23. Memories Good and Bad
It was my first day in that hellhole…that's how the dream started. In the dream, I was real scared, but I hadn't been in real life. Just another bed to sleep in until I got to go home to my real family, that's how I'd viewed it. All I'd wanted was to go home…and find a way to contact my brothers, Darry especially, who I hadn't talked to since that last day at the house, and that hadn't been much of a conversation. Glory, I missed Darry. Ever since they'd taken me away from the house…since he'd pulled me back and held me and I'd remembered that things hadn't always been awful between us…I'd been desperate to call him. But every time I'd had the chance, I'd been too scared to call the house.
Then it was a different day…not my first day. The day I'd stolen two quarters from Tyler's backpack to take the bus across town. The asshole had put a cigarette out on my arm! It had hurt almost more than anything, and I'd screamed, trying to pull away or fight or something, but too surprised to do anything. I'd cried too, curled up in my bed and wanting Darry worse than anything. Sure, Sodapop would make me feel better, but Darry would beat the hell out of that guy for me. He'd been furious when Curly and I had held lit cigarettes to our fingertips, and that had been me doing it. I couldn't imagine how he'd react to someone else doing it to me. He'd knock his teeth out, that was for sure. Maybe put out some cigarettes on his face.
In the dream, the social worker led me into the room and I still couldn't believe it. In real life, I'd told the woman everything, which hadn't been too much yet. Just the yelling and the other girl crying. I hadn't wanted to show her, but I had. I'd pulled up my sleeve, showing the angry white blister on my arm. She'd nodded, looking concerned, and had put a hand on my shoulder, leading me outside and to her car. For a while, I'd thought she was going to take me back to my brothers…that they were going to tell me this was a mistake. Darry would be home and he would hold me and promise that everything would be okay. He'd see my arm and put something on it and apologize and Soda would hold me and…the daydream had abruptly ended when we'd pulled up outside that house, and stupid me, I'd even told the lady I didn't care about any of the stuff there…
In my dream, I fought. I tried to pull away from her hand on my arm and screamed and even hit the lady. And when Richard went ahead and took off his belt instead of waiting for her to leave, holding it loosely in his hand like Two-Bit would hold his switch or like Curly Shepherd held a broken bottle, I'd fought even harder.
If only.
He'd waited, in real life, until the social worker was gone to hit me. But the belt swung down in my dream, a hand still around my wrist, and I screamed, feeling the sting of the belt on my shoulder and my back. Thank goodness Dallas hadn't made me take off my shirt. He'd have seen the marks on my back and, well…worried, even more, I guess, or told my brothers, no matter how much I'd asked him not to.
The hand on my wrist tightened and I tried again to pull away. "Pony? Ponyboy?" Someone was saying my name, which was weird, since apart from the day we'd met, Richard had never said my name. It was always 'kid' or 'boy' which were two nicknames I'd learned to hate. Apparently, he'd thought my name was stupid or something, which was nothing new, nor was it something I cared about. But this person was saying 'Ponyboy' and a finger pushed against a burn on my wrist. I jerked away, hating the whine that escaped. "Sorry," the person murmured, releasing my arm.
Glory my head hurt. And I was tired. Which didn't make sense, because I think I was asleep. Or maybe not…I couldn't tell. Something cool was laid on my forehead and I groaned, shivering a little. I was cold, but it didn't feel bad. I pushed at the thing on my head and the hand caught my wrist again, making me yell and try to jerk away. "Pony, wake up," the voice murmured, someone shaking my shoulder. "Mike?" the same voice asked, louder this time.
"What?" I asked, frowning and trying to open my eyes. Mike?
"Michael? Come on, man. Wake up." He was speaking louder and I finally managed to open my eyes, wincing at the light and staring at the silhouette kneeling over me. I tried to jerk away, having nothing but bad experiences with people standing over me recently, but a hand landed on my shoulder and squeezed a little. That wasn't something Richard would do. Hell, Richard never touched me unless he was hitting me. So maybe Mark or Tyler? Once or twice they'd picked me up off the floor when he'd beaten the shit out of me, throwing me on the bed and giving me some Aspirin.
"Is he awake?" I didn't like the sound of that and flinched away, but the guy over me just patted my shoulder.
"Yeah, he's waking up. Mike? You okay?"
"What happened?" I asked, figuring it was a safe bet and trying to remember what exactly had led to me lying on a sofa like this.
"We're at work. You fell off the ladder." The guy sounded worried and it clicked, then, who was with me.
"Jo…Patrick?" I asked, rubbing at my eyes and trying to sit up, remembering at the last second why he'd been calling me Mike. He helped, pulling me up by my shoulder and sitting me up against the back of the sofa, his hand on my back helping me sit up. The room spun but I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on staying upright.
Johnny grinned, looking relieved. "Yeah, man. You okay?"
"I…think so. Yeah." I was still cold and dizzy, but I could see someone else in the room…Mr. Williams. Our boss. I'd fallen off a ladder on our first day of work. Shit. "I'm sorry…did I break anything?"
Mr. Williams shook his head, coming forward and reaching for my face. I flinched; jerking away, and he paused, and then placed his hand against my forehead. "You've got a fever, son. You'd best head on home. You two gonna be alright, or do you need a ride?"
Fever? I mean I'd figured I was getting sick, but I guess it was worse than I'd thought. I swayed a little, and Johnny kept his hand firm on my back to hold me up.
"We'll be fine," Johnny insisted, and I let him haul me to my feet where I tried not to fall over. I wanted to disagree. I'd have loved a ride, but for some reason, Johnny kept his arm around me. The room still felt like it was spinning, and I fought not to close my eyes. I doubted that would help. Gripping Johnny's shoulder, I did my best to stand upright, staggering after him as he took most of my weight.
"Are you sure?" he asked, narrowed eyes on us, and I nodded. No matter how bad I felt, I knew Johnny must have a reason for not asking him for a ride.
"Yeah…I'll be alright," I assured him, and Johnny seconded that as he led me out of the room and out onto the street.
"Stay home tomorrow, Mike. Get some rest. I don't want your concussion on my hands," Mr. Williams called after us as he shut the door behind us, smiling wryly. He still looked worried, though. I couldn't quite figure out why.
"What's going on?" I asked after a few minutes of walking, my brain sluggishly trying to keep up as I gripped his shirt.
"We're gonna get you home so you can rest, man," Johnny told me, patting my back.
"Did I get us fired?" I was slurring and I wasn't sure why. "I didn't drink anything," I told Johnny, not wanting him to think I was drinking at work. He hesitated in the street, giving me a weird look.
"No, you didn't get us fired. And we can get you some water as soon as we get home, alright?" He was trying to reassure me.
"What?" I asked, rubbing at my eyes. "I mean…beer or nothin'."
"Yeah, I know you weren't," he answered slowly. "You're sick. That's why you fell, man. You feeling okay?"
"Just…dizzy. Tired."
"You can sleep as soon as we get home."
"Home?"
"Back to James's place," he corrected himself, probably hearing the hope in my voice.
"I wanna go home…I miss Darry and Soda," I murmured.
"I know, man." He sounded sad. I sighed, doing my best to keep up with him. My body felt weird, like my legs didn't want to work right, and I kept stumbling as we walked. The whole world was spinning too fast, but suddenly I remembered something.
"I gotta call Soda, Johnny."
"You already called him, Pone," he told me, real soft and comforting. I closed my eyes, shaking my head. I didn't think I had, but maybe he was right. I remembered talking to him. He'd been real happy to hear from me…and Steve too. Right, I thought tiredly, I must have already talked to them.
I closed my eyes then, just moving with Johnny until I heard someone else's voice. "The hell happened to him?"
"He's sick…he fell off a ladder at the store."
There was a long, exhausted sign, and someone got under my other side, helping me stand until I was pushed onto a sofa. I tried to stay sitting up, but I had almost fallen over when someone caught me again. A light was switched on and I flinched, trying to hide from the brightness. "He's bleeding."
"His head?"
"No…well yeah. His side too."
"Pony? Did you hit something when you fell?" Johnny asked, but I couldn't remember.
"Come on, kid. Take your shirt off?"
That sounded like Dally. Had he said the same thing? Or…no, he'd asked me to roll up my sleeves. Was Dally here? I shook my head, firm on that point. No way. Dally would tell my brothers and I didn't want them to know. I didn't want them to know that I'd stood still while a man had beat me with a belt…that I'd put my hands against a wall and just let him hurt me. I mean they already knew I wasn't tough, but this was a new kind of cowardly. I shook my head, hating the hot tears that filled my eyes. "Kid…"
Dally couldn't threaten me all he wanted. I wasn't gonna do it.
Hands gripped the bottom of my shirt, pulling, and I swung, my fist connecting with something. Not a face…probably someone's arm. "Stop, Dally!" I shouted, shoving at the hand that tried to grab me, knowing what Dally would do to me for hitting him and not caring.
"Will you stop hitting me? I ain't Dally!" the other voice snarled, and I went still, hating myself for shrinking against the back of the sofa and hating the hot tears that dripped down my face and hating Richard more than I'd ever hated anyone. It was all his fault. The voice was softer then, not by much, but at least he hadn't hit me. "Shit, kid. It's James, okay? I ain't gonna hurt you. I just want to get your shirt off and see why you're bleeding."
"James?" I rubbed at my eyes, wondering why my head hurt so bad and why I was so tired and why I couldn't remember where Dallas had gone. "Where's Dally?"
"Back in Tulsa, Pony," Johnny reminded me. I'd forgotten he was there.
"Johnny, I'm supposed to call Sodapop."
"The hell…how hard did he hit his head?" James asked, sounding more worried than before.
"That's his brother's name."
"Sodapop?" James sighed again. "Right. Whatever. Get your shirt off kid, then you can call your brother." I didn't know what one had to do with the other, but while I didn't take it off, I also didn't fight him when he pulled at my t-shirt, holding my arms up and pulling it over my head. It smelled like blood, and I brought a hand to my side automatically when it pulled a little. I hadn't noticed before…but the bandage I'd wrapped over it was wet.
They could see my arms. If they hadn't already seen my back, they would soon. I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to see Johnny's face…not wanting to see the pity in his eyes. The tears kept coming but I didn't care. I didn't care about any of it. It was something I'd learned when I'd lived with the asshole…when he'd hit me or scream at me, I'd just go away. Tell myself it didn't matter over and over until it didn't. It didn't matter how much it hurt when the belt hit or how much I missed my brothers when he'd put cigarettes out on my arms or how he'd beat on the door...
Someone eased the bandage on my side away, pulling at the tape that held it in place, and a second later, burning fire was pressed to the cut. I arched my back, trying to escape…in my head I screamed but I didn't open my mouth. I knew what happened when I opened my mouth.
I usually picked Gone with the Wind. Scarlett O'Hara, the selfish, beautiful woman and the men who loved her. Johnny was reading the book, but we'd gone to see the movie together. Or Moby Dick. It had taken almost a whole month to read that one, but I'd done it. A ship out on the sea and a white whale. I didn't want to kill a whale, but I'd think about the ocean I'd never seen and wonder what it looked like to be surrounded by water.
"We need to put something on his arms. Some of those burns already look infected. He must have put a whole bunch of alcohol on his face, otherwise, it would be infected too."
"Won't it hurt him?"
"It'll hurt him worse if it gets infected."
Other times, it would be real things. Memories. Fishing trips with my dad. Cheering for Darry's football team and him carrying me around on his back. Playing cards with the guys.
Or my fourteenth birthday, Darry and Soda making me a cake and waking me up early. The guys all over at our place, and Darry grilling in the backyard. The book Johnny had gotten me...some new paperback mystery that I read in a day. A couple of bucks from Two-Bit in a card with a red car on it meant for a five-year old. That had made everybody laugh, but I couldn't be mad at Two-Bit, so I'd laughed too, swatting him with it. A pack of cigarettes from Steve who had rolled his eyes when I'd tried to thank him, telling me I'd better not bug him for any more for at least a week. And a pocket knife from Dally, the most unexpected of the gifts dropped into my hand at the end of the day. He'd grinned at me, ruffling my hair and wishing me a happy birthday.
It was the blade I carried everywhere with me now.
"Pony? You okay, man?" Someone shook my shoulder, their finger brushing against a scar on my back. It was a raised mark, still, even after weeks of being away, though not nearly as bad as my face or the cut on my side. I kept my eyes closed. Let them think I was asleep. The person beside me scooted over a little, moving closer to me and moving my arm. "Oh shit…"
"The hell, man?" That was James again, sounding more and more tired…almost sad.
"What…what did…"
"A belt," James answered, his voice sharp, although I figured he wasn't mad at Johnny. "Someone belted him. More than once."
From Darry, I'd gotten some shirts and a new pair of shoes. Before, I'd just been wearing Soda's old ones, so that had been a good surprise. Soda had given me some money that he must have taken out of his paycheck. Later, when we'd gone to bed, I'd tried to argue that he couldn't afford it and he'd cuffed me on the head. "Don't you be telling me how to spend my money, kid," he'd mock-scolded, then put an arm around me, telling me that Steve had wanted to give me a roll of condoms, but he and Darry had found out and warned him not to…I guess they told him it was too soon after our parents to be messing with me like that, especially on my birthday.
Something burned my arms and a cool rag was laid on my head as someone eased me down to lie on the sofa. I was freezing, though, and groped for the blankets. "Cold," I managed to tell them, suddenly shivering. I knew Johnny was there, somewhere. I didn't want to think about it, though. James neither. I wanted to go back to my birthday party. Someone pat me on the shoulder and pulled the blanket up to my chest. A hand went under my head then, and a straw was held to my mouth. I drank the lukewarm water, gulping as I realized how thirsty I was until someone pulled it away.
"You're gonna make yourself sick, kid. Slow down," someone warned while someone else put something on my arm. They pressed a little too hard on one of the fresher burns and I whimpered, the noise escaping against my will.
The morning after my birthday, when I'd gone out on the porch to smoke, I'd found a little foil package in the bottom of the pack and had cried for almost an hour, my arms folded on the railing, my shoulders shaking as I'd sobbed. It had been Two-Bit who'd come out onto the porch with me, rubbing my back for a long time. Apparently, he'd slept on the sofa.
"Steve was just goofing around, kiddo. Didn't mean nothing by it," he'd finally said, and I'd shaken my head, throwing the condom and the cigarettes down on the ground.
"I don't care about that," I'd sobbed, my voice breaking halfway through, and he'd kept rubbing my back.
"Yeah, I know."
I felt myself fading and wondered what time it was…or what day. Johnny and I had gone to work. Then…nothing. I could barely remember Mr. Williams telling us what we were supposed to be doing, but I guess he had. Someone had me drink some more water and kept something cold on my forehead. I went from hot to cold, trying to stay in my memory.
I'd cried for a long time, but only Two-Bit had been awake. He'd rubbed my back, then put an arm around my shoulder, letting me lean against him, putting his arms around me like Soda would have. "I want my mom and dad." I'd been ashamed even as I'd let myself say it, my tears soaking through his shirt, and he'd leaned his head on top of mine. I remember thinking that he must be real good with his little sister when she was upset.
"I know you do, kid. I know."
"It ain't fair." I'd practically yelled it, my voice muffled in his shoulder.
"No…it ain't." His voice had been soft and reasonable. He hadn't told me that life wasn't fair, though. He hadn't told me to pull myself together or calm down. He'd just let me be, sitting back and holding me and letting me finish crying until I was calmer, my breath hitching a little every few seconds. I'd wiped my eyes on my shirt, too ashamed to look at him, but he'd reached out, his hand resting on the back of my neck, and I'd finally met his eyes.
He'd been smiling a little, but his eyes had been dead serious. For just a moment, he'd almost looked his age…like a real grown up who could fix things. "You're gonna be just fine, kid. We're gonna look out for you. Darry and Soda, and the rest of us too, savvy?"
I'd nodded, wiping at my eyes, wishing my breath would stop catching and that my throat didn't ache so much. "Yeah."
With that, he'd reached down and swiped the presents I'd thrown on the floor, dropping the condom into his pocket, then handing me the smokes and lighting a cigarette for me. Later that week, Steve had been fuming when he'd pulled out one of his books from his backpack and a condom had fallen out of his bag and onto the floor in the middle of math class. A socy girl beside him had seen it and screamed a little, and all the guys had laughed.
Two-Bit had gone around calling him a sex fiend for a month.
I stayed there, remembering, even when I felt like I was so cold and shivering so hard my ribs would break. Then I'd get so hot, I'd kick off the blankets and moan, wishing the rag on my forehead was cooler. Every so often, it would be, but then it would warm up and I'd push it away until the chills came back. There were still voices but I really couldn't hear them anymore…or maybe it was just too much effort to keep up with them. Instead, I went back to remembering Two-Bit, the tough greaser who won every fight he got himself into, and how he'd held me on our front porch, rubbing my back and promising that he'd look out for me. I managed to stay there until the phone rang, jerking me awake for just a moment until someone answered and I was allowed to drift back to sleep.
