A/N: I have no clue why I wrote this. It was just an idea that struck me, so I jotted it down. With that said; know that this piece is flawed and perhaps a bit strewed. Please review. I would really like to know what you think of this one!
-Avenging Angel
It's like this:
We have one real, pure, true love in our life. My mother used to tell me that. Then, when it's over, it's gone forever. You will have anything quite the same. Mom told me to never let it go, no matter what happens. Don't let a few rough spots ruin anything so special.
I screwed up…bad. My girlfriend, the love of my life, of two years left me a few months ago; I will never be the same.
Catherine was her name. She found a boyfriend in Chicago where she attended college as an art major. We were too far apart and I was always too busy for her. I will regret these mistakes. I wish I could just rewind these past few years and start over. Before Mom and Dad were killed; before Johnny and Dallas died; before Catherine left me; before Sodapop was drafted into the war.
Some days I would give anything.
It's like this:
Soda died in the war. That's when Steve left, he ran away to God-knows-where and we haven't seen him since. Pony was drafted over a year ago. He won't be coming back; this doesn't surprise me, though. The odds were always pushed against him. I don't remind Susan of this when she brings his death up. I think that she already knows.
Two-bit doesn't come around much anymore, but that can only be expected. So here we are alone, Susan and I. The house is deathly quiet, except for the occasional melody that Susan lets escape from her lips while she is reading her books. Sometimes, if I'm half asleep on the couch I think, for a moment, I can hear the boys wrestling on the floor, or Mickey Mouse on the TV; but these are just echoes of a former life.
Some days, I can't even bear to look at Susan; she reminds me so much of Ponyboy. She misses him like crazy, I know she does. If he had only come home, they would have been married in the summer, just like their plans.
I don't know why she still stays here. Maybe, in some way, she's still waiting for him to come home, trying to hold on to him, just like I am.
It's like this:
"Let's go out," Susan beckons me when I get home from work.
"I have work in the morning, Susan," I tell her.
"But it's my birthday," she insists.
I feel terrible at this comment. I can't believe that I've forgotten. Her misty blue eyes gaze intently at me; She tucks a strand of dirty blonde hair behind her ear. I sigh.
"Let me take a shower," I say, and she smiles lightly at this.
I drive her through town and she blasts Elvis on the radio. She sings along and I can't help but laugh at her. I park in front of the bar on Main Street because I know what Susan wants. She wants to forget; forget that he isn't here with her. This is the only way I know how to help her.
She isn't of legal age, but I buy her a beer and then one for myself. She watches the band and runs a hand through her hair. There are people dancing on the floor, she glances at them with fleeting interest.
I buy us another round.
It's like this:
She crawls into my bed and I can barely breathe.
"Darrel?" She leans over me. I can smell the scent of stale alcohol on her breath.
"What is it, Susan?" I question.
She sighs.
"I just wanted to say 'thank you'," She says, and she leans down to kiss my cheek; my jaw; my lips. Then, she lies down beside me.
She cries into my shoulder and I stroke her hair as she falls asleep.
"It's gonna be okay, baby," I whisper to her.
It's comforting to know that I am still needed here.
It's like this:
I find myself becoming more reckless over the next few years, like I have the sudden urge to run. Susan feels it, too. She tells me sometimes, while we're eating dinner. She's such a dreamer. I love her for it.
I take off work the week of Susan's birthday and drive her to Vegas so she can legally play slots for the first time. She enjoys pushing her luck more and more these days and we exit the casino we are over a hundred dollars poorer then when we first arrived.
She gives me that pitiful look when she confesses to me the debt she's in and I can't help but laugh. This surprises her so much that she throws her arms around my neck and hugs me.
We get married that night and celebrate with a round of drinks at the bar across the street. There is a hotel that we check into a little before midnight. We rush upstairs to lock ourselves in our room until late the next morning.
We laugh all of the way home.
It's like this:
I think about the boys every day and the way things used to be. I miss them, but Susan makes everything better. She numbs the pain. She's my drug, my addiction. And I am her drug too, she confides with me one night.
It's like this:
I'm not sure if I'm actually in love with her or just the mere idea of her presence, but that doesn't matter anymore. I do know that I love her in many ways, even if am not in love. We're the only thing we've got left.
Just the two of us, she smiles at me, with a third on the way.
It's like this.