Chapter 10

Ring

They had fought the night before, and that morning. I knew that was the reason my father was shaking me awake at dawn on a weekend. I was too groggy to be able to make out any of the words leaving his lips, in that gentle hushed tone he used to whisper in. I must have whined when he pulled the covers down from my chin, because he chuckled and brushed a few baby hairs that clung to my cheeks.

"The boys are all up, I want you to come with us." I blinked my eyes hard twice, so that I could make out the details of his face, the thick worry line between his eyebrows, the stubble along his jaw he forgot to shave.

"It's too cold."

He chuckled again. "Oh c'mon, you wouldn't stop pouting yesterday when I said you couldn't go."

"No you didn't."

His thumb that had been stroking the side of my face stilled. "What, baby?"

"Mom was the one who said I couldn't, she wont like me goin'."

"Oh, what does she know, she's never even been." He tried for an easy grin, the one that always worked on my brothers, but when my facial expression remained unchanged, he sighed. "Pretty soon you're gonna be a teenager, baby, and get yourself a boyfriend, and you won't want anything to do with your old man."

I opened and closed my mouth. I was beginning to notice the sound of Soda and Darry's voices, travelling into my room from the bathroom, through my cracked door. They were doing a half-assed job at keeping their voices low, and there was no telling whether or not Ponyboy was with them, since he never talked. "I don't know how to shoot."

His eyes lingered on mine, the ones I had inherited from him, as did Soda, leaving him no room to suspect any infidelity on my mother's part. It felt strange to stare into them like that. My mother was as far away from me appearance wise as seemed humanly-possible, with her blonde hair, button nose, dainty green eyes, like the dolls little white girls bought at the toy store. I never derived a sense of belonging from her face, because there was nothing of her I could see in my own. Looking at my father felt familiar, comfortable, like I was talking to a piece of myself. I wondered if he felt the same way. "I promise your brothers won't laugh at you. I bet you're a better shot than all of them combined."

It took about 15 minutes of Darry incessantly micromanaging the rest of us, for dad to send my brothers down to the forest floor, to practice tracking and set rabbit traps. I was pretty sure Darry knew how to do zero of those things, but dad told them with so much confidence in his tone, none of them offered up a word of protest.

I sat in his lap, his broad chest chest cradling my thickly coated form, his arm coming around me to help stabilize the rifle that shook in my grip.

"We're gonna down a Buck, aren't we Lizzy, bring it back home to mom, she can mount the antlers in the living room." He said in my ear, knowing that it would make me laugh, which I did.

"No, she'd hate that." My chapped lips stretched uncomfortably as I smiled. "What if we don't see any?"

"They're there, baby, it's all about noticing, noticing everything." He removed one of his hands from where it covered mine, and tilted my chin to a point further to the left, at a thicker cluster of trees. They rustled, sporadically, there must have been something alive wandering through them. "What's there, and what isn't. That's why Ponyboy's so good, he's got an artist's eye."

My tongue stuck out past my lower lip, and dragged across my chin, as I scoured the woods below us for any sign of life. "Pony doesn't like it."

"Sure he does."

"No, he cries in his room after."

My father stayed silent after that, but I paid it no mind. I was at an age when the weight of my words had no registry in my sympathies. I continued to shift my eyes to every visible corner of forest available to my sight, and I probably would have continued for hours. I wanted to be the one to shoot the buck, to show my brothers I was just as tough as them, to show my dad.

The next time he spoke, his pitch was low, and calm. "There."

I opened my mouth to question him where, but the sound of the rifle discharging drowned out my voice. I flinched so hard I almost bit off my own tongue. The crack of the gunshot echoed all around us.

It was the night before I would ride the bus back to Tulsa, which is where my nerve manifested from. It was why Don was so eager too, usually he'd never dare try something while Jeanie was in the house, but he'd made the rash decision to sneak into my room well past midnight. He did look sorry, as he stood pressed against the wall, next to the door.

"Fuck, where'd you get that?" His eyes finally moved up to my face, away from the hunting rifle, which had sat next to my bed earlier that afternoon. I held it positioned against my ribcage, like my dad taught me.

"Your closet."

His lips pressed together in an angry line. "What were you doin' in there?"

"Lookin' for a gun."

He raised his hands in between us, staggered in their positioning, the way a zookeeper might attempt to soothe a wild animal. He didn't take me seriously. "Lizzy, give me the gun, you don't wanna go wakin' up Jeanie, you know how many shifts she's been workin'." I raised the gun higher, and stepped close enough toward him that the tip brushed against his chin.

"What were you doin' in here? You fucker—what the fuck were you gonna do?" The words left my mouth in a half-snarl, like I was either on the brink of screaming or crying.

He tilted his head back, away from the barrel of the gun, looking infuriatingly nonchalant as the back of his skull rested against the cornflower blue wallpaper. "You're leavin' so early tomorrow, say goodbye now, I won't be up when Jeanie takes you to the station."

I felt it, for the first time in months, really properly angry. I took another step toward him, this time pressing the point up and into his throat. He stood on his tiptoes to try and move away from the discomfort, I held the stock so firmly between my torso and my bicep that my shoulders shook. "I'll kill you, you know that? I'll fuckin' blow your—"

He slipped away quickly, and high-tailed it out the door, slamming it behind him. The bang of the the bolt locking in the strike plate echoed all around us.

The screen door creaked open, then shut too fast, the sound pinching my eardrums, like nails scraping along a chalkboard. Someone sat in the chair next to mine.

"You saw Sandy." Darry said from beside me, coolly, in his usual way.

I took another drag from the kool I had sucked half-dry, and let the nicotine slide the truth past my teeth. "Slept over at her house."

I expected him to be angry, but his voice remained level. "How far along was she?"

"She lost the baby." Silence followed, I didn't need to look at my brother's face to know he was chewing on that information, to imagine the gears turning in his head. I wouldn't tell him that Sandy was barren. Of all the things she told me, that felt like the true secret.

"On purpose?"

I shook my head, and put out my cigarette in the empty beer can next to me, courtesy of Two-Bit. "No."

Darry rested two fingers on my forearm when I reached for the pack. "Don't have another, I'm tryin' to breathe over here."

I turned to look at him, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. His expression was calm and serious, but I knew him well, when his nostrils flared like that it meant he was trying not to grin. It was the first time I had come that close to laughing since Tommy was killed.

"You gonna rip me a new one for associatin' with the enemy?"

Darry snorted, unimpressed. He tilted his head to consider it sarcastically. "I should rip you a new one, for gettin' Soda riled up on purpose, but he's a big boy."

"You were worried the baby really was his, weren't you?"

"No."

"Then what?"

He turned back to meet my gaze. He had my father's face, and dark hair, which struck a well of nostalgia and longing in me, only to be muddled by the stranger's eyes that sat beneath his dark eyebrows. Mom claimed they were her father's, a wasp who made most of his profit during prohibition, out of West Virginia. They were icy, a crystal clear and glittering blue-green, and the reason my oldest brother always looked so focused, shrewd, even though his head was even thicker than mine. They were a stranger's eyes, half the time, and the other unexpectedly vulnerable.

"She'd come back ready to have it, and sucker him in all over again, for child support or—I don't know…"

I frowned and turned back to stare at the road, which seemed to be sweating in the heat. "Sandy ain't—"

"I know, I know, she ain't that trashy, but she did go and get knocked up with…with some random hood, so…" He attempted to let his words fade out again. He was smart enough to know his mistake, but not quick enough to catch himself before I did.

"You know who it was." He didn't answer. I didn't ask, and never would, because if Darry wouldn't say, then it must've been twisted and dirty. "How come you ain't on my case about it all?"

"The Shepards?" It was the only reason I brought it up at all, because at least that part of my life was all out in the open. Ponyboy had fessed up to Darry about most of it, to spite me for my dig at Soda. Although, Darry hadn't blown his top off, and driven to their house to break Curly's spine, so I was rest assured that he didn't know much about my love life.

He blew a large puff of air up toward his hairline, clenched and unclenched his hands, then knit them together in front of his ribcage. "I…don't know what the hell to do with you, Elizabeth." The words sounded strained. It was always hard for Darry to admit any ineptitude. "Ponyboy I'd…ground him for a week or two, have him scrub dishes…I ain't ever had to be your guardian before…tell you the truth, I never thought I'd have to."

"What do you mean?" I asked him, feeling genuinely confused.

"You never got into no trouble with dad."

I smiled at him incredulously, then scoffed. "Yeah, that's 'cause I was always in trouble with mom."

"Mom never got mad."

I furrowed my brow at him like he had grown two heads. "Well then, mom must've had an identical twin I didn't know about, who got dressed by fuckin' blue birds in the morning."

He poked me roughly in the shoulder. "Watch your mouth, lil' girl."

I brushed it off. "You mean y'all never knew?"

"About what?"

I rolled my eyes and leaned back into my chair in a huff. "Man, she used to make me go out and pick the switch, she'd wait till y'all was out and make me kneel on grits."

Darry burst into hysterical laughter. I'd only ever seen him laugh harder the time Soda went in to punt a field goal, and Two-Bit moved the ball out of the way at the last second. "You must've pulled some real shit to get her that pissed."

I rolled my eyes again, muttering a pouty, whatever, when his laughter only continued.

"Elinor, come on." My father said, once my mother had dragged me fully into their bedroom by the wrist. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge, the only time I ever came into their bedroom was for my punishments.

"No, if she wants to go on these boys' trips, then there's no point in any of it." She released her grip on me and marched over to her bureau. She flung her hand out, holding the item out toward me when she turned back around. "Here's the dress I've been makin' for your birthday."

"Elinor."

"I even went to that nice fabric store downtown for this Glen Plaid." She shook it in my direction, her eyes haughty and round. "Go on, take it, Elizabeth."

"Elinor, enough."

My face burned, and I stared back at my mother. The corners of my mouth pulling down toward my jaw, I was on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry."

"You won't be wearin' dresses anymore will you, Elizabeth? Throw this out, we'll just put her in some overalls and a bonnet, Darrell, everyone can think she's your little reservation bastard." My silence only made her angrier. "Throw it out." I shook my head, the lump in my throat growing. "Fine." The next thing I remember, she had taken a pair of scissors to it, until she became too impatient, then she started ripping the partially sewn dress from its stitches, with her hands. I started wailing, and my dad lurched toward her, grabbing her by the shoulders and stilling her destruction.

"Lizzy, quit your cryin' and go to the kitchen." My father said sternly. I hurried through the cracked doorway, but lingered in the hall, not wanting my brothers to see my vulnerable state.

"She's yours, she's still yours, I'm sorry." I could barely make out my father's voice. It was as hushed and gentle as when he woke me up that morning. I thought I heard a quiet sob leave my mother. "I was just trying to spite you, and I'm sorry. C'mon, baby, we've got that buck out in the truck, how does venison sound for dinner? The boys'll be waiting."

I had known that was the reason my father took me, and yet it still made fatter tears leak out of my eyes. I trotted back into my room, and collapsed on my bed into heaving sobs. I never went on any hunting trips after that, and the alone time I had with my father was slim to none.

Angela Shepard was at my window, and I had never seen her look so haggard. I had spent the rest of the afternoon on the porch, in and out of chain-like thoughts that swirled inside my head like a tornado. About Tommy, Sandy and Soda, about my parents. I eventually migrated back to my room when Darry said he would make dinner soon.

I started to pick up a dirty pair of underwear I left on the floor, when two short taps against my window made me nearly jump out of my own skin. When I saw her peering at me through the glass panes, I admit, I considered ignoring her.

"I need you to come with me somewhere." Her voice sounded husky, like she had been up all night weeping. The bags under her eyes were glaring.

"For what? I'm gonna tell you right now Angela, I ain't goin' nowhere near Curly and that creep, Steele."

"It's not that." She said vacantly, her blue eyes looked distant. "I…I think I'm in trouble."

"You think?" I looked back toward my doorway, worried that Darry would barge in without knocking. "My brothers are here. I have things I need to get back to."

"Please, Liz."

I looked at her, standing small and frail, wearing a sweater far too thick for the weather. I could end it all, I thought, put a stop to my friendship with the Shepards right then and there. I could say goodbye to Angela, and we'd drift apart, because of Tommy's death and my return to Tennessee. I knew that whatever I had with Curly was dead, after the incident in Steele's storage compartment.

"Liz," the next words she would say would change it all. "I think I'm pregnant."

"Where are you goin'?" Darry questioned me, whilst getting a bag of frozen peas out of the icebox.

I considered lying to him, but what was the point anymore? "Angela needs me to go to the Pharmacy with her, she's…havin' some girl problems."

Darry grimaced and walked over to the stove. "She can't take care of that herself?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "Uh, she seemed pretty upset so…I feel like I should go with her, I'll be back in time for dinner, don't worry."

He fiddled with the plastic of the bag then turned back to me. "You better be, Lizzy, no late nights tonight. I'm gonna send Soda out lookin' for you if you ain't back in an hour."

I rolled my eyes, but nodded. "Yeah, OK." I turned to walk toward the door.

"Lizzy." I looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. "Thanks for tellin' the truth." I smiled, before he added, "And before I forget, someone called for you."

"Who?"

"Jeanie's husband, Don."

Blood drained out of my head, and I felt dizzy. Little golden lights danced at the corners of my vision. "What?"

Darry chuckled. "What's with you? We ain't in trouble with the state or nothin', he was just askin' how you were doin'."

I clenched my fists, maybe if I dug my nails into the flesh of my palm hard enough, I'd regain my wits. "H-he…did he…"

He shrugged. "Seemed like a nice guy, wanted to know what you though about livin' with him and Jeanie, if you'd liked it."

I could see it in his face, that the call set him at ease. Maybe that's why he was in such a good mood. To him Don was caring, conscientious, a man who was saddled with a stranger's child and was making the most of the situation—only partly true. It sickened me, the look on my brother's face. It felt as if my life in Tulsa was truly tainted, before Don was like a ghost, someone who only existed in my memories, and now his presence lingered in my parent's house, if only by a phone call.

"So, do you?"

"Do I what?" I managed to respond.

"Like it?"

Shooting and aiming the rifle around my body was too clunky for my father. He managed to hit the buck, but caught it in its gut. The creature was still alive by the time we tracked it on the ground, where it had managed to drag itself 50 yards away.

It lay in an opening beyond a thicket. It seemed to bark when it was first hit, before fleeing, and as it laid there in front of me, long and painful grunts left its throat.

"Shit," my father walked around to the top of its head, then motioned over to me. "Come here, Lizzy, let's put this guy out of his misery."

It wasn't even midmorning yet, the light that filtered through the branches was gentle and forgiving. I could hear birds in the trees, surprisingly still energetic for late fall. Pony and I had talked about hunting for mushrooms on the way, I thought about the idea wistfully.

"Lizzy." I looked back to my father, his dark eyes secretive for once, as they considered me. He sighed, pointed his pistol, and the deer's lungs went still.

The gunshot echoed all around us.