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Nightmare
The whimpering beside me woke me up, and I stared at the wall in front of my bed for a second before rolling over, my brain struggling to catch up. My brother...my heart flipped over as relief hit me like a drug, shooting from my heart and to the tips of my fingers, making me feel light, the smile stretching from ear to ear. Sodapop was home. He was home. My brother was alive and home and he wasn't leaving ever again. I shifted a little, watching him. His jaw was tight, lips pursed, brow drawn. Nightmare. It made sense. He'd probably seen some awful stuff. My chest went tight at that….he'd seen awful things...probably things he'd never want to tell me about. I'd never have anything to do with that part of his life. Two whole years, gone.
For two years, part of me had been dead. I'd tried...especially when I'd seen what a toll it was taking on Darry to have me acting the way I was. After he'd gone, I'd had nightmares every night for a week, and every night Darry had sat on the bed beside me, stroking my hair, not like Soda...but like Darry. He'd never complained, but I'd seen how tired he was. I'd seen the way he'd eye my still-full plates and look over my half-done homework, and I'd tried so hard to snap out of it. I'd thrown myself into school and track and brought my grades up. But no matter how hard I'd tried, I'd been unable to shake it completely. Our gang had been ripped apart, just me, Two-Bit, Dally, and Johnny left. And then Johnny had gone to school and some nights I'd lain awake for hours, trying so hard to keep breathing steady and not cry.
Once, Two-Bit had come over to crash in the middle of the night, after our big fight where I'd just about broken his nose. We'd been doing better, but I couldn't bring myself to care too much about him being upset with me or worried. Between school, track, Darry, writing letters, and missing my brother so bad my heart hurt, I couldn't put too much effort in my friendship with Two-Bit. He'd found me on the couch at three in the morning on a school night, staring at the blank wall above the TV. I'd been trying to write a letter to Sodapop earlier...I'd sat down, pen in hand, blank paper in front of me, and I'd been about to tell him all of it...about the dreams of him coming home in a box, or how I felt so empty and exhausted all the time...about how I threw myself into school work so I wouldn't have to talk to anyone.
In the end, I'd written a letter so stilted and boring I'd been sick reading it back.
"Soda,
Thanks for your letter. Things are fine here. Johnny left for school about a month ago. Darry and I helped him move in. He's real excited. Two-Bit and his family are doing good. I got a letter from Dallas. He's okay. Darry got a promotion at work and is working more, but he's making more money.
I got a job at a diner, waiting tables. I've got to wear an apron and everything. Bet Steve would get a kick out of that. It ain't too bad. I tried to give some of my paycheck to Darry but he wouldn't hear of it. So I'm saving most of it. I did slip a couple of dollars into his wallet, though. I hope it helps.
I won my track meet last week. Darry still hopes I'll get a scholarship. I've got another year of high school, and hopefully I can keep my grades up enough to get into college.
Hope everything is going well with you.
Ponyboy"
It was the kind of letter you'd write a penpal, not your big brother...not your favorite person in the world, the one you loved more than anyone. It had ended up barely filling a full page. But when I'd thought about telling him the truth...about sitting down and writing an honest letter about how food didn't taste like anything anymore, or how I'd woken up the night before and thrown up after a nightmare about him getting shot, my eyes would heat up, a lump sitting in my chest. I couldn't write it. I couldn't talk about it.
Two-Bit had paused in the living room doorway and I'd felt him staring, but I hadn't been able to even turn my head to look at him. I'd felt heavy...like I couldn't move. "Hey there, kiddo." He'd murmured after a long pause, sitting on the sofa beside me. He'd turned 21 over the summer, but he looked exactly the same sitting beside me, an arm going around my shoulders. I'd wanted to talk to him. I'd opened my mouth. But I'd been too afraid to say it...too afraid to give a voice to the terror just in case that made it come true. "You got school in the morning, Pone. You ought to be in bed." I'd just stared at the wall, and his hand had rubbed my back. "You feeling sick?"
I'd nodded then. It wasn't exactly true, but in some ways, it was the best way to answer. I was feeling sick. My chest was so tight it was hard to breathe, my eyes hot, my brain so wired and terrified that I didn't know if I'd ever sleep again. "I'm sorry I hit you." I'd told him then, my voice weak. It had been over a week earlier...Darry had gone on his ski trip and Two-Bit had spent most of the weekend at our place. We were pretty much fine. But I hadn't apologized yet, and I owed him that after everything.
"Aww kid, don't worry about it." He'd been uncomfortable, running a hand through his hair. He'd smelled like beer but he hadn't been drunk. Not too drunk, anyway. I'd wondered why he hadn't gone home, but I hadn't wanted to ask. I was too grateful to have someone in that quiet house with me. I hadn't wanted to be alone, and I hadn't wanted to wake Darry. "You want some aspirin?" I'd shaken my head. "Want me to wake Darry? He won't mind. Heck, if you're sick, he'll want to be up."
"Nah...leave him alone. He's got work in the morning." I'd told him. Two-Bit had nodded, rubbing my back and waiting. "I tried to write So...I tried to write a letter." Saying my big brother's name was just about impossible, so I avoided it whenever I could. Two-Bit had looked down at me, not talking...just waiting. "I couldn't." My voice had broken and he'd pulled me closer. "I didn't know...I can't write...I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do." He'd held my head against his shoulder, probably comforting me. I can't remember. I'd been so tired...the rest of that night is a big, hazy, exhausted blur.
The next thing I remember, someone had brushed hair out of my eyes, a soft light filtering in through the curtains. "Ponyboy? You okay?" Darry had asked, and I'd opened my eyes to find Two-Bit in the recliner, sound asleep. Darry had looked real worried, but I'd been so tired...too tired to tell him what he wanted to hear.
"I don't feel good." I'd told him instead, letting my eyes close again, and he'd ran his fingers through his hair, making me miss Sodapop even more. It wasn't that I didn't want Darry...I wanted them both.
"You need a doctor?" I'd shaken my head.
"Can I just sleep?"
"Sure, honey." He'd pulled the covers back up around me, and I'd fallen asleep, not waking again until Two-Bit had shaken me around noon, handing me a sandwich and sitting me up. We'd spent the day together, and the next day I'd felt a little better. Still partially dead inside...still grieving so deep I didn't know how to breathe around it sometimes, but at least I had Two-Bit and Darry to grieve with.
When I'd walked into the apartment the night before, I hadn't even seen Soda and Darry in the living room. I'd been too focused on schoolwork and tests and work at the diner. I felt like I was sinking some days. We didn't hardly have enough food in the apartment and keeping up with work and four classes, including Algebra which I'd never been much good at, was drowning me. I still wrote to Soda every month, stilted, formal letters that made my chest hurt. Even writing to Dally was easier. Steve too. I just hoped Sodapop wasn't hurt by them. He didn't seem hurt in his letters back. They were all about the country, things he knew I'd like, and stories about the other guys he was working with. He told me about the handful of South Vietnamese people he'd met, mostly nice guys, and the kids who'd chase them down the streets of the village. He told me about passing out bubble gum and candy to the little kids, how it was one of his favorite parts of being there. His letters were great...it was me, the one planning on majoring in English, that couldn't write to save my life.
Then Sodapop had been there, and I'd been able to breathe. For two years, it had been like only one of my lungs was working, and then he was there and the other one had woken up. After calling my boss to tell him I wouldn't be in that night, or the next few, I'd grabbed him again, holding on so long that I think Darry and Johnny had sat back down. "I'm here. I'm right here, honey. I ain't gonna go nowhere." Soda had assured me, rubbing my back, and it had taken a long time to let him go. When I finally had, he'd touched my cheek, chuckling a little. "Glory, Pone...you grew up. You shave now?" I'd laughed at that, nodding.
"Yeah...it's not as much fun as I thought it would be." I'd told him, making him chuckle. "I missed you so much." I'd said then, unable to go a few seconds without reminding him, apparently.
"Honey, you've got no idea." He'd told me quietly, squeezing my shoulder. He looked almost the same too. Laughing eyes, tired but still happy. He needed to shave but not bad. Shorter hair, but not as short as when he'd first gotten it cut. He'd let it grow out a little when he was over there. We were almost eye to eye...neither of us as tall as Darry, but I'd grown some when he'd been away.
At the steakhouse, Darry had bought all of us dinner, even though Johnny and I tried to tell him we could pay for ourselves. He'd ignored us, which was good, because we really couldn't afford it. Soda had told us a few stories, mostly light stuff, telling us about boot camp and funny stories about Steve. He told us about meeting Dal over there, too, and Darry told him about work. When the conversation turned to me, I told them a little about my classes, but nothing about the bad stuff...nothing about struggling to keep my grades up or missing home and the guys...just stuck with class and the diner.
Soda muttered something else in his sleep and I reached out, my hand on his shoulder. Not wanting him to have a nightmare, I called out to him. "Sodapop? You…" I didn't even see the fist that slammed into my nose, knocking me back, and I gave a muffled cry, feeling blood immediately drench my hands and the front of my shirt. I closed my eyes, breathing sharply through the pain, and immediately there was a hand on my arm.
"Pony? Shit...glory Pony...I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to...honey are you okay?" Soda was holding my shoulders, one hand behind my head. "Pony...I'm so sorry. Shit, I'm sorry." I just stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked. His words ran together, his voice desperate and horrified. "I didn't mean to, honey. I'm so sorry." I blinked, my eyes wet as I tried to catch the blood with my hands and not let it get on the blankets. "Are you okay? Shit...honey, are you okay?" He sounded like he was gonna start crying and I nodded, blinking back the tears that came unbidden to my eyes.
"Yeah...glory, Sodapop, you been lifting weights or what? Was it something I said?" I tried to joke, but his face was apparently stuck, horror in his eyes that looked to be filling up with tears. I didn't want him to be upset...he'd probably been having a nightmare about something awful. Sometimes I thrashed in my sleep too...I mean, he'd possibly broken my nose, but still.
"I'm so sorry. Pony…"
"Grab me a towel, would ya?" I asked, swinging my legs over, and he raced to do as I'd asked, bringing back a white towel that turned red real quick. I pinched my nose, flinching and tilting my head back, coughing when blood ran down my throat.
"Come on, Pone." Soda murmured, pulling me to my feet and leading me to the bathroom where I leaned over the sink, the front of my shirt saturated with blood. Slowly, it started to ease up. Soda hovered, a hand on my back, his voice choked. "I'm so sorry, Pony."
"Ponyboy?" Darry's tired, confused voice came from the hallway, and I turned to look at him, realizing too late that I should have shut the door...his eyes widened, jaw dropping as he hurried to my side, taking in my now red t-shirt and the bruise around my broken nose. "Holy...what the hell happened?" He asked, looking between the two of us, then to the blood soaked rag in my sink. His hand went to the back of my neck as he tried to get a closer look.
"It was just an accident." I assured him, but Soda was backing away, his face ashen.
"I didn't mean to...I was having a nightmare and then I opened my eyes...he was trying to wake me up...I don't know...I…" He shook his head. "Oh god...Pony, I didn't mean to."
"Glory, Sodapop, I know that." I laughed, even though it hurt. Darry squeezed the back of my neck, then reached out for Soda, putting an arm around his shoulders. Grabbing a washcloth and wetting it, I wiped my face off, being careful. "I know you wouldn't never hit me on purpose." I brought a gentle hand up to my nose, flinching when it shifted under my fingers. "You okay?"
He shook his head. "I broke your nose." He whispered.
"Yeah, well. It happens" I shrugged, grinning, and he gave an incredulous, horrified laugh. Darry squeezed him, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle.
"It was an accident, little buddy. We know that."
"I'll sleep on the couch...or the recliner..." Soda told me, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head, then swearing under his breath.
"Soda!" I called before he could turn away, grabbing his sleeve. He struggled to meet my eyes, and I grinned. "I know you didn't mean to. It's fine. I swear. Barely even hurts."
He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. "Ponyboy…"
"It was an accident. It happens. I swear, I'm fine. Come on...let's get back to bed before we wake up Johnny." After a long, hesitant look, he nodded, following me back to bed. I changed into a clean shirt, then crawled into bed as Darry headed back to the couch. As soon as he laid down, he threw an arm around me and I scooted closer, my head against his chest just like when we were kids.
"I'm so sorry." He whispered again after a minute.
"It's okay. I forgive you." I assured him, grinning. I didn't know how to tell him that I'd missed him so bad, he could hit me all he wanted and I'd still be glad to have him home. Then remembering the letters, I spoke again. "I'm sorry my letters were so bad." I whispered. I could always talk to Sodapop, but it was the easiest at night when we were falling asleep, like I could say anything I needed to and he would just get it. Besides, I wanted him to stop feeling guilty.
He paused, obviously taken aback. "What?"
"The letters I wrote you."
"They weren't bad." He assured, me, but he was obviously lying.
"Yeah they were." He sighed, rubbing my back. "I…" I went quiet, afraid that if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. "Soda...I…"
"Go ahead, kiddo." He murmured. Closing my eyes, I let myself say it.
"I felt dead...with you gone. Like I couldn't hardly breathe. You know? And I couldn't write to you…I couldn't tell you that or you'd worry and…"
"You can tell me now, honey. I'm back now." He kept rubbing slow circles on my back and I tried to tell myself that he was telling the truth. He was home, with me again. And he wasn't thinking about my nose anymore, which was a relief. "How about you tell me now? Hm? How are things with you? Really?"
When we'd gotten back from the steakhouse, Sodapop had been pretty exhausted, probably jetlagged, and had dropped in bed around ten after we'd all sat in our living room for a bit, playing cards like old times. I'd followed after doing some homework at our kitchen table, leaving Johnny and Darry to talk. Darry had joined me after a minute, asking how I was doing, and I'd assured him I was okay. I wonder if he'd known I was lying. I always told Darry things were fine, when we talked on the phone or when, occasionally, we'd get to see each other. He never really pushed...I think he wanted to believe me.
"Okay…" I told Soda slowly. He just waited, disbelief thick in his silence. "I...I'm afraid I'm gonna lose my scholarship." I finally muttered, speaking to his chest.
"How come?"
"I'm working a lot to help Johnny pay for the apartment and the scholarship covered tuition but not books and…" I didn't want to tell him that all Johnny and I had had for dinner the night before was toast, or that I skipped lunch most days to save money. I didn't know how...I'd told Darry we were fine, that we didn't need money or nothing. I knew it was stupid, but I didn't want him to know we were having trouble.
"What else, Pony?"
"That's it." I told him, my voice soft.
"You guys got enough for food?" He asked then, always knowing when I was lying. I kept quiet, and when he spoke again, he was scolding. "Pony! You know Darry would help you out."
"I know...but I didn't want him to have to keep paying for me."
"You think Darry would rather you go hungry?"
"It's fine. We're fine. I just...I got work and track practice and the classes…"
"You're gonna run yourself into the ground, Pony." He murmured, rubbing my back.
"It was all I could do when you were gone...run myself into the ground." I admitted. "I couldn't think about you or focus on writing you letters or…" My voice caught and I took a deep breath. He spoke before I could.
"Oh, kiddo…" He murmured, rubbing my back. "I missed you too, you know. Never wanted to think about home...it didn't work though." He laughed, sounding sad. "I told just about everyone about you, you know? Couldn't go ten minutes without saying 'my little brother.' The other guys told me to shut up about you." I laughed a little and he ruffled my hair. "You got class in the morning?" He wondered.
"Nope. No class on Fridays." I told him. "I got a test on Monday, so I should probably study for that."
"What kind of test?" He asked, his voice light. I knew he was still worried about me, but he was trying to calm us both down enough so we could get back to sleep.
"Algebra. I suck at math."
"No you don't. Remember how you taught me the math with the letters?" I grinned, closing my eyes.
"That's algebra, Soda." I heard him grin when he answered.
"Exactly. You got this, kiddo." He pulled the blankets up and rubbed my back until my eyes wouldn't stay open. "Glory, I'm so glad to be home." He murmured.
"Me too…" Was the last thing I managed to say before drifting off, the throbbing pain in my nose forgotten.
Thanks for reading :)
