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Chapter 7: Of marrow and matches

The doctor told Pony, Soda and Cinnamon that, as full siblings, they had the best chance to be bone marrow donors for Darry. Michelle and Clinton got tested too, more as a support than anything. It was a simple blood test, and it took less than ten minutes for the five of them.

There was only one problem. Darry still hadn't consented.

"Please, just explain it to me," Cinnamon said, trying hard to sound calm. She was sitting on the edge of Darry's hospital bed, just the two of them. The others had agreed that she had the best chance of talking Darry into the transplant, but so far, he wasn't budging. "What can it hurt to try? They put a tube in your chest and transfuse you that way. You'll sleep through it. I promise."

"No."

"You're not being reasonable."

"I have leukemia. I don't have to be reasonable."

"Stop saying that. Will you stop saying that?"

Darry closed his eyes. It seemed to be his only defense. "Do you know what happens to you if you're a match?" he asked. "I woudn't ask anyone to do that. What if something went wrong? Do you know what they do to get the marrow out of you?"

"Of course I do, Darry, I'm a nurse," she said impatiently. "Little needles in your pelvic bone, under aesthesia. It's uncomfortable. Big deal."

Darry started. The argument had worked on Soda – he'd described the process as "surgery" -- but Soda was a mechanic. Cinnamon had medical training.

"I ain't asking you to do that," he said finally.

"You didn't." Cinnamon crossed the room to sit on the bed. "Darry, c'mon, please. Please. Like any of us would say, 'oh, no, excuse me, I don't think I want to be a little inconvenienced to save my brother's life.' I'd let my five-year-old have this done, if it would help you. Of course I would." She took her brother's hand. "Darry. Wouldn't you do it for me? I know you would. Then what's the difference?"

Darry just shook his head. "You won't understand."

"Try me."

"It won't come out right, Cinny, I ain't good with words like Pony is. I just … it is what it is, is all."

Cinnamon tried another tack. "What about Johnny and Sarah? What about Danny? Don't you want to see them grow up? And Laura. You're practically Laura's mother."

Darry was silent.

"Dammit," Cinnamon breathed, "what about me? What about Ponyboy and Sodapop? Why you itchin' to leave us, all of a sudden?"

"I'm not."

"You are!" she protested, and she began to cry. She was going to lose this argument. She'd been around too many stubborn patients not to know when she was beat.

Darry sighed. "Listen to me. I've had a lot of time to get used to this. You've only been here since yesterday. I feel like we tried, we did all that chemo and radiation stuff and it came back. It wants me. I don't know why, exactly, but it does. Even if one of you matches, the chance of this working is only 30 percent."

She stared at him, shocked. "It's that advanced?"

"Yeah, it's that advanced. I'm not stupid, Cinnamon. I don't particularly want to die and I ain't itchin' to leave anybody. But it is what it is, and I don't like the odds."

"But if you don't do it, the odds that you'll die are 100 percent," she pointed out.

Darry smiled at her and gently touched her cheek. "Baby girl, the odds are 100 percent that I'll die anyway. This way, I get to know when. There's advantages to that."

As it turned out, it was a moot point. None of them matched. As a professional courtesy to Cinnamon, the lab ran the tests again, but they all came back the same.

"So now what?" Soda asked grimly. There were six of them sitting around the kitchen table: Pony, Michelle, Soda, Laura, Cinnamon and Clint. The younger children were watching "Shark Tale" for the fourth time.

"There's an international registry, but he won't go on it," Cinnamon said. "So …" She let her voice trail off.

"So? So what? So nothing?" Soda said, shocked. "So … nice to know you, see ya later?" He shook his head. "No. There has to be something."

"You guys, I'm not wild about this either, but short of forging his signature I'm not sure what we can do," Cinnamon said.

"Do you think he's rational?" Pony asked. "I mean, could we make him do it? Go to court or something?"

Michelle uttered a short laugh. Pony glared at her. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's not funny. It's so not funny. But I'm trying to picture Darry's reaction to that."

"He's not irrational," Laura said. The adults all turned to look at her. "I mean, can't you follow his train of thought? I'm not saying I agree with him, but I see what he's sayin'." Her eyes filled with tears. "I love Uncle Darry with all my heart. He's like my other dad. I want him to fight this stupid blood disease any way he can. But … but if he doesn't want to, then that's not up to us, you know? It doesn't matter how much we love him or how stupid we think he's being. It's not our decision."

Clint leaned over and kissed his niece's cheek. She was right.

"Well, don't that suck," Soda said dully.

"I didn't say it doesn't suck, Daddy. Of course it sucks. It's the suckiest thing ever."

"Watch your tongue, Laura."

"I'm sorry," she said sweetly. "But it is the right word for it, isn't it?"

"Yes," Soda said. "It fits."

"So what the hell are we supposed to do? Just stand around and watch him die?" Pony said. His voice caught on the last word. "'Cause I won't. I can't."

"No," Cinnamon said. "What we're supposed to do is support him and help him die."

"You are right out of your mind, Cinnamon Marie," Pony said flatly. "You've been taking some of that medicine you've been giving your patients."

"We owe him," Soda reminded his little brother. "We talked about this."

"We did not talk about this!" Pony cried. "We talked about getting tested for a transplant, about taking turns staying here with you guys so you and Laura weren't so overwhelmed. We talked about making sure the hospital bills were being paid and getting nurses if we needed them but we most certainly did not talk about him dying!"

"Pony --"

"'Help him die,' what the Christ does that even mean?" he said scornfully. "Want some juice? Some hemlock? Maybe I can turn on the gas and blow out the pilot light." He stood up so abruptly he knocked his chair over behind him. "I'm not staying here listening to his nonsense."

"Sometimes you don't get to pick the debt, Ponyboy," Soda said. "You just pay it, when it comes due."

"Well, ain't you the philosopher all of a sudden," Pony said coldly.

"Your editor would have a stroke to hear you speak like that," Michelle said, rising to wrap her husband in her arms. Pony dropped his head to her shoulder and Michelle rubbed small, loving circles on the back of Pony's head. "Stop taking this out on your brother and sister. It's not their fault. It's no one's fault. It just is. It's awful and horrible and Laura's right, it sucks, but it is what it is."

She sounded just like Darry.

"Shelly," Pony mumbled, as if it were only the two of them in the room, "I can't do this. Do you hear me? I cannot."

"I know, honey," she said quietly. "That's exactly why we're all going to help each other." She looked at the rest of them, this rag-tag family she married into that she loved with all her heart, as if she'd known them from birth. "So let's figure out what's next, and we'll just do that. We'll just do one thing at time."