Reviews:
Fiction by Jen - Thanks! I was really hoping you'd like that one. Personally, I thought I did a good job with incorporating the whole Dally and kids plot line into Soda's story. Anyway, thank you so much for your continued support! :D
Sammy - I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. And I'm sorry I made you sad with Renee's death. But it had to happen, you know? But yeah, I also thought that having Dally meet his surviving children was necessary and I think the scene was nicely written. Just my humble opinion, lol.
Amanda - Did I reply to you in pm already? If I didn't, thanks for reviewing. It means a lot to me, knowing that you liked the chapter so much.
GladerTributeCamper - It's not that it's Soda's fault. The problem is that Darry trusted Soda to keep the kids safe and then he finds out that Renee died while Soda was supposed to be taking care of her. Everyone is just really hurt after what happened, but I'm sure their relationship will fix itself. And, if it's any consolation, Renee's suicide is Dally's fault, like Albany said.
Zarak - :D
4Dedicated - I know we already talked about this, but I just want to reiterate that nothing bad will happen to Marley's dad. So don't worry. :) Hope you keep on reading and reviewing!
TheViewFromTheAfternoon - Thanks again for reading through the previous chapters. I hope you'll continue to enjoy this story!
FrankElza - Thank you for all the reviews! I'm so glad you like the story and I hope you find this chapter to be just as good as the others. :)
AN - After last chapter, I figured everyone could use a bit of a break from sadness. So I tried to make this chapter as happy as possible (don't know if it worked, but hey, I tried, right?). Please enjoy and keep on reviewing. Love you guys! :)
Chapter 7: Two-Bit 2
"Happy birthday, Amelia!" I open up the blinds in her room, letting the morning sunbeams fall across her closed eyelids. She rolls over, burying her face in the pillow. With a smirk, I get up on her bed and start jumping. "C'mon, you're ten! Get outta bed, Double-Digits!"
She groans, sits up, and throws her pillow at me. "Dad, knock it off!" She can't help but smile, though. And that makes my own grin widen.
I hop back down to the floor, shrugging. The pillow had fallen on to the carpet so I stoop to pick it up. Amelia jumps onto my back while I'm distracted. In spite of myself, I cry out in surprise before dissolving into laughter. I playfully try to shake her off for a bit then back up to the wall with an evil chuckle.
"No, Daddy! Don't crush me!" she protests, digging her heels into my side. The little bells of her giggles ring out and she kicks into my ribs lightly until I set her down on the floor. She smooths the thin fabric of her night gown, grins up at me, her cheeks blazing red from exertion. Then she musters up every ounce of dignity she has left and says, "Thank you. So... Whatcha makin' me for breakfast?"
"What? I thought you were gonna make me breakfast," I tease as I lead my daughter into the kitchen.
"Daddy!"
"Kidding, kidding! Please don't hit me." I try to keep a straight face even though we both know I can't manage it. Sometimes, I'm just so irresistibly funny that I have no other choice but to break down into hysterics. And that's exactly how it is today. Amelia isn't impressed and she smacks my arm in that delicate way of hers.
I'm not sure if she can hit any harder than that. Savannah wasn't much of a fighter, so I figure Amelia is the same. My throat still tightens when I think of my wife - hell, it never loosened up again after I'd been told of the accident. Her death has been a constant noose secured around my neck. But I have to keep being strong for Amelia cause she can't heal if I don't help her.
My daughter... God, I love her so much. There isn't a thing I wouldn't do for her. I guess that's good since life don't get no easier. Not when we're on our own like this. Sure, my sister stops by every now and again, but it's not the same as coming home to your beautiful wife day after day. No one can replace her. For the longest time, though, I'd thought that maybe Amelia would be the spitting image of my dear Savannah. But as the years passed us by, I realized that I was wrong.
Each day, the miniature copy of the woman I loved became more and more tainted. She looks like me now. Same face, same laugh. Even her hair - once golden blonde - had rusted into my shade of red. At least eyes don't ever change. She'll always have Savannah's eyes. So it must be some consolation to me then.
It seems wrong, though, cause I'm just watching her watch me with her mother's expectant eyes and I can't keep my mind from wandering back. Ten years ago, Santa-fe... I shake myself violently, hearing Amelia's voice crying out for me, pulling me from the daydream.
"Yeah, Sweetie?" I ask.
"I... It looked like you were thinkin' about Mommy again..." Her voice gets real quiet and I can barely hear her. She keeps dropping her eyes to the floor. It's kinda easier when I can't see them cause I pretend she's got my eyes instead and there's no proof to say otherwise. At least for a moment, anyway.
I shrug - a bit too carelessly for my liking. "Only a little. But let's just forget about that, alright?" Forget that we have to go on with our lives. Forget that there was ever a woman named Savannah Mathews. I tell myself it's better this way and I almost believe. It's painful, though, so I change the subject. "What do ya wanna eat, Princess? I'll make anything."
She allows her thoughts to be guided away from her mother. I sigh inwardly, relieved that little girls were easy to distract. I don't want to know what'll happen when the promise of food no longer works like this...
"How about... Waffles!" She flashes a smile, showing off her slightly crooked teeth and the hole left by the one she lost last week. "But ya have to make 'em special, okay?"
"Now how d'ya suppose I do that?" I allow another grin to take over my features cause I already know the answer. And she already knows that my question is meant to tease her for always wanting the same breakfast. Although, I suppose she's caught on to my humor by now - enough to be able to turn the tables on me in a heartbeat. Which she apparently decides to do today. Can't say why she changed the usual routine, but I'm awful proud that she did.
Her blue eyes dance mischievously as she relays her answer. "Well, whatcha got?"
"Not much, you know," I say as I fold my arms over my chest.
My daughter's smile fades and I feel my heart sink to new depths. Back in the 60s I don't think I knew just how much it hurt to see a kid upset. Especially a kid I care about. Guess I couldn't have imagined this then - being a dad. It's more than a word, more than blood. A bond between father and child is sacred. And growing up, I'd never known that. So I have to make things good for her. She deserves better than this, but she's stuck with me now.
Anyway, I know I gotta cheer her up. It takes all the strength I got to stay completely emotionless, to act like a proper adult. Little tears bead in her eyes and I pull her into my arms. I can't look at her when she cries. Cause I stop seeing my daughter. Then it's Savannah standing there in a childish pink night gown, weeping gently. That hurts more than Amelia's sadness. My wife is dead... Why is she still feeling this pain? Dead people ain't supposed to hurt when they're in Heaven...
I shake these thoughts from my head, just focus on the hug. It works well for us. I can't look at her and she feels more secure with her face buried in my chest, anyway. It's not sad. I promise myself it'll never be then I let her go.
"Don't cry on your birthday, Sweetie," I say, tenderly caressing her cheek, brushing away the tears and stray pieces of hair. "We can go out to eat. That'll be special, right? Yeah. Yeah, course it will. When was the last time we went to a restaurant? Far too long. So, do ya wanna do that instead? Or maybe we could got to the store? Buy what you want then come back?"
"But we don't got any money..." She looks down at her feet for a while. I can't argue with her, though, and we both know it. Bills come first. Always. But then she turns her face up and I see a smile. "Just normal waffles will be good. As long as we eat 'em together, okay?"
I nod. Sometimes I can't tell which of us is the adult. She's just so good, so wonderfully generous and caring and - well, I can go on forever, but I won't. Cause it's enough to say that she's everything Savannah was. She's everything I'm not. Is it alright to be jealous like this? I hope so...
After I make the waffles, after we eat together in silence, she opens her present. Only the one. Some kids got tons of gifts, even if they were greasers - funny, still thinking in terms of greasers and socs - but I can barely afford the house we live in. As it is, those sharks don't leave me alone. Always collecting something from us. But I'd managed to have a bit of cash left over for a real special present this month.
Her whole face lights up as she opens the small box and pulls out her gift. It's a delicate locket, the front decorated like a compass and the back engraved with an address. 653 Valley Drive, Santa-fe, NM. She turns the silver pendent over in her hands - once, twice, three times - then carefully opens it. Empty. Confused blue eyes turn to me and I can't keep the smile from stretching across my lips.
"The locket's where you came from," I explain. "The picture's where you're goin'. Ya understand?"
A slow nod. "I think so... You mean that I get to choose, right? What goes in here, what my future's gonna be. But what if I don't know?"
"Leave it open till ya do."
xxxxxx
Her party starts only a couple hours after that. She's put on the necklace, swears on her life she'll never take it off. I don't think she knows what that means. But I appreciate her words regardless. At least I could make her happy again. That's all that matters to me now. Keeping my little girl from crying, protecting her from the bad things in this world. Lord knows there're too many of those. Maybe she hasn't noticed yet and I wish it could stay like that forever.
The guests arrive, just a few this time. Amelia's never liked crowds. I think they scare her, but I can't understand why. When she's with me, she's amazing. Always smiling, laughing, joking. Barely speaks with anybody else, though.
And this time is no different. She stays by my side, gripping my hand like a lifeline, timid as she replies to the guests' well-wishing. To be fair, most of the people at the party are my friends and their kids. Amelia only talks to a few girls at school, after all. They're here, but she says she's scared and don't wanna talk to them. I feel bad for her, sometimes wonder if she's lonely...
A woman approaches us, kneels down so her eyes are level with my daughter's. "Happy birthday, Amelia. Ten's a big deal, ya know. You oughta be proud." She smiles, pats the little girl's head, then stands up properly. Icy blue eyes meet mine. Her hand extends almost hesitantly as if she is unsure of whether or not she wants to touch me. But that warm smile never fades from her expression. "Thanks for inviting me, Mr. Mathews."
"Sure thing, Joanna," I reply, taking her hand. Shake it once, let it drop. My gaze falls on Amelia, still at my side. "Hey, Sweetie, why don't ya go show off your new locket to Aunt Julia? And your friends too - bet they wanna see it."
"Okay, Daddy..." She's slow to detach herself from me, but quick to run for her aunt. Relief floods over me. I'm immediately guilty for it.
Joanna watches my daughter go, fussing with the bracelet on her left wrist. Nothing wrong with it, not that I can see, anyway. Guess her fingers just need something to do. I wonder what she's thinking about. Haven't ever been real good at reading people, but I try now. Try to see beyond her eyes, find what she's hiding from everyone.
When Amelia's out of sight, Joanna returns her eyes to me. The smile is gone, not even a ghost of it remaining on her lips. She doesn't say a word, just stares. I can't tell if she's angry or only unable to find the right words. But at this point, it doesn't really matter.
The party goes on around us and we're frozen at it's core. There's nothing funny in my head. Jokes, jibes, all of it - gone. She has this way of watching me, making me so uncomfortable that I could squirm. I want to hide from her yet she always seems to find me. And the way our relationship works is eerily familiar, like I've felt it all before.
"Cute kid," she says at last, allowing her expression to soften by half a degree.
"Thanks."
She frowns at me, brushes her fingertips against the metal of her bracelet once more. Forcing her hand back to her side, she stands up a little taller. Her eyes get fierce. Scary fierce, too determined. I know she's come here for something, but I don't got a clue what that is. A soft hum of dissatisfaction vibrates on her thin lips before she finally decides that I'm too stupid for her games.
"Take me inside," she demands. "I need a drink."
I gesture to the picnic table which holds pitchers of water and lemonade, along with a dozen bottles of Coke. "Drinks are over there."
"Quit playin, Mathews. You know what I want." Her lips curl into a vicious snarl, animal-like in its intensity. There's definitely something I recognize about that expression and the thought distracts me from her. Someone else at some point in my life used to look at me just like that. Damn, why can't I remember? I'm not that old...
Growing impatient, she grabs my wrist and pulls me into my house. I stumble into the kitchen, thrown off balance by all her yanking. My shoulder's already a bit sore. Glad she lets go when she does else it might've popped out of its socket.
She rummages through my fridge, finds nothing. I hear a growl rise in her throat as she turns on me. But I just shrug it aside and taunt her a bit - cause she really oughta know where I keep my liquor by now. I'm ashamed of it, wish I could change what happened. Can't, though, so I figure I gotta run with it. Stop thinking about how screwed up this whole situation is. She devised the setup. I agreed. And now I get the feeling she's sick all cause I didn't stop her the first time.
I tell her that she's gotta find it if she wants it, that I won't give it to her. Last thing I want is a drunk girl running around at my ten year-old's birthday party. I can't help her ruin something so important to my tiny family. She screams at me, pounds her fists into my chest until we're both breathless and she has to stop. I feel the weight of her body press into mine as she stands there, her fingers clinging to the front of my shirt.
Her light panting abruptly turns uneven and I realize that she's crying. If I thought it was awkward before... I wrap an arm around her, using my free hand to stroke her pale blonde locks. She sniffles lightly, lets me soothe her for a while. Before long, though, she's working herself up again. She quits the crying, starts begging instead.
"Please... I need it..." Her voice is hoarse from her earlier screaming fit. She still clings to me tightly, but she pulls back so she can look me in the eye. I feel her shaking, unsteady, and against my better judgement, I grab hold of her hips. Try to keep her on her feet. "Give it to me... God, just give it to me!"
"The hell you think you're doin', Mathews?" The shout is laced with such anger it makes my blood run cold. Colder still when I recognize the voice, see its owner enter my line of sight. Dallas Winston.
"Didn't know that was any of your business, Winston," I say, still holding Joanna. The second the words are out of my mouth, I wish I hadn't said them. In a feeble attempt to distract him, I change the subject. "So... I heard you'd skipped town 'bout twenty years ago. What're ya doin' here?"
His eyes spark dangerously as he watches me, takes in every detail. When he finishes and starts up talking, his voice is nearly a growl. "Had some things I had to do back here. Then I thought I'd say happy birthday to your daughter. Didn't expect to find ya with your hands all over mine."
Joanna is... I jump away from her, though she tries to prevent our separation. But I force it, don't got a choice cause I see murder in his eyes. And it all makes sense - the feeling that I'd seen Joanna's expressions on someone else. I had seen them before. On Dallas. I must be even dumber than I'd thought. How had I missed the similarities?
Yet, amidst the terror, I feel a strange sense of relief. Thank God, she isn't Darry's kid. If he'd found out I was sneaking her into my house late at night and letting her drink my beer, he would've killed me. But Dally... He doesn't care about illegal drinking. There's a whole new problem, though. And I might even think it's better than having to deal with Darry. Not too sure yet cause Dal's pissed - really pissed - and he's usually unreasonable.
"Take it easy," I say, holding up my hands like he's a cop trying to arrest me. "I ain't doin' nothin' to her."
"I should beat the shit outta you," he snarls, spitting on my floor just to spite me. Not too much has changed since he's been gone, I guess. I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off with a barked order to Joanna. "Go outside. Fuckin'... You listenin'? Go!"
She pouts at him a bit. "Daddy..."
Deep breaths to calm down. When he's sure he can speak without screaming, he tells her that he's serious and other parental type things. Weird... When I think of a father, I never picture Dallas Winston. Can't even see him as an abusive asshole. He just ain't the type to have kids. But here he is, scolding his daughter. Real weird...
His attention turns back to me when Joanna's gone. Blue eyes burn into my face for too long. I swear I'm on fire by the time he looks away. That enraged stare returns full-force after his small break and he shoves me against the wall, hands at my throat, squeezing the life out of me.
"You touch my daughter again and I'll fuck you up," he says through gritted teeth. Then his hands release me and I'm gasping for breath so hard, I almost miss the next sentences. But, from the sudden drop in his volume, I don't think I'm supposed to hear. "It's not good for her. She can't take any more..."
