"Hey, Johnny," I shook him gently. His head was still in his hands
but I thought he had stopped crying.
"Don't you think it should be light out already? I mean, it was dark in Windrixville..."
Johnny didn't look any different, looking at me with that cautious suspicious look, but something was different.
Something is wrong.
I covered my face and started to rock back and forth. All the things crashed against my closed lids, richocheted off my skull, Dally taunting the girls at the movies, Johnny stopping him, the soc lying dead at our feet, the blood spreading in a sticky circle, black in the moonlight...the train, the fire, the hospital room, that hospital smell choking me, Dally, the blood trickling from his mouth after the cop shot him, just like a movie...
It came so fast, image after image until it all blurred together and a headache hit me suddenly, the sharp pain like a blinding flash of light and I was convinced Johnny was dead. That this was the dream.
Reality had a funny way of twisting away from me lately, like a snake you think you've got by the tail, then the tail grows fangs and bites you.
I reached out quick and grabbed Johnny's arm, just to make sure he was there, just to be comforted by his concrete reality.
"What?" he said, pulling out of my grasp. I blinked at him wetly.
"I, uh, things aren't going too well..." He looked at me blankly. I didn't have much hope he'd understand. I looked at the sky, I was an experienced watcher of the sky. The stars hadn't moved. I was sure of it.
"Shit, Johnny, what the fuck? The stars aren't even"
"C'mon, let's go," he jumped up, brushing himself off. I watched him feeling completely unable to jump up and follow him.
"C'mon," he said, and pulled me up. I followed him tiredly, trying not to think, just letting him lead. Thinking hadn't worked out too well.
It didn't take long for me to figure out where he was going. Retracing the steps, following the trail backwards, and we were at Buck Merril's.
"Johnny, we can't go in there,"
He looked at me with that naked, desperate look. Out of options.
"We gotta try to find Dal," We both looked up, hoping to see him in the window or something. But I felt in my heart that he wasn't there, almost the way you feel when someone is dead.
"Oh, they're all drunk. Let's just go in," Johnny said. I shrugged and we went in, drunken bloodshot eyes not giving us a second glance, thin blond waitresses weaving between the patrons.
Upstairs, the same room where Dally gave us the money and the gun. No one was there.
"Maybe he's at the lot," Johnny said, laying back on the bed and I heard his voice echo in my head, 'wish I had me a weed now,'.
"He doesn't hang out at the lot," I said, but I wasn't sure. Did he? I felt like I couldn't remember much about him, even what he looked like. My mind was steel cotton wool, couldn't think, couldn't remember.
We went there anyway, passing the park with the fountain along the way, hurried past, neither of us looking directly at it, like an eclipse.
The lot, burnt out fire, abandoned car seats, broken bits of glass. No one was here.
I looked up at the leaves, I could see the orange around the edges even in the dark, and I remembered what Johnny said when we were here on the night, "I can't take much more of this. I'll kill myself or something," he'd said. He wished to be dead the first time and got his wish, same as Dally.
I'd fucked it up for them. It was their wishes. Who was I to change their course?
The train, Buck's, the park, the lot. We were living the night backwards, tracing breadcrumb steps like Hansel and Gretal...fuck was I tired.
"Look, Johnny, I'm just gonna go to sleep," I curled up on the abandoned car seat bench, "Dally's gone anyway," I no longer cared, was no longer able to care.
But he wouldn't let me rest. I knew he wouldn't. Cops could come, socs, and he was right. He was always right. I remembered what he said in the hospital when Dally and me went to see him, and I was sick and all beat up from the rumble and nothing Dally had said for the last hour had even come close to making sense.
"Useless," Johnny had said, and he was so still and so pale, "fighting's no good,"
Useless. Well, that made sense. So I got up even though I was numb from tiredness, exhaustion. I followed Johnny to wherever he was gonna go.
"Don't you think it should be light out already? I mean, it was dark in Windrixville..."
Johnny didn't look any different, looking at me with that cautious suspicious look, but something was different.
Something is wrong.
I covered my face and started to rock back and forth. All the things crashed against my closed lids, richocheted off my skull, Dally taunting the girls at the movies, Johnny stopping him, the soc lying dead at our feet, the blood spreading in a sticky circle, black in the moonlight...the train, the fire, the hospital room, that hospital smell choking me, Dally, the blood trickling from his mouth after the cop shot him, just like a movie...
It came so fast, image after image until it all blurred together and a headache hit me suddenly, the sharp pain like a blinding flash of light and I was convinced Johnny was dead. That this was the dream.
Reality had a funny way of twisting away from me lately, like a snake you think you've got by the tail, then the tail grows fangs and bites you.
I reached out quick and grabbed Johnny's arm, just to make sure he was there, just to be comforted by his concrete reality.
"What?" he said, pulling out of my grasp. I blinked at him wetly.
"I, uh, things aren't going too well..." He looked at me blankly. I didn't have much hope he'd understand. I looked at the sky, I was an experienced watcher of the sky. The stars hadn't moved. I was sure of it.
"Shit, Johnny, what the fuck? The stars aren't even"
"C'mon, let's go," he jumped up, brushing himself off. I watched him feeling completely unable to jump up and follow him.
"C'mon," he said, and pulled me up. I followed him tiredly, trying not to think, just letting him lead. Thinking hadn't worked out too well.
It didn't take long for me to figure out where he was going. Retracing the steps, following the trail backwards, and we were at Buck Merril's.
"Johnny, we can't go in there,"
He looked at me with that naked, desperate look. Out of options.
"We gotta try to find Dal," We both looked up, hoping to see him in the window or something. But I felt in my heart that he wasn't there, almost the way you feel when someone is dead.
"Oh, they're all drunk. Let's just go in," Johnny said. I shrugged and we went in, drunken bloodshot eyes not giving us a second glance, thin blond waitresses weaving between the patrons.
Upstairs, the same room where Dally gave us the money and the gun. No one was there.
"Maybe he's at the lot," Johnny said, laying back on the bed and I heard his voice echo in my head, 'wish I had me a weed now,'.
"He doesn't hang out at the lot," I said, but I wasn't sure. Did he? I felt like I couldn't remember much about him, even what he looked like. My mind was steel cotton wool, couldn't think, couldn't remember.
We went there anyway, passing the park with the fountain along the way, hurried past, neither of us looking directly at it, like an eclipse.
The lot, burnt out fire, abandoned car seats, broken bits of glass. No one was here.
I looked up at the leaves, I could see the orange around the edges even in the dark, and I remembered what Johnny said when we were here on the night, "I can't take much more of this. I'll kill myself or something," he'd said. He wished to be dead the first time and got his wish, same as Dally.
I'd fucked it up for them. It was their wishes. Who was I to change their course?
The train, Buck's, the park, the lot. We were living the night backwards, tracing breadcrumb steps like Hansel and Gretal...fuck was I tired.
"Look, Johnny, I'm just gonna go to sleep," I curled up on the abandoned car seat bench, "Dally's gone anyway," I no longer cared, was no longer able to care.
But he wouldn't let me rest. I knew he wouldn't. Cops could come, socs, and he was right. He was always right. I remembered what he said in the hospital when Dally and me went to see him, and I was sick and all beat up from the rumble and nothing Dally had said for the last hour had even come close to making sense.
"Useless," Johnny had said, and he was so still and so pale, "fighting's no good,"
Useless. Well, that made sense. So I got up even though I was numb from tiredness, exhaustion. I followed Johnny to wherever he was gonna go.