46. Check Up
I woke up early the next day, blinking at the dim light coming in through the curtain. There was a weight on my side and it took me a moment to realize it was Sodapop's arm. I smiled a little, feeling more rested than I had in what felt like months. Soda was breathing softly behind me, his arm tight around my side. We'd gone to bed not long after dinner, even though I'd slept most of the day. I knew Darry and Soda were real worried, but I'd felt like I was in a daze, even after sleeping for so long. Telling that cop and Darry everything had been rough, and I hadn't wanted to face anyone afterward. But now…now I was awake. Really awake.
Last night, Soda and I had laid down, his arm going around me immediately. "Are you okay?" he'd asked, his voice soft.
"Yeah. I'm just real tired...don't know why."
He'd just rubbed circles on my back. "Don't worry about it...just get some more rest."
I'd hummed in agreement, closing my eyes and letting myself fall back into sleep.
I tried to remember the day before…what little of it I'd been awake for. I'd talked to Officer Charlton but I didn't want to think about that. Darry had told me that Mr. Williams had called. I needed to talk to Johnny…tell him that he'd called us. Maybe we could both talk to him. And I wanted to talk to the guys too. Even Steve. I hadn't really gotten the chance yet. Also I apparently had to go to the doctor, which would involve showing someone my arms and my back too, most likely. And my brothers would probably be in the room. I didn't want that…even thinking about it made my chest seize up and I scooted closer to Soda who tightened his grip on me, muttering in his sleep.
There was still the question of custody, too. But the cop had assured me that even if Darry didn't get custody right away, I would still be allowed to visit with my brothers. I guess that's what's important. Or so I kept telling myself as I stared at the window. I don't think I'd had any nightmares the night before. I couldn't remember dreaming at all. I knew I should get up and get started on breakfast but I was so comfortable. Instead, I pulled the blankets more snugly around me and closed my eyes, feeling my brother's arm around me and listening to his soft breathing. I'd wanted this so bad…I'd waited every day in that boy's home and thought about what it would be like to be with my big brothers again…to fall asleep knowing that I was safe and that my brothers loved me.
Soda mumbled something in his sleep and I relaxed beside him, so glad I was home. I knew we'd have to go through custody stuff and I'd have to go to the doctor and all that, but for now, I was home in my own bed with my brothers and everything was okay. Soda rolled over, lifting his arm off of me and curling up on his other side, taking most of my covers. I grunted, pulling them back to my side, grinning when he was left without anything. He groaned, feeling around for the covers that I wrapped myself in like a cocoon.
"Hey," he grumbled, shaking me, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "Share." He tugged on the blankets, making me laugh. He pulled the blankets until I was rolled over with them, then stole his half of the blanket back, covering us both up. "How are you feeling, kiddo?" he asked, dropping back on his pillow and facing me.
"Fine. Did I have nightmares?"
"Didn't wake me if you did." He shrugged, glancing past me at the clock. "It's only seven," he grumbled.
I hummed in agreement, closing my eyes once more and we managed to sleep for another hour until we heard Darry moving around in the kitchen. I stretched and then curled up in a ball under the covers, tugging at the long sleeves until they covered my wrists again.
"You know Darry's going to try and get an appointment at the doctor, right?"
"I figured."
He rubbed my shoulder over the blanket, smiling a little but looking worried. "It'll be quick, kiddo. Then maybe we can catch up with the guys?"
"Sounds good," I told him, not quite meeting his eyes. That was ridiculous. Sodapop wouldn't ever hurt me…I didn't have to be afraid to meet his eyes. Still, it was hard. I just hoped it wouldn't always be. If he noticed, he didn't say anything about it, just lay back down, staring up at the ceiling for a minute. "I hope I get to stay," I murmured. "I mean…I know it'll be okay and I'll still get to see you guys…but I really hope I get to stay."
"Me too," he all but whispered, closing his eyes. "I really hope you get to stay too."
The door to our bedroom opened and I tensed a little, hating the ingrained reaction. I hated it. I hated that my body was still afraid, even though I knew I was safe. Darry knocked on our door a little as he opened it, peeking inside. "You two up?"
"No," Soda answered, and I grinned, pulling the covers up over my head. Darry chuckled, coming into the room and tugging the blankets off of us, leaving me shivering.
"Hey!" I snapped, and he ruffled my hair.
"No way you're cold." He sat on the bed beside me, hand still on my head. "How do you feel, Pone?"
"Fine," I sat up and scooted up to the head of the bed, and Soda followed suit, sitting cross-legged and leaning against the pillows. His knee pressed against my leg and it was comfortable and familiar and I'd missed them so much.
"Nightmares?"
I shrugged. "Not that I can remember."
"Well, that's something, I guess." He ruffled my hair one last time and stood up. "Breakfast is ready. I talked to Officer Charlton this morning and they made an appointment for you at 10:00, so we can get it over with early."
"Sure," I muttered, following him into the kitchen still in pajamas. Sodapop stayed behind to get dressed and joined us after a minute, all of us eating our eggs in relative silence until the door was thrown open, then the screen door, slamming hard behind whoever it was. I flinched, nearly dropping my fork, and Darry's jaw clenched.
"Stop. Slamming. The. Door!" he snapped, his voice angrier than usual, and there was dead silence for a minute as Steve entered the kitchen, wide-eyed.
"Sorry," he told our brother, his voice more incredulous and almost amused than really sorry. Darry gave him a look and he shrugged, grabbing a cake from the refrigerator and cutting himself a piece. "What's up his ass?" he asked Soda in a voice just a little too loud to be a whisper, and I thought Darry might slug him. Soda grabbed his arm before he could, tugging him away from the table and into our bedroom.
Lifting my eyebrows, I met Darry's eyes.
After a moment of silence, I gestured toward where Steve and Soda had disappeared. "So are you gonna go after him and beat him up or…?"
He rolled his eyes but seemed a little bit sorry. "Didn't mean to scare you," was all he said.
"Wasn't my head you bit off."
"One day they're gonna break that damn door," he grumbled, but I had a feeling it had more to do with the fact that I'd been scared. I waited for him to take a bite, then spoke.
"Wasn't his fault. I can't help it…happens every time I hear a loud noise now," I told him quietly, ears hot as I stared down at my plate, not sure why I was admitting this out loud. Then again, if anyone would still have any respect for me despite the fact that I'd turned into a big baby, it was Darry. Sodapop too, but he was busy talking to Steve. "That's how he used to come home when he was drunk…which was most nights. And he'd beat on Rita's door…" I trailed off, staring at my food, appetite gone. Darry reached out, a gentle hand on my back, but he didn't say anything. "I ain't scared of Steve or nothing. Just can't help it."
"You ain't gotta help it," he told me quietly. "You don't have to be sorry, neither. It's not your fault," he assured me. I nodded, accepting that he believed that, and tried to take another bite of my eggs. "You want something else?"
"Nah…I'm gonna go get dressed," I muttered, managing a smile as I headed to our bedroom.
Steve and Soda were just coming out of the bedroom as I was about to step inside, and I moved aside, letting them by. Steve didn't say anything, just clapped me on the shoulder as he walked by, and I shut the bedroom door behind me so I could change. I could hear them talking in the other room though.
"What's he gotta go to the doctor for?" Steve demanded.
I knew my brothers were trying to keep their voices down, but I could still hear Darry giving him the short version of what I'd told the cop. I appreciated him keeping the worst parts to himself, just telling Steve that I'd been hurt pretty bad and that I hadn't been eating enough. I felt like I'd been eating more than I had in New York at least, but it was still next to impossible sometimes…like I couldn't even feel hungry most of the time anymore.
"The kid's fine." Steve sounded mad when he said it, and I went into the bathroom to fix my hair, leaving them to their conversation. "So he needs to eat more…he's fine."
"The social services people would have made him go to the doctor and get checked out either way. I'd rather take him than make him go with strangers."
I greased my hair back, sighing when I looked at myself in the mirror and tracing the scar that went down my face and wishing it would fade faster. I brought up a finger and touched it, wincing at the feel of the uneven skin.
"That still hurt?"
I jumped a little when Steve appeared in the doorway. "No," I told him, dropping my hand.
He was quiet for a second, staring at it. "What happened?" he finally asked.
"One of Richard's friends got me with a bottle."
"That what all the blood was from?"
"That and my side. Another one got me with a blade."
He hummed, nodding and looking critically up at my hair.
"Guess you can't dye it back. And you'd look real stupid without any hair…suppose we'll have to get used to it."
I grunted, giving my reflection a look of distaste.
"It helps when you grease it back." He reached out, patting my shoulder. "And, uh…I didn't mean to freak you out." He shrugged, uncomfortable.
"Wasn't your fault. Everything freaks me out now. Cigarettes. Belts. Damn doors slamming…" I swore under my breath, shaking my head, and he put the hand back on my shoulder, his face real serious.
"Hell, kid, if I'd gone through what you have, everything would freak me out too. And I ain't a big fan of belts either to tell you the truth. My old man's taken one to me one too many times." For a second we were both quiet, equally comfortable and uncomfortable. "You gotta go to the doctor…at least social services ain't gonna be there."
"Yeah. They're coming by sometime, though. No way they're just gonna leave us alone."
"Don't worry too much about it, kid."
I tried not to as Darry got dressed and we all got ready to leave. I tried not to worry as Steve got comfortable on the couch and my brothers and I piled into the truck. I tried not to worry as we drove to the doctor's office where we'd all gone ever since we were kids, and as we sat in the waiting room, me in the middle of my brothers wondering why they were both with me.
I hadn't been to the doctor but once since my parents had died, and Darry had been the one to bring me since he was my guardian. Before, it had always been Mom or Dad. I wasn't sure why Soda was with us…but I didn't want to hurt his feelings by asking. Instead, I turned to him in the waiting room while Darry flipped half-heartedly through a magazine. Sodapop's leg was bouncing up and down and he was picking at his nails, a sure sign he'd rather be somewhere else. I figured he might have lit up a cigarette if we weren't in a waiting room.
"You ain't gotta stay if you don't want, Soda. It won't take long, and Steve's probably got plans for you guys, right?"
Despite my best intentions, Soda flinched. "I don't care to stay, Pone. I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine," I told him, hating that I'd hurt his feelings but not wanting him there. I didn't want him to break down…because if he broke down, I would, and then I didn't know if I'd be able to put myself back together. It was different with Darry who was quiet and, when I'd been crying, had been real strong. Soda was strong too, but not when it came to me.
"You want me to go?" he asked, and even if Richard himself had been in the room holding a gun to my head, I couldn't have said 'yes.' Instead, I grinned, trying to wipe all the anxiety off my face.
"No, 'course not, Soda. I just thought you and Steve might have plans or something. Didn't want to make you late or anything."
He relaxed then, buying it. "Nope. I'm free all day, kiddo," he told me with a grin, reached out and ruffling my hair, laughing when I tried to dodge, punching him in the arm. The nurse gave us kind of a nervous look like we might be about to have a wrestling match in the waiting room or something, so we quit, him putting an arm around me real quick and squeezing. I caught Darry giving me a kind of weird look, but he just looked back down at his magazine before I could ask.
When the nurse called me back, we all got up, Darry trailing behind me and Soda as the lady asked for my birthdate and then led us back to a room with a scale. It was a small room so Soda waited in the hall while I stepped on the scale. She moved the little thing on top until it balanced out, the arrow pointed to 98 pounds. Darry's jaw was tight when she said it out loud, and he put an arm around me as she led us to the other room where I sat down and she took my blood pressure, reading off the numbers and writing them down. "Is that okay?" Darry asked before I could get up.
Her professional, calm demeanor cracked a little, and she smiled just a bit, softening. "Yes. His blood pressure is within the normal range," she assured him, leading us to a third room where I was instructed to sit on a bed covered in paper while Darry and Sodapop got chairs. I dangled my feet off the side as we waited for the doctor with my brothers shooting me worried looks.
"I feel fine," I told them, swinging my feet and kicking the base of the table with my heels. Darry gave me a look and I quit, keeping them still.
"We know. It's just to make sure you're doing okay," Sodapop told me. "There's a drag race tonight…you guys wanna come?" he asked, elbowing Darry who grinned a little.
"What do you think?" Darry asked, turning to me. "You feel up to it?"
"Sure!" I told them, my spirits lifted for just a moment, up until there was a knock on the door and the doctor stepped in.
He was a short guy, flipping through a clipboard full of paper that I assumed had my information and life story on it. He'd know. He'd know about all of it. He'd look at my arms and my back and I'd known this was coming but I still didn't want it. Darry and Soda would see all of it…they'd know that I'd stood there while a man had taken a belt to me. They'd know that I was a coward who hadn't even fought back.
"Mr. Curtis?"
They'd know what Richard had done…how he'd made me into a different person and that no matter how hard I was trying, they'd know I was afraid that I'd never be the same again.
A hand touched my arm and I jerked back so hard that I almost fell off the metal bed, cringing away from the hand that reached out to catch me.
"Pony!"
Soda was at my side in a second, gripping my shoulders and looking scared. I thought of the time I'd nearly killed those guys at Mr. Williams' store and felt sick. Was this gonna start happening now? I'd thought it was a one-off thing…back when I'd lived with Richard, I'd been able to control it somewhat. He'd start hitting me and my mind would leave. Now it was leaving and I wasn't making it happen.
Darry was out of his chair, both of my brothers between me and the doctor who'd reached out to touch me. "What's wrong, Pony?" Darry asked, his voice real quiet like he was keeping the doctor out of our conversation.
"I…sorry…I didn't…" I blinked rapidly, trying to focus again. "Sorry," I settled on that word, shaking my head. "Sorry."
"You ain't gotta be sorry," Soda assured me quietly, squeezing my shoulders. "You okay?"
"Yeah." I nodded, staring down at my lap, then glancing up at the doctor. He was waiting patiently, looking a little guilty.
"I'm sorry about that, Ponyboy. I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's fine." It wasn't his fault. It was mine. But hopefully, we could all ignore what had just happened. Darry went back to his seat, but Sodapop leaned against the wall beside my bed, staying close while the doctor pulled out a stethoscope.
"I read your file. The state of Oklahoma currently has custody of your brother, but he's staying with you for the moment. Is that correct?"
"Yeah." Darry nodded his head.
"It also said there was some abuse in a previous foster home." He looked at me for that one. Abuse. That's what I was now…a kid that had been abused.
"That's right," Darry answered for me, his tone a little harsh. It wasn't the doctor's fault, though, and I felt kind of bad for the guy who was trying to tiptoe around it. No reason he should feel guilty."
"The foster father beat on all of us," I told him, and Darry's head swung to me. "All the kids in the house."
"Yes…you are the only foster child of Mr. Norris who is still underage." I nodded. "It says very little in your file about the actual abuse, only that the foster father was arrested." I nodded again, not wanting to comment on that. "Today we're just going to do a check-up to see what kind of physical shape you're in. You don't have to talk about any of it if you don't want to."
I was glad to hear it, because I sure didn't plan on talking about it.
He checked my lungs first, a stethoscope against my back as he instructed me to breathe in and out. Soda stayed beside me, leaning on the wall, and Darry watched the doctor like a hawk, eyes narrow as he followed all of his movements. He took my pulse and my temperature, then had me lay back and pressed his hands against my stomach and my sides, pausing when I flinched, my whole body recoiling when his hands hit a sore spot.
He looked worried then, dropping his hands. "How long have you been away from Mr. Norris?"
"A few months," I told him.
He glanced back at Darry.
"Any bruising should have faded by now…" He hesitated, holding out a hand to help me up. I took it after a second. "Could you remove your shirt so that I can get a look…see if there's any bruising."
I wanted to say no. It had worked with the cop. But one look at Darry told me that this wasn't going to work with a doctor. He looked kind of sorry, but also firm. I wasn't gonna get any help there. Sodapop pushed off the wall and put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. "You okay?" he asked softly, leaning in.
I nodded, wishing the floor would open up and that I could disappear.
I waited for him to take a step back and lifted my shirt over my head, flinching when Soda made a noise behind me. I stared down at the floor, refusing to look up, hands shaking in my lap. He swore under his breath, and I heard Darry muter something. Soda went quiet then, and the doctor just stood there for a moment. "Was the bruising from Mr. Norris?"
"Uh, no…a couple of guys jumped me a week or two ago." It still looked real bad…but it didn't hurt as much unless I poked them. The bruises covered both sides of my ribs, wrapping around to my stomach.
"You said it wasn't that bad," Soda all but snapped.
"I said they got Johnny worse than me," I corrected, managing a half smile at the floor. "Also, I lied." I could almost feel Soda glaring at me but still didn't look up.
"I didn't hear any trouble in your breathing…have you had any problems?"
"No…doesn't even hurt unless I touch it."
"And the scars on your arms…from cigarettes?"
"Yeah…I don't smoke anymore," I offered.
"Well, that's good for your lungs at least." The doctor sighed, reaching out a hand and touching my wrist. I let him take it, his finger running over one of the burns. "None of them are infected. It looks like you took care of them."
"Alcohol," I told him simply.
"And your side?"
I'd taken off the bandage on my side the night before after my shower, revealing a scab covering the deep cut on my side right below my ribs. "It got infected, but I think it's okay now."
He nodded, taking a closer look for a moment, and I accidentally caught a look at Sodapop's face. He was glaring at the floor, jaw so tight I was waiting for his teeth to break. I dropped my eyes again, hating that they were wet all of a sudden. I didn't blame him for being mad at me. I'd lied to him. About something big. More than once. I hadn't called them for days after those guys had jumped us because I was so scared they'd find out. And now they knew pretty much all of it.
And Soda was mad.
The doctor turned to my brother, taking a seat at the counter where he wrote in my chart. "Your brother is underweight, but not severely. Otherwise, he is in pretty good physical condition. The bruising should fade in a few weeks, and as long as he isn't having any trouble breathing, it's nothing to worry about. Take over the counter medicine for any pain, and try to take it easy for a few days." He said, turning to me. "No roughhousing, and it would be best if you didn't take up smoking again."
"Don't worry…that ain't gonna happen," I told him, my voice kind of dry as I pulled my shirt back on.
"Doctor, when he was in that house, that foster father beat him real bad…one time he said he couldn't stand up and he was peeing blood."
The doctor nodded slowly. "Is there still any blood in your urine?" he asked me, and I shook my head.
"No…it only lasted for about a week."
"It sounds like your kidneys were bruised. Those can heal on their own with rest. We can run some tests to make sure there's no permanent damage."
I wanted to say no, but Darry nodded.
"Yeah. Run the tests." He stood up, bypassing Soda who I was trying not to look at and putting an arm around my shoulders. "Don't give me that look," he scolded gently. "I gotta make sure you're okay." He squeezed my arm, hugging me a little and looking shaken. So I peed in the cup, gave them my blood, then headed home with Darry and an increasingly irritable-looking Sodapop where we would wait for the results which, according to the doctor, ought to come in a day or two.
As soon as we got to the house, Soda stomped out to the back porch, and before Darry could stop me, I followed him. "Pone…" Darry called, but I let the door shut behind me and hovered in front of the back door, arms crossed. Soda was leaning against the rail and I wiped at my eyes, hating every bit of this.
"I'm sorry, Soda," I offered, my voice barely there. "I…I shouldn't have lied to you. I mean…I just didn't know how…"
Soda spun on his heels, and for a second, the irrational thought that he was going to hit me went through my head. But of course he didn't…instead he threw his arms around me, his face hidden in my shoulder. I put a hesitant hand on his back, and then he was sobbing, whimpering into my shirt. "Pony…" He shook his head, and I held him tight, feeling my own eyes start to tear up, my forehead resting on his shoulder. "Your back…and your arms…and…I couldn't do anything. I couldn't…I didn't protect you. You're my baby brother and he…he hurt you so bad and…I didn't do anything."
I exhaled, slumping against him and smiling a little. At least he wasn't mad at me. But this was exactly why I hadn't wanted him to know. He was tough…real tough. But not when it came to me. He couldn't take stuff like this.
"You couldn't have done anything, Soda." I rubbed his back, pulling away and giving him a half smile. "None of it was your fault."
He just pulled me close again, one hand on the back of my head and the other on my back, arms tight around me like he was protecting me from the things that had happened months ago.
"I'm sorry I lied to you," I murmured. He shook his head but didn't answer, holding me on our porch until Darry stepped outside. Our big brother stayed in the doorway for a second, then put his arms around both of us. "I'm sorry," I whispered, and Darry squeezed us both tighter.
