I took a deep breath and called out, "Dally?"
The cat stopped and looked at me, its icy blue eyes glaring strangely in the dim moonlight. It seemed pleased that I had finally acknowledged it, jumped from the fence, and landed flawlessly in the backyard.
"Remember me?" I asked timidly, my voice quiet as I tried to get comfortable with talking to the animal that I believed to be my old friend. "It's me, Ponyboy Curtis."
I smiled to myself as I could hear Dally's reply in my head. "Yeah? No shit its you, Ponyboy… What do you think I am, stupid?"
He, of all people would think I was off my rocker, but I continued anyway—I was doing this for him. I walked away from the back steps and farther into the yard. The cat just looked at me.
"Look, man," I said slowly, crouching down where I was. "I'm not sure why you've been hanging around lately… Everything is okay here. You don't have to worry about us."
The black cat sat down, its long tail curled around its feet, and I stood up, taking a step closer.
I took a deep breath and wondered if talking to the cat was doing anything. The rational part of me felt really stupid, but the part that believed in the inexplicable helped me to press on. I tried hard to think of what Dally's unfinished business could be. Did he want to know that the gang was okay? Or that my brothers and I didn't get separated? Or maybe that we all forgave him? Did he want to hear—selfish as he was sometimes—that we just couldn't get along without him? That things weren't the same without his presence? Maybe he felt as if he had beaten us, that he had beaten the whole world, and wondered what we thought of him for doing so? I just couldn't figure it out… The cat's blue eyes were digging into me, making me feel uneasy.
I started with the thing that seemed the most logical. "Dal, we know how hard it must have been for you—Johnny's death, I mean. We all knew that Johnny was special to you. Heck, he was special to all of us too… So we don't blame you or anything."
I thought about my comments for a second. Maybe we didn't blame him, but we certainly didn't understand. Losing Johnny had hit all of us—hard—but we all got through it. We managed. Why did things have to be so different for him? Why was Dally always so damn difficult?
"Why Dallas?" I blurted out. "Why'd you run out on the rest of us? We could have helped you through it… It wasn't fair that Johnny had to die, but it was even more unfair that you followed suit right behind him…"
It had been a year since their deaths, but all of the feelings and frustrations surfaced like it had happened yesterday. The cat yawned, a flash of red tongue and white teeth. "I'm sorry, am I boring you?" I asked, my voice getting a little tense. I had always been of the mind that animals listened when we talked to them, that they sat in silent understanding. Mickey Mouse sure had listened to Soda … But this cat was different. I was pouring my heart out to it and it didn't even care. It seemed rude, and ornery, and entirely like Dallas—Or was it just my imagination?
"You selfish bastard!" I shouted angrily, the words escaping my mouth before I could stop or muffle them. Any passerby would have caught me yelling at a mangy looking black cat, but for some reason all I could see was Dally sitting there in the shadows. Dally with his pale hair and skin, his black leather jacket, and his icy blue eyes, just waiting for me to get on with my rant so that I'd feel better—So that he could get on with his night of fighting or drinking or picking up girls…
I thought for a second. Suddenly everything started to make sense. Dally wasn't waiting there for me to justify his actions. He wasn't waiting for anything. He didn't have any unfinished business—he had made his peace under that streetlight. The unfinished business belonged to me. Now it was my turn…
"We were a gang, Dally," I began, tears welling up in my eyes. "We were all in it together… But you didn't see that, did you? You only saw yourself… Of course Johnny was important to you. Of course it destroyed you that he was gone—that even you couldn't save him—but did you really have to run out and get killed by the cops? Get killed right in front of us so that we could all see you in your one moment of triumph? Your one final blaze of glory?" I yelled at the cat, the tears starting to fall. The cat just blinked at me, patiently taking it.
"And we all acted like we were upset about other things, that you had it coming and it was only a matter of time before you died violently like that… But, Dally, not even a hood like you deserved that. Not even a stone cold criminal from New York City deserves to die alone. You were a kid, just as old as Sodapop is now. You had more to live for, more to do in life. Johnny knew it—he wrote me a letter while he was in the hospital, he wanted me to tell you to look at a sunset, to realize that there is some good left in the world. But you just couldn't wait… You had to carry right on with your selfish agenda."
The cat blinked again, the icy eyes warming up slightly. It took a step toward me and then rubbed the length of its scruffy body against my leg. I stooped down and it sat in front of me, its blue eyes gazing up at mine.
"We miss you, Dallas," I cried, reaching out to pet the animal. "I miss you… I never really thanked you for looking out for Johnny and me. For doing what you thought had to be done after we killed that Soc. Maybe, looking back, prompting us to run away wasn't the greatest of ideas, but it showed me—and Johnny too—that you cared about us. That you'd put your own life on the line for us, that you'd take the fall for something we did if you had to…"
The black cat leaned into my hand and a scratchy, rattling purr escaped from its weathered body. It sounded more like one of the cars that Steve and Soda worked on in the DX station than anything on the road—a bruised and beaten car, one that was on the brink of never starting again, that, even if fixed, had a short life ahead of it. I smiled faintly and wiped the tears from my eyes with my other hand. "There was a time in my life when I hated you, Dallas, when I was scared to think that I could be friends with someone as cold and mean as you. But I was wrong… You were a good guy on the inside, you just never got a chance to let it all out. I just hope that you're happy now, wherever you are…"
The cat walked a little circle around me, purring as it went. It stood up, putting its front paws on my bent knee and looked at me. Its nose wiggled and it sniffed at me for a second, as if checking me out, seeing if I was going to be okay. I held up a hand and it rubbed its face against it, the purr louder than ever. "Okay, Dally," I said with a smile. "I think I'm all right now. I think I said what I needed to say."
The cat sort of licked its lips and then blinked its blue eyes again. It let out a tough cry, the strangest meow I have ever heard, turned away from me, and strutted off through our backyard with its tail straight in the air. Then it effortlessly climbed the fence and disappeared over the other side.
I smiled to myself—I knew that was the last I'd ever see of the scruffy black cat, and the last I'd ever see of Dallas Winston. It had been a year since he died, and it finally felt as if things were going to be okay.
The End
This fic is dedicated to my own (yellow-eyed) black cat whose knack for appearing and disappearing with such flawlessness inspired this story.
Also, here's a quick thanks to all of my reviewers: black cat, alleycat, Kal's gal, Raveangel33, Scarlett7, SpotlessLadyBug, and Malik Fan 03. Thanks for all of your comments and feedback. I hope I didn't disappoint!
