Soda
Sometimes, I swear, it felt like everything I did was a complete disaster.
Evie could do with a break, said Pony when he came back from her place. Darry was more upset than I was, when Pony ditched us on Christmas night for a 'walk' that turned into him hanging at Evie's. I understood that he needed to not be home, where the memories were.
I was raring to get up to Jo's, which was what Pony was talking about, seeing as how I couldn't drive myself yet.
Christmas Day was a Monday, so Darry and Two-Bit had to work the next day and Pony had been picking up extra shifts all month. Maggie Mathews offered to have Jay, and Evie—no jiving—was keen to drive me. In fact, C'mon, Soda, it'll be the only 'vacation' I get, this side of never, was Evie's own description of driving herself home after she'd taken me to the farm. She'd been using the Chevy for all the months Steve was gone and hadn't wrecked it yet, so it seemed like a win-win.
And then we got there and Jo came out to greet us and Gary was with her, and Gary took one look at my driver getting out the car and his eyes lit up and he said, "Hey there, little doll, I knew my Christmas wish must've been delayed this year," and I suddenly realized I was going to have to kill my fiance's brother.
Jo gave up kissing me and looked around, to see what I was focused on.
Luckily, the urge to murder Gary lasted for a whole two seconds before Evie snorted with laughter, looked him up and down, and said,
"Well, I bet that kind of bullshit goes over real well at the rodeo, huh, cowboy? What'd you get, about a fifty per cent return rate?"
He grinned cheerfully. "More like seventy five."
"Hah!" Evie scoffed. "I heard them buckle bunnies was short on savvy." She grinned right back at him and stuck out her hand. "I'm Evie. I'm your sister's married friend."
"Shoot," he said. Or something close enough.
Jo laughed at him and said 'Hi' to Evie, then kissed me again. She leaned back, to take in my leg. "Look at you, I bet that feels better. Is it better, what'd the doctor say?"
I ignored her last two questions, told her it felt better and that I'd taken the longest shower in history, in celebration of losing the cast. She knew not being able to get in the tub had been driving me crazy.
"He might actually be telling the truth." Evie tucked her arm into Jo's, as we headed for the house. I still had one crutch but I was trying to make out like it was nothing. "I mean," she continued, "I just shared a car with him for two hours and I didn't haveta open the window or nothin'." Gary snickered like a twelve year old girl.
The real truth was, my knee was aching some, from being stuck in the car. But I made sure to sit on the end of the kitchen bench, so I could stretch my leg out and I was pretty well distracted by the food that Jo's mom set in front of us. And everyone else was pretty much distracted by meeting Evie.
Audrey, who was about medium sized pregnant to my eyes, looked her over carefully and got into a discussion about make up. Pete was more subtle than Gary in checking her out, but equally disappointed when Evie dropped Steve's name into the conversation. And nearly-fifteen year old Chris completely ignored her, which meant one of two things, to me; either he was fighting a hard on under the table, or he wasn't into girls. Because looking at her, laughing and joking, I was certain there'd never been anyone quite like my best friend's wife in this kitchen before.
Jo's mom laughed when Evie repeated the line about looking forward to being on her own for the trip back—I was staying over and coming home with Jo in a day or so—and she told Evie she had it easy with only one kid.
"Yeah," agreed Evie, scooping up the pie Mrs McBride had dished out to us before we even sat down. "But I got Two-Bit to contend with, as well. 'S'almost like two kids in the house."
"Is Two-Bit your dog?" Jo's mom asked, as Gary blurted in disbelief, "You got a kid?"
Evie grinned at the both of them. Jo rolled her eyes and told her mom that she'd mentioned Two-Bit 'the person' plenty of times. And Evie just looked Gary straight in the eye and said, "Yeah. I do."
The conversation, directed by Audrey, slid onto Jay and how old he was, and how big he was, and all the other details that are apparently so important to chicks. It didn't occur to any of them to ask if Evie had actually given birth to Jay and she never corrected their assumption. I hadn't known that Jo had never told them the details.
I was hit with a wave of missing Steve; wishing he was here to answer the questions about his kid. To show off, like Evie was, boasting about how cool Jay was, how clever he was, how many words he could say and him only a year and a half old.
I had Steve's latest letter in my pocket, like a lucky charm. It was part of my wake up call, why I'd realized what I was putting Jo through and asked her if I could come see her. I still had to explain and apologize to her. And also 'fess up about my knee and what the doctor said. I just hoped she wasn't going to be as pissed as Darry was with me.
The whole way home from the hospital, Darry never stopped talking about what the doctor had said. I hadn't expected the assessment, I'd thought I was just going to get the cast taken off. Christmas present to myself. Ha. My leg felt weirdly light, even with the brace that replaced the heavy cast. And it still fucking hurt; the doctor had made me bend every which way, and poked his fingers all around my kneecap. Another X ray too. That wasn't going to be a cheap visit.
The best thing was that I got to wear jeans again, not the old pair of sweatpants that Darry had donated to be sliced open and fit the cast. The worst part was Darry yakking on about what the doctor called my 'options'.
I finally spoke up, as we pulled into the driveway at home. "It's my knee, right? That means it's my choice, right?"
Darry's eyebrows dropped as he scowled like Mom used to. I knew what that meant. He didn't agree, wouldn't let up and I hadn't heard the end of this, by a long shot.
I was still supposed to be using a crutch—well, two, according to the doctor, but I'd almost perfected a quick hop on only one with the cast, so I was confident I'd be even better now—but, boy, was it easier to manage the steps on my own.
When Darry sat down opposite me, instead of doing whatever he needed to be doing, I knew what he was going to argue for: he wanted me to have the surgery.
I figured my best chance was to come from as many angles as I could, so I leaped right in, before he could say anything. "You strike oil in the back yard while I was gone? You got any idea how much it would cost, to let that doctor open up my leg? An' it ain't even guaranteed to work, he said—"
"He said 'better than seventy percent' chance of success—"
"Not good enough odds for me. Not worth being sliced open and back in a cast for God knows how long—"
"Soda. You wouldn't be in a cast for the rest of your life! But if you don't get it fixed that's how long you'll be limping for."
I shook my head. "That's what they said the first time. It got better on its own then."
"No, it damn well didn't!" Darry was pretty much yelling by that point. "That's the reason it gave out on you this time!"
"Well, it can't go any more than it already did."
He grit his teeth in frustration. "Why don't you wanna get it fixed? I don't underst—Wait. Do you think you'll have to go back? That the Army'll re-draft you, if it's fixed?"
I told him, No, sharply, but I could practically see him trying to slot puzzle pieces together in his head as he stared at me. Fuck.
Yes, the knee brace was way lighter than the cast had been, but I wasn't used to it yet and I wasn't sure how fast I'd be if I tried to get away. And I really wanted to get out from under his scrutiny.
Darry made an effort to keep his voice calm. "Buddy, did you...did you do this on purpose?"
Did I what? Bust my knee and set myself up for who knew how long of pain and reduced mobility, to get out of Basic? No, not Basic. To get out of going to Vietnam. Holy shit, it was the exact opposite. I was trying too fucking hard to get there.
"You think I'm that much of a coward?"
"No. Jesus, no. I just don't get why you don't want it fixed."
"Maybe it'll get better. I wanna give it a while, is all. Maybe in six months, if it ain't any better..." I swallowed.
"Six months?" I swear a little light came on in my big brother's brain. "Aw, Soda, for Chrissakes." He sounded more sad than anything else now. "You don't owe Steve anything, y'know."
"Who said anything about Steve?" I protested.
"So it's pure coincidence that you want to delay your recovery until Steve gets home?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "Okay, call it seven months, eight, whatever. Nothing to do with Steve. I wanna see if it gets better without surgery, is all." That was near enough to the truth as to not make a difference. And if it took me all the way to Steve's return, so what? I still didn't think I counted as 'injured', not Army injured, not like the first aid examples or the true life tales of the NCOs, but if there was a balance sheet being kept somewhere in Heaven, and I tipped it even slightly away from Steve…
Darry sighed. An expression of defeat. For now. "Okay." He pointed. "You wanna put some of this stuff on the tree? Pony obviously didn't get to it, while we were out." He shoved the box of decorations towards me with his foot. Despite myself, I couldn't help looking in the box. Everything in there had been bought, or made, by Mom, or Mom helping us.
I knew why Pony wasn't interested in trimming the tree. Christmas had been warped for us; lost under the imminent anniversary of Mom and Dad's passing. I thought about the year I focused on souping the Dodge, racing it into all the way into a wreck, rather than think about the time of year. Christmas still felt like it was a marker, like it mainly served to signpost the worst day in our history. Ha, you suckers, remember when you were happy about gifts and food and insignificant shit that year? You should've known what was coming.
Right on top of the decorations was a trio of plaster angels on a string. I reached for it, as Darry stood.
"Here we all are," I said, showing him.
He snorted, but he said fondly, "Yeah. Mom was kind of optimistic, even back then."
"Speak for yourself. I was always her little angel."
"Ha. I said she was optimistic, not completely delusional." He swiped up the mail from the dining table—Pony must have dumped it there while we were gone—and walked back a few paces to hand me a couple of envelopes.
I had a Christmas card from Josiah, telling me he was invited to Jeff's family home for the leave they had coming in mid January, before they shipped out to Vietnam. I was glad Jeff had his back. He was going to need someone looking out for him.
And I had a letter from Steve.
Darry was in the kitchen, opening the ice box, moving dishes, getting on with dinner. He hadn't been counting the weeks like me, didn't realize this was probably the reply to the news that I was out of all the shit Steve'd been through. That I wasn't joining him.
It was short. Every letter I'd gotten from Steve was short, but I could hardly fault him for that; I wasn't exactly much of a writer myself. I'd tried to tell him I was sorry, that I felt like I'd let him down, but in the end what I sent was a straight up telling of the facts. And now I had his response in my hand.
I read it twice over, to make sure I wasn't missing anything, wasn't misreading his feelings on the matter.
Hallelujah, Buddy, Looks like them damn horses were good for something after all. You oughta track down the one that busted your knee in the first place and thank it. You ain't missing a thing. I mean, only the swimming pools and the bikini babes and the free beer...(I'm kidding and if you tell Evie I said any of that, I'mma come home and bust your other knee.) At least there'll be someone at home to talk to my kid about engines. I want him knowing a fan belt from a carburetor when I get back, okay?
How's Roy making out? You got him working any faster?
Is Evie okay? She wrote me that Two-Bit tried to fix one of the kitchen cabinets. Get Darry to check it.
Save me a real beer and make it real cold, okay.
Your buddy, Steve.
Could it be that easy?
xxXxx
Two flights of stairs. Damn.
"Sweetheart, you want me to make up the couch for you?"
I shot a grateful smile at Mrs. McBride and nodded. "Is that okay? Thank you."
She told me to sit down. Said she knew all about men pushing themselves too soon after an injury. "I hope Gary didn't get you in the saddle already." She was teasing, but she was closer than she knew to the truth.
After Evie had left, clutching every food package she'd been offered and whooping about not having to cook for days when she got home, I'd gone over to the stables with Jo and Gary. I commented that there was more stock than last time I'd visited.
Jo made an exaggerated wince. "Gary's in trouble with Sam, 'cause he bought some horses without checking—"
"There ain't a thing wrong with those ponies!" Gary objected.
"'Cept nobody wants to buy 'em, wild as they are. And you ain't got time to work 'em."
We checked out the horses in question. They were half wild. And lovely.
"Listen, I know a guy..." I said, as we leaned on the corral fence, watching them. "He likes to train up his own animals. Maybe I could ask him if he's in the market to buy."
"Sure." Gary nodded, pleased. "You wanna take a turn, while you're here?" He jerked his thumb back towards the stable and the family horses.
"I wish. I guess I'm done with all that." I tapped my crutch against the fence.
Gary made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort. "Bullshit. One of the best riders I know has got a crock leg—broke it so many times it's two inches shorter than the other. Can't walk right at all, but on horseback there's no beatin' him."
Jo hit him on the arm. "Soda only just got his cast off. Don't be an idiot!"
"Maybe tomorrow," I said, with a smile, letting both of them think they'd won.
Maybe indeed. I thought about that as I lay on the couch, the house finally quiet. My knee was okay, now I was lying down. It hadn't liked being stuck in one position for so long in the Chevy and I couldn't put my full weight on it when I walked—it was weird, not having that option, but as long as I remembered, there wasn't anything like the pain from when it went out on me.
I was supposed to be trying back at work in the next week. Mike had said my old job was there, waiting. Like Steve's would be, for him. Somehow I couldn't imagine hopping between the workshop and the pumps, so I was probably in for some long shifts up at the register. Great.
"Hey, baby. You sleeping?"
"What are you doing?" I hissed back at Jo, as she tiptoed into the living room.
"I forgot to show you something." Like that made any sense at all, at one in the morning. She was grinning as she leaned on the back of the couch. "C'mon." She beckoned me towards the door.
I held up a corner of my blanket. "I'm not dressed."
Her smile turned wicked. "Oh, my. I'm shocked," she deadpanned. "Put your pants on then, and hurry up about it."
It was freezing, making our way across the yard, even though I tried to hurry. Jo didn't turn on the flashlight she'd brought until the stable door was closed behind us. One or two of the horses stirred. She shone the light over the ladder to the hay loft.
"You can do this, right?"
"This is crazy. You're crazy. What if—" The rest of my objection was cut off by a kiss.
"You want some help with the ladder?" Jo rocked up against me, until it got interesting, then began to climb.
Apparently not. Apparently, two arms and one leg would get me up ten rungs, just fine. Worrying about getting down would have to come later. I looked at the horse blankets spread on the loose hay.
"You always tuck in the feed, like that?" I asked her. She told me to shut up and hold her. I didn't need any more instructions after that.
Maybe not everything I did was a complete disaster.