A Place Deep Within
Fourteenth Chapter - Counting seconds
October 31 - evening
Our house is quiet when I step inside our front door, Steve close behind me. Darry rises from the couch, and when I see his expression, I know. I stop, clenching my fists.
"Soda..." he says.
"Don't talk to me." I start walking again, slam the bathroom door shut and lock it. The soft mumble from the living room reach my ears when I lean my back against the door, trying to calm down. This is not Darry's fault.
I take a quick shower, and when I'm done, Two-Bit has showed up too. The three of them sits in the kitchen, looking at me when I turn up in the doorway. Darry push a plate towards me when I sit down in an empty chair. I stare at the food, but the lack of hunger makes me push it away again. I can't eat.
"They took him in," Darry sighs, scratching the back of his head.
"I figured," I snap.
"Maybe that ain't too bad." Two-Bit's eyes darts between me and my brother, and I glare at him.
"How d'you know?" I pick up my fork, not sure why, but Darry's strong hands takes it away from me. I don't know what he thought I would do with it. Maybe he just wants my attention.
"Soda, you have to listen. Pony's not well-"
"He's fine!"
"Right," Steve mutters, lightening a cigarette. "Don't deny it, Sodapop. He fuckin' talks to Johnny." He leans back in his chair, studying me from the corner of his eyes. Not even my best friend stands at my side in this. I know what they think about Ponyboy.
"You don't care about him," I say bitterly, even if I know that's not true. I can see in their eyes that they're hurt.
"Soda, please," Darry says, his voice reveals how hard this is for him. And I feel guilty. I can't keep doing this. It's not right against Darry. Against Pony. Against myself. I know he needs help. It's just killing me I'm not the one able to cure him. It should be me. Here, at home.
I lay my arms down on the table, hiding my face in them. "When can we see him?"
Nobody answer, and I look up. Darry's pale, avoiding my gaze.
"Darry?"
He picks with his napkin, staring out the window. "Next week."
I sit straight up. "What?"
"They... the doctor said it was for the best," Darry says. "No influences from the outside."
"He's fourteen, Darry. He's sick! You can't just leave him by himself at the fuckin' hospital for almost a week!"
"Sit down, Soda," he commands. I didn't even noticed when I got up. But I refuse to sit down again.
"You're his guardian, Darry. You gotta go and see him."
"I can't."
"That's bullshit," I spit. " Why?"
"I want him to be healthy, Soda. I want him to get better."
I smash my hands at the table. "And I don't?" I know I'm yelling, but I can't help it.
Darry rise his voice. "Then let him get this help, Sodapop. We've to trust them."
I don't know if he tries to convince me or himself, but I also know I can't win this battle. Darry's stubborn, afraid of the public authority. He wouldn't admit it, of course, but I can see it. He let them get away with this cause he's terrified they'll take Pony away if he doesn't. And maybe he's right. So instead of arguing, I leave the kitchen, close the door to my bedroom behind me and throw myself down on the bed. I miss him already. I try to comfort me that I at least know where he is, but that's not much help. I know I have let him down.
XXX
Three years ago - summer
Ponyboy whines. He just turned eleven, and I babysit him this evening. Darry's out with a friend, Mom and Dad are at a neighbour's place for dinner. I'm thirteen-going-on-fourteen, and I just discovered girls are kind of nice. Something happened this summer, both Steve and I agrees. Long hair and skirts are more interesting than football and cars, somehow.
Their names are Nancy and Janet, I think, or maybe it was Jane, not that its matters now when Pony complains. Steve glares at him.
"We'll only be gone for an hour or so," I try to convince my kid brother. "Come on, Pony."
"Mom said you should stay with me," Pony pouts. I feel bad, I know he looked forward to this evening with me, without our parents, and he doesn't like this turn. But we have dates now. We hadn't when I promised.
"Don't be such a baby!" Steve snaps, and Pony scowls at him. My friend has touched a sensitive spot.
"I'm not a baby!" Pony stomps to the TV and hits the button. "Fine! Go then." He plops down on the floor, eyes on the screen.
"Pony..." I say, but he refuse to look at me. Steve tugs at my sleeve.
"Come on, Soda! What if they don't wait for us?"
I feel splittered in two, one part of me know that I need to stay in the house, but the other part really, really, really wants to see Nancy. And it's just for an hour, I say to myself. So I go with Steve.
Two and a half hours later, we run along the street. I shouldn't be this happy, but I can't help it. I kissed Nancy. I don't regret a thing until we reach the house and Pony's not there. We search for ten minutes, and then we have looked at every place he could be hiding at more than twice. He's still missing.
"Where is he?" I shout at Steve, and he bites his lip, looking more worried than I had thought he would do when it comes to my brother.
"Maybe he went to a friend?" he suggest, looking in the hallway closet once more.
"Like who?" He could be with Johnny, but it's not that probable this time of night. I wonder what Mom and Dad will say, and right then the front door opens and my parents step inside. I take a deep breath, wondering how I'm supposed to tell them, when I see Pony behind them.
"Ponyboy!" I yell, my worry suddenly changed to anger. "I told ya to stay here!"
Mom raise her eyebrows while putting her handbag down on the table. "Funny, Sodapop," she says. "I thought I said the same thing to you."
I blush. Pony glares at me and Steve.
"You said one hour, Soda. I waited for you!"
"I'm sorry," I say, my gaze down at the floor. I feel awful. And I promise myself, even before Mom and Dad gives me a scolding, that I will never leave Pony by himself when he needs me again.
XXX
November 1 - day
It's Thursday, and for some reason, everyone wants to fill their tanks or fix their cars today. I run back and forth between the counter, the gas pump, the garage, before I give up on handle this by myself and call in Lucas, only because Steve's still in school. He shows up after half an hour, a lower middle class kid trying to be a greaser. He likes Steve, he can't compete with his work since he knows nothing about cars, but me he glares at. I hope he doesn't know about my absence two days ago.
"You can go home," he says to me, not because he cares. He doesn't. "Take care of your brother, whats-his-name, Ponyboy, instead. I can work this out."
Everyone knows about Pony, but I hate the fact that this kid does too. That he even takes his name in his mouth.
"Screw you," I tell him when he smirks, making the customer in front of me look uncomfortable. I give her an apologizing smile, cursing myself for letting Lucas bring me down to this. For an answer, he flips me the bird and leaves the shop. If I could, I would start a fight with him, and even if he's bigger than me, I know I would win. He has a big mouth, but he's not tough enough with his fists.
In the end, it's a good day. The rush at work makes me think less of Pony.
XXX
November 2 - evening
"Darry?"
I catch my brother, standig still with his hands in the warm water, staring at nothing. He jerks.
"Wha-?"
I walk into the kitchen, and he looks embarassed, picking up a plate to clean it. I sit down at the table behind him, looking at my dirty nails. I've worked in the garage all day, and the grease are hard to get off completely.
"How's your day?" I ask him, only to have something to say.
"Cold."
"You should get a new jacket," I tell him. I know his old one is soon worned out, but he never thinks of himself. He has sacrificed so much for us, and I hate that I'm mad at him. I have to try not to be.
"Yeah," he agrees. "But with all the hospital bills-" he abruptly stops, and I can tell he regret bringing the topic up. But if he hadn't, I would anyway.
"About that," I say. "We should go-"
"No, Soda." My blood nearly boils at his stubborness.
I scowl at him, gritting my teeth. "Don't be such a jerk, Darry. He needs us." I jump down from the table.
"He needs professional help."
"We're his brothers Darry! I'm sure he's scared, or sad, or..." I shake my head, lost of words to express his feelings. Or maybe they're mine.
Darry slams with the dishes, something breaks. "Shit!" He takes the dish towel, wraps it around his bleeding finger. I step closer, take his hand to look at the wound. It's shallow.
"I'm sorry," Darry says, looking away. "You're right." He sighs. "But we're not allowed to visit until Monday."
"Says who?" Hope's in my voice. I need to see Pony. But Darry destroys it with his next words.
"Doesn't matter, Soda. We'll see him on Monday, and that's it."
"No," I say, sternly. "We're not seeing him on Monday. We'll get him home on Monday."
Darry's smile are weak. "Sure, little buddy."
"Even if he ain't...well." But he has to be.
Darry meets my gaze. "I don't know, Soda."
But I do. I will take him home.
XXX
November 2- night
It's hard to sleep. I always thought it was Pony needing me with him, but now I know it's the opposit too. I'm so used to have him beside me that the bed feels too cold, too big to be comfortable without him. I throw away my pillow and takes Pony's instead, wondering if my brother can sleep without nightmares when I'm not around. Actually, I know my presence don't keep them away, but at least I'm there when he wakes up, screaming and scared. And now I'm not. I twist around in the bed, give up my tries and walks to the living room. I spot a sleeping form at the couch. When I push it gentle, Steve says something inaudible, and I sit down in the recliner, leaning it backwards as long as it goes. I don't know when I fall asleep, or if I even do. The night's just a blur.
XXX
November 3 - evening
"Come on," Steve mutters, his foot push hard down on the gas pedal, but it's no use. His car are far behind the red plymouth, driven by one in Tim Shepard's gang. I think his name is James. When we reach the goal, we don't even bother to climb out of the car. Steve leans forward, groaning about the loss.
"Thought you fixed this," I say to him, and he looks at me, smirking.
"I did."
"So this was the best you could do?" I tease, and he gives me a light smack on my shoulder.
"Shut up, Soda. I ain't made of money, and I sure could use a new engine."
Someone taps at Steve's side window, and he rolls it down. "What?"
"Move," the kid says. "They're starting another race." He points down the road, and we both throws a glance backwards. Even if it's far away, we can see the headlights of two cars in the dark, ready to race.
"Let's go home," I suggest, and he makes a turn to drive back. When we pass James and his car, he waves at us, holding up a beer.
We leave the drag race, driving into town again, but when we're near our neighbourhood, Steve turns left instead of right. "Home, Steve!" I repeat, but he only takes a harder grip on the wheel.
"No."
"Steve," I warn him. "I'm tired."
"And I'm tired of you sittin' home, sulkin'," he answers. "Evie and some friend of hers are over at Dairy Queen tonight, I told her we might come."
"I ain't sulkin'." I fold my arms. "Damn it, Steve!"
"Yeah, I like you too, Soda," he tease. I surrender, closing my eyes as he drives, and don't open them again until he parks outside the diner. It's too much people here, and it feels like everyone is watching me.
Evie's friend is a cute brunette, but she talks to much. Maybe she tries to fill the silence when Steve and Evie make out, because I sit quiet, lost in my thoughts. Steve ordered me a Coke when we got here, but I don't even touch it. Her voice disappears in the background, hell, I don't even know what she's talking about, and I stand up, wanting to be anywhere else but here.
"I need to smoke," I mutter. I leave before she has the time to protest, or offer to follow me out. I head around the building and sit down leaning against the brick wall next to a dumpster. The snow that came some days ago has melt away, the ground is dry but cold. I flick with my lighter while draging on my cigarette, music and talks from inside reaches my ears, and I feel lonely. I hate this.
I'm on my third cigarette, I think, when Steve suddenly stands before me.
"Where the hell did you go?" he says, but he's not really angry.
"Out here," I say, even if it's obvious. "Are you gonna drive me home now or what?"
He seems to hesitate, but then he reach down and takes my arm to help me up. "Whatever. Come on."
XXX
November 4 - day
Tomorrow. I can't sit still, and Darry sighs when I'm bounching around in the room, not doing anything but stir.
"Take a draw with the vaccum cleaner," he suggest, and I stop.
"It's not dirty in here," I say, but that's a lie. The dust has collects in the corners, crumbles can be seen on the carpet beneath the coffe table.
"Just... clean up, Soda." He shakes his head and leaves me for the bathroom. I sigh, but do as he says, just to get the time to go. I count the hours, the minutes, the seconds until tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
Ponyboy.
Thank you for your nice words :) They are really, really appreciated!
And I'm really trying to do this story as realistic as possible, but I honestly don't know so much about the care for mentally sick people in USA at the sixties... and research on the internet don't give me much or I'm just bad at google. I don't know if it's realistic to leave a 14-year old at a hospital and be adviced/not be allowed to visit for 4-5 days. But this had to be done because of my plans for this story, so I'm sorry if there are facts mistakes. Please overlook them and remember this is only fiction :) Thank you.
And of course, thanks to my beta-readerEvery'Piece'Has'A'Purpose.