I do not own The Outsiders or the songs used here.
And
when those blue snowflakes start falling
Thats when those blue
memories start calling
Youll be doin all right, with your
christmas of white
But Ill have a blue, blue blue blue christmas
I turned the radio station.
I'll
be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have snow and
mistletoe
And presents under the tree
Christmas Eve will find
me
Where the love light beams
I'll be home for Christmas
If
only in my dreams
I huffed and just turned it off. Is it just me or do radio jockeys have a sixth sense about playing the exact song to make you completely miserable. Maybe I just aint in a Christmas mood. We should have a lot to celebrate but it don't feel that way.
Christmas used to be my absolute favorite time of year. Dad would take us boys out to get the perfect tree. Mom would be waiting with eggnog and cinnamon rolls. And then while we decorated She would make cookies and Pony would decorate.
I used to pick at him about being a pastry chief but they really were pretty cookies. We never had much in the way of gifts but we always had something. I missed my mom's homemade sweaters and junk. I miss dad teaching me how to play guitar and mom and Pony on piano.
I miss falling dead asleep as Pony bores my socks off with a Christmas Carol. It was so boring but he and mom both loved that book. "It's a ghost story at least Soda. Give it a try." She would say. Dad would wink and pretend to snore.
Then Christmas morning we would sing Christmas carols again. My mom had a wonderful voice. She used to sing us to sleep when we were kids. It was the only thing that could get me. I was always to rowdy. "Santa won't come of you're awake Soda dear." Never worked on me.
There won't be any of that this year. Nothing to laugh about, nothing to sing about. Once more no little feast, no parents, no Pony; not really. And it just gets worse. Five days later and it'll be the anniversary of mom and dad's death, the first anniversary.
In a way it's almost a blessing, as much as I hate to say it. My parents… I took a deep breath. My parents would have hated to see Pony like that. Mom.. mom most of all. As much as he was always loath to admit it, he knew we would the guys would bug him about it, he was mom's baby.
And Pony. I miss my brother so much. I miss talking with him, playing football. I miss hearing him laugh and picking at him. I miss his smile. But I am thankful he can be spared of that pain for a little while at least. He hasn't got a clue about what's going on.
I shivered. I shouldn't be thinking these thoughts. I should not be thinking them.
"Soda are you cold?" I pulled my coat string.
"I'm fine."
Darry shook his head but kept on driving. He knew, I know he knew what I was thinking. I just can read people like that.
* * * * * * * *
The home was decorated but no amount of ornaments could make the home or me cheerful. And its funny you know, because before all of this happened I was a cheerful guy; always smiling and laughing. No I I'm lucky when I have anything to smile or grin about.
Hear
the snow crunch
See the kids bunch
This is Santa's big scene
And above all this bustle
You'll hear
Silver bells,
silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling,
hear them sing
Soon it will be Christmas day
I hate Christmas carols. Right now they seem to be play everywhere and they just remind me of times and things I don't want to be reminded of. And the place smells something awful. Old people and disinfectant, what a combination.
I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. "I signed us in."
I nodded numbly. I want to see Pony I really do but I don't. It never changes. I hate seeing him there, drooling, stiff, hardly moving. I hate that glazed over look in his eyes. My brother used to light up when he talked. He would get so excited.
And he was never so still. He loved to run, I remember. He was so fast. I used to kid him about being in the Olympics.
There was a knock on the hospital cubical. A man walked in. I looked up. He was familiar but I couldn't recall from where.
"Hello Darrel, Sodapop. I heard the news this morning. I came right over." He looked awful sorry. He had on sweats and a whistle. Who was he?
"Hello Coach Winters." Darry said shaking his hand. Coach Winters, now I remember. He teaches history at the high school. He's Ponyboy's track coach.
"Sodapop." He nodded at me. I nodded back. He turned to look at Pony. His face was drawn and serious. I looked at my brother the first time today.
Coach grabbed my brother's hand. He put something in there. Some kind of track pin. Darry had once I think. "I'm going to miss having you on the squad Curtis. I really think you had the stuff to make it to state. You had to be the fastest kid I've coached in years. I really was looking forward to having you in my class next year you know." He put a hand on my brother's shoulder and walked away from the bed.
"I'm truly sorry Darrel. I enjoyed coaching your brother, for what it's worth. He'd have been a good football player too." Oh Yeha he was assistant football coach too. How could I have forgotten?
Darry clinched his teeth. He was having a hard time keeping his cool, a real hard time. "Thank you sir. "That means a lot to us." Coach Winter's nodded and left the room.
"What he put in the kids hand?" Steve asked. Darry walked over and opened Ponyboy's palm. He grimaced.
"It's a track pin. It goes on a varsity lettermen's jacket."
Steve gave a low whistle. I just looked down again.
"Come on Soda. He'll want …err we should be together. Its Christmas."
I nodded numbly. I mumbled under my breath. 'Well ho, ho, ho."