So its been almost 4 years since I posted a story on this account, and I'm back with a whopper. Theres a lot of stories involving Soda going to Vietnam and I'm doing one documenting if Ponyboy had gone- except its from Soda's POV and starts off when he gets home
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I remember the day you left. It was the first time I ever froze.
Darry and I switched roles - he was the one going batshit crazy while I stood still in the doorway, watching him but not really seeing him. He ripped open your dresser drawers and tore everything out. Then he marched the clothes down the hall and threw them into Mom and Dad's room.
I wanted to tell him to stop, because to me it seemed like him shoving all of your stuff with our parent's stuff was like admitting you were going to die. And Pony, I knew that you weren't going to die. It might have been some weird coping mechanism, who knows. But the entire time you were gone, the only thing that kept me anchored was the complete certainty that you would come back.
The first few weeks, Darry was a mess. I was surprisingly well off. I spent all day at the DX and came home to turn on the TV so that Darry and I wouldn't have to sit in silence. The guys came around and I went out at night and did stupid things with Steve just to forget you weren't there. I always felt real guilty about it afterwards, because I knew I owed you more than just drag racing and girls whose names I forgot by the next morning.
But Darry barely functioned - The worst of it was when his boss sent him home from work because he turned up drunk. I was pissed, Pony, you should have seen it. You would have been real amused, I think, to see Darry be the one who had to be put into place.
After that, though, we adjusted. It was real strange and it didn't happen overnight, either - Just one day I looked back and realized I was doing better. Looking forward to your letters instead of dreading them.
Obviously we still had setbacks from time to time. One night Darry turned on the news and they were broadcasting all about the war - nothing good. Not anything you wanna hear when your brother is over there. He stood up and put a hole in the wall with his fist, right near the telephone.
It was the first thing you asked about when you got back and saw it. We'd patched it up, but hadn't gotten around to replacing the wallpaper. I told you that was because the wallpaper had been there since before any of us were born and was therefore hard to come by. You told me we should just tear it all down, then, and paint. Darry thought it was a great idea - you two went to the hardware store and now our living room is a nice beige.
I had fun the day we painted the living room. In a weatherman's terms, it was the calm before the storm. You had been back for a week and you were telling us about how it was, over there, but in hindsight, I know you were sugarcoating. You talked about the people you met and what you did when there wasn't a gun in your hands. You didn't talk about killing anybody or the bullet that sent you home to us a month early.
Still, I tried my best not to pry. I still do. That first night, when you walked out into the living room after a shower, with only a towel around your waist and raving about how it had been the best shower of your life, I looked away. I didn't let myself stare too long at the massive, angry red scar above your belly button because I knew you wouldn't want me to.
Darry pushed you, though. He was the bad guy who cornered you and asked the tough questions. Of course, you didn't let your guard down easily - it wasn't in your nature. And I advocated for you. Eventually I persuaded Darry to simply allow you to work it out on your own, as you had always done before. I figured if you could survive Vietnam then you'd be fine to have free reign of Tulsa.
It was a massive error.
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Pleeeeease review! Updates will probably be very staggered