I do not own The Outsiders. All characters used from the book are borrowed with much respect to S.E. Hinton.
The ride home was long and arduous. Tense and quiet; the sixteen hour drive went by with barely a word spoken amongst the five of us. The old Dodge was an eyesore with a generous amount of cancer here and there, but it got us home in one piece, letting me forget how much I missed dad's old Ford pick-up, and how much I hated the big rust bucket Dodge I bought to replace it.
As three of us took our turns behind the wheel, Soda remained planted in the back with Pony curled up on the seat with his head cradled in his brother's lap. They kept their silence—keeping whatever happened during their visit together a secret, and I had to wonder if the secrets revealed had anything to do with Pony's seizure, and Soda's insistence of being discharged from the hospital despite Dr. Burton's intense urging not to leave.
He said not one word the entire drive; his stoic gaze completely focused outside the window as the world blurred on by. It wasn't until Beth pulled the car up into the drive, that his voice cracked through the silence.
"I'll bring Pone…" Sodapop looked down at his brother, but his voice cut off abruptly, and he was back staring out the window.
I winced a little inside—reality biting us both with just how much different things were and would be due to Soda's injury.
"I'll carry Pony if your leg's sore, Darry? It's been a long drive." Greg offered, and I cranked my body around to look them all over.
"What's wrong with your leg?" Soda's voice was void of any emotion or curiosity, but I figured there was still no sense in wallowing on the life I struggled with while he was presumably dead.
I shook my head dismissively. "Not a thing." I looked at Greg. "I got it, Greg. Thank you."
I felt the pointed looks I was getting from my wife and Greg without even facing them, but I chose to ignore them. Sodapop was home. He was home, and I just wanted to wrap myself in the reality of it and be happy, but the warnings his doctor gave we're nagging at me.
There were too many red flags; the fact that he tried to hurt himself in the first place and letting the hospital and his doctor think that he was Steve was one. The refusal to open up to anyone, along with his unpredictable mood swings were also concerning, and the fact that he hadn't even talked to Sandy to include her and Jack in his decision both confused and worried the hell out of me. There were so many things that were wrong with the situation, but when Soda looked at me and pleaded for me to help him get discharged so he could come home—I knew it wasn't best for him, but I just couldn't say no. I just wanted my brother back.
As Greg eased his way out of the back seat, I rounded my way around to where Soda was sitting and opened the door. His face was disturbingly somber and I felt my stomach pull, wondering if I'd be in over my head with him. I clenched my teeth and tried to smile as he slid out from beneath Pony, and I noticed a look cover his features that seemed more familiar to me.
It was worry.
"Watch that arm of his, Darry. His whole side looks jacked to shit. I don't remember it ever bein' that bad."
"Greg can take a look if you're worried?" I tried to placate him, knowing he had enough problems of his own without including mine or Ponyboy's on top of it, but he seemed to know more than what he was letting on.
"How long's it been since he's been checked out?"
"Whadaya mean? He's always bad after a seizure." I hauled Ponyboy out from the backseat and flinched a little when he'd made no indication I'd done anything to him.
He said nothing, but I felt Soda staring at me, but I distracted myself from it as I followed Beth up the walk and waited for her to unlock the door to let us in. The air inside was stale and lifeless, and I held my breath for a minute to get used to the fact that we were actually home. Beth seemed to read my mind as she hurried into the living room and started opening the windows.
Ponyboy was still in my arms; recovering from what was probably a more intense episode than he'd had since coming home with me, but Soda's silence wouldn't confirm or deny my suspicions. I carefully laid Pony out on the sofa and covered him with mom's blanket before following Beth into the kitchen to help open the windows to let some of the outside air in.
"There's not much here by way of feeding the five of us. I'll go pick a few things up for supper. Do you want anything in particular?" Beth asked softly as she grabbed for my hand.
I stared at the old oak tree in the back yard, breathing in the fresh air from the open windows as I squeezed her hand. I had no idea what was in store for us and I was trying not to turn into a big ball of nerves because of that.
I nodded, letting Beth know I'd heard her speaking, although I couldn't exactly say that I'd been listening. My mind was reeling with so many thoughts it was making me feel fatigued.
"Darry?" Beth nudged me, and I could only grin.
"Sorry, doll." I winced, embarrassed.
"It's okay," she chuckled in amusement. "What should we have for supper? Any ideas?"
"Baked chicken 'n some spuds?"
Beth and I turned to see Soda leaning against the wall; a sheepish look on his tired face as he looked on at us. It dawned on me then how long it'd been since Soda was home and how long it'd been since he'd had a home cooked meal.
"You're cookin', right Darry?"
"If ya want me to, little buddy." I answered, remembering it was his and Ponyboy's favourite for supper.
"No offence, I mean…" Soda grinned at Beth, and just like every other girl that'd crossed his path, she was defenceless against his charms.
"No, it's okay. I'll go get the groceries; find something to whip up for dessert then."
"You need help?" I asked, but Beth was never one to act or be helpless.
"I think I can manage Sobieski's, Darry. I'll take Greg while you boys settle in."
Beth turned back to face me with a giant smirk on her face, and I gave her a funny look in return. She shook her head at me before kissing my cheek.
"I'll be back in a little while. Don't burn the house down."
"Shit, I'm gone for a few years and she's one of yas!" Soda huffed, and I couldn't help but snicker.
"See ya when you get back." I winked at her as she headed for the door.
I turned back to look out the window to the old oak tree and the tire swing, and this time it didn't hurt as much. I'd experienced a lot of loss in my life, and those losses were still palpable, but the fact that I had both of my brothers back made every crazy shit thing that'd happened bearable.
"You alright?" I asked Sodapop as I felt him edge next to me. "You look tired."
I thought he'd talk if we were alone and the right moment was there.
"That's just a polite way of tellin' someone they look like shit." Soda huffed before smiling at me.
"You wanna call Sandy? Let her know you made it home?" I looked at my brother curiously as I tried again.
"Nothin' to say." Soda shrugged stubbornly. "I just need some time to figure shit out."
"That what you told her so she wouldn't break down and tell me you were alive?"
I knew that I was pushing it by being so direct with my brother, but I knew I had to get him to open up at some point. The doctor had just short of put the fear of God into me when I helped Soda get his discharge. I knew that if he decided not to open up at all, there was a huge chance he'd hurt himself again.
"Don't…" Soda's voice was soft, but determined.
"Don't what?"
"Don't make like it was easy for me to stay away. I love you guys more than anything and it killed me to be away from y'all. It killed me."
"Then why'd you do it, Soda? Why didn't you at least call? I woulda hated it, but I woulda known you were alive and I coulda dealt with things better than I did."
"Whadaya mean?" Soda's eyes bore into me, and I didn't want to lie to him, but I wasn't about to lay on more pain and guilt than what my brother was already feeling.
"It ain't important anymore. I just…wish I understood is all."
Soda didn't respond except to nod his head. He turned to make for the living room, no doubt to check on Pony, when he stopped abruptly at the opening between the two rooms.
"Y'know, for someone expecting me to lay it all out on the line, you could use a taste of your own medicine." Soda's voice was cold.
"What the hell does that mean?"
Soda turned around to face me, and the anger in his eyes was like a punch to the gut, and I could barely collect myself.
"You forget yourself, Darry. If you wanna hear all my dirty secrets, you best better be willing to spill all of yours."
"There ain't no secrets, Soda. I dunno what you're talkin' about." I was taken aback.
"You're such a shitty liar—always were." Soda rolled his eyes in contempt.
"Did I do something to piss you off? You wanna go back to Florida?"
"Is that a threat?" Soda stood up straight and defensively.
"No! For fuck sakes, Pepsi! What the fuck? What's the matter with you? I ain't here to pick a fight, I just need to know my brother's okay, alright?"
"As in, am I feelin' so bad I'd rather take a fucking razor blade to my arm than face another minute of living, alright? Or as in, I can't ever sleep no more 'cause I wake up in the middle of the night thinkin' I'm still in the jungle and some gook's there to saw my nuts off or blow my head off, alright? You don't need to hear that shit, Darry, and before you say another fucking word to me, quit bein' such a fuckin' hypocrite about it all! You can't even be straight with me about why dad's truck is missing, why Ponyboy's so fucked up, and why you can't take a step without looking like you're gonna pass out while you're limping!"
"You don't need to worry about me right now. What's done is done." My voice cracked as I tried to process what he'd yelled out for myself and the whole world to hear, and I had to look away.
"Yeah well, hi pot…meet kettle." Soda huffed sadly as his eyes looked about ready to spill over.
I rushed over to him as though I had no control. It was such an automatic thing for me to do anymore—to offer my body as comfort to my family when they needed it.
I didn't even ask, but Soda didn't protest despite being angry with me. He let me wrap around him, and I felt him relax as my arms wound around him even tighter.
"I don't wanna fight, Pepsi-cola. I don't wanna fight, but I'm so fuckin' scared of losin' you. I just wanna make…"
"…make it all better." Soda finished off my sentence for me and I felt his arm tighten around my waist. "You just wanna fix it all and make it all go away, 'cause that's what you always do, Darry."
"I'm sorry," I felt the tear slide down my cheek as I apologized for my personality trait as though it were a flaw.
"Don't be sorry for bein' you, Darry. I love that about you. You make me feel safe, and I ain't felt safe in three fucking years." Soda cried as he pushed his face into my shoulder.
"I'll do whatever you want, Soda. Please! Just tell me what you need. I'd die for you. I'd die for Ponyboy. Just tell me what to do!"
My desperation came out as I clung to him, and I'd made my deal with God. I'd do whatever it took to help Soda. I'd give up my own life to know that he would be okay.
"I don't want you to die, Darry. I just wanna come home and be with my brothers. I just wanna not think or hafta deal with anything for a bit. I just wanna…" Soda's voice cut out and he broke down.
"Shhhh…" It killed me to see him in so much pain and I wanted him to stop crying, but then I realized it was probably what he needed.
"I'm here, little buddy. I got your back." I whispered into his ear before kissing it, and I felt him nod his head before his right arm squeezed me even tighter.
"I love you so much!" Soda bawled, and I choked out a tearful laugh.
"I know ya do, kiddo. I love ya right back, savvy?"
Soda's head nodded against me, and I let my face rest against his head so that I could breathe him in. It still felt very surreal to have him so close when it was barely that long ago we were convinced he was dead. I wanted to savour every second; it was like I was still trying to believe he was real.
"I'm tired," Soda rubbed his face against my shirt, and let go of me to wipe his nose.
"Why don't you go on to bed? I'll wake you up for supper?" I ran a hand through Soda's mussed up hair, and grinned.
"Okay," he nodded tiredly, and he looked a lot younger to me just then.
He grabbed onto the waistband of my jeans with a loose grip and looked sheepishly at me while gnawing on the bottom of his lip.
"I'm sorry we fought."
"I'm sorry too, little buddy. I ain't gonna say everythin' 's gonna be okay—you deserve better than that. But I promise you I ain't ever gonna give up on you. I promise you I'll always be here. I'm always on your side."
And his eyes suddenly sparkled as he smiled at me and nodded, and it gave me a bit of hope that my brother would be alright.
Soda slowly let go of me and drug his feet across the floor as he turned to head for the bedroom. I watched on, still fascinated by the fact that Soda Patrick Curtis was still present in the world—alive and breathing, and back home where he would always belong.
He stopped suddenly to turn around, and I cocked an eyebrow, knowing what he wanted.
"I'll bring him in, don't worry. Just tuck yourself into bed and we'll be there in a sec."
Sodapop nodded with a twinkle in his eyes, and headed off to bed.
