Disclaimer- I do not own The Outsiders
Breathe, just breath. Take a deep breath and relax, but I can't. I can't relax. I can't take a deep breath. My adrenalin is rushing and I feel like my head is reeling and rolling. I wish I could be more like Darry, calm and cool. He is like a rock, steady and unmoving, save for the harshest of storms. It isn't stormy anymore; but it still is raining, raining on us.
Pony is being wheeled back in the room. He looks better than before. He is clean and his hair is no longer quiet as shabby. His cloths are fresh and he has the catheter now. But he still looks starved. He's moving his head around on the gurney and his hands are clenched to the sheets tightly as he can muster. He isn't so strong these days.
Now somebody's home but the door is locked. He is here and he is alert but not really. My little brother isn't all there. Pony is more vibrant, more alive. He takes his time and lets the surrounding draw him in. He is dreamy but alert. I couldn't even call this alert. It's like he's in a haze, a fog.
The orderlies leans down as if to put my brother on the bed. Pony's mouth moves, open and close, open and close. But nothing coherent is coming out. "AAAA. BBBB, cah, cha.."
Darry puts a hand out. "Let me do it, please."
The two orderlies steal a glance. Pony's the only kid here, funny as it is to think of him as being little. I don't think the men are used to the whole parental figure and the tendencies that go with it. But they nod anyways.
Darry bends down and cradles Ponyboy. He's really too old to be carried like that but it feels, more, well it feels right with Darry being the one putting him in bed instead of some stranger. "There you go little buddy. We got to get some weight back on you. I don't think you were this easy to carry since you were eight years old.
A picture flash before my eyes of my baby brother riding piggy back on Darry and squealing with laughter covering our older brother's eyes. I shudder.
Darry smoothes Pony's hair and he gives a content sigh. At least he's happy. "But how could Ponyboy be happy like this. Pony, he, he's a whatchamacalent, an intellectual. He would want to be that way. Why isn't he miserable. He should be miserable." I tell myself although the last thing I want is for Pony to suffer.
"Soda's here too. Come on over Soda." Darry is thrilled. He is happy to have Pony even like this. He's usually the logical one, the one with sense. He should see what I'm seeing not the other way around. So why is it now I have his seriousness, Pony has my lack of brains and Darry has Pony's dreaminess. The world is going mad these days and I don't like it.
I force a smile and walk over to the bed. "Ha." I gulp.
"I can't do this. I can't do this."
"Hey Pony." His moth opens and he looks at me and I don't think he really recognizes me. I don't think tearing my ligament hurt this bad.
Closing my eyes so I don't cry, I've always been a bawl baby; I sit on the bed beside him. This is my brother, my closest friend. I should be able to do this but it feels like I can't.
"I've missed you Pone." I lick my lips. I had noticed how dry they were before.
Darry sits down on the other side. He's sitting closer to Pony and grabs his hand. "That should be me. I'm the one who comforts Ponyboy. So why isn't it me?"
"We both have buddy and we're going to get you better. I'm going to call the state tomorrow and see if we can get you some therapy. You'll be talking and running again in no time." I wonder if those words were for Pony's benefit or Darry's.
Pony head lolls like a rag doll. "Awk,."
"I think I'm going to be sick."
"That's right kiddo." I lie. I wonder if he knows. Pony always could see right through me but this isn't Pony, not really.
Pony yawns and I'm afraid. I'm afraid if he goes back to sleep he'll get worse again. I'm afraid if he goes to sleep I'll wake up and find this is all a dream. Even this level of, of I reckon of wakefulness, was wishful thinking on my part.