(Ponyboy's POV)
For a week after we got the letters from the military, I stayed home from school, unable to focus or function in class. A couple days into that first week, someone called the house. It was Darry's boss, which nearly scared me to death.
Darry's boss told me that Darry was in the hospital. Apparently, he was climbing down the ladder, but the ladder fell when he was halfway down, taking Darry with it. Evidently, the person that went on the ladder before him hadn't secured it completely, so it wasn't stable enough for someone like Darry to be climbing on it. As the man was telling me what happened, all I could think about was what would happen if I lost another family member.
My last blood relative.
Two-Bit came with me to see Darry in the hospital. If it wasn't for Two-Bit, I wasn't confident that I would be able to handle that sort of thing by myself. First my parents, then Johnny and Dally, and with Soda and Steve gone too, the worst case scenario was playing through my head the entire way to the hospital. If something terrible happened to Darry, I wouldn't know what to do.
When we finally got to see Darry, I immediately threw myself into his arms and started sobbing, relieved that he was alive, and besides a hurt back, he was okay. Darry wrapped his arms around me and tried to calm me down while he talked with Two-Bit. I couldn't form a complete sentence without choking on the words, but I had a feeling Darry knew what had me so upset– I thought I was going to lose another brother.
Luckily, Darry was discharged that night, and he was allowed to go home with me and Two-Bit. He was ordered to rest until his back felt good enough to work.
Even though Darry and I were in the house together most of the time while he healed, neither of us talked much, but just being near each other made the days bearable. We both knew we were mourning Soda and Steve's deaths, and we supported each other just by being there. Two-Bit would come by and hang out, sometimes even bring food for us that his mother made, but he wasn't his usual self either.
A couple days after Darry came home from the hospital, I gathered the courage to read the letters while Darry was taking a shower. I hesitantly put them on the kitchen table and read them. There was apparently a battle, and after it was over, Soda and Steve were nowhere to be found. They were officially M.I.A. but the military explained that we should assume the worst. Many soldiers' bodies couldn't be identified or recovered, so after a period of time, the military would assume they were dead and Soda and Steve's personal belongings would be sent to us. Darry found me sitting there, wailing. When he spotted the letters, he carefully put them in a drawer and sat next to me, holding me in his arms. I forced myself to accept that my brother and Steve were both dead, never to return home.
Once Darry's back felt a little better, he wanted to go to Steve's house to tell his dad about the letters, but I reminded him he was supposed to stay home and let his back heal more and I pleaded with him not to overexert himself. Surprisingly, Darry obliged, so he called Steve's house to tell his dad, but the man never answered. Not accepting defeat, Two-Bit went with Darry a couple days later to Steve's house to talk to Mr. Randle, but he wasn't home. They left a note for him, but we never heard back from him.
A few more days passed, and it was suddenly the third anniversary of our parents' deaths. Both of us knew it, but we didn't discuss it. We made a chocolate cake and listened to Dad's old music, but we weren't up to talking about the past because it would just remind us of how much more we had lost since our parents had died.
After two weeks of rest, Darry had to return to work. I wasn't happy about how quickly he had to return to work after a back injury. I understood why he had to do it, but that didn't mean I had to like it. Once Darry was working fulltime again, I was frequently in the house by myself, and I dreaded every moment of it. I found myself glancing at pictures, and whenever I saw Soda's face, I had to quickly turn away from it before I broke down and bawled like a baby.
The day we received Soda and Steve's belongings was bittersweet, but mostly bitter. Two-Bit was at our house, and when Darry and I couldn't seem to move or even look in the direction of Soda's stuff, he was the one that pushed us to go through everything.
We went through Soda's stuff first. My semester theme from freshman year was there. There was a bookmark about halfway through it, but the number of creases and folds in the pages and spine of the notebook told me Soda read it several times. I smiled as tears fell down my cheeks. Soda had also saved every single letter he got from us. He also had a few pictures of our family and the entire gang. After we went through Soda's belongings, we went through Steve's, which was surprisingly difficult for me. Not only did he also save all of the letters he received from all of us, but he kept the pictures of cars I sent to him in a neat stack. He only had two other pictures, both showed him with his family. The first one was from when he was really young and he was with both of his parents, and the second was from a few years later when the whole gang was together– his second family.
Then we found a letter that was thrown in with all of the other belongings, but this was neither addressed to nor written by Soda or Steve. Instead, some guy name Harrison had written it, and it was addressed to the families of Sodapop Curtis and Steve Randle. Darry read it out loud for us.
Apparently during the last battle Soda and Steve were in, Harrison was shot. He thought he was going to bleed out in the jungles of Vietnam, but Soda ran to him and gave some him first aid that the doctors said saved his life. A couple other guys from their unit had helped Harrison get away from the gunfire while Soda covered them. Harrison was going to be medically discharged and return to his home in Texas, and he said he owed his life to Soda. He also mentioned that Steve was a great C.O. because he was strict, but fair. He admired how protective Steve was of his best friend and the rest of the unit, and also how he learned to speak Vietnamese in just under a year and helped translate. Harrison gave us his home address in Texas, and he said that he was sorry to hear that he was the last one to see Soda and Steve alive. He ended the letter by telling us that Soda and Steve always talked about us and the rest of the gang, so it was obvious that they loved us a lot.
There were so many emotions running through me after Darry finished reading Harrison's letter. I was proud that Soda was a hero and had saved Harrison's life, but I was also torn because I couldn't help but wonder if his heroic act caused his demise. I was proud of Steve, too. I knew he was promoted, but I couldn't imagine how he would act as a C.O. of other men, but apparently, he was well-liked. Steve had mentioned in the letters that he wrote to me he learned to speak a little Vietnamese, but I didn't realize that he was acting as a translator until Harrison's letter. It was too bad I'd never get to tell either of them how proud I was of them.
After we went through all of the belongings, Two-Bit offered a bottle of beer to both me and Darry, and much to my surprise, we both accepted them. Darry didn't even say anything about me being too young to drink. I guess when it came to dealing with really heavy topics like our dead brother and friend, he let some rules slide.
I fell into a deep sadness again, and even though I knew Darry and Two-Bit were struggling too, they were both more worried about me than themselves. Darry suggested that I should talk to the head doctor that came to the house after Johnny and Dally died, but I declined. I didn't think I could voice my feelings to anyone even if I tried. Nobody else could possibly understand what I was going through, except maybe Darry and Two-Bit, but I didn't feel like talking to them about my feelings either. Instead of talking to people, I wrote my thoughts and feelings down in a notebook. Writing always helped me process my complicated emotions, but it had been a while since I had to do it. After a while, writing made me feel a little better about the loss of Soda and Steve, but I still felt like my chest was hollow and that everything around me was moving at a snail's pace.
One night, a couple weeks after we received Soda's and Steve's belongings, Darry was making dinner while I wrote in my notebook. He had worked late and I was supposed to make dinner, but I was so immersed in my self-created therapy that I didn't notice the time, and making dinner slipped my mind. He didn't seem mad, but I apologized anyway. He just gave me a small smile and told me to keep writing and he would make dinner.
The phone rang, distracting me from my writing. "I'll get it," I told Darry as I walked from my bedroom to the phone. I didn't make dinner, so the least I could do was answer the phone for him.
I picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Ponyboy?"
My heart stopped. I knew that voice, but I hadn't heard it for well over a year. It couldn't be him. He was dead. Soda's dead. "Who is this? Is this some kind of joke?" My voice was shaking. I didn't want to give myself any hope for something that I knew was impossible. It can't be him. Soda's dead.
"It's me, honey. It's your brother, Sodapop."
My legs crumbled underneath me and I let out a sob. "It can't be… Soda's dead…" But I knew his voice. It was Soda's voice. Soda was talking to me. "They told us you were gone… we have all of your stuff… they told us you both were dead." I was almost choking on my sobs.
"Shhhh, it's okay Pony. I'm alive. We're both alive." He sounded tired, but it was him. It was Soda.
I was bawling, and as much as I wanted to talk to my brother, I couldn't force myself to speak. Suddenly, Darry came running into the room. After whipping his head around, he spotted me on the floor, and he immediately crouched in front of me. "Ponyboy, what's wrong? Who is it?"
"I'd love to keep talking with you, Pony, but let me talk to Darry for a minute," Soda said patiently.
With a shaking hand, I gave the phone to Darry. He accepted it, and while he continued to stare at me with a crazy look, he spoke into the receiver. "This is Darry."
(Darry's POV)
Even though I was hoping to have food ready for me after work, I couldn't be upset with Ponyboy about forgetting to make dinner. He was having a hard time just like Two-Bit and I were, but he was only 16, and seeing him writing in his notebook instead of staring at a wall was a small victory that I was happy to see. I was willing to make dinner after a long day of work if it meant my kid brother could write down his emotions and feel a little better.
When the phone rang, I didn't think anything of it, but once I heard a strange noise and Ponyboy start sobbing, I ran into the living room. Once I spotted Pony on the floor, I crouched in front of him so he could see me. It was always easier to calm him down when we were at the same level. "Ponyboy, what's wrong? Who is it?" Who could it be, the military? What if they found Soda or Steve's body and they're calling to tell us? He shouldn't have to listen to that. Why didn't I answer the phone?
After a moment, Pony gave me the phone. I kept an eye on Pony as I accepted the phone. I spoke into the receiver. "This is Darry."
"Darry, it's Sodapop."
I froze. There's no way. He's dead. But nobody else sounded like that. It was Soda's voice.
I couldn't speak.
"I'm alive, Darry. It's really me. I promise."
I continued to look at Ponyboy, and his stunned reaction told me it was true. Our brother was alive. "Soda. I didn't think… how are you? What happened?"
"It's a long story, and I don't have long to talk," Soda said. I noted how exhausted he sounded, and it worried me. "Steve and I were taken prisoner, but we were rescued. We're at a hospital right now. Steve's… he's in rough shape. The doctors seem real concerned 'bout him."
His voice was shaking at the end, and all I wanted to do was hold him in my arms and comfort him. "Okay Soda, but how are you doing?" I had other questions, but I had my priorities.
"About as good as you could expect. They're waiting for me to hang up so they can take a bullet outta my shoulder, but it's not a big deal," Soda said nonchalantly, but he didn't sound convincing. I wanted to ask him to elaborate, but I didn't want Ponyboy to know anything serious was going on, so I tried to remain straight-faced. "Listen, once they release me from the hospital, I'll be discharged and able to come home for good. I'm really lookin' forward to seeing you guys again, but I'm not leaving until Steve can go too. He saved my life… I can't just leave him behind." Soda's voice was cracking. "I hope you can understand."
"I understand, Soda. I really do," I said, trying to calm him down. "Is there a timeline?"
Soda sighed. "Not really. Like I said, Steve's in rough shape, but I'll be home before you know it. I just gotta make sure he's gonna be okay." He sounded really distressed, and I couldn't blame him. "I'll let you know when I'll be home as soon as I can. In the meantime, I'll give you the number for this hospital."
I grabbed the paper and pencil I kept by the phone and I wrote down the number Soda gave me. "Alright, got it." Then something came to my mind. "Hey Soda, we were going through the belongings the army sent us for you and Steve, and there was a letter from a guy named Harrison. He said you saved his life."
"He made it?" Soda asked. He let out a sigh of relief. "Good, that kid didn't deserve to die here." Nobody does, I thought. I heard a few voices in the background before Soda spoke again. "Look, I gotta get goin'. The doctors want to get me into surgery." Then he paused. "Can you keep some of the details from Pony? I don't want him to worry more than he already is. I'll tell him what he needs to know some other time."
"Of course, Soda." As much as I didn't want his voice to disappear, I knew it had to happen. "It was good to hear your voice, Soda. I love you, little buddy."
"Love you too, Darry." Soda said. "Can you give the phone back to Pony? I just wanna say I love him too before I hang up."
"Yeah, one second." Then I handed the receiver back to Pony.
(Ponyboy's POV)
While Darry talked to Soda, I tried to hear what they were talking about or decipher Darry's reactions, but unfortunately, I was unsuccessful. Finally, Darry handed the phone back to me.
"Soda?" My voice was stronger than it was before.
"I'm still here, Pony." His voice was a little hoarser than before, and I wondered what he and Darry talked about. "Listen, I have to go, but I'll be home soon. And I promise I'll call again even sooner."
"Okay," I replied. I was disappointed I couldn't speak with my brother any longer, but I was just thankful he was alive. "I love you, Soda."
"Love you too, Pony."
After I hung up, Darry and I shared a look. We were both smiling and crying, then we hugged each other tightly. We stayed that way on the floor until we smelled food burning.
