Cherry and Marcia
I'd arranged a meeting with the girls Ponyboy and Johnny had "picked up" at the drive in. Cherry Valence and Marcia.
The meeting was at Cherry's house, a large, well kept house. When I rang the bell a maid answered.
I was shown in and the girls were in the living room, a "parlor" I bet they called it.
I introduced myself and the girls introduced themselves. Cherry's hair was an amazing shade of red and she seemed very self possessed. Marcia looked properly somber, but I noticed a devilish glint in her large dark eyes.
I realized as I sat down to talk with them that I believed Dallas, they wouldn't testify for "low life east side greasers". Cherry almost looked ready to say no.
I tried to shake it off, but Dallas' words were strong in my head. But it didn't matter. They needed these girls to testify.
Paintings, not glassed prints but expensive paintings hung from the walls. The paint was thick on the canvas like frosting, and I could see the brush strokes. German precision clocks ticked away the nervous seconds as I fidgeted, cleared my throat, touched my briefcase as one might a talisman.
"As you may be aware, I am representing Ponyboy Curtis and Johnny Cade and I understand you were with them at the drive in on the night in question," They nodded, Cherry's green eyes glassy and red rimmed from crying, but she wasn't crying now. Marcia bit her lower lip to stop her smile.
"Would you be willing to testify in their behalf?" For a breathless moment we all sat in the tableau, Cherry twisting a strand of hair around her finger, Marcia smoothing the pleats of her skirt. I touched my briefcase again, comforted by the tough leather, the gold lock combination. It had been a gift from Clyde upon my graduation.
"We will," Cherry said for both of them. Marcia nodded. I let my breath out, I hadn't been aware that I wasn't breathing.
"Tell me what happened?"
They did, Cherry told most of it but Marcia piped up now and again. They said the socs were drunk and looking for a fight, that Johnny had fought back in self defense.
"Um, Mr. Williams?" Cherry said in the slow and ponderous manner of one about to reveal a terrible thing. But I was fairly certain I knew what she was going to say.
"You know that scar on Johnny's cheek?" She traced it on her own face, as Ponyboy had. I nodded.
"Well, Bob did that. I know he did. He beat Johnny up really bad about four months ago,"
I didn't quite know what to do with that yet. I worried the jury would see Johnny's killing Robert as revenge for that beating.
A Brief Visit at the Curtis'
I headed to the Curtis house. The porch light burned, symbolically, I thought, for Ponyboy and Johnny.
"Hi, Mr. Williams," Sodapop said. He sat on the couch, the t.v. on but he didn't seem to be watching it. There were two other boys there, one with reddish sideburns and boots, one with heavily greased dark hair and tattoos, scowling on the couch near Sodapop.
"I met with them at the police station," I said a bit cautiously. Sodapop leaned forward in a tense posture of anticipation. The fellow with the sideburns looked at me quickly. The tattooed guy looked at Sodapop, then me.
"Can, when can Pony come home?" Sodapop said.
"His bail was denied,"
"What? Why?" Sodapop had lost a bit of faith in me, I could sense it.
"He's a flight risk," I said matter of factly.
"Oh=" I reached in my pocket for the $200 Darrel had given me. "Here," I handed it to Sodapop. He shook his head.
"No, Darry says keep it. He doesn't like to free load. God knows you ain't gonna get any money outta the Cades,"
"So, uh," Sodapop said, "how are they?"
"Ponyboy seems o.k. But Johnny, well, I don't think he's doing too well," In fact I was getting concerned about Johnny. The psychologist wouldn't be talking to him until next week.
"Two bit, Christ! You gotta drink all our beer?" Sodapop said as the guy with the sideburns dug in the fridge.
"Two bit? Are you Keith Mathews?" He rolled his eyes up at me from the bottom of a long swallow of beer. He nodded. I spoke to him about testifying and he agreed. I left shortly after. I was exhausted.
Those Cinderblocks are Pretty Hard
Next day I stopped by the police station to let the boys know that Cherry and Marcia had agreed to testify for them. I figured they could use some good news.
The cop behind the desk looked at me funny when I asked to see my clients.
"We had a bit of trouble with one of them," he said, the tiny beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.
"What do you mean?"
"I think he broke his hand,"
"Who? What happened?"
"It was Cade. He punched the wall. Those cinderblocks are pretty hard. C'mon, I'll bring you to see them,"
In the conference room I rested my hands on top of the metal table, feeling the heat leaving my palms. I looked up at the guard who was going to get them.
"Could I see Cade first?" He nodded at me and dissappeared down the hall to get him.
He came in, eyes down, his right hand bandaged. He sat across from me and looked up, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep.
"What happened?" I said, trying to maintain eye contact with him. He slid his eyes to the side, wouldn't look at me, shrugged.
I felt a helplessness I wasn't used to, a protectiveness I didn't know what to do with.
"Johnny, you broke your hand. What happened?" Maybe he caught the edge of desperateness in my words because he sighed and started talking, slowly and with no emotion.
"My mother came to see me,"
"Your mother?"
Then the emotion came.
"Yeah, she comes here just to tell me how much trouble I'm causing, all the trouble her and the old man had went to to raise me..." He looked away, clenched his unbroken hand into a fist. Then he continued.
"I told that guard I didn't want to see her, but he said, 'you don't make the decisions,' " he mimicked the guard in a falsetto voice then shrugged again.
"So I had to sit here and listen to her bitch at me and do you think she cares that I might get the electric chair? I'll bet she wishes that kid had killed me, it'd be a lot less trouble for her if I was dead," He looked at me and I didn't know what to say. What could I possibly say?
I'd arranged a meeting with the girls Ponyboy and Johnny had "picked up" at the drive in. Cherry Valence and Marcia.
The meeting was at Cherry's house, a large, well kept house. When I rang the bell a maid answered.
I was shown in and the girls were in the living room, a "parlor" I bet they called it.
I introduced myself and the girls introduced themselves. Cherry's hair was an amazing shade of red and she seemed very self possessed. Marcia looked properly somber, but I noticed a devilish glint in her large dark eyes.
I realized as I sat down to talk with them that I believed Dallas, they wouldn't testify for "low life east side greasers". Cherry almost looked ready to say no.
I tried to shake it off, but Dallas' words were strong in my head. But it didn't matter. They needed these girls to testify.
Paintings, not glassed prints but expensive paintings hung from the walls. The paint was thick on the canvas like frosting, and I could see the brush strokes. German precision clocks ticked away the nervous seconds as I fidgeted, cleared my throat, touched my briefcase as one might a talisman.
"As you may be aware, I am representing Ponyboy Curtis and Johnny Cade and I understand you were with them at the drive in on the night in question," They nodded, Cherry's green eyes glassy and red rimmed from crying, but she wasn't crying now. Marcia bit her lower lip to stop her smile.
"Would you be willing to testify in their behalf?" For a breathless moment we all sat in the tableau, Cherry twisting a strand of hair around her finger, Marcia smoothing the pleats of her skirt. I touched my briefcase again, comforted by the tough leather, the gold lock combination. It had been a gift from Clyde upon my graduation.
"We will," Cherry said for both of them. Marcia nodded. I let my breath out, I hadn't been aware that I wasn't breathing.
"Tell me what happened?"
They did, Cherry told most of it but Marcia piped up now and again. They said the socs were drunk and looking for a fight, that Johnny had fought back in self defense.
"Um, Mr. Williams?" Cherry said in the slow and ponderous manner of one about to reveal a terrible thing. But I was fairly certain I knew what she was going to say.
"You know that scar on Johnny's cheek?" She traced it on her own face, as Ponyboy had. I nodded.
"Well, Bob did that. I know he did. He beat Johnny up really bad about four months ago,"
I didn't quite know what to do with that yet. I worried the jury would see Johnny's killing Robert as revenge for that beating.
A Brief Visit at the Curtis'
I headed to the Curtis house. The porch light burned, symbolically, I thought, for Ponyboy and Johnny.
"Hi, Mr. Williams," Sodapop said. He sat on the couch, the t.v. on but he didn't seem to be watching it. There were two other boys there, one with reddish sideburns and boots, one with heavily greased dark hair and tattoos, scowling on the couch near Sodapop.
"I met with them at the police station," I said a bit cautiously. Sodapop leaned forward in a tense posture of anticipation. The fellow with the sideburns looked at me quickly. The tattooed guy looked at Sodapop, then me.
"Can, when can Pony come home?" Sodapop said.
"His bail was denied,"
"What? Why?" Sodapop had lost a bit of faith in me, I could sense it.
"He's a flight risk," I said matter of factly.
"Oh=" I reached in my pocket for the $200 Darrel had given me. "Here," I handed it to Sodapop. He shook his head.
"No, Darry says keep it. He doesn't like to free load. God knows you ain't gonna get any money outta the Cades,"
"So, uh," Sodapop said, "how are they?"
"Ponyboy seems o.k. But Johnny, well, I don't think he's doing too well," In fact I was getting concerned about Johnny. The psychologist wouldn't be talking to him until next week.
"Two bit, Christ! You gotta drink all our beer?" Sodapop said as the guy with the sideburns dug in the fridge.
"Two bit? Are you Keith Mathews?" He rolled his eyes up at me from the bottom of a long swallow of beer. He nodded. I spoke to him about testifying and he agreed. I left shortly after. I was exhausted.
Those Cinderblocks are Pretty Hard
Next day I stopped by the police station to let the boys know that Cherry and Marcia had agreed to testify for them. I figured they could use some good news.
The cop behind the desk looked at me funny when I asked to see my clients.
"We had a bit of trouble with one of them," he said, the tiny beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.
"What do you mean?"
"I think he broke his hand,"
"Who? What happened?"
"It was Cade. He punched the wall. Those cinderblocks are pretty hard. C'mon, I'll bring you to see them,"
In the conference room I rested my hands on top of the metal table, feeling the heat leaving my palms. I looked up at the guard who was going to get them.
"Could I see Cade first?" He nodded at me and dissappeared down the hall to get him.
He came in, eyes down, his right hand bandaged. He sat across from me and looked up, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep.
"What happened?" I said, trying to maintain eye contact with him. He slid his eyes to the side, wouldn't look at me, shrugged.
I felt a helplessness I wasn't used to, a protectiveness I didn't know what to do with.
"Johnny, you broke your hand. What happened?" Maybe he caught the edge of desperateness in my words because he sighed and started talking, slowly and with no emotion.
"My mother came to see me,"
"Your mother?"
Then the emotion came.
"Yeah, she comes here just to tell me how much trouble I'm causing, all the trouble her and the old man had went to to raise me..." He looked away, clenched his unbroken hand into a fist. Then he continued.
"I told that guard I didn't want to see her, but he said, 'you don't make the decisions,' " he mimicked the guard in a falsetto voice then shrugged again.
"So I had to sit here and listen to her bitch at me and do you think she cares that I might get the electric chair? I'll bet she wishes that kid had killed me, it'd be a lot less trouble for her if I was dead," He looked at me and I didn't know what to say. What could I possibly say?
