He hasn't changed a bit. His boyishly handsome good looks were never lost. He still looks seventeen. There's a ghost of a smile on his lips, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. His hair is slicked back with hair oil, the way it always has been. He's wearing a grease-stained flannel shirt. My breath catches yet again, and I bite my lip.
"Sandy," He exhales, his eyes glistening. The voice that has haunted me all these years. That rough yet soothing voice. That twinge of an accent. It always makes you feel better. My muscles relax and I exhale.
I try to say something, but I just trip all over my words.
Sodapop clears his throat, breaking eye contact with me. Looking down, he moves down the stairs, putting his arm around the other woman. "Sandy, this is my wife."
Wife.
Right.
"Vivian," His wife holds out her hand and I take it, shaking it. It's cold and hard, just like the rest of her. "But I'd prefer you to call me Mrs. Curtis. Might I remind you, that's who I am. I am his wife. We're married."
"I... I'm Sandy," I say, stuttering, staring at Soda as he stares right back at me.
"I know," Vivian says. Suddenly, I hear someone crying, particularly a small child. "That would be Hallie." She says, rubbing her temples and running up the stairs.
Sodapop and I are left alone. He walks closer to me, slowly, as if he is the predator and I am the prey. I eye him, exhaling slowly. Our faces are inches away. He moves closer to me. Our lips linger just centimeters away from each other. I put my hands on his chest, pushing him back softly.
"Not here, not right now, not like this," I say slowly, closing my eyes. He steps away and nods.
"We need to talk," Sodapop says, his voice barely audible.
I nod.
"All that stuff you wrote in that letter. That was true?" There's a hint of pain in his voice, and I know what he's getting at.
I nod again, a lump in my throat forming.
"It was mine?" Soda is trying to keep his voice steady.
I nod once more.
"Sandy," He pleads.
I shake my head, putting my hands up, "Soda, please."
"I'm sorry," He says, his voice breaking on the last word. "I could have been there. I could have gone to Florida with you, or married you and stayed here. I wanted to be there."
"It's my fault," I shake my head. "Don't bring this on yourself. It was my decision. It's on me. You would have felt obligated. And I didn't want you to feel like that," I'm rambling, my words slurring together, "Because I knew I would still love you. And I knew you would get tired of me."
"But I do," Sodapop is crying now, actual tears stream down his face. He brushes them away with a shaking hand. "I love you now. I never stopped."
I smile sadly. "I wish, but it's a little late for that now."
"It's never too late. I have time. I've been waiting for five years already."
Suddenly, loud footsteps clammer down the stairs. In a split second, Vivian is even closer to me than to Sodapop. She towers over me.
"I don't know who the fuck you think you are!" Vivian smiles, a nasty smile, not a genuine one, "Walking in here on me and my husband while our child is upstairs."
"I'm sorry," I feel so small.
"My husband. He's my husband. He's your ex who you were dumb enough to get knocked up by. That's not my problem."
"Viv," Soda pleads with her, grabbing her arm.
"No." She turns around, jamming her finger in his face. She turns back to me, "You're burning in hell anyway, you fucking baby killer."
That hurts. I let myself wince as she turns back to Sodapop.
"You think I'm dumb? You think I don't know what's going on here? I know exactly what's going on."
She turns back to me again, and there's a hint of pain in her eyes. Are those... tears? She's crying. "I love him," Vivian's voice shakes, "I know you could give two shits about him, but I love that man."
I look away, uncomfortable, but her hands clasp the side of my face and she pulls me closer to her. Our noses are touching.
"You know what he said to me on our wedding night?" Vivian continues, sniffling, "He said, 'Viv, I love you. But I want you to know that if she comes back, I don't know what I'll do.' He said that to me. I've been dreading this moment for five years."
I don't know what to say to her, but I feel terrible.
"I'm sorry," I said, my voice breaking. Dead silence. What else am I supposed to say? "I'll... I'll go."
I back out of the house, running out to my car. I can hear Sodapop running after me.
I sit in the driver's seat, my face buried in my hands. Shame and guilt wash over me. Sodapop is tapping on the window. I can hear his muffled yells. "Sandy, please! Don't leave me again! Please!"
I can't look at him. I start the car and back out of the driveway.
