I do not own The Outsiders. All characters from the book are borrowed with much respect to S.E. Hinton.
xXXXx
"Hey, man. You got any t-hinges? Lookin' for a six inch."
I wiped the dust from my hands onto my jeans and walked the aisle with my cane in hand. It'd been a year since my breakdown, and although I wasn't as steady as I needed to be to be climbing up ladders and balancing on rooftops, I was at least strong enough to land a full-time job at the hardware store that was connected to the lumber yard I once worked at.
Things were slowly turning around for the better as far as my body was concerned. With hours spent either with Eric or Bradley at the gym or at home, I managed to build back some strength. Beth was even more help where my health was concerned as being married to a nurse definitely had certain benefits.
It took time and a lot of hard work, and in the back of my mind I prayed it wouldn't be in vain. I wanted my brother back; wherever life had taken him, it was my job to bring him home. And although it seemed most of my days were consumed with how I was going to follow through with my goal, the ones helping me and standing by me never judged. They were there to help.
Mr. Garver turned out to be one of my allies. When I'd put in enough hours lifting weights and doing enough stretches that I could finally drop the crutches and walk with just one cane, he put in a good word for me and helped me get on at the hardware store. It wasn't as though my previous work had gone unnoticed by Mr. Harris. He'd hired me to work odd hours at the lumber yard back when things had gotten tight while I had my two brothers to worry about. But it was the support that meant a lot, and now that I had a wife, I wanted to make a living and work hard to make a home for her that was worth sharing.
I was lost in my thoughts while I led the customer down the narrow aisle. It wasn't until I turned to inspect the basket that I was pulled out of my daze.
"You need just one?" I asked while I pulled a hinge from the basket.
"Three, actual...Holy! Darry Curtis, is that you?"
I startled a bit as my head whipped to the side and I huffed a laugh. He was still a miniature replica of his big brother, only he never managed to inherit his brother's tough demeanour. He had the same black curly hair, and his eyes were the same shade of blue, but Curly Shepard had a rounder face; a baby face if you will, that Tim I don't think ever had.
"Holy fuck! Look at you! Didn't recognize you with the hair and the beard. You look like one of them hippie types. Tim's gonna shit!"
"How ya doin', kid?" I grinned as I turned back to the basket and grabbed two more hinges out for him.
"Spooked like I'm talkin' to a ghost. Word on the street was you died and the State took Pony to some good-for-nothin' boys home."
My heart stung at the mention of my brother, but I wasn't about to let it show.
"Well, I'm still here. You need screws?" I looked at him sideways as I handed him the hinges he was asking for.
Curly nodded, but was quiet as he followed me around the corner where there were the bins of assorted nails and screws. It was an odd feeling to hear that the neighbourhood thought I was dead, although it could've explained why I hadn't seen or heard from anyone. I wasn't especially close to any members from the local gangs, but I felt Tim and I had a friendship of sorts and it was disheartening to think he thought I was gone.
"There ya go, kid. You need anything else?"
"Nah, Darry. This is good."
"You tell your brother and sister I said hey."
"Angela won't give a shit. She's got a kid with one on the way. Tim's in County. Ya think you could go 'n see him?"
"County? What'd he do this time? I thought he settled down a bit after Dally died?"
It had been the truth aside from his involvement in helping me take care of Martin Campbell. When Dallas got shot down by the cops, Tim seemed less reckless. I knew about or heard about a lot of the illegal shit he was into; namely drugs, but he seemed to settle out after losing Dally.
"He's a draft dodger, Darry. Got his letter almost a year ago. Told the government to go fuck themselves. It was jail or pay the fine, and hell if we got that kinda dough layin' around."
My head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. Lives everywhere were falling apart and forced to change while I'd been wrapped up in my own bullshit. Things were rough all over it seemed.
I rubbed my forehead and clenched my eyes shut for a moment before looking back at Curly.
"He okay? Does he need anything?"
"Like he'd ever tell anybody if he did." Curly snorted. "A visit from you would probably help."
"He allowed visitors?"
I thought of how I'd landed myself in a world of trouble when I'd started searching for the answer to my problems at the bottom of every bottle I'd drank, and Tim was there for me. And that godforsaken night; the night that still haunted my dreams where my brother laid raped and lifeless in that cold machine shop, Tim was there. And when I was ready to cross the line between protective brother and murderer, Tim let me keep being a protective brother while he took the road of the hoodlum and murderer.
"Yeah, Saturdays are good."
"I'll see him Saturday, then. You let me know if you need anything, okay?"
I thought about all the shit Curly got himself into and subsequently dragging Pony down in the process, and couldn't help but grin. Misguided as he may have been, Curly was an okay kid. I figured he'd end up dead or in jail one day, but I still couldn't help but like him.
"Christ, Darry. I ain't Ponyboy, y'know." Curly laughed. "I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, I know." I grinned. "Just stay outta trouble, would ya?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Curly slapped me on the back playfully. "Ya sound like Tim. Thanks pops!" He chuckled at me while he left me for the front to go pay for his items.
xXXXx
I thought back to the night I had to pick Sodapop up from the police station when he got arrested for doing cartwheels on the damned sidewalk with Two-Bit. I was none too happy about him getting himself in trouble; back then I had social services breathing down my neck every corner I turned, but that was nothing compared to what I walked into on this day.
After being frisked a little too thoroughly, a guard led me to the visiting room, and I was wondering to myself if I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life. In my head it was clear that I didn't belong anywhere near the people incarcerated or visiting, but after a few acknowledging nods, I remembered where I came from and what I looked like.
I sat myself down at an empty table and waited a few—maybe five minutes before a guard let him in. He didn't look any different than the last time I'd seen him; maybe a little leaner, but I figured the mess they served in jail was probably responsible for that. He still looked hard and cold and tough, like someone who'd seen the worst that life could do.
"No fuckin' way!" Tim beamed as the guard led him to the table I was at, and practically pushed him into his seat. "I'd give you a hug but it might give some of these boys the wrong idea. Darry, what the hell?"
In all the years I'd known Tim I'd never seen him smile. If you were fortunate, you could coax a grin from him, but he was stoic and cold, and his own family couldn't even do much to change the expression on his face. You can imagine my surprise when I could see that his teeth were straight and white and gleaming at me.
"Tim," I nodded. "Ran into Curly the other day."
"Goddamn, it's good to see you! Fuckin' assholes said you were dead!"
"So I hear." I grumbled while rubbing my forehead. "What the hell happened, Tim?"
"You tell me, Curtis. One of my boys called to tell me your brother bit it in Nam, and you drove your truck into a goddamn train. Cripes almighty!"
I couldn't seem to speak to that. My brother being taken away was something I still needed to face. I knew he was gone. I wore his dammed dog tags like a daily reminder; a shrine hanging off my neck and decorating my heart like a grave. I knew he was gone, but it still hurt to hear it out loud.
"It was an accident," was all I could seem to choke out, and Tim nodded.
"I'm sorry about him, Darry. Y'know we all dug your brother. After everything, I thought for sure he'd make it back."
"How'd you end up in here?" I quickly changed topics. I didn't want to reminisce with Tim. It was too painful—too many lives gone.
"Got my invite to that fucking war. Told 'em I'd rather rot in jail. I guess they took me seriously."
"Cripes, Tim," I rubbed my forehead again, and he just shrugged at me.
"What was my choice? Get my head blown off like Soda, or go on the run like Two-Bit?"
"Two-Bit?" I felt my face pale. "You hear from him?"
"He took off after you supposedly died. Stupid clown should've stuck around, I guess." He shrugged.
"Yeah," I answered, wondering to myself if it would've made any difference. I'd failed him.
"Gave him a ride to take and a bit of cash. Don't know if it was much help, but he said he wasn't comin' back."
"He say where he was headed?" I asked nervously.
"Yeah, he headed for Canada." Tim eyed me. "He was pretty messed up. Was in a hurry. Got my letter the same week he did, y'know? I guess we all do what we gotta do."
I nodded; relieved to know Two-Bit managed to dodge going to the same war that stole my brother away, and heartbroken to know I didn't do a damned thing to help him in his plight.
It was bittersweet, I suppose. On one hand, it was a relief to know Keith Mathews was tucked away safely from the horrors of that goddamned war, but on the other hand he was one of the last remaining members of the family I'd come to call my own. He was long gone, and I had so much to make up to him; I owed him so much.
"Got his address if you're interested. He dropped me a line not long ago when he got settled. Didn't think that clown knew how to be serious. Took me off guard."
Tim frowned as he looked me up and down; maybe gauging my reaction. I wondered if Two-Bit mentioned the fight we had before I took off in a selfish tantrum, leaving him there in that parking lot to figure out how to save his own hide while thinking I was going out to get drunk.
"Shit! Curtis you got married!" He suddenly yelped while eying the band on my ring finger.
I nodded while looking at my left hand; a proud grin pulling at my mouth.
"The nurse?" His eyebrows shot up, and I nodded.
"Well, you landed a good one Darry, but I don't know what the hell she sees in you." He teased.
"I'd be worried if you did, Tim. I'd be worried if you did." I grinned back, and we both shared a laugh like we weren't both sitting there in the middle of County's visitation hall.
xXXXx
"So? How'd it go?"
Beth brought her legs up beneath her as she curled up against me on the couch after I all but threw myself down on it in a huff. There were so many thoughts in my head, I was feeling like the top might just blow clean off.
I rubbed my eyes and shrugged, but I knew she wouldn't settle for that as an answer, so I opened my eyes to look at her.
"I dunno. So much shit has happened and I feel like I don't know the half of it."
"Darry, you were in the hospital! What exactly did you expect to be able to do?" Beth came to my defence right away.
"I reacted. I should've just calmed the fuck down, but Pony was a mess, and Soda…" my voice cut off as my throat clenched.
"I know, baby." Beth pressed her face into my neck as her hand found my own that was clutching at the tags hanging over my chest. "That day…it was awful. You can't hold yourself responsible. You didn't know. Nobody did."
"I know, doll. But I still did it, and we're sittin' here while my brother's god knows where, and Two-Bit's alone up in Canada."
"Canada?" Beth looked at me sharply.
"That's what Tim said. Gave him a car and some money to help him."
Beth had a strange look on her face.
"What's that look for?"
"It's a long ways away and a big place to be all alone. Wow!" Beth burrowed her head in my shoulder. "I miss him. I hope he's okay."
"Me too." I replied sombrely as I kissed her hair; the deep guilt I held over pushing Two-Bit away feeling heavier in my gut as the days passed.
xXXXx
