A/N: S. E. Hinton owns all rights to the characters in The Outsiders and her other stories, I only own my imagination. This Johnny (Johnny 2.0) is my own creation (along with Mikey, Dave, Shane, Pat, & Neil), though he was unashamedly inspired by Ms. Hinton's Johnny. And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming consisting of bittersweet feelings. Side note: I think Dallas is a cat person.
Christmas came and went like it usually did at our house- with about as much commotion, food, and alcohol as a frat party. There were no togas or lampshades, but I think someone might've left a pizza on the record player. I stayed around the house for a couple days dealing with all the detritus from the celebration before New Year's hit, so Dal and I didn't see much of each other until that weekend. He was chopping firewood as I hauled overflowing bags to the garbage can. "Hey, kid! Have a nice Christmas?" He called, pausing his work to help me open the lid.
"Yeah, I got some socks, new jeans, a coat, boots, and basically everything I won't need once spring rolls around. Mikey got one of the new Razor scooters, so he's been ridin' around all high and mighty for the past couple days. Thinks he's a real tuff character. How about you, get anything good?"
"Cancer sticks and booze. One of the cats had kittens, so I went out to get some milk, but not much else happened. I gotcha somethin'; I know it ain't much, but I think you'll like it." He shoved a small package wrapped in grimy paper into my jacket pocket.
"I got you somethin', too, but you'll have to come inside first." I wiped my hands on my jeans.
As we went inside, Dallas caught sight of the fruit bowl on the kitchen table. "I thought it was too early for apples, oranges, and bananas."
"Oh, we get those in our stockings every year. I think I'm the only one that appreciates them, though." I said, snagging an apple. My dad had gone to the cemetery, so we had the room all to ourselves. Dal shut the door while I produced a small package wrapped in twine and old comic strips.
"Looks like we had the same idea, kid." Dal laughed, cutting the twine with his switch as I tore into my present. The boxes were identical, and so were the medals inside.
"St. John the Apostle, patron saint of friendships." I whispered, admiring the cool gleam of the sterling silver.
"I thought it woulda been kinda funny too, since your name's Johnny, but it's funnier that we both got the same one." Dal fastened the medal around my neck, and I did the same for him.
"I guess we'll have something to remember each other by, if we're ever separated." I said, unable to take my eyes off the necklace. It was too beautiful.
"Who says we'll be separated, kid? You 'n me, we're stuck like a fat cat in a chimney."
We sat on the bed in silence, unable to adequately express our mutual gratitude. I hadn't gotten much this year, but that medal would easily be my favorite gift. "How'd it go without your mom, kid?" Dal was staring at his hands.
"It went better than I thought, but I think I saw Dad crying a couple times. I know I've been crying all week." My voice threatened to break, so I paused. "It's gonna be hard, y'know?"
"I know. When's your birthday?"
"March 1st." My bottom lip trembled, but I didn't want to cry again.
"Mine's November 9th. I didn't mean to make you upset."
"It's not you, I'm just all mixed up. I don't have anybody to talk to, and it hurts still. Nobody talks about her at all; it's like she didn't even exist, but I know she did. Dad keeps tellin' me it's okay to talk to him, but I'm too scared because I lied about Windrixville, and no one else cares enough to ask me how I feel." I'd lost the fight against the tears, and they soaked into Dal's flannel shirt when his shoulder became my handkerchief.
"It's okay, kid. You've got me now, I didn't mean to make you cry." Dad entered the room softly, but backed away again after he saw the scene in front of him. I guess he knew we needed to be alone. I cried for a while longer before the sobs turned to hiccups, then I sat back, embarrassed.
"Sorry."
"You have nothin' to be sorry for, kid. If I missed my mom as much as you miss yours, I'd do the same thing. I'm just wondering how on earth it took you this long to finally let it out." Dallas handed me his hankie. "Here, keep this, kid. I got plenty at home. I think I'll cut out now, it looked like your dad wanted to talk. See ya around."
"Bye, Dal. Thanks." He hugged me tight before he left, and I could smell the pine sap on his clothes.
Dad came in after a while and sat cross-legged on the bed beside me. We didn't say anything for an eternity. Then, he spoke. "I know about Windrixville, Johnnycake."
"I'm sorry I lied to you; I thought you'd be mad."
"No, I wouldn't have been mad. Disappointed, possibly, but not mad. However, I'm a bit upset that you felt the need to lie to me. I thought we had honesty as our top priority, bud."
"I just got scared after gettin' grounded and yelled at so much. I didn't think it'd hurt anything, but I guess it did."
"I don't mean to yell so much, kiddo, but losing your mom's been hard on me, too; harder than you realize. I just didn't realize how hard you'd taken it too, and for that, I'm sorry. I guess I'm more like Darry than I thought."
"Why don't we ever talk about her?" I asked, turning my old Luke Skywalker action figure in my hands. I'd found it in a box of old toys we hadn't donated yet.
"Same reason I don't talk about my folks, it's too hard. Even after all these years, it's still too hard."
"You think we could, I mean, just every once in a while? It'd help."
"Okay, Johnnycake. If it helps, I'll talk. What d'you wanna know?"
"How'd you meet her?"
"Well, when I was in high school, there was a kid named Bryon Douglas. He was dating your mom for a while, but even back then, I knew I liked her. She had a brother who everybody called M&M, because he was addicted to those candies- you remember him, right?"
"Yeah." I said, vaguely remembering someone by that name.
"Anyway, he was always gettin' in trouble at home because he was enamored with the hippie culture that was so prevalent at the time, so one day, he ran off. They couldn't find him for at least a week, if I remember right, and she'd started to worry about him."
"Where'd they find him?"
"In a commune somewhere, nearly out of his mind from a bad trip. I dunno what happened after that, but she and Bryon broke up, and we started dating. She didn't like me much at first- thought I was too quiet. To be fair to her, I was pretty shy, but I opened up to her little by little after everything went down, and I think she finally got used to me."
"D'you think she loved you?" I don't know where that question came from, but it came out anyway.
"I never could tell. If I had to guess, I'd say no, though. She still loved Bryon, even though he didn't love her back. I saw him working at a grocery store a few, maybe ten years back, but I don't know whatever happened to him. His brother Mark was shot down by police after escaping from prison, I think. He'd taken a couple hostages, but they made it out okay. Your mom went to the funeral."
"You loved her, right? Even if she didn't love you back?"
"Oh, yeah. I loved her more than I could ever say. It took me three years to tell her, but I think she knew anyway. She was a good soul, and she loved you to pieces. Don't forget that, Johnnycake. Don't you ever forget that." He left me alone with my thoughts, hearing someone call his name.
Mom hadn't really loved Dad? No, that wasn't possible. They'd always been so good for each other, and yet… had they really? It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it was all I could hear echoing in my head at dinner. She hadn't loved the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, the weird way he held his fork, or that one cowlick behind his ear that never stayed down. And yet, she loved me. Loved me to pieces- enough to help me with homework late at night, put the glow stars all over my room, and kiss me goodnight before taking her last breath. Yeah, she loved me; more than she could ever say. And that's how I loved Dallas, too.