Fear crawled into Soda's heart, seeking a place in which to hide itself. Finding a crevice, it slithered inside, choosing to remain tucked deep in a corner, until it heard the approaching footsteps of remembrance.
Memories lay along the ridges of Steve's mind, the present state of his spirit making him vulnerable to the past. He relaxed against the back of the porch swing, his feet making it sway in a soothing repetitive motion.
Nicholas, the scent of shaving cream still on his skin, joined Steve on the porch. "You going to church with me in the morning, Son?"
Steve paused, keeping his feet still for a moment, the swing moving back and forth of its own accord. "I don't think so. I know I probably should."
"But you'd rather go be at the hospital."
"Yeah."
Nicholas smiled, as he thought of Audrey, knowing he'd see her the next day.
Steve laughed,his feet resuming their movement. "Dad, you have the dopiest look on your face."
"Dopey? I do not!"
"But you do! I know who you're thinking about."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm glad I can amuse you, Son."
"Tell her I said hi tomorrow. And make sure you tell Samuel about Sodapop."
Nicholas moved to sit beside Steve on the swing. "Of course I will. I was already going to call him and get him to meet me before church even starts."
"Pray for him too, Dad. I mean, I know he's okay, but I just have a feeling he still needs it."
"I already have been, Son. He definitely has a lot of recovering to do."
"I still didn't want to leave tonight."
"I know. I understand too." The desire to help Steve cope urging him on, Nicholas delved further into the empathy he could feel. "Let me ask you something though. When you looked at Soda today, what did you see?"
"I saw Soda. What are you talking about?"
"He was awake. He was talking to you."
"Yeah?"
Nicholas, seeing the confused expression on Steve's face, kept his voice soft, as he continued his tactic. "He was breathing."
Steve shuddered inside, imagining Soda not breathing. "Yeah. Of course he was. Why are you saying that?"
"That's what you saw today, Son." Nicholas touched Steve's shoulder, hesitant to explain, as he knew time would never erase the emotions for either of them. "It's what I had to remind myself I could see when you were in the hospital. I had to tell myself you were alive. I saw your eyes looking back at me. I listened to you talk."
Steve could see a sheen of tears in Nicholas' eyes, knowing the pain of talking about this, as he understood where his dad was leading him, the connection he'd made. "And you watched me breathe."
"The cops want to talk to me too, don't they?"
Mr. Coleman sighed, as he heard the apprehension in Soda's words. "You were there, so I'm sure they will. I'm sorry, Sodapop. I'm sorry it happened."
Soda pushed away the rolling tray that held his half-eaten breakfast plate. "It's not your fault."
Mr. Coleman put his hand on Soda's shoulder. "But I feel bad. I can't help it. You were on the clock."
Soda smiled at his boss, seeing an opportunity. "Man, I ought to be getting a lot of overtime then. I never got to clock out that night."
Samuel, clad in the navy pants and gray button-up shirt he planned to wear to church that morning, handed Nicholas a cup of coffee, as he joined him on the front porch. "So what's going on? Did something happen?"
Nicholas took the mug, sitting down beside Samuel in one of the rocking chairs. "Yes. It did." He paused, noticing his friend's eyes were searching his for answers. "I look like it too, don't I?"
"You do. Is something wrong with Steve?"
"No. Well, not directly anyway." Nicholas took a sip of coffee, the slightly sweet taste keeping him grounded, as he found the words were difficult to speak. "Sodapop got shot Friday night."
Samuel set his own mug of coffee down on the glass table between them, as he comprehended what Nicholas had just told him. "What? What happened? Is he okay?"
"He was at the DX when it got robbed. He's still in the hospital. The bullet hit his arm, and he had to have surgery, but he should be all right."
Samuel covered his face with one hand, as he sat back in the rocking chair. "Thank God he's okay. That poor kid. How are his brothers doing with this?"
"Darry's the one who found him after the shooting and called for help. He and Ponyboy are handling it all okay, I think. Since they know Soda's still here with them. You can imagine that makes all the difference."
"How about Steve?"
"You know how he and Sodapop are. All of us stayed at the hospital that whole first night. Even after Soda was stable and out of surgery. But I think Steve would still move into his room right now, if they'd let him."
"I can believe that. Steve's a good friend."
"Yeah. Those two boys don't even need blood. They're brothers without it."
"I never thought it'd be so nice to be able to get out of bed and go take a piss by myself."
Steve laughed at Soda's remark from his place on the other side of the bathroom door. "The things we take for granted, huh?"
The toilet flushed, before Soda made his way out of the bathroom, pulling his IV pole alongside him. He looked down at the hospital gown, the only clothing beneath it a pair of boxer shorts. "I took pants for granted too, man."
"Don't worry. I think you'll go home soon, buddy."
Soda sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes on the bags of IV fluids and medicines that were still flowing into his veins. "I sure hope so. I think I'm already starting to go a little crazy."
Steve thought of his own days in the hospital, empathizing even under the different circumstances. "Yeah. It'll make you feel like that."
"I don't feel so great, honestly, but it's better to be able to get up and walk around now." Soda turned to rest his bandaged arm on the pillow, the dark blue of the splint against the white material, as he kept himself upright. He felt the arm ache, a tingle moving through it. "I wonder when I can take this thing off. It gets uncomfortable."
"You mean the splint?"
"Yeah. I know the bandage is going to be a while." Soda touched the velcro that held the splint in place, eyeing the beige bandage that covered his wound, medical tape sealing it. "I wonder what it looks like now."
"Probably still pretty rough, buddy."
"I don't want to talk to the cops, Stevie."
Steve couldn't help but think of the presumptuous question Officer Green had asked Darry and his own explosive anger, even while he reassured his friend. "They know you didn't do anything wrong, man. Besides, Darry won't let them til you're up to it."
"But I don't mean I think they'll believe I did something wrong or anything. It's not that. I just don't want to talk about what happened. I don't even think I can."
The sanctuary held the sound of mingling, the people within conversing with one another after a typical Sunday morning service.
Nicholas made his way over to Audrey, his Bible tucked under one arm. "Hi."
Audrey smiled, giving Nicholas a peck on the cheek. "It's so good to see you!"
Nicholas felt himself blush, the affection unexpected. "It's good to see you too."
"So how's the rest of your weekend been?"
"Hectic, honestly. But I'm grateful for it. Hectic is better than tragic."
"Tragic? Why would it have been tragic?"
Nicholas took a seat on the pew closest to the altar, motioning for Audrey to join him. "You've met Sodapop."
"Yes. He comes with you and Steve a lot. Goodness, I won't ever forget meeting him. Where is Steve today anyway? I thought for sure he'd be here to tease you about us, now that we've actually gone on a date."
"Oh. Don't worry. He teased me plenty right after I got home But he's at the hospital with Sodapop right now."
"Hospital? Why?"
"Sodapop got shot the same night we went out. Probably around the time we were out. It happened at the DX he and Steve both work at."
"You said it wasn't tragic, so I take it he's going to be okay?"
"Yeah. Looks like it. Thank God."
"I like Sodapop. He's a sweet kid. Please tell him I'm praying for him."
"Damn it. I can't even shuffle right now."
Steve reached for the deck of cards, taking it from Soda's hands. "Here. Let me do it. You have the IV, and you need to rest that arm anyway, man."
Soda picked up the styrofoam cup that was on the tray between them, taking a long swallow of iced water. "Yeah. You're probably right."
Soda watched Steve split the deck in half, starting the shuffle. "Hey, Stevie, would you call Penny for me later?"
The cards created a bridge underneath Steve's thumbs, as he answered. "Of course I will. What do you want me to tell her?"
"Just that I'm sorry I didn't get to call her yesterday, like I was supposed to. And, obviously, you can tell her what happened.
Steve finished the shuffle, the deck landing in a neat stack, before he started to deal.
Soda watched cards slide toward him, though he didn't move to pick them up. "But tell her I'm okay, even though I-"
Steve waited for Soda to finish, as he dealt the last few cards, giving each of them a hand of seven.
"And that I had to have surgery because I got-"
Steve picked up his hand, though he was watching his best friend.
Soda reached for the cards, his expression growing more stricken, as the words wouldn't form. "I mean, I know I got-"
Steve's mind filled in the blank, understanding what Soda couldn't say. "I get it, buddy. I'll call her for you, okay? And I'll tell her why you're here."
Feet moved along the pavement of the church parking lot, as the members of the congregation made their way to their cars.
Nicholas opened his driver's side door, setting his Bible inside the car, as he stared at Audrey. She was across the lot, engaged in a conversation with Vivian, long auburn hair moving in the breeze. He found himself smiling, as her eyes made contact with his.
"You and my sister really do like each other, don't you?"
Nicholas turned to see Samuel standing beside him, a smile playing on the preacher's lips. "You sound just like Steve."
"That must mean he's good with it then."
"He is. He kept telling me it'd be fine for me and Audrey to go out. But I still asked him one more time before our date on Friday."
"From what I've heard about it, you two have talked over everything you should. That's all Steve needs."
"Sometimes, I think I needed it even than he did. He's been reassuring me the most."
Samuel stared at Vivian, as he spoke the news he'd so far kept between himself and his wife. "Vivian's pregnant."
Nicholas' gaze moved from Audrey to Samuel. "That's good news, right?"
"Very good news. She wants a baby. We both want a baby. But I've been needing reassurance myself."
"I can understand why you would. I know it's not easy to think about. I didn't know you before Matthew died, but for what it's worth, I can see you being a great dad."
"Given everything you know, that's worth a lot to me." Samuel put a hand on Nicholas' shoulder. "I need to go, but tell Steve I'll see him soon. Sodapop too. Make sure he knows we all love him."
Darry watched Diane, who was Soda's nurse for the day, wrap the blood pressure cuff around his brother's left arm. "Do you know anything about when he might be able to go home?"
Diane secured the velcro on the cuff, then reached for her stethoscope. "I don't. But Dr. Simons will be here early tomorrow morning."
Soda watched the numbered meter, as he felt the cuff squeeze his arm and the bell of the stethoscope press against his skin. "I know I'm ready to go home."
Diane let the cuff deflate, then listened to the sounds to indicate pressure, as she watched the meter. "You're doing well, and your wound seems to be healing just as it should. So, hopefully, we'll be able to release you very soon."
Soda heard the sound of velcro, as the blood pressure cuff was removed from his arm. He touched the bandage on his other arm, picturing what must be beneath it. "How do you know it's healing?"
Diane wrote down Soda's blood pressure, before putting her stethoscope and the cuff to the side. "You haven't had any fever. Your level of pain has improved." She nodded toward the bandage. "And see how clean the dressing still is? It's not bleeding excessively."
Darry looked at the bandage that had been there since Soda's surgery. "Are you going to change that out soon, or does it stay?"
Diane double-checked the date on Soda's chart, reminding herself of how long it had been since his admission. "The dressing will need to be changed later today. Since it's going on 48 hours."
Soda pictured the bandage being lifted off, then jerked his eyes away from the injury, his gaze landing on a magazine cover several feet away. "Um, Darry, can you hand me that magazine over there?"
Darry reached for the copy of Car and Driver, handing it to Soda, just as Diane made her way out of the room.
Soda flipped through the pages, even as his mind hardly registered the photographs staring back at him.
"Are you okay, little buddy?"
"I'm fine, Dar. I'm not so tired anymore. And you heard what she said. It's healing."
Darry grasped Soda's hand, seeing his brother look up at him. "I don't just mean physically."
Soda broke eye contact, looking back down at the magazine. "I'm fine, Darry. Really. I'm just ready to go home. That's all."
"Okay." Darry squeezed Soda's hand, leaning to meet his gaze. "But if you start having a hard time because of what happened to you, promise you'll tell me."
Soda blinked fast, stopping the tears that tried to rise in his eyes. "But I'm not. I'm not having a hard time about it."
"I'm just saying if you do."
Soda nodded, feeling Darry's hand squeeze his own once more. "Sure, Dar. I will. I'll tell you."
Steve heard Penny's voice come on the line, just as Nicholas appeared in the waiting area, still clad in what he'd worn to church. He met his dad's gaze, at the same time he spoke to Soda's sort-of girlfriend. "Hi, Penny. It's Steve. Soda wanted me to call you. He's, um, he's in the hospital."
Nicholas fixed his second cup of coffee for that day, before taking a seat, listening to Steve's end of the conversation.
"Yeah. I know. He's okay though. He's not sick, but he got shot at the DX a couple of nights ago."
Nicholas added cream and sugar to the coffee, the dark brown liquid becoming lighter.
"His right arm. And I don't know yet. He had surgery that night, and he's mostly done all right since though, so I kind of don't think he'll have to stay here much longer."
Nicholas sipped the coffee, imagining Penny's questions on the other end of the line.
"Yeah. He was on oxygen for a little bit cause the pain medicine he was on made him not able to breathe so great, and it made his heart rate go up too. But he's good now."
Nicholas listened to Steve's words, studying his son's expression, as he delivered each piece of news, remembering how hard it had been for him to hear.
"Sure, Penny. I think he'd like that. I'll see you later."
Nicholas saw Steve hang up the phone, then sit down in the chair beside him. "How's Penny with all that?"
"All right, I guess. It probably shocked her. I had to make sure I told her Soda's okay first, you know?"
"Because there's nothing like not knowing that, is there?"
"No. There's really not. How was church? Did you talk to Samuel?"
"Yeah. After I told him about Soda, he asked how you're doing too. He said to tell you he'll see you soon. I also talked to Audrey."
Steve smiled, giving his dad's shoulder a light shove. "And how was that?"
Nicholas felt a blush creep up his face, remembering how Audrey had kissed him on the cheek in the sanctuary. "It was good, I guess. She was expecting you to be there at church to tease the two of us."
"Oh. I'll get back to that soon, Dad. So you told her about Soda too?"
"Yeah. She said he's a sweet kid, and she'll be praying for him."
"So when are you two going out again?"
"We didn't talk about it yet, Son. Why? You got something in mind for us?"
Steve rubbed his chin in thought, attempting to be serious, even though he couldn't stop smiling. "You like to cook so much, so you should make her a nice dinner. You know, light candles and all that too. And play some music."
Nicholas nodded along, before adding his own idea. "And make sure you're out of the house, so I know you're not watching."
Steve laughed. "Sure! I'll leave you two alone. So long as you fix me a plate of food too."
"Consider it done." Nicholas still smiled, even as he shifted the focus. "I'm really glad you're okay with this, Son. It makes it better for me. But if anything starts to bother you-"
Steve shook his head, as he held onto Nicholas' shoulder. "There's nothing to bother me, Dad. I swear, if I have to, I'll tell you it's okay everyday. I want you to be happy."
"I am happy, Son. And I hear you. I just want you to know you can come to me. Always. Even if things get serious between me and Audrey, especially if they do. That'll still be true."
"Aw, I know they love me. Everyone loves me."
"It's nice to see your self-confidence is still intact, Sodapop."
Nicholas chuckled at the banter between Soda and Pony. "Well, I'll tell Samuel there was never a doubt then."
Soda smiled, even as he felt a tingle in his fingers that extended up to his elbow. "Nope. Not even a little bit."
Pony reached for the tin box of dominoes, spreading them out on the wheeled tray that was between himself and Soda. "You said Dr. Simons will be by tomorrow, right?"
Soda picked up a domino, setting it up straight, as his eyes automatically counted the eight black dots. "Yeah. Diane said early."
Pony picked up another domino, setting it behind Soda's. "I know Darry's going to make me go to school, ain't he?"
Soda added a third domino to the forming line, ignoring the pain that moved through his right arm. "I'm sure he will. Don't argue with him about it, Pone. Just go. It ain't a big deal. If I go home tomorrow, you'll see me right after."
Pony reached for a fourth and fifth domino, putting them directly behind the first three. "And if you don't, you'll be sitting here bored out of your mind."
Soda looked from the dominoes to Nicholas. "Speaking of sitting here, I'm real glad you made Steve go home with you yesterday. I know he didn't want to. I was sleeping, but I heard you guys talking to each other and to me too."
Nicholas patted Soda's shoulder. "He never would've left if I didn't come in here and get him."
Soda slid one of the dominoes along the surface of the tray, the set of six black dots moving under his gaze. "Nah. He sure wouldn't have. I just-" His eyes moved back up to Nicholas. "I wouldn't want him to get where he isn't taking care of himself and anything happen, you know?"
Nicholas nodded, following Soda's thoughts exactly, as he squeezed his shoulder. "Yeah. I know just what you mean, Sodapop. But don't worry. I'll make sure he does."
Steve found himself sitting in the corner of the hospital chapel, his blue jeans against the wine color of the carpet. "I don't understand what's wrong with me, God. I don't want to be angry like I have been. But it's okay if I am, right?"
Steve folded his hands, bowing his head to rest against them. "I feel a lot of things I don't think I should, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with them. But they hurt like hell, God. I'm just being honest with you."
Steve's hands gripped one another, the hold becoming tighter, as he squeezed his eyes closed. "I keep telling myself Soda's okay. That is what matters the most. But help me with all of this too, please. Help me know what to do with it, God, so it'll go away. I don't want to feel like this inside. What happened ain't even about me, and I need to be there for Soda this time."
Steve allowed his eyes to open, his hands unfolding and dropping to the carpet, fibers rough against his skin. "I hope he recovers okay. He prayed for me a lot too, so let my prayers help him through this. No matter what else happens, God, please let them be enough."
"It's okay, sweetie. It doesn't look bad. But you don't have to look if you don't want to."
Soda heard Diane's soft voice from his right side, but kept his eyes fixed in the other direction. "I don't. I can't."
Darry, in the chair on Soda's left side, kept a hand on his brother's back. "It's fine, little buddy. She's right. You don't have to. Just look at me."
Soda felt warm water run over his right arm, as Diane rinsed the injured area that had been stitched. He looked at his big brother, their eyes locking. "I just don't want to see it, Dar."
Darry watched Diane, gloved hands careful, as she examined the closed bullet wound. He saw traces of blood on the gauze she'd just removed, his eyes then drawn to the stitches in Soda's arm. "That's okay. But it really doesn't look that bad."
Soda nodded, but still refused to turn his head. Anxiety he didn't fully understand gaining a hold, he reached for the front of Darry's shirt, pulling him closer.
Darry's hand went to the back of Soda's head, as his little brother hid his face in his shoulder. "You're good, little buddy. I'm right here."
Soda felt new gauze touch his arm and the stretching material of a new bandage wrap around it. "Sorry. I don't mean to be a baby about it. It's not cause it hurts real bad or anything. I just can't."
Darry saw Diane's eyes meet his, her expression coated in sympathy, as she taped the wound dressing in place. "You're not being a baby, Sodapop. That's not what this is. So don't even apologize."
Soda heard the sound of running water, before he felt the splint go back around his arm. "Are you finished? Is it covered up now?"
Diane put the velcro straps in place, securing the splint, before she moved to the other side of the bed. Laying a gentle hand on Soda's shoulder, she spoke to him, her voice laced with compassion. "Listen to me, sweetie. You went through something very traumatic. Your injury is a reminder of it. Whatever you're feeling right now is because of that, and I want you to know it's normal if you have a hard time."
Soda loosened his grip on Darry, lifting his head up. "Okay." He drew his injured arm onto his lap, looking at the new bandage. "Thanks for saying that."
As the nurse left the room, Darry put his own hand over Soda's. "She said it because it's true. I hope you know that."
Soda's expression became one of thought, eyebrows furrowing, as he looked down at his right hand and felt a sharp pain in one finger. "Yeah. I guess I know. Um, Dar, I know you're not expecting this, but could you go for a little bit? I think I need to be alone."
Water flowed from the top tier of the fountain, cascading down into the waiting reservoir.
Pony's pencil went still, pausing on the blue line of a sheet of notebook paper, when Steve settled on the stone bench across from him. "Hey."
Steve saw Pony continue writing, understanding the act of putting words to paper in a way he hadn't up until several months ago. "I hope that helps, Kid."
Pony looked up at him. "Huh?"
Steve nodded toward the notebook. "Whatever you're writing, I hope it helps."
"Oh." Pony glanced at the fountain, the sound of flowing water in his ears, before he looked at the garden that was just a couple of feet away. He kept his gaze on the colors of the blooming flowers, as he spoke. "No offense, but I didn't expect you to be out here."
Steve shrugged, lifting his feet up onto the bench, as his eyes swept around their surroundings. "None taken, Kid. But what can I say? I needed some air, and I guess sometimes, people change."
The IV tubing, fluids and medicines moving within it to nourish and heal Soda's body, connected to the needle taped to his hand. He stared at it, imagining yanking it out and walking away, pretending the shooting never even happened. But I can't, he thought, his eyes moving to his bandaged arm that was marked with the physical trauma of a bullet wound, present to tell the story for him.
Soda reached for the velcro on the splint, undoing it, as he felt a numbing sensation move along his fingers and hand. My body won't let me forget, he thought. Even if my mind stops flashing. Even if the images go away.
Soda slid the splint off, finding that moving the arm around didn't hurt as much as he'd suspected it would, though it remained sore. He rotated the limb and extended it, the new bandage staying in place. He felt a pain shimmy through his fingers, as he flexed them, then made a fist. I don't want to remember, he thought, a feeling of weakness making him rest the arm at his side, as his gaze moved over the bandage once more. He imagined pulling it off, stripping away the medical tape to see the visible manifestation of the memories he held within, of the voice that echoed, and the hidden face that needed no identity to haunt his very being.
Soda felt the fear that had been resting in his heart taking aim and ready to strike. It crouched behind walls, but remained poised to make its dreaded presence known. He blinked his eyes, taking in a breath to shove the fear down, images and sounds that desired to disrupt and control his memories pushed along with it. He let the breath out, the weight on his chest easing, as he exhaled, picturing the internal trauma floating away into the air.
Tears pricked at Soda's eyes, and he found that the drops that would express emotions and bring visibility to the truth inside were something he didn't want right now. He pressed the heels of his hands against both eyes, not letting the tears escape. I don't want to cry, he told himself. If I do, it'll be real, and it will all come out of me.
Soda took in another breath, inhaling, as he felt the threatening tears recede. He exhaled, putting a smile on his face. I'm not going to feel this, he decided. I'm not going to cry.
