
Soda's scanning the place like he always does, judging the crowd before he joins it, and his eyes land on me, then move right on without any change in expression. I try and blow it off. This is what I wanted right? I continue our conversation on Allison's love of classic movies and try to pretend my stomach isn't in a knot that Soda chose this of all places.
He's headed for a table in the back, shaking hands and talking to everyone, and Steve's noticed me, confused that Soda walked on by. "Hey Ponyboy," he says and starts to make his way over, "where you been hidin' lately?" I don't give him much more than a hey and the gang handshake and he gets the hint to keep on moving, I'm sure racing to ask Soda what the hell is going on between us.
It isn't long before Allison has me forgetting Soda's presence, but every now and then I hear him laugh out, or my eye catches the crowd around his table where he lures them all inside his orbit, and I now have a taste of what it's like to be on the outside looking in at my own brother. And it doesn't feel too good.
Halfway through a milkshake, Allison excuses herself to powder her nose and I admire the way she moves between the tables, her figure on full display as she has to turn sideways to slink through. But my heart jams its way into my throat when I see Soda notice too and get up for the jukebox. My eyes are like lasers watching him drop in his dimes and press the song button selections, and my jaw clenches once Allison's in his range and he starts up a conversation. Their exchange is friendly but fast, and my leg's bouncing while I wait for her return, wondering what he's got up his sleeve. Surely to God he won't do anything else but I sure as hell don't put it past him.
As Allison walks back with a fresh coat of lipstick and a pep in her step, Soda calls her over to their table and I can read the thrill across her face, flattered from his attention. And it's on. He's got her and I don't stand a chance. Son of a bitch. I can only imagine the bull Soda's feeding her, but as he bends over to whisper something, he's sending over a smug look and I immediately set my face to indifferent, like he's no kind of threat, but my two middle fingers he can't see hidden from under the table are aimed right for him.
I'm surprised when Allison excuses herself and makes her way back to me. And I have to clear my throat and pull my shit back together really quick to continue our date. Be discreet with both my fury at my brother and my triumph that Allie's met Soda and still wants to ride out the rest of the night with me. Though I can't help but notice she can't stop blushing or glancing back at his table.
It's on the walk home that I ask if I can see her again. She agrees and I'm relieved. I even find the courage to casually throw out the question, "Hey what was my br...that one guy saying to you? I mean, was he givin' you a hard time or somethin'?" I scratch the back of my neck and shift my feet, uneasy.
She's blushing again and looking all shy, biting her lip to rein in a runaway smile and my hands tighten into fists because from the way she's acting, he must've really come onto her. She can hardly repeat it for crying out loud. Soda can be a vicious fighter but I can't believe how low he's willing to punch just to get back at me.
"He said he knew you from work." I nod my head and watch her mouth move. "I dunno...he just said you're one of the good guys. And that I'd better not let you get away," and she's giggling by the time she gets it out. And all I can do is stare at her and swallow.
xXx
It's a long walk between Allison's neighborhood and mine and I'm taking it real slow. Digesting the night, trying to decide which emotion I feel the most out of all fifty that are running loops throughout my body. I guess it's shame that stands out. What kind of person asks their brother to act like a stranger? All because he tries to help.
Soda's got so much light he's willing to shine some on me. God how wrong my thoughts were. That's where envy will get you. And tonight, when I thought I was breaking out of his shadow, for a moment I became one of the unfortunate many who stand outside my brother's circle. Only then did I find out how good I really have it, or had it, a spot reserved right beside him, hell sometimes even in front of him, shoved there by Soda himself.
I hear Steve yelling out his window at me long before his car rumbles alongside, "Ponyboy Michelle Curtis you wanna ride home?" Smoke is billowing from the backseat and the bass is pumping so loud I feel the knocks in my chest.
Soda leans across his best friend and says, "Hold up hold up, wait a hot damn minute Steve-o," and he lowers down making sure I clearly see his wink. "Don't give him a ride. I don't even know that guy," and I keep walking as their cackles explode into the street and I feel a grin stretching slow across my face and an instant warmth settling deep in my gut.
A/N: Outsiders by SE Hinton
Well it's Labor Day weekend, how could I not visit the East Tulsa public pool? Thanks for reading and happy Labor Day!