A/N: Sorry for the wait on this update! I just want to thank those people who have left me some amazing reviews! Thank you so much! You can't even begin to imagine how much they make my day.
Here is the next chapter! Enjoy!
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Chapter 28.
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When I see the two girls enter the clothing shop, I gotta take my chance when it happens, because it doesn't happen that often these days. In fact, it never happens.
I can't remember the last time I got laid. Hell, I'm not even sure if I'm looking for that anymore. It'll come with a certain degree of awkwardness. If it ever got that far. Maybe it'll freak a girl out, seeing just one leg and a stump where the other used to be. It's that thought that bothers me more than I'll ever let on. But I never do. I just keep that easy going smile on my face, and everything's right in the world.
The two girls I follow into the dress shop shoot curious glances my way when I enter the store. It's the walking stick. It's always a dead giveaway. I look forward to the day I no longer need it. Walking is slowly getting easier, but there are times I miss having two legs. The convenience of it. Being able to run to a place when you're running late. Now, if I'm running late, I'm gonna fucking be real late. I always have to leave the house earlier than intended. All the things I took for granted just don't come easy anymore. But I adjust. I've had too.
I'm just glad to have some independence back. I missed that the most. I missed the freedom to get in a car and go anywhere. I can now. I can drive again. I've not felt such exhilaration in ages. I almost feel young again, like I used too, but without the reckless abandonment I had then.
"You know we can take my car from time to time," Pony has suggested.
"Can't do Kid. Can't lower myself to get in ya heap of junk," I lightly joke in return.
He rolls his eyes and snort. "At this rate it's never gonna leave the driveway."
I know what he's referring to. His inability to leave the house. Pony has become a prisoner in his own home. He never leaves it unless someone is with him. I don't blame him. I've seen his flashbacks. I know what hell he went through. I was there.
I often see the frustration in his eyes. I don't know how to help him, other than to drag him out of the house as much I can. I don't mind. I like being with him. Hell we'd lived in each other's space for months on end in Vietnam. You kinda get very used to that, doing everything with the one person. It took me ages to adjust not being be his side all of the time.
"Not only that, but I get to park in the handicap bay," I lightly point out to him.
But I never do. It don't feel right parking there. I'm not an invalid. Besides walking is good for me and there's precious little I can do in the way of exercise.
"You should come to the gym with me and Darry."
I raise an eyebrow. "You going to the gym now?"
"Yeah, I run on the treadmill. Not the same as outside, but at least I get to run …" then his voice breaks off there and a contrite look crosses his face. "You can't run." He looks pissed with himself.
"I've never liked running anyway," I'd mutter. Which is true. But I'd never tell him how much I missed it. I might have hated running when I had the ability to do it, but when you no longer can, when it's no longer an option; you feel it.
"I can ride a bike, you know one of those stationary ones," I suggest.
"And you can do weights," he adds.
So I let him talk me into it. Hell, why not. Gotta do something to keep my weight in check. I'm used to people staring by now as it is. It doesn't bother me.
"Can ya drink beer there?"
Pony has that look on his face, that 'really?' sort of look. He's managed to stay off the booze for several months now. Probably for the best, he's a lot more sedate, doesn't have those fits of rage anymore. Thank god, because for a time, he was a real worry.
"Just kidding Pony. Besides there's always the tavern across the road afterwards."
But I've cut down on my own drinking. I can't drink during the day because I work. I've also been saving my money to get the car. And well, Pony doesn't drink anymore so there's no point in going to the tavern after work with him. I only have about four beers in the evening and that's it, which makes the old girl happy. Hell, I used to drink a lot more before I joined the Army and all the time. But that was then, and it's all different now. I've become responsible. Which is the last thing I'd ever thought I'd become.
"It's called growing up," mom had said to me when I'd griped about it. "I'm proud of you, Keith."
I'd been touched, almost at a loss for words. Which is rare for me. The war sure does change a person. I keep up the jokes, the light heartedness, because that's how I deal with things. Don't mean that I don't feel what I've lost.
I glance at the racks of blouses. Maybe I will buy the old girl something anyway. She deserves it. She's done it tough, bringing up me and my sister all on her own. The shop owner is nowhere to be seen. In times past I would have stolen something by now. For a moment the thought crosses my mind. It's been a while. Then I remind myself I'm this respectful citizen now, not an 18 year old with nothing else better to do. I shake my head and look at the irony of it. Yep, the war sure has done a number on me.
"You look stuck," one of the girls speaks beside me.
I turn to look at her. She's blonde and has brown eyes. She ain't drop dead gorgeous, but pretty all the same. What's even better is that I don't have to make the first move here.
"I'm looking for something my mom might like to wear," I return.
She smiles warmly. "Is it her birthday?"
"Nah, just wanted to get her something for putting up with the likes of me."
Her smile widens as her eyes skim over my face. "You don't look like the type to be difficult."
I smile back. "I've mellowed out with age."
This is going good so far. She has a sense of humor. I can tell by the way she looks at me that she likes what she sees.
"Really," she begins, her eyes curious, "You don't look old enough to have mellowed out."
"It ain't the years, but the experiences."
Her eyes travel to the cane in my hand and back up to my face. A thoughtful look crosses her face. "I guess it does," she says softly. She doesn't look freaked about me missing a leg. That's a start.
"Vietnam?" she asks.
I nod. "Yeah. I wouldn't recommend it as a tourist destination."
She laughs. "I'll remember that next time I'm looking to book a holiday." Her eyes sparkle with amusement. "What's your name?"
"Two-Bit," I begin.
She raises an eyebrow. "That's a name?"
"It's Keith, but no one calls me that except my mom."
"So it's a nick name that has a story behind it?"
I shrug. "I'm kinda renowned for having my say and giving my Two-Bit's worth."
She sure does have a pretty smile.
"What about you?"
"I'm Linda."
The conversation comes to an abrupt halt when loud yelling comes from out the back. A woman is wailing. "Please don't do this." She sounds desperate.
"Don't tell me what to fucking do!"
A back door crashes open. A wild looking man, maybe all of 24, comes staggering out. His eyes are bloodshot. He's thin as a rail, and he's either drunk, or on drugs.
"What the fuck are you all looking at?!" he yells.
That's when I notice the gun in his hand. My heart sinks. Fucking terrific. A woman follows him, looking distraught with tears streaming down her face.
"Please come back," she begs. "Put the gun down … Larry!"
I freeze for a moment before his name escapes my lips. "Larry?!"
He spins around to look at me, swaying on the spot. I barely recognize him. Larry was the toughest son of a bitch in our platoon.
"It's me," I begin, pointing at my chest. "Two-Bit Matthews."
Recognition flitters in his eyes. "Matthews," he murmurs, glancing down at my leg. "You were … you stepped on that mine … had your leg blown off."
Great, memories that don't need to be aired right now, but I'm too shocked by the sight of him and how changed he is to give it much thought.
"I'm alright now."
His eyes fill with tears. Larry never fucking cried. "C-Curtis," he stammers. "What happened to him? I was there when the Lieutenant stepped on the mine. Curtis was hurt bad. I tried to help him."
I run a hand through my hair, noticing how it shakes. "He's good now. He survived it. Curtis is fine. He's back with his brothers. He's living here in Tulsa."
I'd forgotten all about Ponyboy. He's taking his sweet merry time at the bank. I wish he'd fucking walk through the shop door right now. It might calm down Larry, who has obviously lost it.
"Hey, man," I attempt to reassure. "Just put the gun away. Ain't no place for it here."
I slowly approach him. "C'mon, man. I'll put it away for you."
He's shaking from head to foot. I don't know why he's lost it. He's the last person I'd ever thought would. But for some, coming home is tougher. That's when the shit hits the fan.
"We're home now," I continue.
"This ain't home anymore," he gets out in a choked voice. "We're fucking strangers here."
"Maybe, but it won't always be like that."
At least I hope it won't. I've seen too much of the toll the war has taken. I pull a packet of cigarettes out of my pocket. "You wanna a cigarette? We'll chat. It'll be okay. I got ya back Larry. Just give me the gun."
His shoulders slump. I pull out a smoke and hand it out to him. He takes it from my hand. Seizing the moment, I lightly reach for the gun and take it from him. He lets it go willingly, much to my relief.
"You think it's going to be okay, Matthews? We ain't fucking heroes. We're nothing here."
"Dodge the draft you're a fucking hero now," I try to quip, but I sound bitter. "Go to war and fight and you're the scum of the earth."
I hand him my lighter. "So much for poetic justice."
"You always were a wise cracking son of a bitch," he mutters. "Fucking missed you after you left."
I glance at Linda and her friend, they both look terrified. I indicate to the shop door with my eyes. "Go now," I tell them.
Linda nods, her face is pale, but I see a slight hesitation in her eyes. So much for getting to chat her up.
I look at the frazzled woman, gripping the counter. She must be his mother given her age. I pity her. It ain't easy seeing your loved ones return home strangers. "You might wanna close the shop," I suggest, handing her the gun. "Put this is a safe place."
Larry eventually settles down. He crashes out the back on an old sofa. His mother, Joan, kept thanking me, telling me how much he's changed since returning from that blasted war. "He's not the same. All he does is drink all day."
"Doesn't help with the way they treat us," I tell her. "Ain't much help for returning soldiers and everybody wants to wash their hands off us. Like we don't exist."
"It's a dirty war," she moans.
I know. I fought in it. "Truth is, Joan. We were all conned. Ain't ya son's fault."
I'm too aware of the time and Pony being out there, somewhere. I gotta find him. Seeing Larry in this state has only made me more anxious. I know Ponyboy is in a better place, but still … it's not like him to be gone for this long.
I leave my number with her. "Tell him to call me. He doesn't have to go through this alone."
She profusely thanks me, and I make a hasty retreat. My nerves are frayed by this time. Someday this is fucking turning out to be.
I no sooner step out the door, when I see Linda. She's leaning against a lamp post, a cigarette in one hand. Her friend is nowhere to be seen.
I'm surprised to see her still here, waiting for me.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," she explains with a slight hesitation in her voice. As if maybe she's being too forward. "What you did," she continues. "It was brave. Don't always see it much."
Her eyes wander down to my artificial leg. "It was a rough way to lose a leg."
No thanks to Larry, blurting it out like he did. This is where I should make light of it. Try to find a joke, try to find humor to offset it all.
"Still got the other one," I say.
A tentative smile crosses her face. "You want to go get coffee some time, or a drink?" she asks.
Is she for real? Her eyes are sincere. I smile. "Yeah, sounds good."
Her smile widens in return as she hands me a scrap of paper. "It's my number."
Pleasantly pleased, I take the piece of paper and put it in my shirt pocket. This is turning out to be a real odd day.
"Thanks," I murmur, my eyes resting on her face. I see the light scatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks. I briefly wonder how old she is. Maybe early 20's. She has a wide generous smile. Lively brown eyes full of curiosity and life. I wonder who she is and what she does for a living, but my thoughts stray back to Pony. I need to find him. I need to put my mind at ease.
"I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm looking out for my friend …"
"He's sitting in your car waiting for you," she finishes for me.
My eyes go straight to my car. Sure enough, Pony is sitting in the passenger seat. My instant relief is palpable.
"The kid is a worry at times," I mutter.
"He's not a kid."
"Still is to me," I tell her. "I've known him for years. Guess I can't see it any other way."
Though I should. But it's Ponyboy. He's always been the youngest. Always the one Darry's stressed about. Hell, the one we all have. I'll never stop worrying about him.
"You care a lot," she begins in a soft voice. Her warm eyes meet with mine. I can tell she really likes what she sees. Fuck, it's been a while.
"I'll see you around, Keith."
"Yeah, take care, Linda."
She gives me a parting wave, and I watch her walk down the street.
"No one calls me, Keith," I call after her in a light tone of voice.
"I like it," she calls back over her shoulder.
Normally that would have bugged me, but for same strange reason it doesn't. I smile to myself and shake my head. It's one hell of a strange day.
My eyes rest on Pony, sitting in the car. I was worried all for nothing. I can't help feeling a bit annoyed.
"What the fuck, Pony!" I exclaim as I approach the car. "Where you been?"
He glances at me, frowning. "Here."
"Why didn't ya come to the shop?" I continue, opening the car door. "I could have done with your help. You ain't gonna believe who I saw in there."
You ain't gonna believe that a pretty girl with her head screwed on gave me her number, but I'll leave that for later.
I get in the car and close the door. "Larry Jenkins, you remember him?"
Pony doesn't answer. I slot the key in the ignition and turn to look at him. "You don't remember Larry?"
He blinks. "Yeah. I remember Larry."
A flash of pain crosses his face. I shake my head. "What's wrong with you? You look as if you've seen a ghost."
"Almost just as bad," he murmurs in a distracted tone of voice.
I feel my stomach tense up. What now? There's always something with Pony, some drama of one kind or another.
"I have a daughter," he blurts out.
At first the words don't register. Did he mention the word daughter? I have to be hearing things now. "Say what?"
He takes a deep breath, looks at me. "I have a daughter."
For a moment, I'm totally speechless.
"You might wanna close your mouth before you catch flies," he lightly quips, then swallowing.
"That's real fucking funny, Pony. Have you lost your mind, how the hell do you have a daughter …" my voice breaks off there when Cherry comes to mind.
Of course. He was sleeping with her.
"You didn't use any protection like a condom?"
"No," he mutters. "It was … hell … I didn't think of it."
"You learn nothing back in sex ed at school?"
He blinks heavily. My heart is pounding in my chest. Fuck. It can't be. Pony can't be a father. He's not much more than a kid himself. He's not long turned 20.
I let out a slow breath. "Well, if this don't beat all. How did you find out? Did you see Cherry? Did she tell you?"
"No …" he hisses. "I ran into her cousin, David. You know the Soc that beat me up, the one that laid the charges and … he told me."
I sit there, stupefied for a moment. "Shit way to find out you're a father," I murmur out loud. "I guess that's why he dropped the charges."
Pony's hand trembles as he pulls a cigarette out of packet. "Why didn't she tell me?"
The poor kid looks all shook up. I don't blame him.
"Maybe she didn't know how," I suggest. Though I have no idea. I'm still in a state of shock myself. Ponyboy has kid?! It's the last thing I expected. What next? Man, if this day couldn't get any weirder.
"Why the hell would he tell you?"
Pony lights a cigarette. "He didn't realize I didn't know, told me to be more responsible." He draws back deeply. "He said it's too bad the kid had such a loser greaser for a father."
My hands clutch the steering wheel. "Typical," I mutter. "And you ain't no loser, Pony."
He shrugs. "But I am. I don't have a job. I can't leave the house. I'm in no fit state to be a father."
I hear the defeat in his voice, which I've come to hate. I turn fiercely in my seat to look him square in the eyes.
"For now. But you'll get pass this. You'll get better, and you'll make a damn amazing father, you hear me!"
I think of Larry, losing his shit. Larry of all people. And it could have been Ponyboy, but he's managed to pull himself through.
"At least ya trying to get better and that counts for something."
I start the engine. "I'm sure she had her reasons for not telling you," I continue as I pull out on to the road.
I'm still in a numb state of disbelief. Pony's a fucking father. I let out a short laugh.
"Hell, kid. You're the youngest out of all of us and you're a dad."
Pony's face goes pale. "What do I do?"
This is one question I can't answer, not nearly well enough. I grasp at straws.
"I don't know, but you two looked pretty cosy outside the court house. She cares about you. And she obviously was adamant that you'll never go to jail. Don't say I blame her when she has your baby. Damn, but she's pretty protective of you too." I kinda almost admire her, but part of me is a bit pissed too. What if she was using him? There's a lot I don't know about the two of them, and Pony doesn't ever say much when it comes to girls.
"She did ask me to come and see her when I was better," he begins hesitatingly, "thing is, I'm not better."
"Hell, Pony. You're better now than you've been in a long while."
Two-Bit's words are oddly comforting. And maybe he's right. Either way, I have to see her. Soon as we reach my house, I bolt inside.
"What's the rush, Pony?" Two-Bit calls out, but I don't answer.
I swallow my nerves and grab my car keys from the bench, heading for the front door just as Two-Bit is walking through. He looks perplexed.
"I have to see her," I tell him.
"You think that's a good idea, maybe you should sleep on it for tonight, go and see her tomorrow."
I vehemently shake my head. "Sleep," I mutter. "No way am I gonna get to sleep. And I gotta go out on my own at some time. I can't keep living like this, shut up in my house."
For the first time in a while, I feel determined. "I need to see her."
"What about Darry and Soda?" Two-Bit asks. He flings his arms wide. "What do I tell them?"
"Nothing about the baby, just tell them that I've gone to see Cherry."
I must have played over the last two encounters I've had with Cherry since returning from Vietnam. Every single word. "Get better. I know you will. You're stronger than you think." Every single expression on her face. Eyes full of longing and questions. Questions I don't get. And every single touch. The way her fingers lightly brush against my mouth. The feel of her lips against mine. But interwoven with that are other memories too. In Vietnam. Her sadness. Her desperation. The loss of dreams that shatter when reality comes crashing through. I'd do anything. Anything to get out of this place. Anything to go home.
Did she use me? Had she always planned to get pregnant as a means of escaping that war? The war was hell.
I don't blame her if she did.
That's not the issue. The issue is … why me? Why use me?
What we had … what was it?
Was is it love? What is love? Did I find it? Do we have it?
Do I want it?
Maybe I do. I'm filled with so much uncertainty. It gnaws away at my insides, putting me on edge.
Her house surprises me when I find it. It's just out of town, on a large acre block of land. There is nothing ritzy about it. It's simple and plain. Is she all alone out here? And if so, why? I have so many questions. Her face, that day on the front steps of the courthouse, flashes through my mind. The wistful look in her eyes as she glances past me to my brothers. "You're lucky to have them." I had sensed her loneliness. I wanted to ask why, what put it there. Her eyes were full of longing and questions. Questions I didn't get then.
Now I do.
For a moment I just sit in the car, trying to get my emotions in check. Trying to figure out what I'm gonna say. I'm shit scared. But I can't stay in the car forever. Slowly and hesitantly, I climb out of the car. My legs feel like lead as I walk towards her front door. My mouth goes dry. My heart is beating erratically in my chest. You can do this, I tell myself. Just keep calm.
The front door to the house opens just as I'm about to walk up the porch steps. She stands there, a look of disbelief on her face followed by a whole other host of emotions; worry and uncertainty.
She looks as nervous as I feel.
"Ponyboy," she begins.
I swallow. "Cherry …" and then my voice sort of gives out.
A long awkward, painful moment of silence stretches out before us. I clutch the rail post for support. Just say it. "W-Why didn't you tell me?" I get out in a choked voice.
She sags against the doorjamb. I don't miss the way her hands start to tremble, the way her face goes pale. A hand clutches at her chest. "You know," she gasps. "How?"
"Your cousin."
Her eyes widen with shock. "He told you!"
"Not intentionally. I kinda ran into him outside the bank." I rake an unsteady hand through my hair. "He didn't know that … I didn't know."
She looks really upset. "Ponyboy …" she begins, her eyes filling with tears. "I-I didn't want you to find out like that … you should never have found out that way."
But I did. I swallow the hurt, remembering the smug look on her cousin's face. His callous words.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I'm so sorry."
Somehow, I manage to make it up the front steps. Despite my uncertainty. My fears.
"I was going to tell you," she continues, her face sad and hurting.
In my heart, I know that. Cherry is not one for lies and deception.
Slowly, she moves towards me. "I couldn't tell you when you were still in Vietnam. You would have been too distracted."
I know. I know. But there is still one burning question in the back of my mind. "D-Did you use me?"
"No!" A stricken look crosses her face. "Never."
I swallow the lump in my throat. I believe her.
"I-I wasn't thinking … I was desperate … I can't lie. I'd lie awake at night, dreading the thought of something happening to you. I was seeing it all around me. The broken, mangled bodies … and death. Just the thought. I couldn't bear it. What if you had died?" She takes a deep breathe.
"I didn't plan it, Ponyboy. But I'd hoped. And when I found out I was pregnant, I was … so relieved, because if you had died, then part of you would still live on."
Her hands rest on either side of my face. Her eyes are filled with such sincerity and longing. "But you survived, thank god." Her breathe catches in her throat. "You came back. You're here."
Her words, as always, fill me with such longing. I know she's telling the truth. She's always had this upfront honesty. It's what makes her so beautiful.
She leans into me. My arms wrap around her. I can't fight it. It's been so long. I don't understand this attraction, but it's there. It's real. I'm here. She's here. Maybe I should be angry. I don't know. Maybe I just can't. What we shared. It was pain. It was empathy. Truth is, she saved me as much as I did her. Baby or not. Though the thought freaks me out. I'm young, but not. I lost my youth to the war. I've already had to grow up well before my time. But there are some things I'm still not ready for.
My hands stroke her hair. "I-I'm not better," I murmur. "Cherry, I'm … too damaged."
Her arms tighten around me. "But you're here."
I don't know what she means by that. "You're here, Ponyboy. You wouldn't be here if you were not better, or at least trying to be."
She doesn't get it. How broken I am. I would tell her if I could. But her hold on me is so tight. Like she never wants to let me go again.
"It's over," she murmurs, her voice aching with sadness. "It's over, Ponyboy. You don't have to fight anymore. I don't have to mend the maimed. We can just be."
She pulls back and looks up at me with hopeful eyes. "It's over."
Once again, her words fill with me such conviction. I want to believe. So desperately, to believe that I can get better, that I can heal and hell, maybe have a chance of being whole again.
I hesitatingly raise a hand and lightly caress her cheek. "You think?"
"I know."
Her hands rest in mine. "Just see her and you'll know too."
I swallow the lump in my throat as a terror takes hold. See her. My daughter.
"She's sleeping right now."
Cherry's hand gently tugs at mine. "You need to see her."
I let her lead me inside the house, through the foyer and down the hallway. My daughter. I still find it too hard to believe. I'm just 20 years old. What would I know about parenting?! But then Darry comes to mind. Darry who had to look after me and Soda at just 20 years of age, two grown teenagers.
I let her take me, lead me right into the nursery. And there she sleeps. Just a little baby. Not a teenager to contend with. She sleeps with one chubby fist curled up under her face. Long, dark eyelashes brush against her cheek. Nothing has looked so pure and innocent in a long while than the sight of her sleeping.
She's beautiful. Perfect. The thought of anything turning out so perfect in this damaged world just blows me away.
My breathe catches in my throat at the sight of her. Tears fill my eyes. This can't be part of me. Nothing this perfect can be. I can't produce something so beautiful.
"W-What is her name?" I ask, trying to suck up the raw emotion I feel.
"Hope." Cherry takes a deep breath, her eyes searching mine. "I called her hope, because I had to believe … I had to believe we could survive this."
A solitary tear tracks down my cheek. "It's fitting," I say. Hope. I reach out a tentative hand and lightly stroke the strawberry blonde downy hair on her head. This is real. This is part of me.
My eyes meet with Cherry and a shared understanding passes between us. We created this life together. Out of all the ugliness of war and shared pain, we produced a life. The sudden realization hits me square in the guts.
I feel the baby begin to stir and quickly withdraw my hand. Her eyes blink open and nothing can prepare me for the solemn gaze that meets mine. My own eyes looking back at me. I founder in a well of emotion. Then her gaze goes to Cherry and a wide toothless grin lights up her face. Suddenly it's all too much. This. I need air. I need to breathe.
"I … I gotta get some space," I gasp and quickly exit the room, heading for the front porch.
I fall onto the single seat sofa, burying my face in my hands. I don't bother to fight back the tears that threaten. I can't. Just like I can't put my emotions into some kind of order. That little baby in there has opened up a floodgate of feelings inside of me. I'm lost in my own world.
I don't know how much time passes. The shadows lengthen as the sun drops lower in the sky. Maybe I smoke several cigarettes during that time. I don't know. Time ceases to exist.
It isn't until I hear the fly screen door open that I become aware of my surroundings.
I turn my head and look up to see Cherry standing on the front porch with Hope in her arms.
"Are you okay?" she asks a worried look on her face.
"I think so … just needed a moment to get my head around it."
She sits down next to me and my eyes rest on Hope. The whole thought of her terrifies me, but not in a bad way. I know nothing about babies? But I'm still so in awe of her. The curiosity in her eyes, eyes that are riveted to my face, like I'm some kind of novelty. Like she's sussing me out.
"I know this is a big shock for you," Cherry begins. "It takes some adjustment."
She's not wrong about that! I find myself filled with curiosity.
"How old is she?"
"Six months."
My jaw clenches. "All this time I've had a daughter I never knew about."
"I wanted to tell you so many times," Cherry sighs, "I was just waiting … for the right time."
"It's just as well you did. I was …" I take a breath, feeling ashamed. "Not in a good place."
A soft smile tilts up the corners of her mouth. "I remember, but you've come a long way in three months, since the first time I saw you."
I recall that time. On the back porch on my house. I was trying to work off my frustration on the punching bag. Suddenly, there she was. The amount of times I've played that over in my head.
"I told you to walk away."
"I know." I hear the hurt in her voice. "Not that I was ever going too. I was never going to give up on you, Ponyboy."
Her words move me with their fierce sincerity. I manage a brief smile. I raise a hand and touch her cheek. "Still determined and honest."
"When it comes to you."
"Why?"
Our eyes lock and hold. I'm mesmerized by the sweet longing in the depth of her gaze.
"I don't know of anyone else like you. You see me in a way no one else does. You give me what no one else has."
I'm stunned into silence.
"I think I fell in love with you when we swam in the beach, you in your y-fronts and all embarrassed about it." An amused smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "I'd never seen you laugh so much. Then we sat on the beach, and I felt I could tell you anything."
A lump forms in my throat.
"And you," she begins hesitantly.
My eyes sweep over her pretty face. I swallow. "Always. I think I've always loved you from the moment I met you."
Surprise lights up her eyes. A hint of color flashes in her cheeks.
"I never could forget you," I admit.
If there was one thing I hadn't expected was this sudden upfront honesty about our feelings towards each other. I guess in Vietnam we couldn't take the chance in going there.
Hope starts wriggling in Cherry's arms. "M, m, m," she begins to babble.
My eyes rest on her. She's gnawing away on what looks to be some kind of biscuit. A displeased look crosses her face, and she promptly tosses the biscuit on the ground.
I bend down to pick it up. A delighted toothless grin suddenly lights up her sweet little face. She reaches out a chubby hand for it, but Cherry quickly intervenes.
"I don't think so. It's all yucky now."
Hope lets out an unhappy cry. I sit there, mesmerized by this little being. My heart jumps into my throat at the sight of her. Fuck, but she's real. I actually have a daughter. I still can't comprehend it. The thought both thrills and terrifies me at the same time.
"You'll stay for dinner?" Cherry asks. I hear the uncertainty in her voice. A wistfulness, maybe you could even call it loneliness. I sense that she needs me here.
"Sure. I'd like that."
We go inside the house, into the lounge room. I watch as Cherry gently puts Hope on a special blanket in the middle of the floor. She reaches for a basket full of toys.
"I think it's time you got to know her," Cherry begins, glancing up at me with a soft smile. "I need to have a shower. Why don't you sit on the floor with her, and watch her as she plays with the toys."
She has to be kidding, right? Cherry gets to her feet, a hint of amusement in her eyes.
"It won't take long for her to warm to you, Ponyboy. Trust me. She can crawl now too, so don't let her get into anything she shouldn't. Babies at this age put everything into their mouths."
I nod, feeling a sudden panic take hold. Cherry gives me a reassuring kiss on the cheek.
"Just be yourself."
With that she leaves the room. I take a deep breath and sit on the floor. Hope sits there gazing up at me. I smile, well try too.
"Okay, then," I begin. "Let's found out your favorite toy."
I start pulling out an assortment of colorful, fluffy teddy bears. Some rattle toy. Another one that squeaks. Hope is watching me the whole time.
I line the toys up. I don't get far before she crawls unsteadily towards a big pink elephant. Once again a big smile lights up her face. She grabs for the elephant with a delighted squeal. It goes straight into her mouth.
I feel a real warm genuine smile on my face. "So that's your favorite?"
She starts making gurgling noises. I pick up another toy. It's a unicorn, I think. I wave it at her. "What about this one?"
Dropping the elephant, she reaches for the unicorn. She takes it from me, and once again it goes straight into her mouth. Then she holds it out to me and begins babbling, 'ba, ba, ba.'
The smile widens on my face. "You like that one too?"
She puts it back into her mouth. I reach for another toy, wave it at her and once again she reaches for it. This process continues, toy after toy.
"You like all of them?"
She squeals so loud it almost makes my ears ring. Much to my surprise, I laugh. Cherry wasn't wrong when she said it wouldn't take long for Hope to trust me. It seems so natural to gently pull her onto my lap. She comes willingly, a toy still clutched in her hands.
I can do this. I think, I can be a father. She's just a little human being, just starting out. My future might be uncertain, but this – this moment right now is real.
Seeing movement in the doorway, I glance up to see Cherry. There's a look of relief and contentment on her face. Her damp hair curls around her shoulders. She smiles and her eyes shine. She looks more beautiful than ever.
"I've not heard you laugh in a long while."
I see the wistfulness in her eyes.
"Don't remember the last time I laughed."
"Babies have a way of doing that to you. They have a way of putting everything into perspective."
They do, strangely enough. I hadn't expected it to be this easy. But then Cherry has a way of putting me at ease. She understands what I went through, like Two-Bit she was there. I don't think anyone else could fully know what it was like.
I absently run a hand over Hope's soft downy hair. Holding her in my arms is a feeling I can't even begin to explain.
Cherry sits down on the floor next to me, drying her hair with a towel. I catch the scent of her shampoo. It smells like apples. Her face is devoid of any make-up. She's wearing a simple jade colored shirt over a pair of blue denim jeans. The moment is so surreal.
"I have no idea on where to go from here?" I tell her.
Her hand slips into mine. "I think we just take it one day at a time, Ponyboy." A hesitant smile tilts up the corners of her mouth. "Right now, I just want to make the most of this moment. You, here. Us. And Hope. We don't need to rush into anything. You don't know how long I've dreamed of this moment."
I hear the wistful tone in her voice. And for the first time I'm aware that there is no else around. She is kinda isolated out here. There is a burning question on the tip of my tongue. "Are you all alone?"
She inclines her head slightly, her fingers reaching out and tickling Hope's tummy.
"Let's just say my parents were not happy when I returned home pregnant."
My stomach twists into knots. I'd never thought about it. How it must have been for her.
"I brought disgrace upon the family name," she continues, a brief flicker of pain in her eyes.
"That's tough, Cherry. You, bringing up a baby all on your own."
She shrugs, but I don't miss the pensive note in her voice. "I'm not entirely ostracized," she continues. "My mother does call by from time to time, giving me a lecture of one kind or another."
Hope's sudden babbling brings a smile to Cherry's lips.
"You know I'm fiercely independent," she points out.
She tosses a strand of hair over her shoulder. I see the determination in her eyes.
"Besides, having a baby forced me into holding myself together."
Her green eyes are alive with such loving intensity. "It kept me grounded."
Unable to resist, I lightly caress her cheek. The warmth in her eyes captivates me. Hell, everything about her does. I've spent so long in my own misery that I've forgotten what it is to feel alive again.
"I had money, though this place does belong to a relative. I figure it's temporary for now. I manage," she continues.
Feeling Hope begin to wriggle in my arms, I drop my hand from Cherry's face and secure her in place. I'm aware of my own pitiful financial situation.
"I don't have a job," I mutter. Otherwise I could help her out. "I should get one … just … haven't been able to leave the house. I get flashbacks and …"
I can see she understands, that I don't need to explain, but I do. "I'm still … struggling."
"It's only been nine months since you've been back, Ponyboy," she points out. "It's going to take a while. I know how hard it is."
Has it really been that long? My eyes rest on her face. I feel bad that she's had to be alone for so long. Once again, I'm reminded of how lucky I am to have had my brothers to help me get through. I've had Two-Bit, who was there and all of our shared experiences. Someone who totally got what I'd been through.
But Cherry - she's done it alone.
I end up staying the night. It was getting late. I wasn't ready to leave yet. It was tough enough driving during the day, let alone during the dark of night. Cherry wanted me stay. She's been alone for too long. I guess now that I've found her again, found an inner peace and connectedness, I want to hold onto it. For the first time in a very long while, I feel normal. I feel hopeful. She makes me believe in myself, just like she did all those years ago, when I was just a 14 year old greaser kid, and her a 16 year old Soc.
I ring up Darry and Soda to let them know what I'm doing. They sound unsure on the phone, but also impressed that I actually summoned up the nerve to leave the house on my own. I tell them I'll explain it to them all tomorrow. I can only picture how that'll go down. By the way I have a six month old daughter. Shit. How they gonna react to that? Glad it's not tonight though. I've been through enough emotional upheaval for one day.
After putting Hope to bed, Cherry and I sit on the sofa in the lounge room and talk about everything. She's shares all of her fears and dreams with me. I listen, because it's not just about me anymore. I need a break from that, from me. She talks about her past mistakes, mixing with the wrong people, getting hurt. So hurt that she didn't think she'd ever get past it. She doesn't do into details about it, but I already know enough. I remember that day on the beach. I remember seeing the resigned sadness in her eyes and the way it made my heart ache in a strange way. I remember her hollow words, 'They shattered all of my illusions and broke every bit of my heart.'
One day, when she's ready, she'll tell me. Though I'm not sure how I'll go hearing it. The thought of anyone hurting her already makes my jaw clench in a way I don't like. Rage. I know too much of that.
Eventually we end up in her bedroom. It seems a natural progression. Though sex is out of the question as neither one of us having any means of protection.
"It's not about sex," she tells me. "I just want to be close to you."
I stand there full of uncertainty, as she removes her blouse. Her skin is so smooth and unblemished. My hands long to touch her. I swallow the lump in my throat. She reaches for a sleeveless lace nightie.
"Are you going to sleep fully dressed," she says, with a hint of amusement in her eyes.
Pulling the nightie over her head, she approaches me. Her hands instantly go to the buttons of my shirt. I'm suddenly aware of the sight she's about to see. I remember all too clearly the distress on Soda's face when he first saw the scars. I remember the tears in Two-Bit's eyes, 'fuck that, Pony. They can't send you back to Nam like that.' It might have been a year ago and the scars have started to fade, but the horror of that day hasn't.
"Cherry," I begin, my mouth going dry. I place a hand over hers. "Before you see, I need to let you know that …" Oh hell, I don't even know how to say this. I swallow. "Just wanna warn you that I have some scarring from the shrapnel."
Her tender gaze meets mine. "I know, you mentioned it in the letter."
There was so much I'd never mentioned in that letter. The weeks I'd spent in Japan, full of so much pain, anger and hate.
She continues to unbutton my shirt and I let her. It's only a matter of time before she sees them. My shirt falls to the ground.
Whatever sweet amusement was in her eyes suddenly leaves. I hear her take in a deep breath and then release it shakily. Her eyes are full of pained shadows. I can see what she is thinking.
How close I came to dying.
"Ponyboy." My name is not much more than an anguished whisper on her lips. It makes my guts twist into knots.
Her fingers tremble as they lightly run over the numerous scars criss-crossing my chest and lower abdomen. "How …" she swallows. "You … survived this?"
I catch her hand in mine. For an endless moment I think I'll never breathe again. "Don't say lucky," I manage to murmur in a hoarse voice.
But I am. I know I am and for the first time, I'm kinda glad my luck lasted.
I lie on my side facing her. A shaft of moonlight filters through the curtains. We don't speak. We don't need too. There is a peaceful contentment on her face, but also a sweet longing in her eyes as they gaze into mine. I reach out a hand to touch her, reassure myself that she is really here. My fingers lightly rest on the peak of her forehead and her hair falls, partially covering her face. I gently tuck the strands of hair behind her ear.
Where do we go from here? Hell, I'll let tomorrow worry about itself. Tonight, I'm with Cherry. Tonight I don't need memories of her to deal with the nightmares. I have the real thing. I pull her into my arms and just hold her. She snuggles into me, her hair falling over my shoulder, caressing my cheek and tickling my nose. Her hand clasps mine as if she never wants to let it go. She is so close, warm and intimate.
I never thought I'd have this kind of closeness again.
I don't know how long it'll take for me to be better. But for now, for tonight, I feel secure in her believe that eventually I will.
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A/N: Thanks so much for reading! This chapter is a long one! I always finding it harder to write when I get close to the end of a story! There are probably only about two chapters left to go! Please leave a review and let me know what you all think.
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