August 1967
A thin layer of dust covered almost everything in the room and probably the whole house. That was to be expected as it had sat here empty for the last few years. Thankfully, everything appeared to still be in order; no sign of break-ins or squatters. The house was decent, despite not being in the best neighborhood. Structurally, it was good. It would have been unfortunate to come back and find a leak in the roof plus spring rain had done a number on the place, or damage from a storm had allowed animals to find sanctuary inside. A few good friends had kept an eye on the place in the times between visits home, which were few and far between. There was something about seeing everything as it was that almost made him feel like a teenager again; it made his heart skip a beat.
Any minute Ma would step out of the kitchen, a soft smile spread across her lips as usual, "I'm making your favorite for dinner." She'd say as if it were a surprise, something special just for him, instead of their typical Sunday dinner.
Dad would be in his favorite chair, nose in a newspaper, "I'm done with the sports section if you want it." He'd say, folding it down, peering over the top of his reading glasses.
The house would be peaceful until the boys came stomping in, still full of energy. They'd been running around doing who knows what all day, only coming home to fill their ever-hungry stomachs. It was a wonder they could afford to feed three growing boys. The Curtises always figured it out, somehow, with enough to spare for any friends who managed to wander in.
It took Darry a moment to snap back and realize that was practically a lifetime ago, distant memories became foggier as the days rolled on. He wasn't the same person he was back then; he was a man now.
Sunlight illuminated the room for the first time in who knows how long as the curtains opened; dust partials danced in the beams of light. For a moment Darry was almost overwhelmed. Walking through this well-preserved time capsule was dredging up too many memories and emotions he'd long since packed away. Not worked through, or come to terms with, but had shoved down far enough they were almost forgotten. Tillie always got on him about processing his feelings instead of ignoring them until he exploded. She didn't understand it was easier this way. In his twenty-two years, he'd become pretty good at compartmentalizing.
A dainty sneeze caught his attention, "Let's get some airflow in here," Tillie said, trudging right over to a window and yanking it open. Well, attempting to anyways, it moved about an inch before getting stuck. She continued to push with all her might, and it just wouldn't budge.
"Here," Darry said walking over and taking her place, "You gotta get it just right." He closed the window completely, adjusted, and quickly pushed it up. There was almost a hint of embarrassment in his voice. The whole house was a bit run down. Not as bad as some in the neighborhood, but there was a laundry list of things that needed fixing.
His past and family weren't something Darry had opened up about much in college. Going to California was a fresh start. Nobody knew him, or that he was from the wrong side of the tracks. Nobody knew he was the first person in his family to go to college. Or that he was more than likely the first person in his family to make it to twenty without a criminal record of some sort. Nobody knew that he was a coward who ran when things got hard. They only knew he was an incredible football player and a fairly decent student.
When his parents died he all but shut down, as if Tulsa never existed. He had no intention of moving back after graduation; the funeral only solidified that choice. There was nothing left for him back home, other than two little brothers ready to lay on the biggest guilt trip of the century. Pony and Soda made it clear they were none too happy Darry tucked tail and ran back to school without so much as a goodbye. He wasn't sure what they wanted from him. He wasn't their parent and never could be. It's not like he could have taken them back to school with him. Was he supposed to give up everything he'd worked so hard for? Try and raise kids a couple years younger than him when he was barely an adult himself? What good would that have done any of them? Nothing but continued the generational poverty curse.
Being open and vulnerable was far from Darry's strong suit. Bringing Tillie home felt like he'd been split apart, his whole life splayed out in front of them, baring his soul. This was the full nitty gritty show of Darrel Shayne Curtis Jr. Not only was Tillie about to see where he'd come from, she was about to live it first hand. She didn't marry him for his money, but this wasn't what she'd signed up for either. She came from a family that was pretty well off. Never did she want for anything growing up. Now here they were starting a family in the trenches of Tulsa's West side, both working to get by. It was emasculating. Like everything he'd worked so hard to get away from was all he'd ever have to look forward to. He was starting to wonder if school was a waste of time and this had always been his destiny.
"Much better already," Tillie said matter-of-factly, having now pulled open the back door and every other window she could open. A cross breeze was forming, a nice relief from the sweltering August heat, "I could start bringing some things inside."
She knew Darry would shut that down immediately, "Absolutely not." The words had barely left her mouth before he responded. "You don't need to be lifting any of that."
"I'm pregnant. That doesn't mean I'm incapable of lifting some boxes." She placed a hand on her hip, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. This wasn't a fight she was trying to win, however, she figured the first step was getting Darry to bring their things inside. Everything packed neatly in the car meant they could take off and never look back at any given moment. She wouldn't put it past him. He practically white-knuckled the steering wheel the entire drive. It was a toss-up if they'd actually make it into Tulsa, or if he'd keep going until they couldn't go anymore.
"I know," Darry said walking across the living room to where his wife was standing, "But why put unnecessary stress on Junior?" He placed a hand on her stomach, which had started showing a slight bump, and a soft kiss on the top of her head. Tillie gave the smallest roll of her eyes. From the moment they found out, Darry had been convinced the baby was a boy. To which she constantly gave him grief about how the baby was going to be a girl. Either way, the pair was beyond excited to start their own family.
"Well, you better get moving you're burning daylight." Her words were soft and playful. She was just glad Darry was starting to get out of his head.
"Yes ma'am." He stole another kiss before heading back out the front door. There was a little less tension in his shoulders, but his eyes stayed on the floor the entire way out. Almost as if he could avoid looking at his surroundings it would be easier to deal with.
Tillie let herself finally start to wander through her new place. No matter what Darry thought, it was a nice starter home. Three bedrooms were more than they even needed. It was clear his mom took pride in her home. Not a thing was out of place. Family pictures filled the walls. Most of the furnishings weren't high-end, but everything was well-kept. From the way Darry acted she half expected the house to be a decrepit shack in the middle of nowhere, not a house in need of a bit of tender love and care. A day of cleaning and a little elbow grease and Tillie would have it looking brand new. Outside was a bit of a different story, but Darry being the busybody he was would have it fixed up in no time.
A soft smile curled up on her lips as she admired some of the photos on the wall. Darry's senior picture was displayed proudly. She didn't know he looked so much like his dad until now. Despite the smile on his face, she could see in his eyes he was deeply uncomfortable, much like every picture she'd seen of him. When a camera was around Darry always seemed to freeze up, like he didn't know what to do and had never smiled in his life. Next was a picture of his parents on their wedding day, absolutely beaming at each other. Tillie had never seen so much love and adoration captured in a single frame. Her finger traced over their faces wiping away a layer of dust. It was a shame she'd never been able to meet them. The next frame held a photo of three little boys, clad in dusty jeans and flannels, standing next to a horse. The middle boy with golden hair looked to be about 9; he held the lead and had the goofiest grin you've ever seen plastered on his face. If she assumed correctly, that was Sodapop. The youngest was trying to look cool like his older brothers, happy to be included. Then there was Darry, thumbs hitched through his belt loops, an ever-awkward smile on his face ready to get away from the camera.
Tillie turned her gaze out the front door to see her husband carrying two boxes up the rickety porch steps. A struggle, surely, but she knew better than to so much as peep a word of protest. He was far too stubborn to listen. She wondered if his brothers were just as headstrong. From the looks of the pictures, they seemed to be really close growing up. It pained her that they weren't even speaking. Grief does some crazy things, but her hope was being back home he might finally deal with some of it. Bare minimum have some contact with his family again.
"You're not Superman, ya know." She said as Darry placed two boxes labeled 'Bedroom' down near the hallway. "You don't have to carry it all in one trip."
He paused for a moment, tensing slightly. Tillie had no idea about his former nickname, and he had no one but himself to blame. He let it roll off his shoulders, turned around, and gave her a wary smile, "Sorry, boss said I'm burning daylight. Gotta pick up the pace."
Shaking her head, she shooed him back outside. Tillie made her way to the kitchen, hoping to find a rag and maybe some cleaning supplies. It took a little bit of rummaging but she managed to find what she was looking for. Cleaning supplies didn't expire, right? If they did it was better than nothing. She started in the living room giving everything a good thorough dusting. Boxes began piling up around her. Seeing as they were newly married and fresh out of school, they hadn't amassed much. Luckily they had almost everything they'd need here already. Unpacking was also going to be a lot easier. By the time she was mostly done with the small living space, Darry had finished bringing in all their boxes.
It was a delicate dance treading this fine line between productivity and sensitivity. One virtue Tillie was blessed with was patience; she was the most patient person Darry'd ever met. That was going to be key in navigating these turbulent waters. Slowly breaking down all the barriers Darry had built to lock up his pain and sorrow. Her hope was the more they made this house their own, the more it might ease Darry's mind. Help to relieve the tension and release some of the pent-up guilt he'd carried for the last few years. Get him comfortable enough not to constantly have one foot out the door. It was going to take time, but they'd tackle it together. Just as they would clearing out the house. One step at a time. One room at a time. Piece by piece. Right now this was still the home he grew up in, not yet their house. As much as Tillie wanted to dive right in, she also wanted to respect his boundaries. Being here was hard enough, let alone having someone rummage through his childhood home throwing things out. Even if that someone was his wife.
"I'm finishing up here we can move onto the bedroom next," Tillie said, wiping a few stray strands of hair from her forehead.
"Might as well finish this and the kitchen first," Darry said shuffling boxes around; his avoidance was not very subtle. After two and a half years it still didn't feel right, packing up his parents' things and moving into their room.
"Right," Tillie agreed, "Won't take long with the two of us. Then which bedroom do you want to tackle first?" She pushed gently, hoping he'd be more receptive if he decided what to clear out first. Tillie moved now to the kitchen to start wiping down the countertops. She didn't have to look at Darry to know his brows were furrowed.
"We should probably stop for lunch after this before it gets too late." Darry was rummaging around, looking for the broom and dustpan. Tillie sighed to herself. This might be more difficult than anticipated. There were only so many excuses he could come up with. At this rate, she wasn't sure they'd clear out any room to sleep in tonight.