Chapter 4-Repairs

Thank you again for all the reviews! I'm sticking with the car references this chapter, after all it IS Steve Randle, and would he think any other way?

(Steve)

For a moment I didn't know what had woken me up, or even where I was. I should have, though. I don't know how you can spend two days sleeping in a hard plastic chair and not remember where you are.

The ceiling above me was a speckled asbestos tile that was stained over the years from water and God knows what else, while the walls were the plain eggshell white of every similar room I'd ever been in. The shiny floors smelled of antiseptic ammonia. But even still, it did not overpower the smells of vomit and blood that sometimes wafted in from the hall to remind me of parties at Buck's or that time Two-Bit threw up in the front seat of my car.

When my mind finally recalled that I had been sleeping in the hospital, I heard it again. A soft whimper. The scrape of a chair. Words whispered in the semi-darkness.

"Shhhh, Ponyboy. You're okay. It's okay." I looked over to see that Sodapop was leaned over the bed, his face hovering above the kid's. One hand was holding Ponyboy's while the other trailed through his brother's hair. He murmured something too low for me to hear and attempted a smile.

My left leg was asleep. It was aching and tingling something awful, but I did my best to ignore it. I didn't want my shoe to scrape against the floor or make the uncomfortable chair squeak and ruin the moment that Soda and Pony were sharing. For the first time since the accident, Soda was starting to get his color back and I could see the tension slowly starting to relax out of his shoulders. It was the moment he had spent the last two days waiting for, and I could see him come alive now that his brother was awake. He had the same glint in his eye that he got when he was watching a drag race. Happy. Free. Unburdened. And though we'd watched a lot of tuff cars race on strip together, this time I felt like an intruder…like the moment wasn't mine to share.

"Steve?" Soda's voice rose a little louder, but he didn't turn his head. His eyes stayed locked on Pony's, so close that their noses were all but touching. "Can you go get a nurse?"

I hadn't realized he knew I was awake. He had never even looked away from Pony's face. But then again, that's Sodapop for you. He has the uncanny ability to know everything about anybody in the room. It's like he can feel it.

I was on my feet immediately, hoping my leg that was asleep didn't give out on me and make me tumble to the ground. I skirted the end of the bed, avoiding Two-Bit's legs that were sprawled out so far that it was a wonder he was still in the chair and hadn't fallen to the floor. I glanced at the bed as I walked. Pony's eyes were open, and his lips were moving, but even this close I couldn't hear everything that he was saying. He blinked long and slow, like he was fighting sleep, or confusion.

"Soda…where…somethings wrong…I can't…" He licked his lips like the words were stuck in his mouth.

His words were so slow and broken that I was reminded of Mrs. Matthew's old Ford Deluxe that would slip and jerk every time you tried to switch gears.

Soda lowered his forehead against the kid's. "Shhh," he murmured again. "You're in the hospital. We're right here. It's okay."

"Darry…Darry wake up," I said, stopping just long enough to shake his shoulder. He was on his feet so quick that I had to jump back. "Take it easy, buddy, it's alright. Kid's awake."

Darry grinned and clapped me on the shoulder.

XXX

"Hey Kiddo," Darry's fingers traced the kid's cheek just like I'd seen Sodapop doing a few moments before.

It hadn't taken me long to find the nurse, she was standing almost right outside the door, so I'd been out and slipped back in before the door had the chance to close behind me, and had turned back just in time to see Darry lean over the bed.

"She'll be right in; she's getting the doctor." I told them what the nurse had said before she rushed off. "He okay?"

The door made a soft clicking sound when it shut. I'd taken only a few steps back into the room. Something was wrong. Soda turned to look at me. Shook his head.

The kid didn't see it. They still had that neck brace on him-and would for a long time according to the doc. So, he was stuck staring straight ahead at that asbestos ceiling and the yellow stain that over the last two days I had decided reminded me of an old Mercury cruiser, while Two-Bit had insisted it looked like Mickey Mouse. Darry had called both of us crazy.

I glanced at our sleeping friend when the thoughts of him and I arguing over that stupid stain crossed my mind. He was still sleeping, snoring almost loudly with his mouth hanging open. Two-Bit could sleep through anything. He'd once slept through a train rolling right by him when we'd all been hanging out down by the tracks. 'Course he'd been drunk at the time, but I wouldn't be surprised if he could do it sober too. And everyone was talking real quiet anyway.

Darry's eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were pressed into a thin hard line. I could see he was trying real hard not to break eye contact with Pony. But I didn't miss the way that muscle in his jaw twitched. It twitched like that whenever he was worried, or angry. I'd been close enough to see it once, right before he damn near dislocated my jaw.

He should be happy, I thought, wondering why his jaw would be twitching and that worried 'v' would form between his eyebrows at a time like this. Pony's awake now.

But then I saw his hand, moving up and down the bare skin on his brother's arm. Pony didn't react. At all.

Then Darry's eyes fell to where Soda held the kid's other hand.

"Sodapop…?" Darry swallowed and looked at Soda. There was a fear in his eyes that'd I'd only seen a few times from Darrel Curtis, Jr. That first time the kid was sick, when he'd been trapped under the truck, and now.

Sodapop shook his head wordlessly. Soda's hand was holding Ponyboy's. But Pony wasn't holding his back.

"The breaks don't appear too bad on the x-ray," the doctor was saying, "The fractures, located here and here, are not complete fractures, which gives us some hope that the spinal cord itself was not affected by the injury. We do know there is severe inflammation, so I'm going to start Ponyboy on a course of methylprednisolone to reduce the swelling. When he wakes up, we will be able to evaluate the extent of his injuries…"

Jesus fucking Christ…It was just like we'd feared.

I'd paralyzed the poor kid.

I took a step closer. I could see Ponyboy just enough to tell that he was getting worked up. He'd realized when he woke up that something wasn't right; I'd heard him struggle to ask Soda about it. And like gears in a transmission, the pieces were slowly beginning to click into place for him. His eyes were darting back and forth between his brothers.

"What happened?" he asked in an urgent whisper. "What happened to me?"

Darry took a shuddering breath and instead of answering asked "What do you remember?"

Pony closed his eyes and his forehead scrunched with concentration. "Steve. Steve was working on the truck. What happened? I can't remember. Why can't I…"

He was back to looking back and forth between Soda and Darry and I could see that his eyes had started to shine. He was breathing real hard and fast, just like a little kid before they start wailing. Pony raised his voice, panicked. "What happened? Soda? Tell me what happened…I don't remember… I can't move…Darry…please…"

Darry shared a look with Soda then looked down at the bed. He was still stroking Ponyboy's hair and I could see his shoulders shake as he fought the tears that were starting to roll down his cheeks. How do you tell someone that their life was going to change? How do you look them in the eyes and tell them that everything they have known was taken away in an instant?

How do you tell a track star he won't be able to run? Or even walk?

Darry opened his mouth, but no words came out. Not a sound.

"Oh, Pony…" Soda started, but he couldn't finish.

I could see the anguish on his brothers' faces. I wondered if this was how they'd looked when they told him that their parents were dead.

Hubcaps. That's what I thought of then…polished hubcaps. Ponyboy's eyes was real big and round, and they'd gone pure grey when they'd started to fill with tears. I could tell then that he knew that look on his brothers' faces too... He knew what it meant. He begged them to answer him, but not even Soda could get the words out.

"Steve?" Pony's voice was high and strained, and he didn't even try to hide the fact that he was bawling like a baby. Not that he could have hidden it anyway. I knew he couldn't see me on account that he couldn't turn his head, but he had to know I was there. "Steve? Steve… tell me…tell me what happened."

The kid had to be desperate if he was asking for me.

Pleading with me.

I moved up then, real close so he could see me. I laid a hand on Soda's shoulder and stepped in front of him. A small tuft of hair had fallen back into Pony's eyes and I reached to brush away, then stopped myself and dropped my hand back to my side. How do you tell someone that their life was going to change? I thought again. How do you tell them it was your fault?

I wondered if I looked as pale as he did.

I figured the least I could do was give it to him straight.

"The truck fell on you, Ponyboy. The jack collapsed and it fell right on you."

"But what's wrong with me Steve?" He squeaked and I watched a tear roll down the side of his face and into his ear. I could see in his eyes that he already knew, he just needed someone to tell him. Someone that was just cruel enough to tell him that it was real. It wasn't one of his nightmares. He was awake, and this was actually happening.

His brothers just couldn't bring themselves to do it. How do you look at someone and tell them a truth that will hurt so bad everyone in the room could already feel it?

You look them in the eyes, son. I could almost hear Darrel Curtis, Sr. saying the words to me as he shook my hand.

I leaned over even more, so I could do just like his daddy would tell me to do and look him in the eyes.

"It broke your neck…your back…"

"Like Johnny?" He asked in a soft whisper, eyes wide and scared.

Johnny, who the doctors said would never be able to walk again. Johnny, who just like the kid had been healthy one minute…and broken the next.

I swallowed and decided what he needed was the truth. "Yeah, man. Like Johnny."

I once went to a drag race where one car blew a tire. The driver lost control and careened off the side of the road. He flew over a ditch before smashing into a tree. And when he'd finally climbed out of his crumpled car, he had the same look on his face that Pony did now. Or maybe even that time that Curly Shepard fell off that telephone pole and broke his arm. His face had gone real white when he'd hit the ground, and Pony's mirrored his now. Shock. Disbelief. Pain.

This time I didn't stop myself from moving the hair out of his eyes, reputation be damned. "The doc says you still got a chance, though, Ponyboy. There's still a chance it will all come back. They gave you some special medicine that—"

The door swung open.

"Mr. Curtis, good to see you are awake!" The doctor was looking down at his clipboard as he walked into the room and made to walk around the bed. He never even looked at the bed to make sure the kid was actually up.

"Doc, watch it!" Darry tried to stop him, but it was too late. The doctor got tangled in Two-Bit's legs and stumbled.

"What the hell?" Two-Bit came awake instantly and was on his feet. "Oh, sorry Doc. Hey! Ponyboy! You're awake!" He rubbed some sleep from his eyes, yawning, before he gestured to his face. "You alright, kid? You ain't looking so hot. Your peepers are kinda wet..."

"Way to go there, Two-Bit. Real Subtle." I went to lean against the sink on the far wall and jerked my head for him to join me.

"What?" He whispered to me as we watched the doctor walk up to Darry and shake hands before turning towards Pony. "What'd I miss?"

"Kid just realized he can't move. Can't move anything, dipshit. Started crying when I told him." I sarcastically waved my hand around my face like Two-Bit had just done to Pony. "Way to make him feel better about it."

"He's paralyzed? Hell, Steve, I thought they said he had a good chance of not being? Glory, I'd cry too."

"Yeah," I agreed.

But I wasn't paying attention to Two-Bit any longer. I was watching the doc. He took a pen from his pocket and ran it down the bottom of the kid's feet.

Nothing.

Not a twitch.

He grabbed both the kids' hands at once. "Squeeze my hands. Are you squeezing?"

Pony cried harder.

Darry's eyes were red, and he kept wiping at them, but it looked to me like he'd stopped crying. Or maybe he just didn't want the kid to see and start to panic even more.

He ran the pen up Ponyboy's arm. Finally, when he got just below the armpit, Pony flinched.

"Ahhh, good good." The doctor wrote something on the clipboard. "Now shrug your shoulders."

It was there. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. It couldn't even be considered a twitch, but I saw his shoulders move. Soda smiled down at him sadly.

"Well," the doctor said, clicking his pen and dropping it back into his shirt pocket, "I think this is a good sign. You had movement and sensory in all your extremities after the accident, correct?"

"I don't remember." Pony sniffled. I could barely even understand what he'd said.

"He did," Darry answered for him. "He held Soda's hand."

And mine.

The doctor was nodding, eyes back on the papers attached to his clipboard. "Yes, yes. It says that in the paramedic's report as well. Ponyboy, based on your symptoms I do not believe this paralysis to be permanent. I believe it is a result of inflammation-swelling-that is compressing your spinal cord." He dropped the clipboard to his side and went on, "Think of your knee when you injure it…it swells, hurts a whole awful lot, but once the swelling goes down it gets better. It's the same when there's swelling around your spinal cord. Once the swelling goes down, I expect to see a return of function. To speed this up we've been giving you steroids. Here in the next day or two, I expect to see a marked improvement in your ability to move and feel." He eyed Darry and Sodapop. "Of course, I can't guarantee that, but it is a high likelihood. After this course of Solu-Medrol and some physical therapy, your brother should be right as rain. Do you have any questions for me?"

"I'll be able to walk?" Pony asked, his voice soft.

"Course you will, Pone. We won't take no for an answer." Soda patted him on the shoulder while the rest of us looked at the doctor for confirmation.

Put it simple, Doc., so we know we ain't making this up in our minds. Greasers don't ever get good news.

"Yes, Ponyboy. I expect you to walk."

Pony kept quiet, but judging by the look on his face, he didn't believe a word the doctor said. I could almost hear his thoughts as the corners of his mouth seemed to sink even further. He was silent, but his face said Yeah, sure.

The doctor shook their hands and left. Soda and Darry seemed happier after talking to him, but I wasn't sure the kid was feeling any better about the situation.

I was sure glad he'd be able to walk again, but there was a gnawing anxiety down deep in my stomach. I still had to tell him I was sorry. And sorry wasn't something that I knew how to say. Especially to him.