Chapter Ten: Tender Is the Night
It had only been about three hours since I'd walked up this sidewalk with my friends and our dates, inhaling tobacco and praying for a way out, but it felt like another lifetime ago. I laced my fingers through Ponyboy's once I was certain that we were out of sight of any stray party-goers.
True to form, Pony immediately turned to look me over. I might have blushed at the way his eyes combed from head to toe, but his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Are you okay, Rosie?"
"I'm drunk," I said, because the answer to his question was a little too complicated to get into on Spring Street, even if the night had gotten cooler and clearer. "You ought to take me home."
"I gathered that. We'll have to walk though," he said apologetically. "Two-Bit dropped me off, but he didn't want to stay."
God bless my big brother. I owed him for this one, an excuse to hold Pony's hand for a little while longer. It was the first nice thing to happen all evening - except for him defending me earlier, I guess.
A thought popped into my head, and without a thought, I started talking. If I was sober, I would've never said it, but liquor made me lose my filter. "Hey, did I ever tell you about the time that your daddy saved me from my daddy, like you just did? It was back when they used to drink together, you remember? Back before Daddy left. Anyway, I spilled Daddy's beer, and he got so god damn mad at me. He started screaming and shit, calling me all kinds of names. Lord, your dad got mad at him! They'd been friends forever, but when Daddy went to smack me, your dad stood right up and punched him in the face. Busted his lip open and everything. I thought your dad must have been a superhero out of a comic book or something. Curtis men are always coming to my rescue, I guess."
Ponyboy stared at me. His eyes were the size of the moon. "Isn't that the dress you wore to the funeral?"
"Golly, you notice everything, don't you?"
He didn't look angry, just sad, maybe sadder than I'd ever seen him - except for that damned funeral. This damned dress. "Rosie, you smell like dope. Are you stoned? You already said that you're drunk, so you might as well tell the truth."
I frowned. "I always tell you the truth. Yes, I smoked a joint, with Frank and Terry and Valerie O'Brien. Speaking of which, why was she talking to you?"
Ponyboy heaved a massive sigh and ran his free hand through his hair. He ignored my question. "You're gonna drive me crazy, you know that? I'm not angry or nothing, but - why on earth did you do all that?"
It was a cool night, but I felt hot and clammy. I knew I had to tell the truth, because this was Ponyboy, and, as I had just finished stating, I didn't - couldn't - lie to him, under any circumstances. But I couldn't look at him either as I admitted, "Because I was on a date with the wrong boy."
Pony was silent for a moment. Long enough that I worried I had somehow misread this entire thing, that I'd said the wrong thing. Finally, in a pained voice, he asked, "Is it Johnny?"
Glory. Not once over the past year had I told Pony about my feelings for Johnny. Not even a hint. Combine that kind of shock with the alcohol, and suddenly, I was reeling. "How did you know about that?"
"Well, I didn't really, till just now," he said with a small smile. His fingers gripped mine tightly as we turned a corner. "But I saw you in your window when he - when he got jumped. That look on your face... how much did you see?"
God, I nearly got sick right then and there on the side of Forrester Road. Of course I always thought that Pony had looked at me that day. But we'd never talked about it, he'd never confirmed it.
Without any kind of warning, that afternoon replayed in my mind. I could still hear the way they threatened Johnny, the sound of fists against flesh, violent flashes of red blood and a blue Mustang. Jesus fuck, two of those boys were dead now.
"All of it," I told him, my voice quiet and shaking. "I saw everything, Ponyboy. Oh god, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should've... I should've..."
There was no stopping it. I dissolved into tears. For a year and half, I tried so hard to keep that secret. Of course it would come out when Ponyboy was finally holding my hand - and when I was too drunk to control myself. (Off vodka, of all things.)
Then, to my immense surprise, the boy stopped. We were only a few more minutes from home now, the road empty and quiet. He parked himself right down on the curb, then turned to me. With kind, clear eyes, Ponyboy reached for my hand again and gently tugged.
It felt like I was in a dream or something as I sat down. How could he still be the sweetest boy on the planet, even after all that he now knew? But he was. Pony put his arm around me, pulling me to him.
"It's alright, Rosie," he assured me in a low, calm voice. "Don't cry. It's okay."
"But I should've helped him!" I wailed. "I just watched, Ponyboy, and I could've helped him. God damn it, it's been this long and I still fucking hate myself for that. I could've helped."
"Rosalie, listen." Pony never called by my full name. It shocked me enough that I watched him as he spoke, his own eyes focused somewhere off in the distance. "I know you're a good fighter, but there really wasn't anything you could've done. They were high school boys. Bob had a lot of rings..." His face contorted with grief, just for a second, just long enough to rip my heart out of my chest and throw it onto the street. "They would've just hurt you too. And I don't think Johnny would've ever forgiven himself if you had gotten hurt."
This was why we didn't talk about Johnny, or Dally, or his parents, at least not without the blanket of night around us. Because it fucking hurt. It hurt him, and it hurt me to hurt him. I was so angry at myself, and that was the worst kind of anger, because you can't exactly punch yourself in the face.
Still, I demanded, "I let Johnny get hurt though. How do I forgive myself for that?"
Pony reached his free hand up to brush the hair out of my face, the touch feather soft. "It's not your fault that they jumped him, Rosalie. You shouldn't blame yourself."
I didn't know what to say. I felt like I had said too much already anyway.
Pony didn't press the matter any further. He simply looked up at the stars. His face in the pale moonlight, especially after I had longed for the sight just a few hours earlier, seemed too beautiful to be true. Any other person would be broken by the things he'd seen, and yet here he was, gazing at the night sky, his body warm next to mine. Just being next to him made me feel better.
Something occurred to me again. "Hey. You never answered my question earlier, about Valerie."
Ponyboy laughed. This close, the sound seemed to course through me, patching some of the holes in my chest. "Rosie, are you jealous?"
"Answer the question first," I said, poking his knee.
"Valerie was tryin' to put in a good word for Angela Shepard again," Pony replied. Even in the light, I could see his face turning red. "I told her I ain't interested though."
I tried to sound casual, but I knew that he'd see right through me when I inquired, "Why not?"
"Well..." He turned to look at me, his eyes warm enough to make me sweat on a late September night. "I don't want to go on a date with the wrong girl."
I bit my lip. My heart was absolutely pounding in my ears. "Oh yeah? You got somebody in mind?"
"Nope, it's your turn now," he smiled. "Are you jealous?"
By this point, I was just as drunk off that smile as I was off the vodka. The words spilled out before I could stop them. "I was when I saw you talking to Valerie."
Pony kept looking at me, grinning and gorgeous, and I wondered why the hell it had taken me this long to realize how good this was. How good he was.
Just as it occurred to me that I could simply lean forward and those lips would be on mine, Pony stood. He offered me his hand again though.
"C'mon, Rosie. We've got to get you to bed before you feel any worse tomorrow."
I got up reluctantly. Lord have mercy, I wanted to kiss him. I didn't care that he was my best friend, or that there would be hell to pay from Jennifer come Monday morning. I desperately wanted to know if he tasted like chocolate too.
Ponyboy seemed to know what I was thinking. His smile was understanding, at least. "Maybe next time you shouldn't drink so much, huh?"
"Next time I'll just go with you in the first place and skip all that bullshit," I blurted out.
Before I could be embarrassed, though, Ponyboy squeezed my hand.
He didn't say anything else as we turned onto Chickasaw. Darry's Ford was in the driveway, but my house was dark. Mama was at work, and Two-Bit wouldn't be home till the wee hours of the night. The idea of going home and being alone after the wild night I'd had wasn't really appealing, but I hadn't sobered up enough to go anywhere else. Besides, Mama would kill me if I didn't tell her I was spending the night somewhere.
It took longer than necessary to reach my house at the end of the block, but Ponyboy seemed to be dawdling as much as me. Finally, when we were in the front yard, he turned to face me again.
"You know people are gonna say that you broke up with Frank for me, right?" He was still holding my hand, both of us reaching a little to maintain to touch.
I gave him the best grin I had. "Well, I did, didn't I?"
God almighty, he was cute when he blushed. "Good night, Rosie."
"Night, Pony. Thanks for rescuing me."
The house didn't feel so lonely when I entered, even if it was empty. Maybe it was because my mind was swirling with copper hair and green eyes.
