Chp 2. Mine is Yours

XxX

"Steve broke Two-Bit's finger," Soda's telling me. "They were wrestling and the dumb son-of-a-bitch…"

"Uh huh," I mutter, tuning my brother out as he narrates their latest adventure. I pinch the bridge of my nose, a headache brewing. Searching for some water, I take three pills, swigging down the liquid.

"—there? Kiddo?"

"What?"

"Damn it, Pony," Soda swears, suddenly angry. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing." I shake my head, trying to keep focus. I tuck the phone under my chin as I light a cigarette. "Someone was talking to me, is all." Even now, I'm impressed with my quick lying skills.

As soon as I take a drag I start coughing – hacking is more like it. "Hold on," I manage to croak out, dumping the phone onto my bed. I cough into my hands and when I pull them away, they're bright red.

I give them a quick stare and then wipe them on my jeans. I pick up the phone.

XxX

This time, I have to go home for Christmas. No excuses.

Dorms close, the University shuts down like there's no life. I pack a bag with my pencil, notepad, and a few textbooks. The pills go in too. At least, I can go back telling Darry I have straight A's for my first college semester.

And it's not a lie. I do.

Sodapop picks me up and I'm amazed at how hard he hugs me.

XxX

Liz coddles. I let her. She's good for Darry and spoils everyone. With jet black hair and straight bangs she reminds me a bit of Snow White. She and Darry met at a work picnic. It worked out and she moved in six months back. Soda swears Darry's chicken to propose marriage and so far, Soda's right. Darry hasn't asked. I think he's chicken too.

It's good to be home. I shoot the shit with Two-Bit, trade barbs with Steve and even though I probably talk too much no one says a thing. We have a good first few days of Christmas.

XxX

I can't sit still.

We go bowling and I'm writing. I tell Soda to take my turn.

I can't do movies anymore. They make me fidgety. My hands shake. Plus, the dark makes it hard to write. You have to squint. I want to go back to school with an idea. Prove to Colin that I can do it.

I take too many pills and earn dark circles. I stay in my room when everyone else is over and fill notebooks full of words. I can't even read my own handwriting. Darry and Liz's laughter echoes through the walls. Darry asks me about college, seems put off when I tell him I declared my major.

Soda makes me nervous. He watches me, speaking in odd half sentences, never finishing his thoughts. I want to tell him to spit it out, whatever he wants to say. We hang out at his place with Steve, watching stupid black and white TV shows.

The snow falls outside.

XxX

Darry's not stupid. He knows something's up.

My oldest brother tries to talk to me. I end up yelling at him for something stupid, something from the past, and storming out of the house. It's embarrassing; I can still picture Liz, a hand on her mouth, looking confused and hurt.

XxX

I come back to the house late at night and instantly, I hate it. It smells different, like perfume and apple pie and while it's not a bad thing, to me, at that moment it's not home. I don't know how I could have missed it. Been so stupid.

My hands start shaking and I storm into the bedroom and start packing my bags. My brain whirls crazily. I'm catching the first bus back to school, open or not. Squatting, I shove t-shirts and boxers into my duffel back when all I want to do is sleep. I don't have the energy for this. I take more pills, dry swallowing, and rub my eyes. They're hot and wet. I think about how stupid I am and how I went down this path. I never was smart. I drop the pill bottle next to my knee.

I start crying and coughing.

There's a knock at the door and then the deep, gruff voice I know from my childhood. "Ponyboy, can I come in?" The knob twists but doesn't open; Darry waiting for my reply.

I shake my head no but it doesn't matter because he can't hear me. I cough again and then the blood's there. It's darker this time and clotted.

Darry's voice comes, concerned. "Kiddo?" The door opens. "Oh, Jesus Christ."

"Something's wrong," I tell my oldest brother as he rushes me. I hold my hands out to him, the blood so bright I have to shut my eyes.

XxX

Darry races me to the hospital. He found the pills too – and while he's doing a mighty good job at hollering at me, he's also crying. He's quiet when he does it, making me feel even worse. And when they wheel me into the hospital, he's still crying, still holding that damned pill bottle.

XxX

I can't look at anyone. Soda and Darry sit in my hospital room, talking softly. They think I'm asleep but I know better.

"I knew something was wrong—"

"I should have—"

"It's my fault—"

"What if he—"

"My god, Soda, I know. I know."

XxX

The doctor comes and tells me I have bronchitis. Possibly caused by cigarettes, he says pityingly. "You smoke a lot?"

I go into it point blank. "All the time."

"You know there's a link – a probable link – between cigarettes and cancer of the lungs…"

"I bet you smoke."

The doctor grins, his mustache turning up. "I bet you're right. But that's not what I'm telling you."

"I know what you're telling me."

"You know you're sick, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then," he says, scribbling me a prescription. He hands it to me and I think, great, more pills. But when he leaves he doesn't mention the pills I've been taking. Apparently, they were legal and that's alright.

XxX

Darry's with the doctor now, getting the news I wanted to hear alone. Low voices in the hallway, choked questions. I dig my palms into my eye sockets so I don't have to see Darry's face when he comes in.

XxX

Getting yelled at by your brother is a sobering experience, especially when you're in a hospital bed and unable to defend yourself.

Soda's pacing, his handsome face, ghost white and drawn. I've been sleeping better than him.

"Three months? You've been coughing up blood for three months and you—you don't tell anyone?"

I bite my lip, playing with the edges of my frayed blanket.

"Kiddo," Soda begs. "You're killing me here. Tell me, what you're thinking. Tell me what I can do."

I swallow a cough. Tasting coppery blood and grimacing inside. "Nothing," I shake my head. "Nothing. It's my fault, Soda."

"What're the pills for?" he snaps. "Why in god-fucking-hell are you taking them?"

"I thought they'd make me better."

"Better than what?"

"Better than this."

Soda's face scrunches up and suddenly I know what it feels like to make both of my brothers cry in less than 24 hours.

XxX

I'm only in the hospital for two days but it feels like an eternity. The doctor lets me go with strict warnings to give up smoking, the possibility of pneumonia looming and some other things I don't pay much attention to.

When Darry brings me back to the house I still have more than two weeks left on my break. I manage an awkward apology to Elizabeth and she starts bawling.

I back away from my brother's girlfriend and head to my bedroom, leaving Darry with my bag. I lock the door behind me.

XxX

Pardon typos.

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XO,

Feisty.