Author's Note: In case anyone is wondering, and since it doesn't fit smoothly into the storyline at this point – Ponyboy decided not to tell Vic just yet that the story he is reading for English is about him, feeling that Vic would relate to the "characters" more if he doesn't know that they are the same adults who are surrounding him. It will come up again later in the story.
Disclaimer: The Outsiders is owned by S.E. Hinton. Awesome woman.
Dedication: My dedication is at the end of the chapter. Don't read it until the end, or you won't get it. An acknowledgement, though - I don't think he's read any of this story, but Tens's brother, Jhon - I was wavering between two engine problems until I read your author profile that goes with Curve Balls; you said something that put the idea for the line about the carburetor in my head. Thanks!
Chapter 5 Three Feet From Gone
Soda's POV
"Man, the garage looks huge from here!" I called out. I was laying on the hard cold floor looking up at the ceiling that was about a mile away, then to each side, where the far walls looked like it would take a week to get to them.
"Now you know how all your mice feel," Steve replied from under the hood of the car next to me.
"I keep telling you, there ain't no mice in here. Too many cats out back. And they leave the little headless corpses on my doorstep." I actually put food out back for the cats, just to make sure they stay and keep the mice away. All I need is some rodent making a nest in someone's tailpipe, or crawling up into an engine and chewing up the wires.
From the corner of my eye I caught a movement; looking over and seeing the small shoe sticking out from behind the tires stacked in the corner, I remembered what I was supposed to be doing.
"Where could that kid be?" I said loudly. Barely stifled giggles followed from the corner.
"I know," I continued, not moving from my spot on the floor, "he's in the toolbox!" More giggles, louder this time. "No, he's not in there," I concluded, picking a wrench off the floor and clanking it against the toolbox that was almost out of my reach.
What a damn pathetic way to be spending a Friday night. Everyone I usually hung with was busy, though. Maybe I'll head out and hunt up some action on my own later. Darry had Vic out at the high school football game. I could always go over to his place later and bug the hell out of the kid. I know he'll warm up to me, he already has somewhat, but until then it amuses me to irritate him. Maybe that's just because he's about the only person I know who reacts to me like that.
"Find me!" an annoyed excited little voice barked out.
"Uh…I've got him now! He's in the drawer!" Fizz broke into hysterics at that one. Little kids crack me up. How could he think I'm that dumb that I don't know where he is, with all the noise he's making?
I rolled over and crawled quietly to the tires. "I've got you!" I hollered, grasping both feet and pulling Fizz out from his hiding spot. He laid there on the floor in front of me laughing for a minute, and then looked disappointed. "You weren't supposed to find me!" he complained.
I scooped Fizz up and tossed him upside-down over my shoulder. "Steve, have you seen your kid around anywhere?" I spun back and forth a couple of times. Fizz was back to laughing like a fool.
"No, but if you lose him in here somewhere, you get to keep him," Steve answered, not looking up. It really helped his nerves to come and work on the cars sometimes. Hell, it helped my nerves, when things got busy. I hated that he was married to that sorry excuse for a chick. Fizz was the only good thing he'd gotten out of the deal, though at the time he'd thought it would be having a kid that would ruin his life.
"Do you want something to drink?" Steve offered, heading for the office.
"I want candy!" Fizz announced, twisting to get down. I set him on the floor and pulled a handful of change out of my pocket. "Don't tell your mom," I warned, pouring the coins into his hands and watching half of them land on the floor.
I heard the phone in the office ring. "Steve, grab that," I yelled.
By the time I got into the office, Steve was off the phone. "You need to go out and get a car that's broke down," he told me. I've got a tow-truck at the garage that belongs to a guy across town, Ralph, who has a towing and auto-body shop. When his guys are all busy and he needs a pickup, he gives me a call; he pays me on commission, and I get some extra business.
"Did you write it all down?" I asked.
"No, I figured you would just read my mind," he replied, shaking a piece of paper in my face.
"Thanks. You gonna be here when I get back?"
"No. Fizz has to get to bed soon. He'll be bouncing off the walls if he stays up too long and gets that second wind." Steve headed back into the garage to finish up while I went around the side to get the truck.
It wasn't too late, not long after dinnertime, but there weren't too many people out on the roads. It was a crappy night to be driving around anyway, with the rain. It had been coming down in buckets earlier.
I glanced down at Steve's directions again, then turned off on a side street to make the shortest possible run. This wasn't exactly what I had been hoping for when I wanted action, but hey, a buck is a buck.
I slowed down as I got close to where I figured to find the car. The guy behind me sped around me all irritated-like, so I smiled at him as he passed and gave him the finger.
Ah, there it is. As I pulled ahead of the car and parked in front of it, I noticed there was a young woman sitting in the driver's seat. It was a green BMW Bavaria, five years old. Popular car with the rich folks.
The chick was sitting there reading a book as I approached the car. I guess she didn't notice me, so I tapped on the window. She nearly hit the roof, and dropped her book, then looked at me like I was an axe murderer. So I smiled at her. What else can you do when someone looks at you like you're gonna rip them apart?
Finally she rolled the window down about a half-inch. "Can I help you?" This girl was too much. And that line was just too easy.
"Yeah, I'm afraid my tow truck broke down in front of you. Do you think you could give me a lift?" I grinned at her again. She looked at me like I was nuts, then looked out the front windshield, and it finally dawned on her that I was there to get her car. Her eyes got wider and she looked like she felt pretty damn silly.
"Pop the hood," I told her. "Maybe I can figure out what's wrong here." She did, so I went around and took a look.
"Turn the key," I shouted. It cranked, but didn't start. "Are you sure there's gas in the tank?" You wouldn't believe how many people run it dry and don't even realize.
"I just filled it," she called back.
I pulled off the distributor cap; rotor looked alright. Then I checked the carburetor. "Pump the gas pedal," I called out. Nothing.
I slammed the hood down, and then walked around to the passenger side so I wouldn't get run over by some idiot. I tapped on the window. She leaned over the seat and looked at me. "Can I come in?" I finally asked. This girl was paranoid. She reached over and unlocked the door, so I got in and sank into the plush leather seat.
She took a closer look at me, then turned a little red when she realized that her mouth was hanging open and she was staring at me. I get that a lot. Ponyboy does, too, but once they see that ring on his finger it's like he's got an electric fence around him.
"Do you know what's wrong with it?" she asked. I was finally getting a better look at her, too. She wasn't bad looking, but nothing to write home about either – light brown wavy hair cut about to her shoulders, brown eyes, nice classy clothes.
I shook my head to her question. "I think I know what's wrong, but I'll have to get it back to the garage to take a better look. It isn't something I can fix here. You can go ahead and sit up in the truck while I get her hooked up."
She looked at me strangely. "You want me to sit in the truck?"
"You can stay in here if you want, but you might be more comfortable with some heat, and sitting so it's not like you're taking off in an airplane." This girl was really too much. She got that look again, like she just realized that she'd said something goofy. Then she smiled.
It was the most real smile I think I have ever seen. No pretense, no ulterior motives, no distractions, no implied separation of social status. Just me sitting there in my greasy pants and shirt on her leather Beamer seat, and she smiled at me like she was sitting next to her best friend.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's been a long night, and I had to walk back to that payphone on the corner, and…I'm sorry. You must think I am so rude." She really looked like that was what she thought, not just what she thought I would think.
"No, it's fine," I assured her. Man, she had a nice smile. "Let's just get back to the garage and I'll see if I can figure out what's wrong with this puppy."
After we got back to the garage the girl, whose name I didn't even know yet, I realized, sat in the office while I poked around under the hood. It didn't take long to figure out the problem. I strolled into the office to give her the diagnosis. She looked up and smiled when I walked in. That girl was looking cuter by the minute.
"Do you know what's wrong?" she asked.
"Well," I started, "The jigwig was almost out of fluid. And you'll need to get that fossenflopper replaced before it catches on fire and lights up the whole engine like a firecracker."
The girl looked startled. She didn't have a clue. I used to be able to get Ponyboy like that, until he learned to dismiss everything I said when I was bored.
I smiled at her. She looked confused, then skeptical. "Did you just make that up?" she asked hesitantly. Either she didn't want to insult me, or she didn't want to look stupid.
I laughed. "Yeah. Sorry, it's been a long and boring day." I figured she would get mad, but she laughed, too. "I don't know much about cars, except where to put the key and how to drive them," she explained. She had a really nice personality.
"Okay, seriously," I told her, "you need a new fuel pump. Luckily it wasn't the carburetor."
"Why?"
"I don't rebuild carburetors. Too messy." I grinned at her again, and this time she knew better than to take me seriously.
"You know, I didn't even tell you my name yet," she said suddenly. "I'm Melanie."
This would get her going again for sure. I extended my hand. "Sodapop Curtis." Like I expected, she eyed me suspiciously. "Really. That's my name. You can just call me Soda."
I think she still wasn't sure if she should believe me, but she went along with it anyway. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Soda." She reached out without hesitation and shook my hand, and didn't seem to notice the black smudge it left on her thumb.
"I'll be able to get the new fuel pump tomorrow morning, so it should be ready by, say, five tomorrow afternoon."
Melanie ran her fingers through her hair and looked relieved. "Oh good, that's fast. I was afraid I wouldn't get it back for a while. How much do you think it will cost?" she asked as an afterthought.
"It should be about thirty-five bucks for parts and labor. And I'll even throw in dinner afterward." I don't know what made me say it. She just seemed so real, so friendly, so…nice.
She gave me a look that was far from positive. Shocked, really. "You want me to go out with you?" she asked, all surprised.
What the hell was that supposed to mean? I'm not usually this far off in reading chicks. No way was I about to let her know I'd been serious. I hadn't changed my expression. Until now.
I looked at Melanie like she had just said the funniest thing I'd heard all day. "No, the thirty-five bucks will do it. You didn't think I was serious, did you?" I asked, laughing.
She looked mortified, then tried to play it off with a little chuckle. "Um…no, of course not. That would be pretty silly."
It got a little uncomfortable about then, but I went on like nothing had happened. "Do you need a ride anywhere?"
"What? Oh. No, I called my father while you were looking at the car. He should be here any minute now." Melanie looked down at the floor, apparently unable to meet my gaze. I didn't get it. "Is it alright if I wait in that other room again?" she asked quietly.
"Sure," I agreed cheerfully, not willing to let her know how much her rejection had stung. I could remember feeling like that only once before, and I didn't like the reminder at all. "I'll be right in here working if you need anything."
Not really feeling in the mood to go out any more, I ended up staying at the garage for the next few hours working until Ralph called again.
"Soda, can you go out again for me? I got one guy here, but it was an accident, and they need both cars towed."
"Yeah, sure Ralph." I wrote down the directions and went back out to the truck. It had stopped raining after we'd had one final downpour about a half-hour earlier. The clouds were starting to break up, and I could see some stars showing through.
For some reason there were more people out now than there had been earlier. It took me fifteen minutes to get to the pickup spot. I had to drive along the shoulder past the lineup of cars that had built up. The intersection was littered with shattered glass and pieces of metal. A cop was directing traffic through while a couple of city workers cleaned up the mess. Ralph's guy was already there hooking up one of the cars.
"Hey, want some help?" I called over as I stepped out of the truck.
"Sure," he answered. "Then we'll get the other one on yours. Thanks."
We had the first car up about five minutes later. It was a mess. It looked like it had hit directly into the other car; the front was completely smashed. We moved on to the other car, which didn't look much better at first glance.
I took a closer look at the car, and my heart leapt to my throat.
"Oh, God," I breathed, "not again."
Pony's POV
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. SHIT!
I was pacing back and forth in my driveway, waiting for Darry. After I'd gotten off the phone with the hospital I had somehow had the presence of mind to put on my shoes and jacket, grab my wallet, and get my keys. It wasn't until I was out on the front steps that I woke up enough to realize that I didn't have a car. We only have one – I use it for work, and Melissa carpools with another teacher.
I knew it would only take Darry about ten minutes to get to our house, but it was the longest ten minutes I have ever experienced. I was frantic by the time he pulled in. He had barely stopped when I hopped in.
"Is she okay?" he asked immediately.
"The nurse I talked to couldn't give details, but she said Melissa was awake and at least able to give her my name and our phone number." My biggest fear was that the nurse was making things seem better than they were so I wouldn't get myself killed trying to get to the hospital too fast. I've heard they do things like that.
"Pony, I know you're upset, but could you quit tossing around like that? It's a little distracting." I was fidgeting like a little kid and hadn't even realized it. There was a lot of traffic. Some part of my brain wondered vaguely if there was some sort of event going on.
"Sorry." It took real effort to sit still and pretend I wasn't about to have a nervous breakdown.
"No, it's okay. It's just there's a lot of traffic…"
I knew Darry was worried, too. He was exceeding the speed limit by at least ten miles per hour.
When we got to the hospital Darry parked the car while I went inside. There were a couple of nurses sitting at the front desk. I told them who I was, and they took me right back.
"I'll get Dr. White," one of them told me, indicating a chair where I could sit down. I didn't.
A couple of agonizing minutes later a doctor walked up to me and extended his hand, which I shook. "Mr. Curtis? I'm Dr. White. I've been taking care of your wife since she was brought in."
"Is she okay?" I asked. I can't stand when they don't get to the point right away.
"Your wife will be fine," he assured me with a smile. I breathed a little easier. "Come with me, I'll explain on the way."
I walked along with the doctor as he gave me the details on Melissa's condition. "She injured her left foot, but it seems to only be bruised, it will heal on its own. Her head hit the top of the steering wheel, so we had to give her a few stitches on the right side of her forehead. And, for the same reason, I believe she has two or three cracked ribs. They might be broken, but I believe they're just cracked." Believe? Isn't he a doctor?
"You don't know for sure?" I asked, annoyed.
"Normally I would, but your wife declined the x-ray, as well as the pain medication, due to the pregnancy."
I stopped short, and Darry collided with me from behind. I hadn't even realized he was following us.
It took a few more steps for the doctor to realize that I wasn't walking along with him. He turned around and looked at me like he had just told me that the sky is blue.
"The what?" I said.
Dr. White had continued talking after I had stopped listening, so he was visibly trying to backtrack in his mind to figure out what had confused me. "Umm…"
"She's pregnant?" Darry finally said.
Dr. White nodded his head. "Yes, that's right. Didn't you know?"
I shook my head. "No, Melissa isn't pregnant," I told him, like he wasn't a doctor and he didn't know what he was talking about, "she's on the pill."
The doctor glanced down at the file in his hand. "Yes, she's pregnant all right. She told us when she was brought in."
I felt the world around me suddenly rushing around like a blur while my mind tried to catch up with this startling bit of information. Melissa was taking birth control pills. We were planning to wait a few years to have kids. I thought back to Melissa lying on the couch, to how tired she had been the last couple of weeks, to the candles in the bedroom, and Vic at Darry's place.
I'm going to be a father. She had planned to tell me tonight.
"Mr. Curtis?" Dr. White was watching me closely. "Do you want to sit down?"
I blinked, and everything around me slowed back down to normal. "No. No, I'm okay. I'd like to see my wife now."
We walked a few more doors down and Dr. White led me into a small room. As soon as I saw Melissa sitting back on the bed, awake, alert, alive, I felt myself overcome with calm. The horrible frantic dread was gone, and I became the composed sensible person she needed right then.
Melissa, on the other hand, started crying as soon as she saw me. I walked over and sat up onto the edge of the bed, carefully putting my arms around her. She jumped a little when my cold hand came in contact with her back where the hospital gown was coming apart, then leaned her face into my jacket.
"Pony, I'm sorry," she sobbed, "the car…"
The car? She thinks I'm mad about the car? Though I guess after seeing me lose it over a messy house and dry chicken, she didn't know what to expect. I felt so bad.
"Liss, I don't care about the car. I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry. I'm not mad at you…" I went on for a bit, until she calmed down and stopped crying. I knew those ribs were killing her; she didn't need to be tensing up and crying because of me.
I held her back and looked at her. "Liss, I was so scared. I love you so much. I need you. I couldn't stand if anything…" I had to stop when my voice cracked. She looked so tired and upset, but we were getting back to where we should be. She gave me a slight smile. It looked so good, I felt it right through to my soul.
"The doctor told me," I said, and paused to give her a minute to understand. She tensed a little.
"Are you happy?" she asked warily.
Was I happy? I hadn't really been thinking, only feeling. What was I feeling? I was going to be a father. I grinned. "Yeah, I'm happy. I'm really happy."
That seemed to take a big weight off of her, and I could feel her relax in my arms. "Me too," she said.
I smiled at Melissa, and she smiled back as well as she could with the pain she was in. We were good now. Our world was right again.
Darry and I ended up staying at the hospital for three hours, until they had a room ready for Liss. Evidently the hospital was bustling, and it took a while for them to locate and prepare a bed for her. We left at two in the morning. The doctor had encouraged Melissa to at least take some acetaminophen, and she was tired enough that she had been asleep when we left. They were just keeping her overnight because of having hit her head. She would be released the next morning.
Darry took me back to his house, the place that was still home to me, and we set up the couch for me before he went to bed. I ended up not falling asleep until the sky was beginning to lighten, and woke up only a couple of hours later.
As soon as I was awake again my mind was spinning with the events of the night before, and I finally gave up on trying to get back to sleep. I got up and took the newspaper off the porch, then made a pot of coffee and sat down at the dining room table. Vic came out a few minutes later and sat down across from me. Soda was right behind him. I was surprised, I hadn't expected to see him at Darry's.
"Is Melissa okay?" Vic asked. Darry had called his girlfriend and Vic the night before, right after we had seen Melissa, just to let everyone know that she had no serious injuries.
"They just wanted to keep her overnight," I answered. "She cut her head open, and has a few cracked ribs, and a bruised foot. And she's pregnant," I blurted out.
They both looked at me. Soda wrinkled his forehead. "Well shoot, now that I know that can happen from a car wreck, I'd better slow down my driving when I'm out on dates." Vic laughed, which I think surprised both of us. Soda came over and patted me on the shoulder. "Congratulations," he said, grinning from ear to ear.
Darry appeared then. He's usually not the last one up, but it was early, so the more surprising thing was that Soda and I were awake.
"Don't ever leave me to babysit your girlfriend again," Vic told Darry. "She's nuts."
Darry gave Vic a light slap on the back of the head. "Watch it," he warned, then came around to my side of the table and winked at Vic. "What happened?"
"We were watching Serpico, and she got it into her head that we should make popcorn," Vic said, rolling his eyes.
"Is that what that burned smell is?" Soda asked.
"Yeah. Twice she tried! I finally ended up having to do it. You have to shake the pot, you know," he informed us, then looked a little embarrassed. "One of my old foster moms showed me," he explained awkwardly. I smiled at him. He was starting to loosen up a little, even as he fought it.
"By the way, what are you doing here, Soda?" I asked, finally getting back to that train of thought.
"I called here just after Darry left to pick you up last night. Jenn told me what had happened, so I came over here after I was done at the garage." He paused. "I got called to pick up your car after the accident."
My stomach lurched. The car.
"Is it at your garage?" I asked.
Soda nodded. "Pony…," he started.
"I need to see it," I cut in.
He shook his head. "Pony, don't. You don't wanna see the car."
I stiffened. "I didn't say I want to see it. I said I need to see it."
He paused momentarily, considering, and finally nodded. "Alright, but only because I know you won't let it go otherwise. I think it's a bad idea, though."
I didn't bother with breakfast; all I needed was to get to the garage and see what they had pulled Melissa out of.
Soda drove us over. We didn't bother with small talk. I don't need to talk when I'm with Soda, anyway. He knows what I'm feeling without words.
I took a couple of deep breaths as I watched Soda flipping through his keys, unlocking the door to the office, and turning on the lights. I closed my eyes and took one more deep breath before following him through the doorway into the garage. Our car was right in front of me. The minute I saw it, I sank to my knees and started crying.
It had been hit on the driver's side, about three feet ahead of where the driver would sit. The entire front of the car was unrecognizable as having ever been part of a vehicle. It was smashed so completely, it was as if it had never been there. Melissa had been going through an intersection, and the person who hit her had run the red light.
Soda knelt next to me and put his hand on my back. "I told you that you didn't want to see the car," he said quietly. He handed me a clean rag, so I wiped my face and quit crying. I couldn't stop looking at it, though.
The speed limit where the accident had occurred is fifty miles per hour. If Melissa had stepped on the gas pedal just slightly, or if the guy that hit her had slowed down just a hair, they would have collided right on top of her. How long does it take to travel an extra yard at fifty miles an hour?
Another breath…another heartbeat…another three feet…and she would have been gone.
Dedication: "March twenty-second, nineteen-seventy-four, a life I wish I could have known had shut its final door…" This goes out to my Uncle Kevin, who will be fifteen years old forever. If I had been your author, I would have given you those three feet, and you wouldn't be gone.
Note (Just me being a stickler for details): I'm not sure if this was well known in the mid-seventies, so it isn't part of the story, but here's what happened to Melissa: a month or so before this chapter she had a sinus infection and was put on antibiotics. For anyone who doesn't know this, antibiotics make birth control pills less effective. A lot of people have gotten pregnant that way, thinking they were protected. Most of the pharmaceutical companies now put warnings on the pill containers and on antibiotics. Just thought you might want to know what the deal is, even though Ponyboy and Melissa might never realize it.
Now, for my reviewers:
Julie: Thanks so much for the compliments, I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Hope you liked how everything turned out!
FoxFyre33: Thanks so much, I'm so glad you like my writing and this story. I'll keep it coming!
Ale Curtis-Carter: Thanks! Hope I updated soon enough, you can get off the edge of your chair now! Seriously, let me know if you liked how it turned out.
Keira: You're so funny! I'm glad you got a chance to go back and read it all, what with all the other stuff that you've had to read (hehe). Hope you liked it, and thanks for the compliments!
Tessie26: Okay, your review after chapter 3 had me thinking maybe you're psychic, because I've had this all planned out for a few weeks now. Yes! More kids! I thought it would add an interesting dimension too. Hope you enjoyed!
Kaz456: Thanks, glad you enjoyed. Hope you liked the outcome!
Tensleep: Microsoft Word keeps trying to separate you into 'Ten sleep'. What is a ten sleep? Anyway…yes, it was evil! I wonder where I got the idea to end a chapter with a cliffhanger? Hmmm…I'm glad you liked it, and enjoyed my portrayal of Steve. That's funny that you named Steve's wife Chely. Glad I made your day – and thanks for the compliments, they made mine!
