Silence Speaks a Million Words
2.
I climb out of bed, careful to not accidentally nudge my sleeping brother. Tonight the church burst into flames and smoke again, collapsing before my eyes. I walk out in the dark hallway with Johnny's scream still ringing in my ears, sounding terrified and broken.
But at least it wasn't me screaming, waking my brothers up. I know they need their sleep.
I feel tired and dirty, like the way I felt when I met Darry and Soda at the hospital that night. Like ash is still clinging to my clothes and face and hair. Like I'm still dusty and grimy, and stiff from sleeping on a hard floor for five nights. I know it was two weeks ago. A rumble, a concussion, two deaths ago. But it also happened just now. It's not the first time I've dreamt about it, and probably won't be the last- I think it will always haunt me.
The bathroom's floor tiles are cold against my bare feet. I undress and leave my pyjamas in a heap in the corner, shivering in the morning air.
The shower is warm, though. I stand in the spray of water, making sure to turn my face away from it, with my eyes closed. Every time I stand in here, my thoughts make me uncomfortable. It's the memories, I can't get rid of them.
Give the kid a bath, David
I hear the voice as if it's next to my ear. I open my eyes, trying to stifle my panic. Our house is too quiet - every other time I have taken a shower since it happened, I have heard my brothers talk, or the radio playing, or sounds from the TV. This time it's too quiet. It makes it all come back.
You need a bath, greaser
I feel how the water rises above my feet.
I didn't know that the plug was in the bathtub's drain. Bewildered I look down - the water, oddly cold and dark and murky, is reaching my ankles. I turn off the shower, but the water is still rising, faster and faster, reaching my knees by now.
I scream as hands land on my shoulders, pressing me backwards, down. I am back there, in the park, in the fountain, and they grab me, force my head under the surface, drunk and laughing, and I have to clamp my mouth shut, I can't breathe -
It's just like it was then, but this time there is no Johnny. I'm going to die.
I think I hear someone burst through the unlocked door, and I feel hands grab me, different from the others, and I stop struggling, let the person hurl me up to sit.
"Jesus, Pone... what happened? What the hell happened?"
It is my brother. His worried face is close to mine, his eyes search to find my gaze, but the room is spinning. I can't focus. Only his grip around my upper arms keeps me steady, his voice forcing me back into reality.
I spit out liquid, breathe hard and ragged.
"The water..." I manage to whisper when my lungs finally has gotten the air they need, and I cough again. The bathtub is halfway filled, but the water is clear and warm.
"What's with the water?" Soda looks like he wants to shake me when I don't answer. "Pony?"
What is wrong with the water? It killed me.
But I'm alive. I am. I didn't die. Bob did. Johnny did and Dally did. Not me, right. I know that.
"Nothin'. It's nothin' with the water." I take another breath, avoid his eyes while sticking my hand down deep, unplugging the drain so the water can swirl out. It's getting easier to breathe with every inch that disappears. I'm not in the fountain. I'm home.
"You screamed bloody murder." Soda is pale. He lets go of me, sits down on his heels while letting out a puff of air. I turn my head to face him this time.
It was, I want to say.
Blood on concrete, a knife in Johnny's hand. He killed that boy, to save me
But I only say, "I think I slipped."
xXx
He is soothing me in our room, but I think he mostly soothes himself, examining the back of my head, and I sit quiet, hands folded on my knee and let him. What happened in the bathroom, I don't know. But I'm scared.
I don't show it, though.
Voices and water and hands - it was what happened in the park. It happened here too, but only in my mind. I don't know if it was a lie I told Soda, or if it was the truth, that I did slip and fall under. I know that David wasn't there, and Bob is dead and Randy has changed. He was here once, but not in the bathroom. Why would he be here, trying to drown me?
Soda asks if I'm hurt somewhere, he asks me three times before I answer. I tell him no. I tell him I'm fine. He hands me clothes and I dress myself. All the time his eyes are big, like he still doesn't believe that I'm okay.
Maybe I'm not.
xXx
"You have to eat," Darry says, concerned, when I enter the kitchen. He guides me down into a chair and places a bowl in front of me. I know I can't go like this forever, not eating. One day they will start about it, and I guess this is the day.
Staring down, I mumble, "I can't eat baloney."
My brother raises his eyebrows. "It's not baloney."
"It tastes like it."
All food.
"How can it taste like baloney? It's cereal. It's not even close."
"I don't know. It just does." I'm sitting hunched, watching my brother move around in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee, grabbing the morning paper from the counter.
"You have to eat anyway." He nods at my food, like he's encouraging me, then sits down to read.
And I think that I should try to please him, because he is trying. I'm still not used to this caring Darry, even if I know he did care before too. I just never realized it then. And now he tries so hard to make my life right back on track, and I don't do anything to help him out. But this. I almost feel nauseous.
"I can't!"
This time, his gaze on me is tired. "Ponyboy-"
I glare without purpose, interrupt him with a statement. "You want me to throw up."
He sighs. "No, I don't. And you won't throw up if you just get used to eating again. You haven't eaten properly for weeks."
"Because everything tastes like baloney, I told you!"
The paper rustles. "Just try it. Maybe it won't this time." He adverts his gaze, and I mutter, picking up my spoon.
The cereal floats in milk, and I dip the spoon, let it come up with as little contents as possible, and I grimace at it, before sticking it into my mouth.
It is baloney.
"Don't spit it out!"
I chew and swallow out of anger, push my bowl away. But Darry's hand stops it before it reaches the middle of the table and pushes it back to me. He's stronger.
"At least half of it."
It is a fight I won't win, I can tell by his eyes. Usually he would have left for work by now, but he sits relaxed, waiting, like he has all the time in the world. But time can end fast. I know it, he should know it too. He wasn't there with Johnny, but he saw Dally.
One second he was alive, the other, he was not.
"One third," I say, trying to force the images away.
"Half. And then I won't nag about that you fainted in the bathtub."
Soda must have told him.
"I didn't really faint," I try. "I just slipped."
"Doesn't matter. You need food. Pony, I'm serious."
Under his watch, I slowly eat my one third. I know he's peeking above the paper, above the coffee cup, to see that I obey. The clock ticks. Soda comes in, greased and dressed, throws himself down with a sandwich and eyes me like Darry does.
Two-Bit and Steve don't show up to interrupt, to save me.
I drop the spoon. One third. It's all I can manage.
Darry eyes the bowl. Sighs again. "All right."
xXx
I get lost in the hallways after math. It is strange, I know this school. After class, I wait just outside the door for Two-Bit or Steve or both, but none of them show up. And I stand there, still, when the bell rings for the second time and I should be somewhere else. Clutching my book, I shift on my feet, and then I start walking.
There are doors and lockers and endless floors and stairs, and I don't know where I am. I should know. There is a buzzing noise in my head and I think it's my own pulse speeding up.
I slip into a boys restroom, drop my books on the floor and walk up to the mirror. The face in it is me, but the hair is not.
I'm sorry I had to cut your hair, Pony
He cut my hair, but I kind of killed him. I raced to the church first. He shouldn't have followed but he did. Why did he? He always listened to Dally, but not that one time, when it was important.
I stand there forever, until the bell rings again, and then I go out in the hallway, and this time, I manage to find my locker and Two-Bit leaning against it.
"Hey, Pone," he smiles. It doesn't completely reaches his eyes, it never does nowadays.
"Where were you?" I mumble, fiddling with my empty hands. He eyes them, and I briefly wonder where my books are.
"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. My teacher and I had a little disagreement before."
I don't have a retort and his smile disappears.
"You all right?"
"I'm okay." I look around. "Um..."
"What, Pone?"
"What's next class?"
He eyes me, weirdly. "Last bell just rung, Pone. We're goin' home."
xXx
I make a sandwich and I eat it. I think Darry would have been proud. I did it for him, I want to show him that I'm trying.
I rummage through my bag for my homework, but I still can't find my math books. A bit worried, I do the other homework instead, English and History, and then I watch TV until Soda gets home with Steve. They are loud and happy, crashing down inside our house with groceries and the smell from work. Soda throws himself down next to me, asks about my day, and I tell him small parts, the normal parts, but it feels like I'm talking about somebody else.
I wonder if he remembers this morning, but I guess he does. He seems a bit wary when he says he's going to take a shower, and I nod and go to my room. When I hear the sound of running water, I put my fingers into my ears.
xXx
You know I did save your life, I hear Johnny's voice. Twice.
My hand stops, lifts the tip of the pencil half an inch over the paper. It wasn't even supposed to be him this time, it was supposed to be Soda. It should be Soda, my plan was to draw Soda.
But it's Johnny's eyes that stare up at me.
It ain't fair, they tell me. That I'm not alive.
"I know," I agree with him.
It hurts. Fire. It really hurts.
"I'm sorry."
I am. I truly, truly am. But I can only hope he believes me.
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