20 – Waiting is the hardest part
My father and Darry were pretty mad when Ponyboy and I went back home. We had ended up staying for the night in some cheap hotel close to where Soda and Two-Bit stayed, just so we could spend Sunday with them, and the whole day had been one of the best I had experienced since Soda had left. Two-Bit and Pony even left us alone for a couple of hours and I felt relieved noticing Soda hadn't changed. He was still the same happy-go-lucky guy, who grinned so much he made you grin in spite of yourself.
He had told me one year in the army was as much as they could oblige him to do, that was the law, and since two months had already gone by, we'd just have to wait other ten months. Ten. He tried to cheer me up, but we both felt like ten months were a whole life. And we knew he'd probably get sent to Vietnam… and not last that much.
That horrible feeling of foreboding never left me since I got home. It lasted two weeks. Then I got Soda's letter. He was going to Vietnam.
I spent the following week in my bedroom, crying and feeling useless and hating everyone and everything, me included, because the person I loved most in the world had to leave and probably get badly injured or…killed…and I was safe, at home, while I knew if something happened to him I'd lose my mind. I started hating my country, my President and the ones before him and every single guy older than 18 who hadn't received a draft letter.
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Summer never seemed to go by. I prayed everyday, I went to church everyday, I checked anxiously the mailbox everyday to see if Soda had written. So far, I had received some letters from him, which meant he was still alive and well, since he signed them all with the date on top. Sometimes there were Two-Bit's joking notes in the corners of the paper, like he was trying to cheer us all up. So far, it seemed like luck hadn't deserted us. Pony started coming with me to church, too, like once a week, and I sometimes spent whole days at the Curtis' house, since it looked like Darry didn't hate me anymore. We actually got along just fine and we both tried to help Ponyboy, who was the youngest and very sensitive. Of course, Darry was going through a lot, too, he had so many responsibilities and he had to encourage his brother, while encouraging himself.
I used to bump into Seth every now and then whenever I went to places like the mall and I was surprised to see he was much calmer than his usual self and he never once asked me to go out with him, or mentioned Soda.
September came and school began, once again. I was in 12th grade, so that would be my last year, and Pony was in his 11th, having skipped one school year 'cause he was really smart. For my birthday, in late September, I got a very long letter signed by Soda which was full of his deepest thoughts and prayers, and there was even a poem. One of his mates had taught him that, it was John Keats's Ode on a Grecian Urn. Soda had learned by heart the whole poem and wrote some verses, the final ones, for me. They brought tears to my eyes every time I read them.
When old age shall this generation waste, thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty."
That is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
I perfectly knew Soda wasn't a bookish type like Pony was and I understood his effort in mentioning those verses. He was trying to be better for me, he was doing a big effort for me…and I couldn't do anything to support him. In his letters, he wouldn't tell me much about his daily routine, he usually avoided talking about fights or camping or such. He said he hadn't been hurt yet. I somehow couldn't believe him completely.
I was also concerned with my father, who hadn't been feeling well all summer. I thought he just worked too much to earn money for us, for me to go to college, but when he finally went to some doctor in October we found out he had to take care of himself and rest more because he had a heart disease. The doc said it wasn't anything serious if my dad kept it in control.
So, as October went by and I struggled not to suffer from depression, I found out something that shocked me.
I was leaving some library with Pony (we liked going there together, we could give each other advice) when some guy crashed into him and he almost fell to the floor. He was carrying several bags. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you." He apologized.
And I almost fainted. "Lewis?"
"Sybil…hi…how are you?" he looked real puzzled.
"Why didn't you tell me you're back in town? I thought you had gotten your draft letter!"
"I did, but…" he trailed off.
"You what?"
"Listen, I…I'm in a hurry. I gotta go. I'll talk to you soon. I'll call you. Bye."
"Wait!" I grabbed him. "You'd rather have me believe you were away fighting than…than see me?"
"Of course not, it's just…it's complicated, okay? You can't understand. I have to go."
I watched him run away. I didn't feel like stopping him.
Pony got closer to me. "I'm sure there's a good reason…"
"He never cared about me and my father, he never did…cause if he did…he'd say something! And he's here and safe and well, while Soda, who's caring, sweet, nice and kind toward everyone…Soda's fighting and risking his own life…and we can't do anything…we can't…" I was in a daze. I couldn't even cry. I wasn't able to. "Do you mind…if I go home right now?"
"Of course not…are you sure you want to be alone?"
"Yes…thank you."
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On Soda's birthday, on October 8th, I lit some candles in my room and prayed and prayed for him. I didn't do anything else. I thought of him and all our moments together, I thought of his adorable smile, of his beautiful eyes, his warm hands, his great voice… I re-read all the letters he had sent to me since he had left Tulsa.
Dear Sybil,
Here I am, writing another letter and praying you'll get it, cause you never know…I'm hopefull though. Things are a bit rough over here, but the thought of you and Pony and Darry and my life in Tulsa keeps me going. And Two-Bit's with me so things aren't that bad. He misses the guys too and most of all he mises his beloved beer, he often wakes me up because of his dreams about beer when he starts yelling cause he can't get any, and besides, he's an awful snorer and whenever I can I don't sleep in the same tent as him (even if some times we don't get to sleep in tents, but it's ok now cause I'm used to it).
His spelling mistakes made me smile for a second. And the Two-Bit mention, too.
I'm awful sorry I can't be there for your birthday but we'll make up for it when I come back. I'll also need to buy you something. Here's what you should do: think about what you'd like to get, so I can get my gift for you coming home from the airport. I mean, I'm not getting your present in Tulsa's airport but as I come home I'd stop by some shop.
I found it ironic that he was asking me what I wanted as a present while I had everything I needed but him, and he was away fighting. I should have been the one asking him that.
I've been thinking about Mickey Mouse, you know that horse I looked after when I was younger. I think I should have known better than get so attached to him but he was a tuff horse. All this horse-talking makes me feel like wanting to ride one. I haven't ridden one in ages. Well, enough with Mickey Mouse…
Maybe I should have gotten him a horse…
I dreamt about you last night. I usually don't dream much or don't remember what I dream, but the dream I had was really tuff. I was walking home from work and when I got there you were waiting for me on the porch and you were so beautiful, breath-taking even. I hope my dream becomes true and I can come back to find you waiting for me.
I miss you…
I bit my lip. I missed him too. I hoped he had gotten my last letter, a really long one where I told him I'd be waiting for him forever, if it was necessary, and even more, and I couldn't wish for anyone else. I felt uncomfortable around other guys, even Seth, even if he was nice. Even if, in June, I had been afraid I would be driven toward him by my weakness. But things weren't like that, I knew no boy could replace Soda.
I knew I could wait. I knew Soda would get back, safe. I knew it. But it still hurt.