Their spirits held on, not succumbing to the waves that lit fires beneath the pain, sending it reeling out of the dark corners in which it lurked.
"I'm sorry, honey. I'm just not feeling very well right now."
Vivian wrapped her arm around Samuel's waist, her hand feeling his cheeks and forehead. "You don't look well either. What's wrong?"
Samuel leaned against his wife, breathing in her presence, as the ripples of grief enveloped him. "I miss him. I miss him so much, and I'm afraid it could happen again."
"Are you okay now, buddy? I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt you."
Steve felt Soda squeeze his shoulder, as the Ford came to a stop beside the Curtis' driveway. He nodded, his gaze meeting that of his best friend. "Yeah. I'm okay now, Sodapop. And I know that, man. You were just being honest."
Soda glanced out his window, seeing his house and Darry's truck that was parked in the driveway, beside his own Chevy. "Yeah. I was. I just hate that I made you cry."
"Aw, well, I've been as much of a bawl baby as you have lately."
"So you forgive me?"
"Of course I do. But you didn't do anything wrong, buddy. The stuff we've been talking about is just hard. But you need to talk about it, and even if it's painful for me, I want to go through it all with you."
"That means so much to me, Stevie. It really does."
"You're my best friend, so when you hurt, I hurt. It doesn't matter what the reason is. So being there for you, it helps me get through whatever I'm feeling too."
"I can dig how that works. I feel the same way."
Steve switched off the car, finding that he remained in a fragile place, as tears burned his eyes once more.
Soda saw Darry's face through one of the front windows, momentarily meeting his gaze, before he turned back to Steve. "I guess I'll talk to Darry tonight and tell him- Hey, you don't look okay, buddy."
"No. I am. I was just thinking."
"About what?"
"Sodapop, I couldn't do anything to stop it the night you got shot."
"No. Of course you couldn't, man."
"But that's not even all. You were talking about school the other day, dropping out to help you and your brothers stay together."
"Yeah. What about it?"
"I couldn't stop that either. I couldn't stop you from losing your parents and after, there was all kinds of shit I couldn't do anything about."
"Samuel told me he thinks that what I'm feeling now could be from other stuff too. Like grief and fear coming back up, I guess, cause I've been through a lot, even besides getting shot."
"I can damn sure get on board with that, buddy. He's probably right. It seems like shit that hurts you has a way of connecting and hitting you all at once. Hell, it did that with me too."
"I hope you know it's okay you couldn't stop anything from happening. You're not turning up new ways to feel guilty, are you?"
"Nah. I'm not. I was just going to say I couldn't stop anything that's hurt you, and that makes me want to do whatever I can to try to help now. I'll do anything to make it all better."
"I keep imagining that we'll have this beautiful baby, a child to love and care for. But then, I worry we'll lose this one too."
Vivian listened to the fear that plagued Samuel's heart, then reached for his hand. "I understand, sweetie. That worries me too. Losing a child is something you don't ever expect to happen. It seems impossible. So once it does happen, you can't go back to living in that perspective. But we can have some faith that we won't go through that pain again."
Samuel blinked back the tears in his eyes, as he stared at Vivian, seeing her as both his wife and a grieving mother. "I can't. Because if Matthew hadn't loved me and wanted to spend time with me, he'd still be alive."
"Samuel, it's not your fault. It was an accident. You're going to love this baby, and he or she is going to love you and be safe with you."
"How can I know that, Vivian? How can I know something won't happen to this child too when I'm not looking? Matthew drowned right there out in the backyard! He died because I didn't even see him go back outside!"
"But it was still an accident. If you'd known what was happening, you would have saved him, and I know you still tried."
"But I was too late! I don't know why God would let me be a dad again. I don't know why he'd ever give me another chance."
"Because he loves you and wants to bless you. Matthew is safe with him now, and God doesn't blame you any more than I do. He knows it wasn't your fault."
"But I don't! I thought I did. I thought I had some peace with this, but knowing we're having this baby, I can't imagine being able to trust myself. I can't imagine having any faith."
"That was a quick shower, little buddy."
Soda stepped into the living room, still rubbing a towel on his wet hair, as he joined Darry on the couch. "Uh, yeah, I guess it was."
Darry, relaxing against the couch cushions, moved his gaze away from the television to look at his brother. "So how was the rest of today?"
Soda let the towel fall onto his lap, his hands moving over the damp material. "It was all right. Just work and stuff. Then, I uh, went over to Samuel's house to talk to him. Cause he um, told me I could if I wanted to."
"Oh. Okay."
"And I think- I mean, I might want to see a counselor."
Darry sat up straight, all of his attention now drawn to Soda. "All right. I think you should do that, little buddy. I still have the card Dr. Simons gave you at your last appointment."
"Dar, I know I could do it, but would you- Would you call for me?"
"Sure. I'll call tomorrow and see when they can get you in." Darry saw how Soda still wouldn't look at him and laid a hand on his back. "Is there something that made you change your mind?"
"No! I mean, I don't know. Maybe. I just feel like I'm getting worse, not better. And maybe it could help cause there are a lot of things bothering me."
"I think it's a good idea. I really do. I feel like I can't do enough for you, so maybe someone who knows more can."
"Darry, you do more than enough for me. So don't feel bad, please. You were even making me smile at the hospital today. Damn, you were there,and it's not like you had to be."
"I'm not just talking about stuff like that, little buddy. I'm talking about being able to help you with the flashbacks and the way you're feeling and thinking."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I-"
Darry squeezed Soda's hand, as he shook his head, cutting off the apology. "No. Don't be. What's going on is not your fault, and it's not your fault I wish I could do more for you."
"I'm nervous about it, Dar. I'm nervous about talking to somebody I don't know about all this stuff."
"I know you are, but don't get too far ahead of yourself. Take this one step at a time too, and we'll just see how it goes."
"Praise the Lord! How good it is to sing praises to our God; for he is gracious, and a song of praise is seemly. The Lord builds up Jersusalem; he gathers the outcasts of Israel. He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds."
"Dad?"
Nicholas lifted his eyes up from the Psalm he was reading to see Steve looking at him through his open bedroom door. "Hey, Son. I was just doing a little reading, before I go to bed."
Steve went over and sat beside his dad in the room lit only by the lamp on Nicholas' bedside table. "I want to ask you something."
"Okay."
"Do you ever still think about when I overdosed? Like how you felt then and what you said to me or wanted to say?"
Nicholas' eyes moved over the Psalm, the pages of the Bible still laying open in front of him. "Yes. I do, Son. I almost lost you, so it's not something I'll stop thinking about completely."
"Oh. But does it bother you? I mean, does it still ever make you feel sad or guilty or anything like that?"
"Well, of course. I think it always will."
"I wish it didn't. I never meant for that to happen."
"I know you didn't. But it's that way because I love you. Why are you asking me this, Son? What's on your mind?"
"Soda's been thinking about it. About my suicide attempt. I don't want him to. He's got enough bothering him without me adding to it. I couldn't stop everything else, but I sure could have stopped that."
"I know Sodapop doesn't blame you, Son. Not any more than I do. If that's bothering him, it's for the same reason it bothers me. He loves you too."
"I feel like I've been through this already, you know? With the guilt. But I guess it's kind of coming back up."
"Did you tell Sodapop that? Maybe you should."
"I kind of did. I just started crying, and I told him I'm sorry. But that made him feel bad too. I want him to be honest with me, Dad. I don't want him to not tell me stuff or feel bad for telling the truth."
"I'm more than sure he doesn't want you to feel bad either."
"I know. He told me not to. It's really hard though."
"I think you should tell him, Son. That's the best way to deal with all that guilt. You can both be completely honest with each other."
"I ain't going to mess with it, Dar. It's healed up a lot since that happened anyway."
Darry eyed Soda's right arm and the bandage he had just unwrapped from the nearly healed injury, the reassurance not making him forget what his middle brother had done to the skin not long ago. "All right, little buddy. I guess it is up to you, and you're right. It has."
Soda put a drop of food coloring in the pancake batter. "And it's not like I'm doing anything at work that could hurt it or anything. I can't wear a bandage forever."
Pony looked in the bowl of batter Soda had made, an amused smile on his face. "Blue pancakes, huh?"
Soda grinned at Pony, as he lifted the bowl to pour some of the batter into the hot pan on the stove. "Yep. Can't have normal pancakes now, can we?"
Darry had just opened the refrigerator and was reaching for the bottle of maple syrup when the sound of tin clattering against the tile floor grabbed his attention.
Soda backed away from the stove, frozen, as he stared at the mixing bowl on the floor and the blue pancake batter that had splattered along the tile and the counter. "Sorry. I shouldn't have- I mean, I should've used my other hand to pour it so-"
Pony picked the bowl up off the floor, then used a spatula to flip the pancake that was cooking. "It's okay, Soda. There's plenty of time to make more, and it's not hard to clean up."
Darry handed Pony the box of pancake mix and slung his arm over Soda's shoulders. "It's all right, little buddy. It was just an accident."
Soda's head dropped, unable to bear the understanding and compassion that surrounded him. "It was just like the mug of hot chocolate that day, Dar. I lost my grip, and it slipped."
Darry reached for the spatula and scooped the just-cooked pancake onto a plate, leaving the burner on, as he saw Pony was almost finished mixing a new batch of batter. "I know. I know it did. But it's still an accident."
Pony held the bowl out for Soda to see, complete with food coloring. "Look. Still blue. I made it just like you did."
Soda managed the smallest of smiles, as he nodded at Pony, who then poured some batter into the pan on the stove.
Darry grabbed a roll of paper towels, beginning to clean up the spilled batter.
Soda stared at the pancake that was cooking, the circle of blue batter beginning to bubble on top, creating the familiar aroma of breakfast, as heat seeped into it. His gaze shifted to the mess that remained, the splattered mix waiting there for the paper towels Darry was using to soak it up. He reached for one, ripping it from the roll, then crouched down on the floor. "Sorry, guys. You shouldn't have to clean up after me. I ain't a kid."
Darry balled up a used paper towel and tossed it into the trashcan. "Don't sweat it, Pepsi Cola. It's fine."
Pony flipped the half-done pancake over. "Yeah, Soda. It ain't like you meant to do it."
Soda looked down at the paper towel he held, the blue batter saturating it. "No. I didn't mean to."
Darry, ever aware of how Soda's emotions often played out on his expressive face, couldn't refrain from watching his middle brother. He saw his brown eyes cloud over with a palpable downheartedness that the oldest Curtis knew sprang from so much more than spilled pancake mix. "Don't feel bad about it, Sodapop. Things happen."
Soda lifted himself back up and tossed the paper towel into the trash can, seeing Pony cooking another pancake and realizing that his big brother was watching him. "I ain't going to start bawling or something, Dar. Ya'll are right. It ain't a big deal, and I don't feel bad about it. It was an accident. I'll just be more careful next time."
Darry heard the feigned sincerity in Soda's words, the sound of his middle brother's voice only serving to make the assurances unconvincing.
Soda turned away from Pony and Darry, his eyes traveling to his right arm. He stared at the raised ridge that was a forming scar, the skin around it pale from being covered for most of the time since the shooting, small bruises marking where the needles had been placed to test his nerve function. How can I not feel bad? he wondered.
"Hey, Soda! Breakfast is served. Come on and eat, before we all have to split."
Soda broke out of his musings at the sound of Pony's voice, though one internal question lingered in the tender center of his heart: How can I not feel like I'm even less than what I used to be?
Darry pressed the receiver to his ear, as his finger dialed the phone number on the card in front of him. Alice Grayson, it read. Community Counselor.
"Hey, man. How's it been today?"
Soda shrugged in response to Steve's question, as he watched the most recent customer's car pull away from the gas pumps. "Okay. I guess."
Steve's eyes were drawn to Soda's arm, noticing his injury was no longer covered. "Is it okay for you to not wear the bandage now?"
"Yeah. I'm healing up, so it's fine."
"Are you sure? I don't-"
"Yes! I'm sure. It's fine, Steve. Damn it. I can take care of myself, you know."
"Hey! I was just asking. There's no reason to get all pissed at me."
"I don't need you guys hovering over me all the time, like I can't do anything on my own!"
"Hovering? No one is doing that. What the hell are you talking about, man?"
"Just leave me alone! If you're really my friend, you'll listen to me."
"I am listening to you! And what do you mean if I'm really your friend? You know I'm your friend, Sodapop."
"Leave me the hell alone then."
"Fine. I'm going to go punch in. You should know better than to do this with me. I know all about lashing out, so you may as well give it up right now. Come talk to me when you're done being a jerk."
Samuel looked up, clad in the dress shirt and pants that made up his work uniform, his eyes meeting the ceiling above the sanctuary. "I'm sorry, God. I should have more faith."
He sat back against the wood of the pew, his vision blurring with tears, honest words of prayer flowing from his lips. "But please help me with that because I don't know how."
Soda looked at the clock, as he punched out, ending his shift for the day. "Damn it. I shouldn't have been like that to him." Sighing, he went through the door that would take him into the garage. He peeked inside, seeing his best friend working underneath a car he knew had come in for repair earlier that afternoon. "Stevie?"
Steve remained under the car, the sigh clear in his voice, as he spoke. "Yeah, Soda?"
"I'm sorry for the stuff I said. I didn't mean any of it."
Steve slid out from under the car, his hands greasy, as he sat up on the creeper. "Where did all that come from, man?"
Soda stepped all the way into the garage, looking over at the jacked-up car, before his eyes dropped to the bare concrete floor. "I've just been real frustrated."
"With what?"
"Myself. But not cause of what you said. And I know you're my friend. I shouldn't ever say anything like I don't know that."
"Damn right." Steve stood to his feet, reaching for a rag to wipe his hands. "I was just checking on you. I don't want you to think that I don't believe you can take care of yourself and stuff. It's not like that."
"I know. I know that's not what you think."
"It's how you feel about yourself, isn't it, buddy?"
"Yeah, I guess. So you ain't pissed at me?"
Steve tossed the rag back down and went over to Soda, squeezing his shoulder. "No. I'm not. Like I told you, I know all about lashing out."
"You're off tomorrow afternoon, right?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Darry um, he called earlier to tell me there was a counseling appointment open tomorrow cause somebody cancelled."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"You don't have to, but yeah, I kind of do."
"Then, I will. I meant it when I told you that, man. If I can make it better or easier, I want to. Even if all I can do is be there with you."
"I feel like it's been forever since I last saw you, Sodapop."
Soda hardly allowed the words to leave Penny's mouth, before he pressed his lips to hers.
Penny, though she hadn't expected the kiss, reciprocated it. She stroked Soda's back and shoulders, as she lie back against the pillows on her bed.
Soda threaded his fingers through Penny's hair, as his tongue slid into her mouth.
Penny moved one hand to Soda's face, brushing her fingers over the skin, before she broke the kiss. "We're still taking things slow, right?"
Soda's face stayed close to Penny's, falling deep into her blue eyes. "Yes. Of course we are."
Penny smiled at Soda, as she drew him closer to her once more and then resumed the kiss.
"Sorry, Dar. I guess I just wasn't thinking and kind of forgot some stuff."
Darry absorbed the familiar words coming from Pony's mouth, as he looked over the two exams in front of him, both with failing grades written in red ink. "Forgot some stuff? Ponyboy Michael, what the hell have you been doing for the last two weeks?"
Pony eyed his big brother, disbelief etched into his features. "Are you kidding me? I've been trying, like I always do!"
"This is not trying! You can do a lot better than these grades. It's getting close to the end of the year, Ponyboy. You don't have the time to fix this now!"
"Don't tell me I'm not trying. That's not fair! And it's not like these are my only grades. These are the only tests I've failed all year. We still have finals too!"
"Then, you better get to studying. You're coming up on your junior year, and this ain't the time to be messin' around."
"Messing around? Have you been here lately, Darry? It doesn't make sense to you that I'd have a hard time focusing?" Pony reached for the tests in Darry's hands and snatched them back, as he turned away from his brother. "We're not all like you, you know. We can't all just keep going everyday like nothing hurts."
"It feels nice just to lie here with you."
Penny looked at Soda's face, sharing the same sentiment, as she put her head on his shoulder, one hand resting on his chest. "It does. How have things been this week?"
Soda reached for Penny's hand that was on his chest, covering it with his own. "Kind of rough sometimes."
"You had those tests yesterday?"
"Yeah. I did. They were uncomfortable, and I'm still sore from it, but Darry stayed with me the whole time."
"So how's work? You went back on Monday, right?"
"It hasn't been terrible. Not most of the time anyway. Stuff scares me pretty easy, and I had one of the uh, flashbacks that made me feel like I was, you know, going through that night again. They're real strong memories."
"So your boss has been nice about everything?"
"He's been great. Better than I could ever ask for. I miss working on the cars though. He hasn't let me yet. Not that I blame him or anything like that."
Penny moved her hand from underneath Soda's and touched the forming scar on his arm. "It looks like you're healing up well. Amazing how that works, isn't it?"
"That's why you want to be a nurse. To help people heal, right?"
"Yep. Pretty much. I think it's interesting too how the physical body can be sick or injured and come through it. It's incredible to see what time can do."
But what about the rest of me? Soda wondered. What about the part that's not physical, the inside no one can see? What about my heart?
Soda's eyes flitted back and forth between his brothers. "Is something going on with ya'll or what?"
Pony spoke first, his fork piercing the hotdog on his plate. "Yeah. Darry's pissed at me cause I failed two tests."
Darry held his silence, covering his own hotdog in ketchup.
Soda reached for a bun and split it open. "Oh. Why'd you fail them, Pone? What happened?"
Pony's gaze locked with Darry's for a moment, as if waiting for him to jump in with his own answer to the question. "I just had some trouble concentrating. That's all. It's not because I don't know the material."
Soda took a bite of his hotdog, as his gaze moved from Darry, then back to Pony. "Oh. Well, I'm sure you'll do better next time. You got good grades on the rest, right?"
Pony nodded, wiping a mixture of ketchup and mustard from his mouth. "Yeah, I get great marks in math and science. I'm glad someone remembers that."
Darry stood up abruptly, the legs of his chair screeching against the kitchen floor. He picked up his plate, then went out the back door.
Soda heard the door slam behind his big brother, his gaze remaining fixed in that direction. "Damn. There ain't a reason to go trying to make it worse, Pone. You two are making me tense. I hate it when you guys fight."
Pony picked at the corn on his plate. "I'm not making it worse. He didn't even try to understand, Soda. He asked me what I've been doing for the last two weeks and accused me of not trying, of messin' around."
"Darry knows you do your best. He'll calm down eventually. It ain't like he's used to you bringing home failing grades."
"He doesn't get it. Not everyone can hold it together like he does and focus when shit is happening around them."
"What are you talking about? Why couldn't you focus?"
"You. I couldn't focus because of you, Sodapop! I know Darry can go to work everyday and roof houses, like nothing happened and be just fine. But I can't!"
"You did lousy on those tests because of me?"
"Because I've been worried about you, but even worse than that, I was scared to death when you got shot. And it was so hard to see you in that hospital."
"Oh. I'm sorry, Pone. I really didn't know. I mean, I did, but I didn't know it was making school hard for you."
"Well, it is. It's tough watching you go through all this. You know, the nightmares and everything else and then knowing you're still hurt. I wish it never happened to you, but it did."
"I'm so sorry, kiddo. But I'm- I'm okay. All right? I don't want you to worry about this stuff. I know you were scared that night. I was too, little brother. I hate remembering it, but it's in my head all the time."
"You would never try to kill yourself, would you, Sodapop?"
"What? Why are you asking me that?"
"Because I want to know. Because it scares me to think you could ever do anything like that."
"This is what you've been worrying about? But why, Pone? What made you even think of it?"
"How could I not think of it? You haven't seemed like yourself, and Steve did it not that long ago. I know you've been going through some stuff that bothers you the same way. I know he's had flashbacks, you do too."
"But I'm not... That's not what I'm going to do, Pony. I swear. I wouldn't do that. What Steve's been through, it's different. He was hurt in a different way. I'm not feeling anything like he did." Please believe me, Soda thought. I need you to believe me. Because I can't imagine telling you the truth.
