A/N: Thanks to all you lovely people who've reviewed! My family keeps
coming in and looking at me funny as I squeal each time I see a new review.
I've never gotten so many in such a short time. I was going to wait a
little longer to put this part up, but I'm afraid Purified Darkness and her
monkey are gonna kill me, so here ya go. I've taken some liberties with
this part; I hope all y'all like it. Only one more chapter to go!
Chapter 2: Coping with Loss
February 1, 2003
I stood there for a few moments, unable to tear my eyes away from my red palm. A hand on my arm jolted me back to my senses and I startled, pulling my arm away from the hand. As I did so, I saw Soda flinch. Great, I thought miserably, now I've managed to make both of my brothers afraid of me. Some guardian I turned out to be. Soda herded me back to my chair and pushed me down into it. I was still stunned by my actions. It seemed Soda had gotten over his shock though, because he started to lay into me.
"How dare you!" he exclaimed angrily. "How could you hit him? He's just a kid, you know he ain't trying to cause trouble, he's jus' absent-minded." Soda kept going, but I wasn't listening, instead drawn back to my hand.
"What have I done?" I wondered aloud. Soda stopped his rambling. It was all beginning to hit me now. Ponyboy had run off, in the middle of the night. He was out on the streets, with no coat and nowhere to go. I didn't know when he'd come back, or even if he'd be back. Soda seemed to know what I was thinking, because he sat on the arm of the chair and began rubbing my back.
"Pony'll come back," he assured me. "He'll probably be hopping mad at you, but he'll be back after he's calmed down." I sure hoped he was right. Suddenly I wondered if I had ever told my kid brother how much I loved him. I mean, I figured he knew, but sometimes, the look he got in his eyes around me, it seemed like he was afraid of me.
Soda was wrong, as it turned out. Pony didn't come back. But the next morning there was a dead Soc in the park and soon fingers were pointing at Ponyboy and Johnny, who'd also disappeared that night. Dally got hauled in by the fuzz for questioning, as usual.
The next five days were a blur. I ate little, I slept little, and I was so preoccupied at work that I very nearly walked right off a roof. The gang came over every night as usual, but everyone was more subdued. You would have thought it was the two noisiest who were missing, not the quietest ones.
The whole time, one thought kept pounding through my head: this was all my fault. If I hadn't lost my temper, if I hadn't hit him, if I hadn't made him scared of me, he'd be home now, not mixed up in this whole murder thing. I'm sorry, Mom and Dad, I thought sourly. I promised I'd take good care of him, but I sure haven't done a very good job of that. I was losing everyone I loved.
The day after Pony had run off, I came home from work to find Soda sitting alone on the couch, crying. I immediately dropped my jacket and keys and rushed to his side. "Soda, what's wrong?" I asked worriedly. He just leaned against me and continued to cry softly. I rubbed his back, hoping that whatever had him so upset wasn't anything to do with Ponyboy. Finally he calmed down enough to tell me what had happened.
"Sandy.she's gone." he sighed sadly. "She moved to Florida." It took a while for me to get the whole story out of him, but apparently he had proposed to her and her parents hit the roof. They sent her to her grandmother in Florida instead and he was to have no further contact with her. Poor kid, I thought, hugging him tight. Ponyboy and Sandy in one week were just too much.
The next few days were awful. The only thing on my mind was that I was the cause for all the mess. Soda cried himself to sleep every night, which was unheard of for my usually happy-go-lucky brother. I started doing something unusual too: I started drinking.
I drank some in high school, though I rarely got drunk. It was more of social drinking then. After Mom and Dad died though, I started drinking more heavily. The funeral had passed by about two weeks earlier when Soda found out. Pony was oblivious, too wrapped up in his own grief to question, but Soda. Night after night he'd watch me come in later than I should have, sometimes barely able to propel myself to bed. Finally, one night, he got in my way. I'd pushed him against the wall, harder than I really meant to.
"Darry," he'd whispered as his eyes filled with tears. When I turned at him angrily, he'd cowered. That was when I realized the mistake I was making. Without me, my brothers would have no chance of staying together, no chance of having anything like a normal life again. And if the state found out about my drinking, they'd take away the only people I had left. That was the last time I'd had alcohol, until now.
Soda didn't know about my return to drinking until I came home on the third night Pony'd been missing. I'd gone out with some guys from work and had too much. Getting from the car to the house was difficult, as the ground wouldn't stay put. Finally I dragged myself into the living room and collapsed on the couch.
"Darry?" Soda appeared from the hall, looking worried.
"Hey, little buddy," I said. My words slurred together just a bit. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" I wasn't sure what time it was, but it was late.
"Are you drunk?" Soda stared at me, wide-eyed. I thought there was a little fear there in his eyes, but at that point I really didn't care.
"Maybe a little."
"Why?" It was a simple question, but so hard to answer. To be honest, I didn't really know, so I remained silent.
"Darry," Soda said. I could tell he was getting mad.
"Ponyboy hates me," I said miserably after a long minute.
"I'm sure he's gotten over you hitting him."
"No, not for that. Well, probably for that, but he hated me before." My middle brother was quiet, so I continued rambling. "I've heard him talking to the rest of you, Two-Bit told me what he'd said that night, he thinks I want to stick him in a boys' home." I was babbling by now, which just goes to show you how drunk I was. "I just don't want him to get hurt, he doesn't use his head, I couldn't stand if anything happened to him, I mean, I really do love him and now I'll never get to tell him, I drove him away."
"Hey, it's okay," Soda finally said. "He doesn't hate you, he's just a mixed up little kid. And he'll be back, I know he will." He hastily wiped at his eyes. We were both quiet for a minute.
"I'm going to bed," I said, standing abruptly. The room swam before my eyes and I grabbed at the wall to steady myself. Soda moved to help me, but I shook my head. "I'm okay," I said, throwing him a halfhearted grin that he didn't return. I staggered to my room and collapsed into my bed. I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, then started as Soda entered my field of vision.
"Darry, don't drink anymore," he pleaded. He was crying and I thought to myself, he looks so young and scared. Sometimes I forgot he was only sixteen.
"I won't, little buddy," I said softly, then patted the bed. "Come here."
Soda lay down and curled up against my side. He put his head on my chest and an arm across my stomach, and suddenly I realized I'd not only failed Ponyboy, but I'd failed Soda as well. He'd lost not one, but two of the people he cared about most and instead of me comforting and taking care him, here he was taking care of me.
"I'm sorry," I said aloud.
"Mmm, for what?" He was almost asleep.
"I haven't been a very good brother this week, I'll do better, I promise. For you and for Ponyboy." Sodapop didn't respond. He was asleep.
Chapter 2: Coping with Loss
February 1, 2003
I stood there for a few moments, unable to tear my eyes away from my red palm. A hand on my arm jolted me back to my senses and I startled, pulling my arm away from the hand. As I did so, I saw Soda flinch. Great, I thought miserably, now I've managed to make both of my brothers afraid of me. Some guardian I turned out to be. Soda herded me back to my chair and pushed me down into it. I was still stunned by my actions. It seemed Soda had gotten over his shock though, because he started to lay into me.
"How dare you!" he exclaimed angrily. "How could you hit him? He's just a kid, you know he ain't trying to cause trouble, he's jus' absent-minded." Soda kept going, but I wasn't listening, instead drawn back to my hand.
"What have I done?" I wondered aloud. Soda stopped his rambling. It was all beginning to hit me now. Ponyboy had run off, in the middle of the night. He was out on the streets, with no coat and nowhere to go. I didn't know when he'd come back, or even if he'd be back. Soda seemed to know what I was thinking, because he sat on the arm of the chair and began rubbing my back.
"Pony'll come back," he assured me. "He'll probably be hopping mad at you, but he'll be back after he's calmed down." I sure hoped he was right. Suddenly I wondered if I had ever told my kid brother how much I loved him. I mean, I figured he knew, but sometimes, the look he got in his eyes around me, it seemed like he was afraid of me.
Soda was wrong, as it turned out. Pony didn't come back. But the next morning there was a dead Soc in the park and soon fingers were pointing at Ponyboy and Johnny, who'd also disappeared that night. Dally got hauled in by the fuzz for questioning, as usual.
The next five days were a blur. I ate little, I slept little, and I was so preoccupied at work that I very nearly walked right off a roof. The gang came over every night as usual, but everyone was more subdued. You would have thought it was the two noisiest who were missing, not the quietest ones.
The whole time, one thought kept pounding through my head: this was all my fault. If I hadn't lost my temper, if I hadn't hit him, if I hadn't made him scared of me, he'd be home now, not mixed up in this whole murder thing. I'm sorry, Mom and Dad, I thought sourly. I promised I'd take good care of him, but I sure haven't done a very good job of that. I was losing everyone I loved.
The day after Pony had run off, I came home from work to find Soda sitting alone on the couch, crying. I immediately dropped my jacket and keys and rushed to his side. "Soda, what's wrong?" I asked worriedly. He just leaned against me and continued to cry softly. I rubbed his back, hoping that whatever had him so upset wasn't anything to do with Ponyboy. Finally he calmed down enough to tell me what had happened.
"Sandy.she's gone." he sighed sadly. "She moved to Florida." It took a while for me to get the whole story out of him, but apparently he had proposed to her and her parents hit the roof. They sent her to her grandmother in Florida instead and he was to have no further contact with her. Poor kid, I thought, hugging him tight. Ponyboy and Sandy in one week were just too much.
The next few days were awful. The only thing on my mind was that I was the cause for all the mess. Soda cried himself to sleep every night, which was unheard of for my usually happy-go-lucky brother. I started doing something unusual too: I started drinking.
I drank some in high school, though I rarely got drunk. It was more of social drinking then. After Mom and Dad died though, I started drinking more heavily. The funeral had passed by about two weeks earlier when Soda found out. Pony was oblivious, too wrapped up in his own grief to question, but Soda. Night after night he'd watch me come in later than I should have, sometimes barely able to propel myself to bed. Finally, one night, he got in my way. I'd pushed him against the wall, harder than I really meant to.
"Darry," he'd whispered as his eyes filled with tears. When I turned at him angrily, he'd cowered. That was when I realized the mistake I was making. Without me, my brothers would have no chance of staying together, no chance of having anything like a normal life again. And if the state found out about my drinking, they'd take away the only people I had left. That was the last time I'd had alcohol, until now.
Soda didn't know about my return to drinking until I came home on the third night Pony'd been missing. I'd gone out with some guys from work and had too much. Getting from the car to the house was difficult, as the ground wouldn't stay put. Finally I dragged myself into the living room and collapsed on the couch.
"Darry?" Soda appeared from the hall, looking worried.
"Hey, little buddy," I said. My words slurred together just a bit. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" I wasn't sure what time it was, but it was late.
"Are you drunk?" Soda stared at me, wide-eyed. I thought there was a little fear there in his eyes, but at that point I really didn't care.
"Maybe a little."
"Why?" It was a simple question, but so hard to answer. To be honest, I didn't really know, so I remained silent.
"Darry," Soda said. I could tell he was getting mad.
"Ponyboy hates me," I said miserably after a long minute.
"I'm sure he's gotten over you hitting him."
"No, not for that. Well, probably for that, but he hated me before." My middle brother was quiet, so I continued rambling. "I've heard him talking to the rest of you, Two-Bit told me what he'd said that night, he thinks I want to stick him in a boys' home." I was babbling by now, which just goes to show you how drunk I was. "I just don't want him to get hurt, he doesn't use his head, I couldn't stand if anything happened to him, I mean, I really do love him and now I'll never get to tell him, I drove him away."
"Hey, it's okay," Soda finally said. "He doesn't hate you, he's just a mixed up little kid. And he'll be back, I know he will." He hastily wiped at his eyes. We were both quiet for a minute.
"I'm going to bed," I said, standing abruptly. The room swam before my eyes and I grabbed at the wall to steady myself. Soda moved to help me, but I shook my head. "I'm okay," I said, throwing him a halfhearted grin that he didn't return. I staggered to my room and collapsed into my bed. I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, then started as Soda entered my field of vision.
"Darry, don't drink anymore," he pleaded. He was crying and I thought to myself, he looks so young and scared. Sometimes I forgot he was only sixteen.
"I won't, little buddy," I said softly, then patted the bed. "Come here."
Soda lay down and curled up against my side. He put his head on my chest and an arm across my stomach, and suddenly I realized I'd not only failed Ponyboy, but I'd failed Soda as well. He'd lost not one, but two of the people he cared about most and instead of me comforting and taking care him, here he was taking care of me.
"I'm sorry," I said aloud.
"Mmm, for what?" He was almost asleep.
"I haven't been a very good brother this week, I'll do better, I promise. For you and for Ponyboy." Sodapop didn't respond. He was asleep.