Author's Note: So this one took a little longer – these middle chapters have a little less pre-written than the early chapters and the ones towards the end. So if I slow down to once a week for a bit, that's the reason.
Also – I see y'all reading, but don't be afraid to talk to me! Lurking is cool, but I love hearing your thoughts, too!
Happy reading :)
XXXXX
At night, I would lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. Sammy would sleep soundlessly and motionless next to me. But I would be wide awake, thinking. My brain was in overdrive.
So I did what I always do when I can't sleep – well, one of the things I always do when I can't sleep.
I wrote.
Good thing I already had something started.
XXXXX
Entry #1, Part Two
1999
"Dallas."
I smirked and shoved my fists into my pockets. "Hey, Uncle Darry."
Darry looked concerned. He wasn't wrong to be – he knew what had happened. He was the only one of my family that did. And now here I was, standing on his front porch in Tulsa, Oklahoma when I was supposed to be home in New York. This was a red flag to him, I'm sure. If I were him, I'd be freaking out. But Darry Curtis doesn't freak out. "Why're you here, kid?"
"It's summer," I shrugged. "I can go where I want."
"Not when you're s'posed to be goin' home, you can't. Seriously, Dally, what's goin' on?"
I sighed. "Can I come in? It's hot out here."
Darry opened the door and let me in.
"Who is that, Darrel?"
"It's Dallas, Aunt Jackie!"
Jackie is Darry's wife. She's a really southern debutante – came from New Orleans. She was real pretty, too, and had a nice rack. But I shouldn't be thinking such things about her, even if we aren't really related. What's important is that she's always been nice to me. But she still looked surprised as hell when she came out of the kitchen and saw me standing in her living room.
"Dallas Mathews, what're you doin' here?" She asked in her thick, feminine, southern drawl. I smiled at her.
"Just passin' through, Aunt Jackie." I could feel Darry's eyes on me. Boring holes into the side of my skull. "Lee home?"
Lee was their only son. They had two daughters, Martha and Joan. We were all close in age.
"Not right now," she answered, hugging me. "But what're you really doin' here, Dallas?
"Just passing through. Really!" I said, even though Jackie looked skeptical. All of these mothers were always skeptical, and always caught on to all of her antics. The River Incident of 1992 comes to mind.
"Well, it's so good to see you. Make sure when you call your mother that you tell her I'm sending up the things that she asked for."
I raised an eyebrow. "Things? What things?"
Jackie smirked and turned tail. "I guess you both have your secrets!" She said cheerfully, disappearing back into the kitchen. I turned to Darry, who was not amused.
"Alright, kid – spill. What the hell are you doin' here?"
I grimaced. "Darry, I think you know why," I mumbled towards the floor.
"Don't tell me it's because of that girl."
"That dead girl? Yeah, maybe it is. And maybe it's because I've realized just how fuckin' expendable I am."
"Expendable?" Darry repeated. I nodded.
"Yeah. Like, in the grand scheme and all. I'm a weak link, man. And I've got to figure out some things before anything can happen."
"Like what?"
"Like dying."
"Dying."
"Yeah. I mean – I could. I have this disease, ya know."
Darry scoffed. "So? That's never been a problem for you before."
"Well, it's a problem now. So I came down here."
"You came down here because…"
"Because that just seemed like the thing to do."
I shrugged, a big smile on my face, like it was all that simple. Darry was staring at me like I was crazy. Looking back on it, I think he probably knew what I was gonna find down there. I don't know why he didn't just go ahead and tell me, though.
"This is for you," Grandma had told me, thrusting a photo album in my hands. "I want you to have it and take it home with you."
I started flipping through the pages. Early on, I recognized Dad and Darry when they were little, standing side-by-side in little league uniforms. Aunt Sadie when she was little (Lisa looked a lot like Sadie did – maybe that's why Dad gave her the same nickname). More pictures of Dad and Sadie's friends, so I saw not just Darry, but Steve and Sodapop and Ponyboy, too. Some other guys I didn't recognize. I smiled a bit when I saw pictures of Mom start to crop up somewhere around the middle. I mean, we're not talking prom pictures – not Dad's thing – but the two of them just together, candidly. Sitting on the front porch together. On the couch talking to somebody, shoulder-to-shoulder. There was their wedding portrait, so hippy-dippy that you wouldn't believe it, and Mom five months pregnant with Mary. But they looked happy. Slowly, we show up. First, Mom and Dad and Mary, Mom holding Mary and Dad's arm around her. Mary with her raven-black hair and propped up on chubby legs. Mary with Lee, sitting together in someone's yard. Mary "holding" a baby me. The two of us sitting together on a porch swing. Surrounded by our parents' friends' kids. Gap-toothed smiles and scraped knees. And then watching myself grow up before my own eyes until Lisa shows up, the last baby any of them had. There's some more jumps as I flip through. But we spent more time down in Tulsa when we were little. I guess there was just more time back then.
"This is really great, Gramma, thanks."
"You're welcome, honey."
"I don't recognize all these people."
Gramma just shrugged. "People come and go."
"Yeah," I sighed, wanting to ask more. But I knew what she meant. People grow apart. And people move away. And people die. "That must suck."
Gramma looked amused, her Italian ear still not used to any of our slang. "Yes. It does."
XXXXX
"The rest of the kids get home tonight. You should come over and see them," Darry had told me when I saw him the next morning. I had wanted to show him the photo album Gramma had given me.
"I will," I promised.
Darry had really liked the photo album. He had a little smile on his face the whole time he flipped through the pages, adding little comments every now and then, like "I think I still have that glove somewhere" and "My mother took this photo." Stuff like that. I actually saw a copy of one of the pictures on one of his bookshelves, of Mom and Jackie with Mary and Lee, when Mary was a little older than newborn and Lee was about one. Both of them were pregnant at the altar. I guess it's something they could bond over?
"If you want to keep looking, I could just grab it when I come back tonight."
Darry shook his head. "Naw, you take it kid. It's your family, and Mrs. Mathews gave it to you. Who knows? Maybe you'll find whatever you're looking for in there."
Now I know that Darry was right, and that he knew then that I already had. I'd seen Dallas Winston's – and for that matter, Johnny Cade's – face more than once, in those early pages of the album. But I didn't know anything then.
"Any good places to grab a burger? Gramma's workin', and I kinda want to be on my own for a while."
Darry raised his eyebrows. "You sure? Do you know your way around?"
I shrugged happily. "I'll figure it out if it turns out I don't. I'll call you from a phone booth or somethin'."
Darry looked both like he was fed up with me and like he thought I was crazy. He gave me a slow nod. "Yeah. Okay. Um. There's a diner two blocks north that's pretty good."
I nodded. "I'll check it out. I'll be back tonight – I'm gonna head over to see Mom's parents for a while. They don't know I'm here."
"They don't?"
"No," I shook my head. "Figure I'll surprise 'em. Think I'll give Grandpa another heart attack?"
"I sure hope not."
XXXXX
"What can I get'cha, hun?"
I glanced at the menu, wanting more than just diner food. Some of Gramma Viviane's beef stew topped off with a slice of Mama's cherry pie sounded good to me, but this wasn't my house. And Gramma's was several blocks away. I was gonna take what I could get. And this had been close.
"I'll have a burger - hold the onions."
I smiled at her as she scratched down my order. Just like Dad does. The lady looked to be about my parent's age, with a few wrinkles. Her hair was pulled back into a tight blonde bun, and she wore a lot of makeup. She took my order to the kitchen, leaving me alone. I sighed, and set the photo album on the table. I had no clue if I was going to find what I needed in this, but it was a start. I had to get some answers about my life, and who my parents were. Before it was too late. Goddamnit, Katherine. You and your death making me do stupid shit.
"Here ya go, one burger - no onions." The waitress set the plate down in front of me, right next to the photo album, which was opened to the picture of Mom and Dad on their wedding day. I looked up.
"Thanks," I said, hoping she would leave. Which she didn't. Her eyes were glued to the picture.
"My god. If it ain't Two-Bit Mathews."
I raised an eyebrow. I assumed she was talking about Dad, but I had never heard anyone besides Mom and his friends refer to him as Two-Bit before.
"I guess..." I trailed off. "You know 'im?" The waitress snorted.
"Know 'im? I used to date the bastard," she spat. Then she did something I didn't expect her to do - she sat down in the empty seat across from me.
"Yep. Two-Bit Mathews. The two of us were pretty steady back when we were in high school. He was a jackass, but hell. He was charming and handsome and I couldn't resist him if I tried."
Woah. Talk about some good info! I pushed my burger aside and leaned forward. I wanted more outta this lady. "So the two of you dated? Back in the sixties?" I asked.
"Sure did. I mean, we were on and off, but people knew we were as good as any other couple around school," she shrugged. I nodded quickly, opening up a mental file so I could store all this.
"And, uh, what was he like? Back then?"
"Well," she drawled. "He was always one to go around makin' jokes. Thought he was a regular Johnny Carson. That landed his ass in detention more times than either of us could count. He was kinda a bum, didn't get a real job until that gal he was seein' left town for New York."
"Bridget Stevens!" I blurted, before I knew what I was even saying. My waitress smiled.
"Yeah, yeah her. He left me for her - bastard didn't even tell me about her 'til it was too late. Yep, he was absolutely crazy about her. Cleaned up nice for her, treated her real good, bought her flowers and all that. Ever'one around town could tell he was nuts 'bout her, even the ones who didn't give a damn. Why, she your mama?"
I nodded vigorously.
"Then that must mean he's your daddy," she said, tapping my father's face in the picture. I nodded again.
"That would be correct, ma'am. Dallas Mathews, ma'am," I said, holding out my hand. She grinned and grasped it.
"Kathy Lawson. It's nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you, too."
Kathy and I talked for a long time about dad. How he hung around with a gang of guys-my uncles, I assume-and got into fights. How he used to drive this old car that almost got them killed one night. How he had genuinely missed only four days of school in his life (I'd have to ask him about that one.) How he was a bum, but still a pretty good guy, considering what side of town he came from. She told me all about what it was like living on their side of town, how the "socs"- people like my mom-treated them real bad, and how the two sides were constantly at odds with each other. That is, until something happened.
"What happened?" I asked, trying to get out of her what I couldn't get out of uncle Darry. But she just shook her head.
"I don't know if I should be the one tellin' ya," she sighed. "But that boy you're named after – he had a lot to do with it."
I cocked an eyebrow. "I'm named after somebody?" I asked, confused. Kathy looked confused as well.
"What's that s'posed to mean?"
I shrugged. "I mean, I didn't know I was named after somebody."
"Well, then I really shouldn't be the one to tell you this, kid."
Okay, cryptic. I nodded and left her a generous tip.
XXXXX
As I was heading back to Grandma's house from my other grandparents' house, I headed over to Darry and Jackie's to see all the other kids. Fran, Lee, Martha, Joan, Vin, Tommy, and Annette. I'd known them all my whole life, but I felt like stranger. But I didn't make like one, and I just waltzed right into the house and towards the backyard.
"Well, well! If it isn't Dallas Mathews!" Sodapop called when he saw me, smiling up at me from the yard. I was standing alone on the porch, feeling kinda awkward. "I'd heard you were in town. What brings ya here, kiddo?"
I shrugged. Soda came up onto the porch and clapped me on the back. "Just couldn't go home, I guess," I admitted. "I've kinda had a rough month."
Soda nodded in understand. "Darry told me. Sorry that happened, kid."
"It's okay," I said, but Soda shook his head.
"No, it's not. And it's okay that it's not okay. Okay?"
I smirked. "Yeah. Okay."
"Okay. Hey – Fran! Come say hi to Dallas."
Thus began a parade of my almost cousins coming up to the porch to greet me, spewing various congratulatory remarks about my recent graduation, condolences about my late acquaintance (nothing can ever stay a secret, can it?), and so many questions.
What brings you here?
What are you gonna do now that you've graduated?
Do your parents know? What did they say?
Wanna come riding tomorrow?
I raised an eyebrow at Fran. "Franny, you know I don't exactly ride," I drawled. "It's the girls who like the horses."
Fran shrugged. "Yeah, but you should come over tomorrow anyway. Me and Annie'll help you. It'll be fun."
Fran was as horse crazy as her father, and she and Steve's girl, Anne, were as tight as their dads were. For symmetry's sake, I suppose. And I could ride, it just wasn't really my beat. But Fran was persistent with me, and I eventually relented. I just wasn't sure anybody would want to see me on a horse – I'd probably make a damn fool of myself. Hell, I knew I would.
"Thanks for agreein'," Soda told me later. "They like seein' ya."
I grumbled and groused a bit about it. "Sure, when Mary and Lisa aren't around."
"Aw, don't be like that."
But it was true. Fran and Annie liked Mary and Lisa better than they liked me. For sure. Same way the boys probably liked me better. That's just how it is. I didn't really get to see much of Lee that night, but he gave me a solid pat on the back when he saw me and smiled. "Good to see ya, man."
"Good to see you too, Lee."
Lee was a lot like his dad, in the way I guess I'm a lot like mine. So I guess it made sense that we got along. I was sitting on the back porch, showing my uncles the photo album. Steve and Soda seemed to enjoy it as much as Darry did. And it was nice, the four of us sitting together on the steps, drinking beers and me listening to them reminisce together. About the Curtis parents, who none of us besides them remembered, except for Aunt Evie. About old friends (but not the ones that really counted). It felt like being a part of something a bit bigger than I was, something I would never be able to really understand.
"I met one of Dad's old girlfriends today," I said quietly, crickets and cicadas answering before I do.
Soda, Steve, and Darry laughed, probably remembering plenty of things from the past. Maybe trying to figure out which one I was talking about.
"Lemme guess," Steve laughed. "...Kathy?"
I nodded. The three of them laughed harder. I was confused about what was so funny. It really wasn't all that funny; she was just another girl.
"Kathy was a handful, kid," Steve sighed.
"Sure as hell was," Darry grumbled. "If your dad didn't have such a thing for blondes, who knows if he'd have even seen her. But, he did, and we all had the opportunity to witness that."
It was funny, watching these men laugh and reminisce. Was it because I was here? Or was this something they did a lot? Times like this made me feel out of place, like I was invading in on something that I wasn't supposed to be a part of. I have my own friends. These are Dad's friends. Mom's friends too, but Dad's first. He's known Darry for...what? Almost fifty years. Insane! I could only hope I could be friends with Tony – or anybody, for that matter – for that long. I've grown up with these people. I know and trust and care deeply for these people. But hell, I'm just Keith's kid. Two-Bit Mathews' kid, I s'pose.
"It was kinda weird," I added over their noise. "Cuz he's been with Mom forever."
"Sure has," Soda drawled. They all three eyed me. "She tell you anything?"
I shrugged. "Not much. She said I was named after somebody – that was something."
They all froze. I guess I had stumbled upon a sensitive topic. I felt real awkward again, like coming down here was a mistake. But how could it possibly be a mistake if already, a day in, I had started to discover something? The universe had to be trying to tell me something with that. Right?
Right?
"Oh yeah?" Darry asked. "Guess you'd have to ask your parents about that."
"I guess…next time I call, I guess I'll ask." I was kinda disappointed they wouldn't just tell me, because they clearly knew. "I just feel like I have a lot to figure out now."
Steve smiled at me. "What are you trying to figure out?" He asked, like he knew but wanted to hear it from me. "Why are you so curious now? You've had years! We've always been here...why wait 'til you're -"
"Until I'm what?" I spat. "Stuck in a wheelchair? Dammit, it ain't my fault that I'm so terminal!"
The three of them stared at me for a long time. It was extremely uncomfortable. My face was getting red. Dammit, Katherine. "Who told you that, Dally?" Soda asked me softly. "Whaddya mean?"
"Jesus, kid, if this is about the whole diabetes thing...look, we've all told you that you're fine. Lookit you! They'd be stupid to saw anythin' off ya."
Darry shot Steve a look, then looked at me and softened. He knew what this was about. His eyes bore into mine.
"Dallas," he said calmly. "Never let anyone have this much of an influence over you."
At that, Sodapop burst into tears.
XXXXX
"Dallas. C'mere."
Next day, and it's raining. So we're all just sitting around doing just about nothing, watching TV. I was tired – I'd stayed up for a couple hours writing last night's entry, sitting alone in the library with one dim light on, scribbling in an old spiral notebook in handwriting I'm not sure anyone but me would be able to read. Scribblings of a mad man – or, a sad man, whose father is on the brink of death. Maybe it would be worth it to type all these.
Anyways.
Dad didn't let me c'mere on my own and instead pulled out my chair and pushed me out of the dining room and upstairs to his room. Mom-'n'-Dad's room wasn't exactly off-limits when we were kids, but it did sorta feel like this space where we weren't s'posed to be. It was a room as enigmatic as their pasts. I've seen so little of it that I'm not entirely unconvinced it hasn't looked exactly this way since 1975. The past week has been the most I've ever been in this room, and I've gotta admit – it's kinda eeking me out.
End of an era, man.
"What're you up to now, you crazy old man?" I asked, watching him as he waltzed into the closet.
"C'mere," his disembodied hand beckoned. "I have something I need to show you."
Jesus. If I have to take on another one of these crazy projects, I swear I'll…
Well.
I don't know what I'll do.
Something drastic.
The closet was even more of a mystery to us. Walk-in, we knew that. There was still shag carpeting whereas the rest of the house was wood, so I guess some things have changed since the seventies. One side was clearly Mom's. Not just because there were like, skirts and stuff. But all of Dad's shit was just strewn everywhere.
Wonder if she'll keep it that way.
"All the good stuff is in the closet, kid," Dad began dramatically. "Lookin' for photo albums? Closet. Something terribly out of style? Closet. Birth certificates? Closet. This thing is like a time capsule."
"Alright," I drawled, eyes scanning, amazed I was even being allowed in here. "That's great and all, pop, but did you just want to show me your underwear…or?"
Dad waved a hand. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Dallas Mathews. This is sensitive information I'm about to give you, okay?"
I groaned. "Dad, is it not enough that I'm recording your life story? I gotta be trusted with sensitive information as well? Why can't you just tell Mom? Or Mary?"
"Cuz they're already doin' enough, and they've got more ahead of 'em. And Lisa, poor girl, can't even look at me. I need you to help me out here, Dally."
He was looking real earnest about it, but I still hesitated. Don't ask me why. If I tell you, you'll tell me I'm a horrible son.
"Last wish of a dying man, kid."
I doubted it was the last, but, "Fine. What is it?"
Dad grabbed a cigar box and flipped open the lid. It looked to be filled with knick-knacks – an old switchblade, concert tickets to the Grateful Dead and other acts, a couple playbills – and old photographs. "There's a couple things I want going down with me. Pictures."
"You mean, when you're buried."
"Bingo!"
"What are they?"
"Well," he drawled, looking positively cheeky, "here's one of 'em."
And he handed me a picture of my mother. My naked mother.
"Dad!"
He started howling. "Aw, kid, you shoulda seen the look on your face. What? The human body is a bea-u - tiful thing, ya know."
"I know!" I squawked, my eyes shut. "But-but-but…you wanna be buried with this?"
"Well, sure! That's my girl, kid!"
I sighed and opened my eyes back up. I looked at the picture. My mother was a beautiful woman, I'll admit that. But of all the dirty things…"Why do you have this again?" I asked, knowing he hadn't said why yet.
"I expressed an interest."
Oh my god. "So. You, uh. Expressed an interest in having…naked…pictures…of my mother."
Dad cocked an eyebrow. "She wasn't your mother then, bucko. I know it's hard to believe now, but back in the day? Your mother and I could go at it like you wouldn't believe –"
"Jesus, Dad!"
He laughed. "That's a good story for you," Dad cut in with a smirk.
"You serious?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Ya know, I don't know if I want my son reading a story about his grandmother's naked body."
Dad laughed. "That's not the story, dumbass. What, you think I'mma detail every inch of her? Naw, it's a funny story. Here's how it went…"
XXXXX
Entry #8
1974
She held up a fairly large package. Rectangular, simply wrapped. I cocked an eyebrow.
"Happy birthday," she said, holding it out to me. "Open it."
"What is it?"
"I'm not telling!" She sang. "You have to see for yourself. Just know that this was inspired by a conversation we had a while ago."
Well gee, that could be just about anything. Based on our conversations, it could be as exciting as a new set of keys. Or – good god – something wedding related. So I tore off the wrapping paper, not being careful with it at all, to reveal a package underneath it.
"Ah, thanks, Bee. Just what I wanted!" She smacked the back of my head.
"Open it, wiseass." So I did. And there was a manila envelope inside.
"I'm disappointed."
Bridget sighed. "Incidents like these make me question your intelligence. There's something inside! Here, do you need me to open it for you?"
"No!" I said quickly. "No. I'm twenty-six now, and I've been opening envelopes since I was twenty. I can do it."
She actually laughed at that one. I leaned into her as I unsealed the envelope, and looked inside. Bunches of white sheets of what looked like photos. I looked up at her. "What exactly did you cook up?" I asked. Bridget just shook her head as I pulled them out. There was a piece of paper covering the front photograph, so I pulled it off. And what was underneath absolutely, positively astounded me.
"Oh, my god," I garbled out. Bridget giggled.
I was staring at a picture of my naked fiancé. And there were several more. Several. The one I had my eyes glued to right now was of her backside, her black hair tumbling down her back and her green eyes staring back at me. Her body was pure white but her cheeks were pink, and her lips red like cherries.
Bridget was the fucking epitome of beauty.
"I think I just pissed my pants," I mumbled.
"Something like that, yeah."
I continued to flip through them, some in color, some black and white. Some of them were full-frontals, breasts one-hundred percent exposed. Others were her just lounging around on some photographer's furniture. (I moved on from that thought quickly, before it could piss me off.)
"Who in the hell did these for you?" I asked, still in awe.
"I know a guy," Bridget said simply. "I told him that my boyfriend – well, fiancé," she drawled, her voice tempting me, as if to say, Here – I gave you this gift! Now, let's set a date, "said he would love to have a nude picture of me, so he took some. And there's a wallet-sized version of the first one," she added as a happy afterthought.
"Maybe it would fare better in a picture frame. At the bottom of my underwear drawer."
"It's just the two of us, ya know."
"Yeah, for now. At the moment. What if…what if someone comes to visit, and they see it, and – "
"What, you're gonna hang these in the living room? C'mon, Two-Bit."
"But what if I put them somewhere for my eyes only, and someone still finds them? Like…like –"
"Like our children?"
I shot her a freaked look. She just smirked and raised an eyebrow. Kids? Fuck. What's a kid? Who? Me? Her? Have children? Yeah right, buckaroo. We ain't even married yet. "Fuck, Bee, don't scare me like that. Not on this, the day of my birth. Gonna give me a heart attack."
She frowned. "What, you don't want kids? And I'm not pregnant, anyway. Relax."
I shook my head. "It ain't that, it's just…"
"Just what?"
"Just nothin'."
"That's right."
XXXXX
"That's real cute, Dad," I drawled. "Can't believe you didn't want me."
Dad just happily shook his head. "Aw, kid. Be fair. 'Sides – there's one more I want down there, too."
He reached back into the cigar box and held out a small photograph of the same size to me. It was old and faded, and when I saw it, I knew why. Because it was a picture of Mary, me, and Lisa at roughly…seven, five, and one. I smiled down at it.
"You got it, Dad. I'll make sure you have 'em."
"You better, kid, or I'll haunt your ass."
XXXXX
AN: Sorry this took longer than usual! Wild times, pals. But I think I'll be able to stick to once a week updates. :)
Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think – I'd be eternally grateful.
