"We'll talk, later," Soda whispered back, and squeezed me tight before letting me go. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah. You?" I responded. His eyes didn't look so red anymore. We sat down while Darry took care of the bill and making another appointment.
"I'm good," he said. "She's real nice, huh?"
"Yeah. I guess we hafta come back again?"
"Yeah… I don't know about you but I do feel like she kinda helped me… I don't know, figure some stuff out."
"Yeah, me too," I agreed. Darry came over toward us.
"Let's go, or you're gonna be late for work," Darry said, yanking Soda up from his chair.
"She's right, Dar… you are always rough." He laughed; he was joking, but I felt bad that he'd brought it up again.
"Well, I'm gona try to tone it down a bit, I can't have you guys all battered and bruised, people will think I'm beating you up." It was hard to tell whether or not Darry was kidding.
"I can't even believe you just said that," I said, running to keep up with the two of them, who were hurrying to get to the truck. "Nobody who knows you would ever think you were beating us up." I jumped into the middle as Soda slid in beside me.
"Well, unfortunately," Darry said, putting the truck in gear and pulling out of the parking spot, "It's the people who don't know me that we have to worry about the most."
That was certainly the truth. All it would take was one stranger to suspect something was up and make a call, and the state would be down our throats in a second. It wasn't all that rare for kids to have bruises - kids from our side of town, anyway – and I think, for the most part, the teachers just turned the other cheek. Lord knows; I'd sure looked terrible when I'd gone back to school after my incident, and nobody had said a thing except for those Socs that Ben had fought with.
We pulled up at the DX right at ten, and Soda hopped out. I was still feeling bad about whatever had made him cry, so I stopped him as he climbed out.
"Hey, I know it's your night and all, but since you hafta work, and I don't, I'll make dinner tonight, okay?"
"Well, I sure ain't gonna say no to that," Soda grinned. "Catch y'all later." And with a definitive slam of the door he was off.
"I swear, I don't understand how these doors are still attached, the way you guys slam them," Darry said, watching Soda head into the shop.
"You do the same thing," I pointed out, and he chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I do. You don't miss much, do you Scout?"
"I guess not." I was staring into the DX, watching as Steve came out from the back and talked to Soda. He looked different, to me, somehow, though I couldn't quite figure out what it was that was different.
"You alright?" Darry must have seen me staring, and noticed what I was staring at.
"Yeah," I said, looking back at him, the thought occurring to me that maybe it wasn't Steve who was different, maybe it was me, because for the first time since that night, I was looking at him and I wasn't afraid. It was such a shocking realization that I didn't even hear Darry talking to me until I realized he was staring at me, clearly expecting an answer.
"Oh, sorry. What?"
"I said, that was nice of you to take Soda's dinner duty, especially seein' as how he weaseled out of cooking last night by getting take-out."
"Well, I feel kinda bad, I mean, I know he only had to go see that doctor 'cause of me."
"It wasn't just because of you, baby. You don't need to feel bad about anything. There were a whole lot of other factors. Sandy, Steve, the baby... Soda has a lot more going on in his head than most of us think. And he can talk to Pony all he wants about it, but Pony can't help him any more than I can help you."
I felt like that was a good thing, Darry admitting that he didn't know how to help me. I hoped it meant he'd stop trying so hard and then feeling bad when he didn't succeed. I was quiet and I could tell Darry wanted to ask me something.
"So… what you talked about, with the doctor… do you think it was helpful?"
"Yeah. But I didn't really talk about what I expected to."
"Really? What did you talk about, then?"
I hesitated to tell him.
"Well, you, actually, and Soda and Pony."
"Me? Are you upset with me or something?"
"No, nothing like that. She just- she helped me figure out some stuff about my feelings. It was nothing bad. I'll… I mean... I'll talk to you about it, but just, not yet. I still need some time to think about things, okay?"
"Okay," he agreed. "Whatever you need. But if I'm doing something bad, or wrong, I hope you'll tell me." I saw him looking at my wrist again.
"You're not, Dar. And I will, I promise."
We pulled into the driveway and Darry headed into the garage to get tools for whatever his latest rainy-day project was. He could never just really relax; he always had to be doing something. Our Dad had been the same way. I was surprised after a few minutes of sitting on my bed to hear scratching sounds from the other side of the wall.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm fixing the hole in the wall in here," Darry said, and I remembered Soda, after one of my nightmares, kicking the door so hard against the wall that the doorknob had made a hole. Even back then, he'd been angry and blaming himself. I really hoped he'd found some answers that morning, as I had.
I got up and went into the boys' room, sitting on their bed watching as Darry put some sort of gauze tape over the hole.
"That's how you're fixing it? Putting tape over it?" I had to laugh, that was the sort of home repair even I could handle.
"No," Darry laughed. "It's just so the plaster has something to attach to. I watched as he dipped a tool into the plaster container, then smoothed it over the tape in a few layers until the hole had all but disappeared. It always amazed me that Darry truly seemed to know how to fix just about anything. And anything he couldn't fix, Soda could. Meanwhile, Pony and I could hardly even hammer in a nail properly.
"How do you know how to fix everything?"
"Dad taught me a lot – the rest I've just picked up from being on construction sites, watching the other guys work. Most guys will take the time to explain what they're doing – makes them feel good to know they can do something you can't. You can learn a lot just by watching." I could imagine Darry as the quiet guy at work, always just watching. I wondered if he made the other guys nervous. I know I hated being watched by strangers. Even playing basketball in front of a crowd had taken some getting used to.
"Do you like your job, Dar? I mean, I know it pays the bills and everything, but… if you could have your choice, is it what you would do?" I was starting to have a better idea of the direction my "therapy homework" conversation with him was going to go, and his job was going to definitely play into it.
"Yeah, I do. I told you, before - that's what I was going to school for… engineering and business. I guess I'd like to do more general contracting and less roofing and piece work, but everybody has to start somewhere. I'm actually in a good place, a better one than most guys my age are. That tornado damage didn't exactly hurt, either." He had been really busy since then, even with Tim's guys working with him. I still wasn't totally comfortable with that situation.
"So, about tomorrow…" he started, and I had to think what the next day was. I'd totally forgotten about the Fourth of July. "I'm thinking we'll just skip the lake. If it's okay with you, I was thinking we could go over to your Coach's house for his cookout for a while, then come back home and hang out and have everybody over for the fireworks." For some reason our side of town had the best view of the city fireworks display.
"That sounds fine."
"Are you sure? I mean, I know, it's breaking tradition and all, but I think it might be more relaxing for all of us to just hang closer to home."
"I'm sure. It's fine. I was actually kind of liking the idea of watching the fireworks with Ben, hoping Sandy and Allison would be coming over too, to keep my brothers distracted for a while.
"Okay, that's what we'll do, then." He seemed glad that I'd agreed. I followed him around the house, watching him patch a bunch of nicks and cracks in the walls, most of which were a result of too much roughhousing between boys. I vaguely wondered about how many of those holes had been made by Dallas or Johnny and it occurred to me that although Darry was "filling the holes," there were some holes – the emotional ones – that just never disappeared. I knew Ponyboy still missed Johnny terribly, although he never talked about it – not with me, anyway. I wondered if he did with Soda.
"You wanna try?" Darry snapped me out of my thoughts.
"What?"
"You seem so fascinated by watching me, do you want to do this one?"
"Okay," I guess, I said, as he handed me what I then knew was called a trowel and I smoothed plaster over the hole. It was harder than it looked to get it smooth, and my handiwork was nowhere near as good as Darry's was, but he was complimentary, anyway.
"Nice job," he said, taking the trowel back, and checking his watch. "Hey, I have to go wash out these tools outside, so why don't you go get started on dinner, and I'll be in to help in a few minutes." I knew he was going to touch up my patch work the second I left.
"You don't have to help, I offered to do it," I said.
"I want to," he said, hitting me gently on the butt with the plaster container. "So get in there and get started." I heard the trowel on the wall again the second I reached the kitchen.
…………………………………….
I had trouble coming up with any ideas of what to make for dinner, since it seemed nobody had bought groceries in a while, so I settled on what had always been one of our Dad's favorites: breakfast for dinner. He'd always said that our Mom was such a good breakfast cook that he'd eat breakfast three times a day and never complain, if that's what she served him. Soda had always liked it, too, and I was hoping to put Soda in a good mood, because I'd come to a decision about something - a decision I wasn't too sure he'd like.
Darry came in to help and took over the eggs and bacon, while I fried up some potatoes and leftover ham from a few nights before and made a hash. I must have been quiet because he asked me twice if I was alright.
"I'm fine. I'm just… thinking about things."
"Okay. Well, you know, if you want to talk, I'll listen."
"I know." I wasn't so sure he was going to like what I'd decided, either. Yet, as nervous as I was about the decision I'd come to, I knew I had to do it. If nothing else, my conversation with the doctor that morning had made me realize that there was no one magic thing that I – or anyone else – could say or do that would suddenly make everything all better. The best I could realistically wish for was that little by little, taking baby steps, I could start to make things feel "normal" again. At least that's how it seemed.
And so it was that I sat through dinner, mostly silent, trying to decide if I really wanted to do what I thought I did, and how everyone else might react to it. Finally, as Darry started to gather up the plates, Soda turned to me.
"What's up with you, tonight, Scout? Cat got your tongue? You've hardly said a word."
I took a deep breath, feeling all eyes on me. I stared down.
"I just… I made a decision about something today… and I'm not sure you're gonna like it."
Nobody spoke for a second, then Darry set the plates down and stood still.
"What, Scout? What decision?"
I looked up, feeling like if I wanted any chance of getting what I wanted, I was going to have to say it with conviction.
"I want to talk to Steve. Face to face."
You could have heard a pin drop, I was met with such absolute silence.
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A/N: I told you Steve would be back, eventually... Darry and Scout patching the walls inspired a one-shot I posted yesterday called "Fixing the Holes." It's in my Scout-free universe,in Ponyboy's POV, and I'd love feedback on that, if you get a chance (and, of course, after you leave a review here :-))