I do not own The Outsiders. All characters used are borrowed with much respect to S.E. Hinton. Sorry for the wait. I'm feeling more and more like Darry these days as I juggle work and home and family. Thanks for your continued interest.
I was once told that the ocean has no memory. Maybe it's because there's no beginning to it, and it has no end. I didn't understand it at the time, and I figure that still holds true, but it was all that I could think about as I looked out at the water and felt the warm waves roll in and over my bare feet. I kept waiting for the memories to end as I stood there, but memories were all that I had left.
It was still so easy for me to get lost in the past; a past that I couldn't let go of. The sound of gulls calling, and water crashing onto the sand beneath my feet was bittersweet. There weren't many things I'd seen in my life that could take my breath away like looking out at the ocean. There was nothing that beautiful in Tulsa that I could remember; nothing as peaceful or calming. But with that calm came loneliness, and even as I felt my bride take my hand and bring it up to her lips to place a comforting kiss on my knuckles, the ache wouldn't subside. I wasn't the ocean. I tried again, but the memories came crashing over me like those waves onto the beach.
"I wish they were here to see this." My voice barely left my mouth and I wanted to take it back, but as usual there was no judgement from her.
"I know." She nodded before looking out to where my gaze had landed, and together we watched the sun melt into the Pacific…
…"So we get the old guy to get us a bottle but he says if we get caught he don't know us. He takes off and we're still in the parkin' lot; sittin' in the Buick with the windows down. I turn the headlights off to hide the fact we're all passin' the bottle around, ready to get shitfaced…"
It's well after nine o'clock at night and I'm finally home after working overtime roofing houses, plus picking up an extra shift at the lumbar yard. The boys are all together in the living room; an event that seems to be a rarity now that all but Ponyboy are adults and living the high life of working for peanuts and paying taxes.
My brothers are sitting on the couch together while Steve and Two-Bit are occupying the floor. There's a take-out pizza box open across the coffee table; the smell of cheese and pepperoni hitting my nostrils with an intensity that reminds me how hungry I am and how long I've gone without something to eat.
I've just walked through the door and from what I can tell Two-Bit literally has the floor while he's on some story about A Night in the Life of Two-Bit Mathews. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning and nod to acknowledge the "hi's" as I quickly head for the kitchen after kicking my work boots and tool belt off. I dump my lunchbox on the counter, quickly and unceremoniously wash my hands knowing full well I have about a minute and a half to get my ass back in the living room before that pizza is long gone.
"We're havin' a good time; listenin' to the radio and emptyin' that bottle of Jack when Sticks spots a beat cop walkin' towards the lot. We all freak out, especially Dally since he just got out of jail, so I pull out of the parking lot and drive with the cop screaming and yellin' after us to stop."
"Uh oh," Soda grins as the story continues.
"So anyways, the cop's runnin' after us, waving his hands back and forth like an ape and I step on the gas when low and behold, another cop pulls out in his car, lights flashin' and sirens wailin'. I pull my car over and Dally and Sticks are cussin' at each other to hide the bottle. The cop comes up to the window and knows all of us by name and rap sheet and I'm figurin' I'm spending the night in a jail cell…"
I grin at the story as I grab a slice of pizza and sink into the couch beside my brothers. It was about old times; good times before all of our lives took a beating. I can picture the scene like it was a week ago even though it feels like Dally's been gone for decades. Once again I'm reminded of just how much has changed, but then feel thankful when I look at Two-Bit's animated face, and realize the important things in life will never change.
"What happened? What'd he say?" Pony's face is as animated as our resident story teller.
"Turns out the cop pulled us over for drivin' with no headlights on. Before he sent us on our way the beat cop catches up to us. Turns out he was trying to stop us for the same thing."
"Are you kidding me? You're a lyin' sack of shit, Two-Bit. Why the fuck was he chasing you down?" Steve asked what we all wanted to know.
"Well, in all the excitement his flashlight slipped out of his hand and flew in the back window of my car. He just wanted it back."
I rub my eyes and shake my head while Two-Bit laughs like a hyena. The boys chuckle. This could only happen to Two-Bit Mathews.
"So ya didn't get hauled in?" It was a statement more than a question, but even Steve can't hide the fact that he's entertained by the story.
"No, but ya shoulda seen the look on Dally's face when he looked down to find the flashlight and saw that it landed beside the bottle of booze he was tryin' to hide."…
I wasn't up for much longer. Unfortunately I had years of experience on all of them on what it was like to grow up too fast. I was in for another long day ahead of me come morning, so after another slice of pizza, I was off to bed.
"Where the hell are you off to? It's your night to do the dishes." I look up from the paper and see Sodapop putting on his shoes.
"Yeah, Pony's gonna do 'em for me tonight. I'll pay him back tomorrow."
"You workin' again? Christ Soda, you work more 'n I do anymore." I grumble as I turn the page to the sports section, shaking my head.
I'm answered with silence, and when I look up again he's gone. At the time, I don't think anything about it, I just stick my nose back into my paper and read the latest sports highlights. The Orange Bowl is around the corner, and the Sooners look like they have a sure shot of getting in.
"Yo, Sodapop!"
The front door slams, and Steve is hollering for my brother like 1000 decibels is the only level he can communicate in. He nods to me in acknowledgement and I just roll my eyes at him, treating him like the pain-in-the-ass brother he's become.
"Didn't your mom tell you your face stays that way when you do that?" Steve snarls at me.
"Speakin' from experience?" I bite back as I get up from my chair and head to the boy's room to find out what Sodapop's up to.
As I head down the hallway I can sense something's off as I hear my brothers arguing while trying to keep their voices down at the same time. Ponyboy and Sodapop never fought, at least not seriously. On occasion Pony would get his nose out of joint if Sodapop got too busy to spend time with him, and there was the usual big brother-little brother teasing and bantering, but right away I could tell this was more.
"Please, Pony. Please don't be mad at me. I promise you next time, okay?"
I slowly ease the door open and Soda's pleading with his brother while Pony's stone-faced and looking out the window. Soda straightens up when he sees me enter the room, but Pony's angry and doesn't give any indication he's noticed me at all.
"What's goin' on, you two?" I ask while I watch the two of them tense up.
"Nothin'," Soda shakes his head as he looks back at Pony who's still staring out the window like nobody else is in the room.
"Pony?" I try. Ponyboy slowly turns his head from the window and looks at Sodapop before turning to face me. He shakes his head.
"I gotta go." Soda sighs as he turns and brushes passed me to meet Steve at the door.
I watch Pony, and note that he looks as miserable as Sodapop. He doesn't move, he just turns back to look outside the window. I'm not sure what's going on, but a sudden unease settles down over the house, and I know this is big. I quickly spin around to catch Soda before he leaves for the night.
"Hey,"
I see Sodapop is half-way out the front door with Steve in tow; his hand on Soda's shoulder in what looks to be comfort. Soda turns his head to look at me, and I'm reminded once again how eerie it is the way him and his brother resemble each other.
"Soda, what the hell's goin' on?"
Sodapop looks as though he's about to speak, when Steve pipes up instead.
"The kid's mad cuz we're goin' to the Dingo and he wanted to come."
"The Dingo sounds harmless enough." I comment, never taking my eyes off of my brother, whose expression is confirming what I already know. There's more going on.
"Yeah, well we're meeting girls there. Already told him we'd let him tag along next time." Steve squeezed Soda's shoulder and practically pushed him out the door.
"Don't wait up."