A/N: Hope you enjoyed this week's bonus chapter, now back to our regularly scheduled family trauma!
"How come we don't got any cousins?"
Mom stopped mid-sentence from the book she was reading to Ponyboy. Dad looked up from his paper, his eyes betraying the calm look on his face, and even Sodapop was silent for the first time in his life, just as curious to hear the answer as I was.
"Go onto bed Ponyboy. You too, Sodapop. I'll be there in a minute to tuck you boys in," my mom said, her words carefully measured.
The usual whining that came with bedtime every night persisted, but the look in Dad's eyes put that to a stop real quick. I thought it was weird that they were sending my brothers to bed so early, but I wasn't complaining. I got to stay up since I was twelve, and their bedtime marked the most peaceful time of the day. My mother's distant stare and father's glare, though, told me that the rest of the night would be anything but enjoyable.
"What's wrong?" I asked, hoping I hadn't said anything wrong.
"Why did you ask that question, sweetie?" my mother began, unable to hide the wavering in her voice.
"Paul's cousins are coming this weekend so he gets to miss school on Friday. I was just wondering why we don't have cousins is all," I shrugged.
My mother sighed before sharing a glance with my father. This led them to exchange various expressions with each other, having a silent conversation that I'd surely never understand. It was just one of those things you could only do if you were a parent, I guess. My father took a deep breath and finally began to speak.
"Cousins are your parent's sibling's kids. You know I had a brother named Patrick who died in the war. He died before he was able to have kids," my father explained.
I knew my dad didn't like to talk about his brother, it made him too sad, so other than the occasional story I didn't know much about him, just that he and my dad were close growing up. As much as my brothers annoyed me sometimes, I couldn't imagine what it would be like if anything happened to them. I suddenly remembered something.
"But didn't you have a brother too, Mom? You showed us the pictures you have of him. How come we don't get to meet him? Does he have any kids?"
Silence filled the room; my father stared at my mother, and my mother stared at the floor.
"Son—" my father began before my mother cut him off.
"Yes, Darry, I have a brother. His name is Michael, but we…we don't speak anymore," she continued to look at the floor before abruptly getting up. "I think I hear Ponyboy," was all she said before rushing out of the room.
I was about to comment that I didn't hear anything, or ask why she went into her own room instead of Ponyboy's, but the look on my dad's face made me think better of it. It was a look I had only seen a few times prior: when I had gotten a concussion at football and my coach told me to walk it off, when Soda's teacher had hit him for misbehaving, and when one of his coworkers had said something about Mom. It was pure rage.
"Listen to me carefully, Darry. Don't go mentioning cousins or your uncle around your mother again, it makes her too upset," he instructed.
"But why, Dad? Why don't we get to talk to him?"
"He doesn't talk to us, Darry. None of your mother's family does. They treated her wrong her entire life and looked down on me the same way. They want nothing to do with us and we want nothing to do with them. I hate them, Darry, do you understand? I hate them, and you should too."
— — — — — — — — — —
I slowed the truck to a stop, wincing at the way the brakes continued to squeak. I still hadn't asked Soda and Steve to take a look at them, and now was certainly not the time. After the scene Michael caused at Ponyboy's track meet I could tell they were both bursting with questions, but neither dared ask any. I knew they wanted, no, deserved, answers. Answers I didn't necessarily have.
We trudged into the house single-file, the two of them resigning themselves to the couch. I eased my way into the recliner and leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees, chin balanced on my fists. Our unofficial family meeting had been called to order.
Soda stared at me intently, his leg bouncing incessantly, looking eager. Ponyboy sat cross-legged, fiddling with the straps of his backpack, eyes on the floor. I struggled to find the right words to say; every time I opened my mouth to speak I decided at the last minute that the words sounded stupid. I needed to accept the fact that there were no "right" words for this situation, and that Sodapop could only sit still for so long.
I cleared my throat uncomfortably. "That man at the track meet, the one who cornered you, Ponyboy, is Mom's brother, Michael. He came by the house a few days ago, wanting to talk, but I turned him away. I don't know why after all this time he wants to see us, but we don't want anything to do with him. You guys stay away from him, you hear me? Hopefully, he'll take the hint and this whole thing can be over."
Sodapop didn't miss a beat before launching into his speech, passionate as always.
"What do you mean we don't want anything to do with him? He's our uncle and we barely even know him, shouldn't we at least give him a chance? I don't know why Mom and Dad were always so cagey about him, but this is our chance to make things better, right?"
I sighed at his optimism. "Sodapop, I don't know how much Mom and Dad told you, but there's no fixing this. Mom's family cut her off when she decided to marry Dad and she hadn't heard from them since. He can't undo the last twenty years by stalking us and showing up at Ponyboy's track meet."
"Her parents cut her off, Dar, not him. Maybe he didn't have a choice, or maybe he changed his mind…"
"Is that why he waited all this time to find us? Because of his parents? It's been two decades, Sodapop, I think it was more than his parents holding him back," I retorted.
I could see the veins pulsing in Sodapop's forehead, a telltale sign that his temper was flaring. Ponyboy seemed to notice, too, as he shifted to hug his knees. The wrath of Soda's temper didn't show itself often, but I sure as hell didn't want to be anywhere near him when it did. I took a breath and softened my tone.
"Mom and Dad didn't want us talking about him, much less to him. We need to honor their wishes and stay away from him, okay?"
Soda's temper didn't seem to be any calmer, he only looked more ready to add fuel to the fire. "We think this, we were told that, but we don't know anything for ourselves. We should at least give him a chance, right, Ponyboy?"
I glared at him for playing such a dirty trick, trying to pull our little brother over to his side. Ponyboy looked up, his thumbnail frozen near his mouth where he had been chewing it nervously. His gaze shifted uncomfortably between the two of us; he wasn't used to playing the middleman.
He wiped his hand on the couch before finally speaking. "So he's…our uncle?"
"Yes," I replied slowly.
"Which is why we should hear him out," advocated Soda.
"Blood isn't everything," I countered. "Do you really want to go against Mom's wishes, Ponyboy?"
It was a low blow, bringing our mom into it like that, especially since she and Ponyboy were always so close. It was the only way I could think of to get him to understand, though. He was the youngest, the baby of the family, and probably hadn't been told as much because of it. Mom always tried to shield him, maybe a little too much, and I doubt their time together was spent recounting her childhood trauma.
"I'm going to shower," was all Ponyboy said, suddenly standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder, making his way to the bathroom.
I waited until I heard the click of the lock and the sound of the shower being turned on.
"Nice going," I hissed.
"Oh, like you handled this situation well. Why didn't you tell me Michael showed up at the house?"
"I thought he would leave and that would be the end of it, I didn't want to bother you about it."
"No, you wanted to be the one to make the final decision about it. You may be the oldest, Darry, but he's our uncle too. We have a right to see him if we want to, even if you don't think we should. Hiding things from us and manipulating Ponyboy isn't going to guarantee you get your way, so you might as well stop trying."
Sodapop stood and made his way to his room, leaving me alone. I sat, stunned. How do they not get it? I suppose I had been told the most, being the oldest, but it was clear that my mother's family was a taboo subject in our house and that it was for a reason. Who are we to decide to break that cycle, not even knowing the full extent of what happened?
I sighed, running my hands through my hair. Ponyboy was taking the world's longest shower, Sodapop was blaring the radio loudly from his room, and I was sitting in the midst of it all; a house divided.
A/N: Thank you for reading, favoriting, and reviewing!