Getting the mail was one of my favorite things to do. Besides playing football. And eating chocolate cake. Every day my mom or dad lifts me up and I get to open the mailbox and pull out all of the letters. There's never any for me, but I still like being able to do it. One day I might even be big enough to do it by myself.
The mail didn't come until right before lunchtime, though, after our morning walk. I held my mother's hand tightly as we crossed the street. That was the rule: whenever we went for walks I was big enough to walk by myself unless we were crossing the street. Then I had to hold her hand. Her other hand was busy pushing Soda in the stroller. He was barely big enough to walk, so he had to be pushed. He usually slept the whole time anyway.
I squealed with excitement as our house came into view. The mailman was opening our front gate, ready to put a bunch of letters and magazines into our box. I tried to take off in a run but felt my hand being gripped even tighter.
"Hold on Darry, don't go running off," she scolded.
I scowled but listened to her anyway. We reached our front yard soon enough, just as the mailman was leaving.
"Morning," he said, tipping his hat.
"I have a letter to mail if you'll wait for just a moment," said my mom.
He nodded and she quickly went into the house, leaving me to guard my baby brother in the front yard. I may like the mailman, but he was still a stranger. I looked him up and down and gripped the handle of the stroller tightly.
"How come your tummy's so big?" I asked, pointing at his large stomach.
He laughed. "From eating too many sweets.
"When my mom's tummy got big she had a baby. Are you gonna have a baby soon?"
He laughed at me again. "No, I'm not having a baby."
My mother reappeared before I could ask any more questions, handing an envelope to the man. "And you're sure these are being delivered?" she asked.
"As far as I know, ma'am. Usually, if the address is wrong it gets returned to the sender," he said.
My mom nodded and waved goodbye as the mailman left. Soda had woken up and noticed our mom's waving and quickly copied her. He was always copying people, especially me. Mom told me it's because that's how he learns, but I think he does it to get on my nerves.
I had to wait for my mom to get the stroller inside and get Soda in his crib before she would lift me up to get the mail.
"How come you gave away our mail mama?" I asked, struggling to juggle all the letters in my hands.
"I was mailing a letter away so that it would end up in somebody else's mailbox," she explained.
"But who did you mail it to?" I asked.
"Just a family member, sweetie. Let's go inside and make some lunch, shall we?"
I allowed her to pick me up and carry me inside, even though I was way too big for that. She sat me down at the table and soon enough had me eating a peanut butter sandwich cut into triangles, just the way I liked it, the letter almost forgotten. Almost.
— — — — — — — — — —
I frantically looped the buttons of my shirt, sighing in frustration as I realized they were all crooked. I quickly undid them and was hurrying to redo them when I heard laughter from behind me.
"What's so funny?" I asked, turning to see Sodapop standing in my bedroom doorway.
"Seeing you so flustered. God Darry, you haven't been on a date in ages, have you? I think you're a bit rusty."
I pulled my brother into a headlock and began messing up his hair before hurrying to the bathroom to comb back my hair. I needed to be quick if I wanted to meet Rebecca by 7. I had finally worked up the courage to call her last Sunday and ask her out, and I hadn't known peace from either brother since. Sodapop followed me as I finished in the bathroom and rushed back to my bedroom, tucking in my shirt and fastening my belt.
"Quit hovering, it's just a date. You're staying in tonight, right?"
He nodded. "Yep, no need to worry, Darry. I promise not to burn the place down," he said, raising his right hand.
"Make sure Ponyboy eats and does his homework. He needs to be in bed at a reasonable hour, too, it's a school night."
"Geez Darry, how long you planning on being gone?" Soda asked, waggling his eyebrows.
"It's only dinner, Soda. Just keep your brother alive, will ya?" He saluted in response.
"Ponyboy, get in here!" I called out.
Ponyboy walked into my bedroom, nearly clipping the wall multiple times as he attempted to read a book as he went. I grabbed it out of his hands and ignored his sounds of protest.
"Dinner. Homework. Bed. Capicse?"
He nodded. "Capicse?" I asked again, wanting a verbal answer. I remember my dad doing the same thing to me not that long ago.
"Capisce, Darry. I'm not four, you know?"
"I know, you're fifteen. That's much worse."
— — — — — — — — — —
My chair squeaked as I awkwardly attempted to scoot closer to the table. The restaurant I'd chosen was fairly casual, which was good considering I didn't think my nerves could handle an upscale place. My wallet probably couldn't either.
I spotted my date as soon as she entered the restaurant. "Rebecca!"
She smiled when she saw me and quickly made her way over to the table. "Please, call me Becky. Rebecca's too formal."
I stood and pulled out her chair for her. "In that case, call me Darry. Darrel's my father."
She laughed. "It's a deal. Thanks for choosing this place, by the way, I've never been before. I haven't really had a chance to explore Tulsa."
"So you're not from here?" I asked. We'd talked plenty at the party, getting the initial small talk out of the way, but I was beginning to realize I may have talked more than her. She knew about my brothers, where I lived, and what I did for work, and I felt as though I knew nothing about her. "No, I'm from Texas. I'm training to become a nurse and need to get clinical hours. When I saw an opening for the clinic here, I figured why not? I needed a change," she explained.
"I get that. I've hardly been out of Tulsa before," I admitted.
"Have you ever considered going somewhere else for school?"
I sighed. Here we go. "I was planning on it, but I was in the process for saving up for school when my parents died. I dropped out and got a job to take care of my brothers instead."
She nodded, her eyes noticeably absent of the usual look of pity. "That's very admirable of you," she said.
I smiled, glad she wasn't making a huge deal of it like I was a saint, or worse, trying to tell me I'd made the wrong decision.
"So what's your family like? Do you have siblings?" I asked, eager to switch the conversation. I found myself struggling to focus on what she was saying, though, because I was getting distracted dark hair, her green eyes, the way her nose scrunched when she was thinking, the barely noticeable gap in her teeth that you could only see when she truly smiled. I hadn't felt this way about a girl in a long time.
"…anyway, it's nothing compared to the responsibility you have, but my younger brother can be a handful when my older sister isn't around to help me with him," she finished. I nodded as though I had been listening intently.
"So what do you like to do when you're not roofing?"
"Read the newspaper?" I suggested. She laughed, despite the fact that I wasn't being funny on purpose.
"No, really, what do you do?"
"I played football in high school, so my brothers and I will get a game going sometimes. I also like reading, when I have the time and energy. To be honest it feels like all I do is work these days."
"I can relate to that. It feels like I'm always working, and when I'm not I don't have the energy to do the things I like."
I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Becky was one of the few girls I'd met who understood what it was like to work all the time. She was a couple of years older than me, but considering my life experience, it felt as though we were the same age.
"So do you enjoy being a nurse?" I asked.
"Oh yeah, at least when I'm being puked on or forced to do someone else's paperwork. I've always known I've wanted to help people, so I really do enjoy it despite its flaws. It's not work when you're following your passion."
I nodded in understanding. "I get that. Roofing isn't exactly my passion, but hopefully one day I'll have enough saved so I can go back to school and do something I'm passionate about," I sighed.
"What would you study?"
"Business, maybe? Or carpentry, I don't know. I haven't given it a lot of thought."
She was silent for a moment, looking as though she was thinking. "You don't have a lot of time for yourself, do you?"
I shrugged. "My brothers are my priority."
"Well, I hope at least tonight is a chance to do something for you," she smiled.
The waiter came and I ordered one of the cheapest things on the menu out of sheer principle. I couldn't help but smile internally when Becky did the same. She knew the score.
The night carried on and for the first time in years, I found myself being able to act my age. We laughed as we swapped childhood memories and embarrassing stories, getting to know each other even more as the night went on. We sat together long after our food was finished, chatting and laughing, and I couldn't help but notice that something was missing. It was as though I had been carrying the weight of the world, and it had suddenly been lifted off of my shoulders.
— — — — — — — — — —
I rubbed the side of my face, trying to work out the soreness that had come about from smiling too much. I couldn't be bothered by the fact that the truck needed gas soon, or the fact that it still squeaked every time I pressed the brakes too hard. I parked in front of the house and shut the door, that stupid smile still on my face the entire walk up. Despite it being late I could see the lights were still on, meaning that at least Soda was up. I opened the front door as quietly as I could, expecting to be bombarded with questions about my date, but was instead met with something else entirely.
On the couch sat Sodapop, holding a bag of frozen peas on a bruised eye. Ponyboy sat next to him, fighting to stay awake but also looking concerned. And in the center of the room stood Michael.
"What—" I began.
"It's not as bad as it sounds…" began Sodapop.
"You need to tell him," interrupted Michael.
"I will, just give me a sec—"
"You need to tell him now."
"Tell me what?"
Sodapop sighed. "I got caught hustling poker and Buck's and got into a fight."
"You what!?"
"It's not a big deal, Dar—"
"The cops were called, they took him in and he called me. I treated the cop who booked him a couple of weeks ago at the clinic and was able to convince him to let him off with a warning since he just turned 18," interjected Michael.
"What the hell were you thinking hustling poker and Buck's? And why the hell did you call him?" I shouted, pointing a finger at my uncle.
"Darrel, I didn't mean to impose—"
"And why didn't you call me? He calls you from jail and you didn't even think to call me?" I snarled at Michael.
Ponyboy tensed, hugging his knees to himself as he tried to disappear into the couch. Michael seemed to notice this and took a deep breath, prompting me to do the same.
"By the time I got there, I was able to get it sorted out quickly, there was nothing more you could've done. I promise I would've called you if it had gone any differently, Darrel," Michael said.
"He's right, Dar, Michael handled it real well," insisted Sodapop.
"Oh, I'm sure. Now you didn't answer me, what the hell were you thinking hustling poker at Buck's?"
"I just wanted some extra dough. I don't get what the big deal is, Michael handled it and I'm an adult now."
I took another deep breath. "You 'don't understand' what the big deal is? Well, let me spell it out for you. When you get booked into jail that goes on your criminal record and you can do time, even more so now that you're an adult. I don't have the cash lying around to bail you out, and even if I did I wouldn't be able to risk spending it without social services poking their head in the whole mess and deciding I'm an unfit guardian for Ponyboy. So if you don't understand what the big deal is, it's that you can't throw away your future, I can't spend all my time bailing you out from your mistakes, and I don't think your brother wants to spend the next three years in a boys' home!"
The room went quiet after my rant. Sodapop looked as ashamed as ever, which almost made me feel bad until I remembered the look on his face before my lecture. Better he be ashamed than unapologetic.
"Ponyboy, bed. It's late. Soda, you can see Michael out and we'll talk more in the morning," I said, reaching an arm out to pull Ponyboy up from the couch and walk him to his room. He seemed reluctant to follow me but did so anyway, giving an apologetic look to Soda and a small wave to Michael.
"What're you gonna do to Soda?" he whispered once we were outside of his door.
I sighed. "I don't know, Ponyboy. Just go to sleep, okay? We'll talk tomorrow."
He nodded, retreating to his room. I did the same, stripping off my shirt and jeans on the way, not bothering to actually get ready for bed before crawling under the covers. I was gone for one night. A couple of hours, to be exact. How everything went so wrong so quickly was beyond me, but it did tell me one thing. I wouldn't be spending any more time for myself anytime soon.
A/N: Leave a comment and let me know what you think, I love reading your guys' thoughts!