Casey came on Monday morning like she had every week before, but now things were different. The nurses had me involved in rehabilitative therapy for the better part of the day, and when I wasn't in therapy she was hustled out of the room so I could rest without distraction.
By early afternoon the staff let her know that I would be well cared for and she didn't have to stay all day if she didn't want too. Casey kind of agreed. She walked back into my room after the nurses had pulled the shades and directed me to take a nap. "Scout?" She whispered, "Is there anything you need? If not I'm going to head home for a little bit. Ponyboy, will probably stop by after school."
I was exhausted as I beamed with thankfulness to my friend. "Just one thing, if they're not too expensive."
"What's that?"
"I want to write some thank you cards to everyone who stopped by and left a card for me. I'll need a couple pens too."
"Cool! Will do! I'll run to the gift shop or the drug store and bring them right back." Casey gave me a thumbs-up, and headed out the door.
I wasn't awake when she returned, but she had the note cards and a stack of get well cards and other things sitting on my bedside table where I could easily reach them. I stretched my sore muscles and sat up. I pulled the rolling table over my bed and grabbed a pen and note card. I knew who I was going to write to first. I steadied the pen in my hand and began to write.
D E A R I looked down at the scribble on the paper and tried to steady my hand better. D A R R YIt was no use. I had also lost the ability to write with a pen in any sort of script that wouldn't be mistaken for second grade handwriting. I grew frustrated with my brain failing to tell my muscles what they were supposed to do. I pushed the pile off the table and onto the bed. The cards, letters and other pieces of paper spread across the bedspread and some pieces floated to the floor. I pounded my fists into the mattress. An envelope with my name on it slid out from between the scattered cards. I picked it up and tore it open. Inside I found an English paper titled, "A Moment That Changed My Life, by Owen Jasper". It was written over a month ago and he had received an "A" for his work.
I flipped to page one and began to read.
Most days, I only heard my dad talking about work at the breakfast table. I'll never know for sure why I was listening one morning about a man and his wife killed in a car wreck on their Wedding Anniversary, orphaning their children who were about my age.
Months later I sat down in the same spot for breakfast and noticed the newspaper headline, Drunken man assaults wife, daughter and neighbor girl. It wasn't the first time a crime like this had made the headlines of the Tulsa Herald, but my attention was drawn to the name, Scout Curtis. I thought hard about why it sounded familiar then my dad leaned over and pointed to Scout's name.
"That's the daughter of that couple that was killed on leap year. You remember the Curtis couple buried on the back acreage in the Jasper Family Cemetery?"
I pulled the paper toward me and read the story. The woman was beaten by her ex-husband, and the two young girls had been shot after witnessing the near death assault. I tried to imagine a life without my parents and the horror of nearly being killed by a man I didn't know. Those events from the north side of town seemed so far from my life. I never imagined the turn of events to follow.
I brought that newspaper article to the Country Club with me at dinner time, and asked everyone if they knew either of the girls from the story. No one had, except a girl named Marcia. She recognized the name and told me Scout's brother worked at a gas station on the north side of town. The boy had a strange name that was hard to forget, Sodapop. He was a handsome boy so many of Marcia's friends went out of their way to buy gas at the station just to watch the boy work. Knowing that, I started filling all of the cemetery vehicles at that DX station whenever they needed gas, but for the rest of the summer I never saw the girl from the black and white newspaper photo or heard her name spoken until the first day of school.
I entered European History class, and walked past a small girl sitting in the front row. I looked down at her just as she looked up. Her crystal blue eyes met with mine and she quickly looked away as if she was ashamed. I furrowed my brow and wondered what I had done to upset her. I sat down near the back of the class with my friends from the football team and leaned back in my chair as the teacher took the first role call of the year.
"…Scout Curtis…?"
I barely heard the girl respond as I sat up in my chair and stared at her. I couldn't believe the girl I had wanted to see for weeks had looked right at me. I sat back and studied her. Everyday afterwards I walked into the room and tried to make eye contact, but the girl was evasive. It would be weeks before I would have the opportunity to grab her attention.
A loud thunder crack raced across the sky leading to an almost immediate downpour. I gathered up the garden tools I had scattered near the new gravesites and sprinted to my truck. For all my speed and effort I couldn't escape the rain and I found myself soaked as I sat in the warm cab of my truck. I put the truck in gear and headed to the tool shed, on other side of the cemetery, when a noticed a small figure running in the heavy rain. I slowed my truck, pulled up alongside the girl and opened the passenger cab door. I invited her to climb in. First, she hesitated in the cold rain then she climbed in. I noticed she was sure to stay close to the door and very far away from me. I kept and eye on the girl, wondering who she was. When she turned to face me my heart began to race and I recognized those crystal blue eyes, here she was again.
The two of us made small talk as I drove her home. She never realized that every time I heard her soft voice or caught a glimpse of her beautiful face, my heart would pound in my chest and I found it hard to breathe. Something attracted me to this girl, and I had to find out what and why.
The next day I hurried to history class hoping for the chance to ask the blue-eyed angel on a date, but she wasn't there. I spent the afternoon driving through her neighborhood looking for her then I stopped by the service station where her brother worked. I was just about to ask him if she was home sick for the day when I noticed the boy wipe a tear from his eye. His buddy patted him on the back and mumbled. "Don't worry 'bout it Soda, she'll come home soon. She'll be alright." My mouth dropped open as I wondered where she had gone and if I would ever see her again.
My answer came the next morning in the form of the newspaper. I pulled the front page off of the coffee table and stared at the four pictures on the front. There, in black and white, was the girl. She and here friends were heroes for saving the lives of a dozen children from a church fire in the small town of Windrixville. I knew the town, my parents own a funeral parlor and cemetery there. The article said she was indeed the girl orphaned last winter after her parents were killed in a car wreck. She had been living with her brothers ever since. Life wasn't bound to get any easier for her. Ponyboy, her twin brother, and his friends were, wanted for questioning in the stabbing death of Bob Sheldon. Even with all the hard work the older brothers has done to keep the family together the recent troubles meant she and her brothers might be separated and placed in homes apart from one another. I just about cried when I read those words.
I reached over, picked up the phone and called my best friend, Pete. I asked him to read the article and told him she was the girl I had been talking about. My friend lightheartedly joked with me that I was crazy to want a girl from the north side of town. He reminded me we were headed to the movies later that day with a gaggle of pretty, wealthy, willing girls and I could have my choice of anyone of them. A year ago that speech would have been all I needed, but this girl… she was the one.
Hours later I convinced Pete to take his car for gas at the service station where Scout's brother worked. When we got there my friends and I met up with some south side girls and started to chat. Suddenly, my eye caught a glimpse of a familiar face. A few dozen feet away, on the curb sat the girl I had been looking for, and I wasn't going to waste the opportunity to speak to her again. My hands were sweaty when I approached her. I tried to play it cool as I pointed out the obvious, that she wasn't in school on Friday, and then congratulated her for being a hero. I told her that my family was proud of her and I was too. Then I mentioned I kind of liked her. I expected the girl to melt like all the others, but she didn't. Instead, she told me the same thing my best friend had told me, I was crazy and that I didn't even know her. Before I could make my rebuttal and appropriately ask her on a date my friends called me away. I left the girl behind on the curb in person, but I took her with me in my memory.
Later that night when Pete and I were the only ones in the car I told him that the next time I saw her I would ask her on a date no matter what. My friend laughed, but he knew that when I wanted something it was rare I ever let it slip away. Neither one of us would figure the next time I would see Scout it would be at a funeral the day she had to bury two of her friends. Even in all her heartache the girl was gracious enough to agree to a date. Things didn't go so well at Rusty's Diner, but it was the best date I have been on.
Last night, I sat on her front porch, and in the moonlight I kissed her for the first time. I knew then and there it had been worth the wait because with that kiss I realized the things in my life I had taken for granted. I learned that someone could appear to have nothing; a small battered home, and old rusty car, or hand me down clothes, but actually have everything. Scout is a girl, seen by my peers as having nothing, but in reality she has everything anyone ever needs, the love of her family. After that kiss, I will never be the same. Never again will I look down upon people who have less than me. Scout Curtis's kiss gave me something I hadn't had in years, love.
Tears filled my eyes and I reread the last line to be sure I hadn't made it up. The sound of the door opening drew my attention and Ponyboy walked in, all by his lonesome.
"Hey," he said in a raspy voice.
"Hey," I repeated and blinked the tears from my eyes. An awkward smile spread across my face when I noticed the concern for me in my brother's eyes. I shrugged a bit and sighed, "Well, I think it's official. Owen thinks he loves me."
Ponyboy half smiled as he shoved his hands into his pocket and his sweatshirt drooped a little off his shoulders. "Yeah, I already figured that. He's a real nice boy, Scout. I think you are lucky to have him."
"Really?" I asked with doubt in my tone.
Ponyboy reached down to pick the scattered greeting cards up from the floor. "I mean it. He's been pretty cool. He really cares about you." My brother scooped the remaining cards on my bed into a pile and sat down by my side. My lip started to quiver as I thought about how much I loved my twin brother and the large empty gap that seemed to form be between the two of us the older we got. Pony noticed the tears welling up in my eyes. "Come on Scout, don't cry. It'll all get better."
I whined, "I don't know that it will! My hands are so slow I can barely write, my legs aren't working like they should, and I've lost some of my memories."
"What do you mean?"
"Yesterday, Soda was telling me about a day we spent together after I was shot, and I don't remember one minute of that. Then this morning Mrs. Dillard, our social worker, came by and I had no idea who she was."
Ponyboy stayed quiet a moment then laid down next to me, pushed his arm under my neck and wrapped me in his arms. "Well... but...I bet you haven't forgotten everything!"
"Maybe not, but I have no idea of knowing the stuff I have forgotten."
Pony sighed, "Do you remember when we were in the second grade and we wanted to go camping, but Mom and Dad said they couldn't take us? We got all of our money together and bought some marshmallows, took some of Mom's clean bed sheets to the lot to build some tents and make our own campsite?"
"Yeah," I smiled and wiped my eyes. "Johnny walked over and we let him camp with us."
"Yeah."
I laughed at the memory. "I remember how we told dad that we were brave enough to stay out there all night, but Soda and the others came out and spooked us once it got dark. We ran home and slept with Mom and Dad that night."
Ponyboy laughed, "Oh! I forgot about that! See you haven't forgotten everything, and the stuff you have...I'll tell you all about them." Pony leaned over and kissed the top of my head. Then we lay there and shared the old memories. Some I had forgotten, some he had forgotten.