He was the first person that I met when my mom and I moved to Tulsa. It was only about an hour and a half drive from where we had been living in Noxie, Oklahoma. The bank had come earlier that morning and told us we had to leave. It was almost funny, actually. When the bank takes your house, they literally take it. You have a few hours to pack your things, and then you have to leave it all behind. Whatever you can't fit you can't take. That's what happened to my mom and I.
When the accountant came, we –well I- packed as much of the necessities that I could fit into our small car: a few pairs of clothes, some food, and whatever else I could find that would fit. Trust me when I say it wasn't much.
With the car packed, I drove my mom and I to the first rest stop I could find and pulled over at my mother's demand. She went in and didn't come out for another hour. How she got all of the money for the pay phone I have no idea, but she had to have been making a lot of calls. She eventually got a hold of my uncle who had a place here in Tulsa he would rent out to us until we got back on our feet again. He was the only person who had space, so to Tulsa we went.
The house was modest, but most importantly fully furnished. I had worried about that when mom told me she had a place. There was no way we could afford any new furniture, we barely had any at our old house. There were only three rooms and a very small bathroom. You walked in and were in the combined kitchen and living room area where I would probably be spending most of my time. To the left were two bedrooms, one for my mom and one for me. Next to them, the bathroom. Like I said, modest.
I was unpacking the small amount of possessions we had when he showed up on our porch. Usually, I would of yelled for him to go away, but when I walked to the door to find a seventeen-year-old boy dressed in an apron holding a plate of green cookies, I couldn't resist letting him in.
"Sorry about the mess, I haven't really had time to unpack," I told him, clearing a spot off the couch for us to sit. He put the cookies down on the table. I didn't take one.
"That's alright," he said, "I didn't really give you much time to unpack."
"So, what's with the green cookies?" I asked at last.
"Oh, that's my signature. Green food. Ask anyone who has been to my house when I'm cooking dinner and they'll tell you the same thing," he smiled. I don't think he could ever frown, he seemed so happy.
"Nice," I said, taking a cookie. They actually tasted pretty good.
"What's your name?" He asked me, staring me down while I ate. I swallowed down the chunk of cookie I had eaten, and told him.
"Andrea," I said, quietly. I hated my name so much, when I was eighteen, it was getting changed.
"That's a pretty name," he said, "I'm Sodapop."
"That's different," I said, not trying to be rude.
"My dad was a different kind of guy…" he trailed off, "My brother's name is Ponyboy," he added carefully.
"I wish my dad were that cool," I said, laughing, "He's a lawyer. Very boring and conformed."
"Does he make a lot of money?" Sodapop asked, "I've heard that they're supposed to be socials or somethin' like that."
"I would like to think so," I said.
"Then why are you living in a grease neighborhood like this? Shouldn't you be on the other side of town?" He asked. I shook my head.
"My dad left us about a year ago," I said, "This isn't even our house," I scoffed.
"Oh, I'm sorry…I had no idea…" he trailed off, but was cut off by my mother screaming my name from her bedroom.
"I think it's time for you to go," I said to Sodapop, who was looking at me, pleading to help in some way.
"My brother has nightmares a lot, I could help…"
"You need to leave," I demanded, and pushed him out the door. I felt terrible for doing so, but I didn't need him here when my mom was high like this. I barely knew the guy, and with my luck, he'd probably call social services.
I walked into my mom's room when I was sure he was gone and looked down on her frail body lying on the bed that had no sheets yet.
It was just a nightmare, I told myself, only a nightmare.
I walked back out into the living room and grabbed an old quilt out of one of the boxes. My grandmother made it for me when I was a baby, but I never got rid of it. It was the one thing I don't think I could ever give up.
I laid the quilt back on my mom and walked into the kitchen. As soon as I sat down, I heard another knock on the door. I groaned and got the plate with the cookies on it, expecting the visitor to be Sodapop wanting the tray back. I slid the cookies on another plate I had brought and went to answer the door.
"Sorry about that, here you-" I stopped talking when I realized the man at the door wasn't Sodapop at all, although I wished it were him.
"No please, continue," the man said.
"Never mind," I groaned, and got out of the way so he could come in. My uncle was the last person I wanted to see right now.
"Such a warm welcome for your favorite uncle!" He said sarcastically.
"You're my only uncle," I grumbled, "want a cookie?" I asked him, holding up the plate.
He laughed; "No thank you, I was actually looking for your mother…" he looked around.
"Already passed out and in bed for the night," I said.
"Still a junkie?" He asked, jokingly.
"How do you think we lost our house?" I asked him.
"Well, your father was the only one who was really working if I remember correctly," he laughed, "Your mother could never hold a job, even before Mac died."
"She has a job, I have a job, and Mac's dead so leave him out of this. If mom wasn't a junkie we could at least make ends meet," I snapped.
"Barely," he scoffed, and I wanted to punch that clean face of him. He thought he knew how to work hard, but he didn't know the half of it.
"Anyways, I need to get going. If your mother wakes up, tell her to call me," he said, stressing the if. He had made it clear that he didn't think she would live to see forty.
"With what?" I asked him.
"Your boyfriend out front should have something, he looks pretty well off," he said, walking out the door, "better than you anyways."
They say you should count to ten before you storm off at someone, so that's what I did. I didn't go out and attack my uncle no matter how bad I wanted to. He wasn't bad, but his higher than thou attitude really got on my nerves.
"Let's see what's behind picket number one!" I said, looking over the painted picket fence that surrounded the house. Sure enough, Sodapop was sitting there with his knees pulled up to his chest. He looked at me with a smile and waved, knowing he was in trouble.
"I wasn't sure if you would need me or not, and I wanted to be here just in case," he explained, standing up.
"How long were you planning on staying here?" I asked him, not believing what was happening.
"Until I knew that you were going to be okay," he said, looking at the ground.
"You are too sweet," I said, smiling. He smiled back at me again, happy that he hadn't offended me.
I'm not really sure how long we stood there, but it felt like all time stopped when I looked in to his handsome eyes. There were no worries, nothing to think about except him. How beautiful he was. How kind he was. How perfect he was.
"Soda!" I heard someone yell, and Sodapop looked up in shock, grabbing me instinctually.
"Sorry," he said, quickly letting go once he realized how hard he was holding my arm.
"It's okay," I said, "I think your friends are looking for you," I pointed out.
"I guess they are," he said, not moving at all.
"Well, don't let me get you into any trouble, go ahead. I'll be safe for tonight," I smiled.
"The damage is already done," he said, "Plus, you've got my cookie tray. I kind of need it back by dinner time."
"Oh, shoot!" I said, running back inside knocking over several boxes in my way.
"Here you go!" I yelled as I ran back outside, tripping on the front steps on the way to him and landing on the ground, the metal tray crashing beside me.
"Hey, are you okay?" Sodapop asked me as he pulled me up off the ground. His eyes kept going back and forth between me and the guys, and it was obvious I had just completely embarrassed myself. I jumped up off the ground and out of Sodapop's arms, making sure I was completely balanced before talking.
"Yep! I'm fine, just fine! Man, that was embarrassing…" He started laughing, and a couple guys in the truck did too. Great, this day just gets better and better.
"You know what?" I said to Sodapop, "You go off with your buddies there, and I'll stay here and catch up with you lot later."
"That sounds good," Sodapop said, and hugged me before running off to the truck and hopping in the back.
"And don't let me catch you staking out my house anymore!" I yelled at him as the truck drove off, sure that he didn't hear me.
"Whatever you say, Andie!" He yelled back, barely audible. I couldn't believe that he had just called me Andie. Usually, it wouldn't be a big deal, but the last time someone called me that was my father minutes before he walked out on my mother and I. It was the last thing he called me.
I walked inside to an even bigger mess of boxes because of the explosions caused from me knocking them over. I looked in the fridge and realized that we had no food except for the cookies that Sodapop brought over. I walked over to the kitchen table and grabbed the keys to the car along with my somewhat empty wallet. Whatever money I had in there was going to have to be enough to by some groceries for the week. If not, I guess I would have to find Sodapop and have him make some more cookies.