Chapter 4 - Stepfathers and Shenanigans

The next few months were hard. Momma had to keep going even though you could tell she didn't want to. I didn't make it any easier for her either. Nearly every day, my teacher or the principal was calling her in or sending notes home. Finally, one day we were walking home after she'd picked me up from the principal's office for hijacking the school intercom and telling jokes, and she stopped me dead. She got down on her knees, nylons and all right in the middle of the sidewalk across from the market. Holding my face in her hand with that mixture of exasperation, fatigue, and love that only mothers can get, she said straight, "Things have got to change, Keith. We can't keep doing life like this. You need a man around the house to keep you from running so wild, and that's what you're going to get. I guess it's about time you knew, but I'm getting married. His name's Frank. What do you think about that?"

Well, I definitely knew what I was thinking, and it was a solid 'no'. I tried to bring her around.

"Aww, Momma, you don't have to do that. I'll be good, I promise. No more shindanigans."

I then proceeded to lay out all of the other things I wouldn't do and painted a damn good, if unrealistic, picture of what our new and improved life would look like without the impending "Frank".

"It's 'shenanigans', Keith. And no matter how much you protest or try to sell me on an Frankless future, it's still happening. Even mommas need someone to take care of them sometimes."

"I'll take care of you, Momma. I'll help you clean up around the house and everything!"

She laughed and kissed me on the forehead.

"I'll hold you to that, my beautiful boy. But I'm afraid it's still happening. Besides, pretty soon it's not just the two of us that are going to need looking after. You want to know a secret? I'm gonna have a baby. Now how does that sound?"

"Sounds better than Frank," I replied, "You sure 'bout this, Momma?"

"I think so," she answered as she stood up and we continued our walk back home. Her face was sure, but her eyes weren't. She looked more like a kamikaze pilot than a soon-to-be bride and mother.

I didn't even meet Frank until the wedding a few days later. He was a short run truck driver, so he was gone for a few days at a time on deliveries. The wedding was a quick courthouse affair, but it did get me out of school. Momma introduced me to Frank as we were all waiting in line for the judge. He just looked me up and down, grunted, and said, "So this is the little runt who's been giving you so much grief, Rose? Scrappy little thing, ain't he?"

That was about all he said to me that day. Well, except for the under-the-breath threat that if I made a peep during the officials, I wouldn't sit for a week. That, Danny, was my introduction to my step-father, Frank Mathews. Cuddly sort, wasn't he?

Frank was one of Momma's regulars down at the bar when he was in town. He'd been trying to work on her for over a year, even when Ted was back with us. Momma finally gave in. Fear and loneliness will make you do things you never thought. He was way beneath the sort of guy she could have gotten, but he was available and she was desperate. One boy fast on his way to the juvenile detention center, another baby on the way, and a dead, junkie husband who'd left her nothing but trouble. To say it was a marriage of convenience would be an understatement. More a marriage of desperation.

After the courthouse, we went back to the apartment and packed everything up. Not that there was much. We piled it into Frank's old Ford and headed to our new place on the east side. Well, new to us at least. At least this place had two bedrooms. If I had to describe that place in a word, it would be a banana. Everything was peeling. Yeah, I know that was bad, Danny, but humor me. The wallpaper, the paint, the linoleum… everything. Momma's face fell for only a split second before her jaw set and she walked straight back out to the car. I thought she'd changed her mind and we'd dump Frank and life would go back to the way it was. I was pretty stupid back then. Once my Momma set her mind to something, it happened. She came back in a minute later with a broom and an old rag. She threw me the rag.

"Get it damp and wipe down every surface you can reach. I got the floors. Pick that chin up and get to work."

"But, Momma…"

"You sassin' your Momma boy? One more word and you won't be able to sass her no more. Now shut up and get busy."

Even Ted had never threatened me like that, not even on his worst days. Not seriously anyway. But even at the age of 8 I could tell Frank meant it. I looked over his shoulder to Momma and she just gave me a look that said 'no questions' and then she looked down at the floor and started sweeping.

We settled into a routine pretty quickly. On the days Frank was on a run, Momma and me went pretty much back to normal. When he was home, I learned to make myself scarce. I couldn't do anything right by him. He never wanted me. He only put up with me because he wanted Momma. Within a few weeks, I had my new neighborhood mapped. Ms. Trent was alright. She was usually good for a cookie or two. But old Mr. Gorse was a different story. You got within 10 feet of his yard and he'd start taking pot shots at you with his BB rifle. At least I think it was BBs.

My favorite place was one block over at the Curtis house. Yep, those Curtises. You've met them before I think. I was dodging Old Mr. Gorse's pot shots one day and flipped myself over the nearest fence. Lo and behold, I landed on something softish but pokey and got a knee in my stomach. Then before I knew what was happening, I got yanked backward straight onto my ass. Once I gathered my senses, I looked up to see a dark-headed boy a couple years older than me. A smaller, blondish boy was picking himself up a few feet away. He must have been the thing I'd landed on when I'd scrambled over the fence.

"Who the hell are you?" the older boy demanded, "And what do you think you're doing sneaking into our yard?"

"Darry, Ma hears you cursin' like that and your backside is gonna be red for a week. 'Sides, I'm fine. He didn't hurt nothin'. And it's not exactly like we was sneakin'. Crashin's more like it."

By then the smaller boy had picked himself up and came over to offer me a hand.

"You're new around here, aren't you? Most of us around here know how to get around Old Gorse. Know what we call him? Mr. Gross. And as far as names go, that's my brother Darry, he's ten, and I'm Sodapop. We got another brother inside, but he's just a little kid. His name's Ponyboy. What's your name?"

"Geez, ya'll got some strange names. Yeah, I'm pretty new. We moved in about a month ago. My name is…" I paused for a second. I figured everyone around here must have weird names, so when in Rome… "My name is Two-Bit." It was the first thing that came to mind.

"No it ain't," the one called Darry accused, "What's your real name?"

I was not making a good first impression with that one, but Sodapop stepped in again.

"With me and Ponyboy as your brothers, you shouldn't be questionin' anyone else. 'Sides, maybe he just doesn't want to tell us. What's it matter anyway? Hey, Two-Bit, you wanna get back at Old Gross? He's real fun to mess with if you know how to do it."

I agreed pretty quickly. The old man deserved anything we could give him and it sounded fun. Sodapop seemed like he was down for a good laugh or two, so he seemed alright in my book. Darry I wasn't so sure about.

"You in, Darry?" Sodapop asked.

"I ain't so sure, Soda," he hesitated, "You know how much trouble we got in last time. My hands are still sore from all the scrubbin' I had to do."

Soda dared him with a smile. "You sure you ain't just a chicken? 'Sides, we're smarter now. That was weeks ago!"

"I ain't a chicken you little piece of trash," Darry responded and headlocked his little brother. They wrestled for a bit and then Darry sat up. "Alright, let's go."

We climbed back over the fence into Mr. Gorse's back yard.

"What are we gonna do?" I asked.

"Shhh… Don't get us caught," Darry whispered back, "Just follow us."

We snuck up to his back door and straight into his kitchen.

"Soda, get the front door," Darry commanded, "Kid, go and make sure the bedroom windows are all closed."

Then I caught onto what we were doing. We were locking the old man out of his own house. We all met back in the kitchen.

Darry and Soda slid out of the partially open kitchen window above the sink, and I guess they expected me to follow. But right before I climbed out, a half-eaten strawberry-rhubarb pie on the counter caught my eye. I grabbed it off the counter and stuck my head out the window.

"Catch!" I whispered and dropped it and then followed it out.

We climbed back over the fence and dropped down into the Curtises back yard.

"You're crazy!" Soda congratulated me with a winning grin. "Darry and me've never taken anything before. I guess we'd better go inside and grab some forks to get rid of the evidence."

"Don't need to," I said as I pulled out a couple forks from my pocket that I'd also knicked.

Darry even started laughing at that as he took one.

"You're alright, Two-Bit. But you're the one gonna put 'em all back later. Good luck!"

Whenever Frank was home, I started spending most of my time at the Curtis house. Mrs. Curtis was a lot like my Momma should've been if she didn't have so much trouble in her life. She didn't mess around, but she was good to bandage up a scrape and there was usually something good on the stove or in the icebox. Mr. Curtis wasn't around too much since he worked long hours, but when he was, he'd usually include me in the football games or whatever he was doing with Darry and Sodapop.

After a few more months, my life changed again. Momma went into the hospital for a few days and then came home with your Great Aunt Lillian. Lily for short.

She was a firecracker from the start. She'd scream at all hours of the night and I'd had it, so one night I left. I climbed into Darry's window and woke him up.

"What the hell, Two-Bit!" he startled all fuzzy-headed and bleary eyed.

"Can't sleep," I said, "Can I stay here? That baby's a nightmare. Whoever said little sisters are fun lied. If she wasn't so little I'd hit her with a pillow. Seems to work with Ponyboy."

"It'll be okay after a while. Pony did the same thing when he was that little."

"So can I stay?"

"I guess. Get in," he invited.

"Thanks, Darry," I said. After a few kicks and shoves we got settled.

I was woken up the next morning with the blinds whipped open and the covers yanked down by a formidable Mrs. Curtis in curlers.

"That's what I thought. Up young man, your Momma is beside herself. Time to go home."

That wasn't the last time I ended up climbing through Darry's window, but I learned to leave a note on the counter before I left my house so Momma didn't worry. It's not often a person finds such good friends that stand the test of time, but the Curtis brothers were probably the only thing that eventually kept me from doin' real hard time later on. If you are lucky enough to find friends like that, Danny, keep 'em around.