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Chapter 5

(Days later, at late evening/night)

(Darry)

My mom used to tell us that nothing was ever just black and white. "Let love guide you," she'd always say, "you can't make the wrong choice if you always choose out of love." And then, like Pony had mentioned in his letter, Dad would pipe in and tell me that a man wasn't just measured by how fancy his words were or his clothes or where he came from, but by his actions and the way that he treated other people. By the decisions that he made.

Mom and Dad were both good at that- being good people- I mean. Even when times were hard or people turned their noses up at them for being from the wrong side of town, they always took the high road and showed that money didn't make the better character. Mom learned from church, and life too, I guess, but Dad's lessons had all been learned on the streets and by working hard for every crumb that he earned.

I suppose that's what made him-them- so good with people like Dally, and Curly and Tim Shepard. It's like they could see past the rough edges and see the loyalty those boys have for their friends that lay waiting to be polished under the surface.

Mom and Dad would give the shirt off their backs to help someone, and I'd actually seen Dad do it once, too, when we'd driven down to Oklahoma City for the state football championships. Mom had always been the bleeding heart of the neighborhood, though you wouldn't know it by looking at her. She had this strength about her. Her tongue was sharp and witty, and she wouldn't let us kids-or anyone really-get by with disrespecting her. But, at the same time, she was the most understanding and caring that a person could be. Sometimes, I thought she was even more understanding than Sodapop.

Ponyboy had always been the perfect combination of the two of them. He felt things different, different like Mom always had. He had both her understanding and caring ways and Dad's steady character. Dad's courage.

I'd never told him though.

Maybe I should have. Maybe it would have made a difference.

Mom and Dad would have done anything for us. Anything. Come hell or high water they'd see their boys through. They would work until their fingers bled to make sure that we had enough. And I had no doubt they would have given their lives for ours.

They had shown me what it meant to love someone more than you loved yourself, and at the time I hadn't even realized that's what they were doing. But, looking at Pony, I realized that I loved him that way too…I would exchange my life for his- if I could.

One of the nurses had covered him with yet another warm blanket. I could feel the heat radiating off of it as I sat there holding his hand. The warmth from the blankets had eventually seeped into his skin, turning it from the pale, sickly blue it had been when I'd first walked in days ago, to a healthy-looking pink. His lips and fingers too had been a blue-grey, and even though the doctors had assured me that he had a heartbeat, I was sure that he was already gone when I stepped in the room that awful night…certain that we'd been too late.

Curly Shepard had been the one to find him, and although I didn't know exactly where, I'd heard that he had pulled him out of the water down by Vinny's Junkyard on 9th. One of Shepard's boys had called me after calling for help, screaming into the phone that they'd found him floating near the rocky shoreline and that I needed to get my ass to the hospital "right the fuck now." I'd never heard a voice like that before, especially from one of Shepard's boys. So urgent. So full of goddamn fear.

I could just picture the way things went down… Pone floating right off the shore, the cold and muddy Arkansas water running over his face. His hair soaked and mussed, sticking to his forehead in clumps as the rest of it floated out and around him, the small waves washing out the grease. Curly Shepard wading waist-deep into the water to grab him by the coat and pull him up onto the bank, Curly bent over him trying to breathe life back into his lungs. Just the thought of it would forever haunt my dreams.

The ambulance and police lights were still reflecting through the automatic glass doors when I got to the ER. They danced eerily across the pale faces that sat in the waiting room, illuminating them in weak reds and blues that meshed strangely with the Shepard gang's already white faces. It gave them a disturbing ghost-like appearance that deadened the look of the place even more than the blank walls and unnatural silence of the place. None of them said a word, and I figured if they had any information for me-anything good-they'd already be on their feet and talking. So I walked right past them, making a beeline for the registration desk when the doors to the back suddenly burst open and banged off the walls.

"You stupid fuck!" Two security guards had Curly Shepard by the arms and were dragging him backwards towards the front entrance. He pulled against them, kicking over chairs and almost breaking free. He was soaking wet, his shoes leaving a muddy trail across the otherwise clean white floors. He didn't pay attention to anything around him, just yelled at the doors to the back that were closing, voice rasping and filled with a mixture of pain and anger. "Ponyboy, you stupid little fuck! You fucking selfish asshole!" He spotted me when the guards dragged him past, still struggling, and even from there, I could see that his eyes were red. "He tied his fucking shoes together, man. His shoes! The stupid little…"

I hadn't known what Curly had meant at first. Then, when they'd finally stabilized my brother enough that they thought it safe for me to see him, I figured it out soon enough. His clothes and coat, muddy and sopping, had been thrown carelessly onto a chair in the corner. The shoes that Soda had insisted I get for him for his birthday lay on top of the pile. Or one of them did. The other dangled off the chair, laces knotted together with its partner's, as it hung above the tiled floor.

It didn't hit me until I was at his bedside with my fingers twisted in his still-wet hair while my other hand grasped his. I could still feel the little bumps on the pads of his fingers where they had wrinkled and pruned in the water. He was dusky…a dusky grey, almost blue, surrounded his lips. The rest of his skin was still waxy and cool from the water—

The water.

Ponyboy had always been an excellent swimmer. But no one could swim if they were weighed down by a heavy leather coat…if they couldn't kick…if their shoes were tied together.

It hit me then. He'd tied his shoes together on purpose…an insurance policy in case he changed his mind at the last second, or in case his body betrayed him and fought against his mind to struggle to the surface.

Curly had seen it firsthand, and no matter what anyone said, Curly Shepard wasn't stupid. He'd figured it out too, and when the adrenaline from trying to save my brother had worn off, he'd lost his cool. Lost every ounce of it.

Until then I hadn't had the time to feel anything other than fear. But, at that moment-staring between my unconscious brother and the shoes that Soda had known he'd wanted even from half a world away- it all changed. An ache began deep in my chest and threatened to steal my breath and choke me. It was an ache so deep it would stop your heart…an ache so deep that you could feel it slowly settle into your bones until you thought that they'd break. And it was an ache that wouldn't leave me for a long, long time.

The emotions still swirled inside me. Swirled like the ugly water that had taken him from us. One minute I was so sad that I thought the sadness would drown me too, then the next minute I was angry. Angry at Pony for doing this to himself. Angry at myself for not noticing what was looming on the horizon, for not being what he needed. For not being able to see into his head and heart like I was sure our other brother would have been able to do if he'd been home. And in the next minute I was begging God, Johnny, Dally, my parents…anyone to save him. I'd trade my life for his if they'd let me. I'd do anything. Quit my second job so I could be home with him at night. Spend every Sunday in church like he'd begged me to years ago. Take him up to the state fair to get funnel cakes and laugh while he poked Two-Bit with the darts he was supposed to be throwing at the balloons…just like he'd done that summer a few years ago until Steve had rolled his eyes and taken the darts away. Taking those darts away didn't stop Pony and Soda from laughing until they cried at the look on Two-Bit's face, though. What I wouldn't give to hear that sound again-his laughter. What I wouldn't give to tell him every day how much I really loved him.

I had spent the last few days wishing that love was enough to wake him, to heal him. Or that I would somehow wake up and everything that had happened would have been a nightmare. Maybe God would give me a miracle and He'd turn back time, and I'd be given another chance…another chance to be a good enough brother that I could be there for him more than I had before. I could listen, and he could come to me with his problems. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so alone, and I would be enough for him…enough he wouldn't think that he had no choice but to hurt himself…and I'd be enough to save him.

I wished, prayed, that he would stay. I prayed that sitting next to him and holding him now would be enough to keep him with us.

Mom's words played in my head again. "Let love guide you. You can't make the wrong choice if you always choose out of love."

But Mom was wrong; she had to be. How could I sit here and make the decision that the doctor was asking me to? My heart told me to keep Ponyboy with me. It said that I loved him too much to let him go. But my head said that was a selfish choice. Pony was already gone, and the only thing I was doing by keeping him on the machines was making him suffer. And how could you make someone suffer and still claim that you love them?

How could you love someone so much, and still choose to let them go? It didn't seem right.

I ran my thumb over his soft skin and watched as his chest rose and fell with the rhythmic push of air from the ventilator. They'd removed the sedation days ago, and there had been nothing. He never squeezed my hand. His long, dark eyelashes never fluttered. Then there had been the brief moments when doctors pulled back his eyelids and I could see the startling green of his eyes, and even I could see that they didn't react to the bright lights the doctors shined in them.

There was no hope. His body was alive, heart kept beating by machines and pumps and medicines, but Ponyboy was already gone.

Suddenly, holding his hand, brushing his cheek, feeling his soft hair run through my fingers wasn't enough. I had the need to be close to him, to pull him to me and squeeze the daylights out of him. Hold him against my chest and feel the life that still beat in him.

Cords and IV tubing crisscrossed his body, running under the blankets and the thick tubing from the machine that was keeping him alive. Carefully, I pulled back the blanket and eased myself into the bed next to him. I wrapped my arm around him and buried my face between his shoulder and neck. For the first time in my life, I finally understood that need that Soda had to be close to him.

The door clicked open, but I didn't turn. If anything, I pressed my face harder into his neck.

"Darry?" Steve whispered. His voice carried hesitantly from across the room and I knew he was still standing in the doorway. Steve could feel it too…had been feeling it the same as me and Two-Bit these last few days…the heaviness that had been slowly settling over the room each passing day. The fear. The despair.

And Steve had been there every time Soda had called, able to somehow force the words when I couldn't.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat, could taste the saltiness of escaping tears. "Can you get the doctor, Steve? Tell him I've decided."

Maybe love meant showing mercy.

It hurt like Hell, but Ponyboy was going to get one last chance to be a hero.

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