Chapter 13: We End, We Begin

Wakes aren't about the deceased. They are about the living. And so it was that Darry's wake, even though the man had kept largely to himself, held a steady stream of visitors. Old customers of both Darry's and Soda's. Most of Laura's high school class. Neighbors. Old teachers. Paul Holden, who had been both Darry's teammate and enemy. Tim Shepherd, the only Shepherd sibling left alive, looking like a tough old hood in scuffed boots and a dirty leather jacket. He hugged Soda with one awkward arm, knowing the pain of losing a brother, before vanishing into the night. Cherry Valance came in timidly, not sure if she'd be welcome, but feeling strongly she had to pay her respects. Steve Randle closed the station and sat in the back for the whole wake, not talking much, just being there, bringing Laura and Cinnamon occasional paper cups of water. Two-Bit was there, of course, somehow looking at home in his gray suit, with his mother, who now walked with a cane. Both Clint and Michelle's parents came and after the private family viewing, took the littler children back to their hotel.

Ponyboy had snuck out the side door to get some air. He desperately wished he still smoked. He hadn't lived at home for more than two-month stretches since he'd been 20, but still, knowing that Darry was not on the other end of a telephone line or airplane route would take a lot of getting used to.

"How are you doing?" a quiet voice asked.

He turned to Cherry. "It's been a right shitty two months," he said bluntly. He'd been pleasantly surprised to see her waiting patiently in the receiving line. They hadn't kept in touch after the rumble. Truth be told, they hadn't kept in touch when Pony still lived in Tulsa, even though they spent another two years in the same high school.

"My husband, Drake – he had Hodgkins Disease," Cherry said. "It's a filthy, filthy thing."

"That's a fact," Pony agreed.

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Did Drake die?" Pony asked finally.

"Yes. Two years ago."

"Does it get better?"

"It does," Cherry said. "I promise."

"That's good," Ponyboy said, his eyes filling with tears for the at least the tenth time that day, "because feeling like this pretty well sucks."

Cherry handed him a tissue and waited quietly while he composed himself.

"What've you been up to?" he asked finally.

"Twenty years in ten seconds, huh?" she smiled. "Let's see. I mostly kept the house and the kids. I did some volunteer work at the hospital and then after Drake got sick I got really involved with the children's cancer ward. I work there now, as an activities coordinator. I keep the little ones busy, those who are well enough to play."

"That's nice, Cherry," Ponyboy said sincerely.

"And you?" She grinned at him. "Rolling Stone, huh?"

Pony stared at her. "You've read me?" he said stupidly.

"Sure. I happened across the byline one day, and I was sure it was you. I mean, there can't be many Ponyboy Curtises," she said. "Besides, your essays sound like you. Since then, I've looked for you. I really liked your interview with Julian and Sean Lennon."

Pony was absurdly touched.

"I have to get home," Cherry said. "My kids are alone. But I wanted to come and tell you how sorry I was to hear about Darry. Really, really, sorry. I always admired how hard he worked to keep you all together."

"Me, too," Pony said. As Cherry touched his sleeve then turned away, he said, "hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"Sunsets in Utah are beautiful."

She smiled warmly at him. "I bet. They're still pretty gorgeous here, too."

It was almost 8:30 and there had been no new visitors for nearly 10 minutes. Soda, Cinnamon and Two-Bit were sitting in chairs near the front of the room. Darry's coffin was closed, but the room was littered with collages that his nieces and nephews had made, from his days on the PeeWee football time to the previous Christmas. It was Darry as he had lived, not as he had died.

Two-Bit started.

"What?" Soda said.

"Nothing," he said evasively, looking out the window onto the small porch. "I'll be right back."

Cinnamon stretched. "I'm going to get some air and see where Ponyboy got to. You need anything?"

Soda shook his head.

"I'll keep an eye open and come back in if more people come."

"Cinny, this is … it's …" Soda struggled to find the right words, and finally said, "I don't want this when I go. Just cremate me and scatter the ashes behind the station."

"Let's hope we have a long time to figure that out," Cinnamon said gently. She kissed the top of Soda's head and went outside. Two-Bit was deep in conversation with the woman he'd spied through the window. They obviously knew one another. Cinnamon glanced their way just as Two-Bit moved to one side and, for the first time, she got a good look at her.

Her mouth fell open.

"Emily?" she whispered.

Two-Bit and Emily turned and all the color drained away from Emily's face. "It's Cinnamon, isn't it?" she said. "I'm so sorry – I – I'll go. I shouldn't have come. I saw Darry's obituary and I wanted to come pay my respects and … Glory be, this was a bad idea. I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, I really didn't, especially not today. And I'm sorry about your brother. I remember him as a very nice man."

"Breathe, Emmy, she ain't gonna bite you," Two-Bit said mildly.

"You know her?" Cinnamon said to Two-Bit.

He hesitated, then Emily nudged him, nodding.

"From AA," Two-Bit said. "She's one of my sponsees. She's been sober almost a year."

"And you didn't tell Soda?"

"We don't use last names, not that I would have remembered hers," Two-Bit said. "I didn't know who she was until this week."

"I showed him the obituary," Emily said. "I told him that Darry was someone I knew long ago, and that this niece of his, this Laura M. Curtis, was my daughter." She laughed a little. "The look on his face was priceless."

"Did you see her?" Cinnamon asked.

Emily's eyes filled with tears. "That must be her, right?" She gestured toward the window. Laura, in a navy blue skirt and flowered blouse, was sitting next to Soda. "She's beautiful. And Sodapop looks exactly the same."

"She has your eyes," Cinnamon said, and suddenly remembered those eyes, her niece's eyes, full of tears.

Didn't … why didn't she want me?

Cinnamon pointed a stern finger at Two-Bit. "You promise me she's sober? You promise?"

"On Johnny's name," Two-Bit said.

"Wait here."

Two-Bit and Emily watched, astonished, as Cinnamon went back into the funeral home. As they peeked through the window, they saw her kneel in front of Soda and Laura, speaking to Soda earnestly. Laura's head whipped toward them and Emily stepped back out of sight.

"Oh, Jesus, Keith, what was I thinking?" Emily moaned. "This was such a bad idea."

"Maybe. But it's done," Two-Bit said. "All that stuff they say in the meetings, about God doesn't bring you along to drop you and all that, and God has perfect timing -- all that is true." He paused. "And you know you have some explainin' to do to her, don't you?"

"Jesus," Emily said again as Cinnamon came back with Soda and Laura. There was a long, yearning look. Laura was holding Soda's hand like a little girl and she had started to cry.

"We need to catch up, set some rules," Soda said evenly.

"That's all?" Emily stammered, too shocked to try to censor her thoughts.

"I just didn't want her to have a drunk mother," Soda said. "Johnny had a drunk mother. I was never going to do that to my kid."

"I'm not drunk," Emily whispered, unable to take her eyes off Laura.

"I see that. If you stay not drunk, we can talk." Soda sighed. "God almighty, Emily. If you had shown up two weeks ago, I'd have probably thrown you off the property. But I guess life is too short." He gave Laura a gentle push. "This beautiful, wonderful child is my Laura. Our Laura. Laura, darlin', this is your mother."