Notes
I'm back! Thanks for your patience. Still don't own The Outsiders.
Sodapop
April 10th, 1965
"What's goin' on inside that head of yours?"
"Nothin'."
"Well, I find that hard to believe. C'mon kiddo, talk to me."
It was only quarter past nine, but we were already in bed. Darry had urged Pony to go to sleep, citing he needed to be well-rested for tomorrow morning. I knew he was scared and overwhelmed but didn't want to voice that in front of the guys, so he didn't argue, turning in early in hopes that I would follow and we could break it down together, like we always did. Still, even now he was clamming up. It's easier to keep your fears bottled up than to tackle them head on, I guess, especially for a kid as reserved as Pony. It usually took some coaxing to get him relaxed enough to do so.
"I dunno… I'm kinda freaked out, I guess. About tomorrow."
I stretched out on my back, putting my hands behind my head and turning to look at him. He was staring determinedly at the ceiling.
"Yeah, I know. It was all kinda last minute, ain't it? What parts are ya scared 'bout?"
"It just sounds serious, don't it? Like it's somethin' they'd do for real sick people."
"Well, I dunno about that. Sounds more like it's something they do to make sure they givin' you the right meds if you sick or somethin'. 'Member when mom got sick last Christmas and she had to go to the doctor?"
He nodded.
"And they took all that blood from her? I asked the doc why they needed so much, cause I thought they could just take a couple o' drops and put it in one of them fancy machines. But he said they had to test a bunch of different medicines against the germs in her blood to see which worked the best. So maybe it's like that for you."
"I guess. I ain't never had to have a surgery before, though."
"Dunno if it's really a surgery, Pone. Darrel called it a 'minor procedure.'"
He bristled. "I know Darry thinks I'm dumb enough to believe that, but I'm not. If they puttin' me to sleep, it's a surgery."
I held up my hands. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. You know I'm dumb, I don't know shit 'bout this kinda stuff."
"You're not dumb. I hate when you call yourself that." He leaned his head on my shoulder, and I rested my chin on the top of his head. We were quiet for a minute.
"Hey, I forgot, you did have surgery before. They took your tonsils out when you was real little. And those other thingies.. you know, at the back of the throat?"
"Adenoids?"
"Yeah, those."
"I don't remember that, though. Stuff can go wrong with anesthesia. I saw it on Dr. Kildare."
I snorted. "That show's got the most ridiculous plotlines I ever seen. The real docs know what they doin'. And anesthesia's a gold mine. You'll have the best nap and funniest afternoon you had in ages. 'Member when Steve got his wisdom teeth out and thought he was a Wall Street stockbroker? It was hilarious."
He smiled a little. "I'm gonna miss another day of school, though. I'm already behind."
"Aw, don't sweat it. Johnny can get your work for you. And how often are all three of us home together nowdays? Darry and I both got people to cover our shifts all day. Maybe Darry'll let us pick up somethin' good for dinner. Hell, even from the hospital cafeteria. Dallas swears they got the best onion rings he ever eaten in his life. We can have the guys over to eat or find a movie on TV or somethin'. Whatever you want."
He didn't answer. I surreptitiously glanced down at him. The worry lines around his forehead had smoothed out and he wasn't fiddling with the edge of the blanket like he had been earlier. Mission accomplished.
"Anyways, I'm tired, and I know you is too." I wasn't. I had every intention of getting back up and talking more to Darry, to figure out exactly what the hell was going on. I'd been blindsided by the news but so focused on making sure Pony wasn't too anxious that I didn't have time to dwell. "Don't stress 'bout tomorrow. There ain't no point gettin' worked up 'bout somethin' unless we need to be. And we don't." I smoothed his hair back from his forehead and he smiled for real this time. "Get some sleep."
I lay there, waiting for him to drop off, until I was practically dozing myself. He'd always had trouble falling asleep, but since the nightmares had started, he was even more reluctant.
"Soda?"
"Hmm?"
"Tell me about your day."
I sighed, but didn't really mind. I knew that rambling on about my day would put him out like a light. "There ain't much to tell. Nothin' happened."
"Well, I find that hard to believe," he teased, imitating my tone from earlier and poking my ribs. I stuck my tongue out at him.
"Alright, alright. So I got there. And as you know, a certain someone *cough* *Two-Bit* had eaten the last of the eggs and I didn't get breakfast. So I snagged a Snickers bar, aka the breakfast o' champions. Davidson wasn't in today, so I guess it was pretty busy. Just pumped a lot of gas. And some old lady came in wanting to get her windshield fixed. Said it was cracked. So I'm expectin' something small. I go out, and the entire fuckin' thing is shattered but all the glass is held together by what must've been a pound of scotch tape. It was crazy. I ain't sure if she could even see through that to drive. Then she tells me…."
I prattled on for over ten minutes, gradually trailing off. He didn't react. Cautiously, I pulled the covers back and slid out of bed, then quietly crept into the hallway and shut the door. The house was quiet. Steve and Dallas had split for the evening, but I wasn't sure where everyone else was. As I approached the living room, I saw the screen door propped open and heard voices. I was about to join them when something gave me pause.
"I don't know what I'll do." Darry was saying. "I really don't, Keith."
Keith. That wasn't cause for alarm. Unlike the rest of us, Darry called Two-Bit by his real name sometimes, usually when he was serious or mad about something. Maybe because as the two oldest, they had been best friends since birth, and Two didn't acquire his nickname until he started school, so Darry was already in the habit of using his given name. But there was something about the way he said it that made my heart skip a beat. His voice sounded strained, like he was trying not to panic. I couldn't help but flash back to the night of the accident, when I was screaming on the floor and Pony was catatonic and Darry was on the phone, begging Two-Bit to come over right away and drive him to the hospital. "Keith, please."
"Don't go there, man. You ain't there yet. You might not even have to be. This is all… what's the word for it? Hypocritical? Hippopotamus?"
"Hypothetical, Two. I know. But I know it's bad, no matter what. And I'm barely keepin' it together as it is. We ain't gonna be able to handle somethin' like that."
I'd heard enough. "Somethin' like what?"
Both Darry and Two-Bit jumped. They were sitting on the front stoop, heads together, both with slightly guilty expressions, as if I'd caught them doing something they shouldn't. "Well, hello there Sodapop," Two-Bit drawled, a bit too theatrically. "Or should I say Harriet? As Lilah reminded me this morning, I owe her two chapters of Harriet the Spy tonight. And it's 'bout that time anyway. Johnnycakes!" he called, and Johnny, who I hadn't noticed, came out of the shadows. He had been lying in dad's old hammock in the side yard, looking at the night sky. "You ready to head home?"
Johnny kicked at a rock. "I was gonna sleep at my folks tonight." He didn't look enthusiastic.
"Don't be stupid. Your bag's still at my place. And Lilah has told me in no uncertain terms that your character voices are much better than mine, so you readin' at least one chapter to her."
He smiled, looking pleased, but his face got serious as he looked to Darry and I. "Should we come with y'all tomorrow? To the hospital?"
"Nah, Johns. It'd just be a lot o' waitin' 'round and we'll probably be back by the time you done with school, anyways. Thanks for offerin', though."
"Get Pony his schoolwork." I chimed in. "He was worried 'bout that. Go figure."
"Y'all call us tomorrow if anything changes or y'all need a ride or somethin'." Two-Bit said firmly. "We'll be there. All of us." He and Johnny hopped into Two-Bit's car, and took off.
I turned back to Darry. "What is it?"
"Hmm?"
"What's wrong with Pony? That's what y'all were talkin' 'bout, ain't it? Is it bad? I know it's bad. God, I-"
"Calm down, Soda. All I know is that something looks a bit off with his blood and they wanted to test it more, that's all."
"His blood?"
"Yeah, some of the blood levels were too high or too low. I guess that's why he gettin' all those bruises."
I felt sick. "I ain't noticed any bruises. He's just been tired. And I know he been sick, but it's winter 'n high school's a cesspool of germs." I snatched a cigarette from the pack Two-Bit had left on the porch and lit up, hands trembling. "I though he had mono!"
"I know. I did, too. He probably does. This is all just to make sure nothin' serious is goin' on."
"I ain't never heard of someone gettin' surgery for mono."
"It ain't surgery, it's a minor procedure. Don't make a big deal outta this."
"No. You already pulled that shit with Ponyboy. Not me. Why're you actin' like I shouldn't be involved in this? I take care of Pony just as much as you do."
"Sodapop, drop it. I told ya, this ain't anything you need to be gettin' worked up 'bout."
"What did the doctor say on the phone? Maybe I can help!"
"Really? What was the last science class you actually passed? 6thgrade?"
It was a low blow, and he knew it. I understood that he only said it because he was frustrated and worried and lashing out was his way, but it still stung.
"Fine." I stood up and stalked back into the house, slamming the door behind me. "Asshole."
I washed up and got into bed. Ponyboy was curled on his side, breathing evenly, looking peaceful. I kissed his forehead and was asleep within minutes. I never heard Darry come back inside.
April 11th, 1965
"I'm going to start an IV, okay? Can I look at your arms?"
It was barely eight in the morning, and my brothers and I were in the preoperative wing of St. Francis Hospital. Darry was frowning as he sifted through a mountain of paperwork. I sat next to Pony, who had already changed into a hospital gown and been acclimated to the unit by his nurse, Cynthia.
Ponyboy's eyes went wide, and I flashed back to when Darrel took us for our state mandated physical exams after mom and dad died. We both had to get bloodwork done, and Ponyboy nearly fainted, something I had mercilessly teased him for at the time, but now it seemed a lot less funny. "You wanna lay down while she does it, Pone?"
He shook his head, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I ain't gonna faint," he mumbled. "I'm fine with them puttin' needles in. Just when they take my blood that make me feel weird." He held out his arms, though I could feel how tense he was as he leaned into my side. I tried to distract him, but his eyes kept darting back to Cynthia, who had selected a vein and was tying a tourniquet around his upper arm. As she reached for the alcohol wipe to clean the site, she caught sight of his book.
"The Magus by John Fowles?! No way! I'm reading it, too! How'd you get your hands on it? It just came out. I got a friend who's a librarian who let me know when they got it."
Ponyboy lit up. "I got it at the library, too. At school. How far are you?"
"I only got about 100 pages left, but it's so good I've been reading it during my breaks. How far are you? What do you think?"
He beamed. "I been readin' it during classes when I ain't supposed to, it been drivin' me nuts 'cause the chapters keep endin' on cliffhangers. Nicholas just found out that Maurice might have history with the Nazis. I didn't see that comin'. But my best friend Johnny, he been readin' it with me, and he thought that somethin' ain't quite right with Conchis from the beginnin'. I feel kinda bad for Nicholas 'cause he seems he ain't happy wherever he is, even when he was in England. The parts when he with the girls kinda gross me out, so I skip over 'em sometimes. But anyways…"
And he was off, rambling on about his theories while gesturing enthusiastically. He hadn't even noticed that Cynthia had put the needle in and secured it with tape.
Relieved, I sidled back over to Darry. He was intently reading over the consent forms, a slight frown on his face. The tension from last night still lingered. "Well?"
He looked up. "Well, what?"
"Are you gonna stop treatin' me like a kid and tell me what the hell this is all 'bout? And why you bein' such a dick?"
His blue-green eyes were hard. "I told you Sodapop, there ain't nothin' to tell. There's somethin' wrong with his blood and they need to look at his bone marrow to figure out what it is. There's not some big conspiracy 'bout keepin' you in the dark. Dr. Mendez literally said there ain't no point in speculating until we know for sure."
"Speculating 'bout what?"
"Sit down n' shut up. I'm tryn' to read here."
I was about to tell him just what he could do with those papers when there was a knock at the door. A tall man with dark skin and curly hair poked his head in. "Can I come in?"
"Of course, Dr. Mohammed. Ponyboy and I were just discussing The Magus. You know, the book you keep saying you'll read but still haven't?"
He smiled good-naturedly. "Maybe that's because every month, you tell me there's a new book I simply have to read right away. I'm still on November's recommendation. Ponyboy, huh? I like when my patients have unique names. It keeps me from having to secretly check my paper to remember who I'm talking to." He shook Pony's hand firmly before turning to Darry and I. I liked that. So far, they had all treated Pony like an equal instead of a kid and I knew that made all the difference when trying to get through to him. "You're his big brothers?"
Darry got to his feet and grasped his hand. "Yes, sir. I'm Darrel, his legal guardian. This is my other younger brother, Sodapop."
I shook his hand, too. He pulled up another chair and sat down casually.
"As you know, my colleague, Dr. Mendez, referred Ponyboy to us for further testing due to his concerns about his blood counts. Today, we're going to be taking some samples so we can further analyze what the problem is and figure out how we can fix it. The bone marrow is located in the spongy part of our bones, and it's where our body produces new blood. We're going to take both a trephine biopsy, which is a narrow piece of the bone to examine, as well as an aspiration, which is a liquid marrow sample. I'll advance an aspirate needle through Ponyboy's posterior iliac crest, or hipbone and for lack of a better term, suck out some of the liquid bone marrow from the cavity. I'll then use a different needle attached to a drill that I'll anchor in the cortex to get a solid piece of the marrow.
The spinal tap is to examine his cerebrospinal fluid, or CSF. We're going to check it for infection or inflammation and the presence of white blood cells. I'll insert a needle into the spinal canal, between L4 and L5. We only need a small amount of fluid for the sample. The most important thing with this is that Ponyboy needs to lie flat for at least two hours following the procedure to prevent what we call a post-dural-puncture headache. He might have a headache or some nausea lasting up to a few days after, so make sure to give pain medicine as needed, let him rest, and give him plenty of fluids.
I know this sounds scary, but it's actually a relatively simple procedure and collecting the samples themselves take no longer than an hour to collect. It does take a bit longer with patients like Ponyboy because we put them under general anesthesia, mostly to decrease the discomfort and trauma of the procedure and prevent any movement on his part that could cause complications. We'll administer some morphine postoperatively but keep the pain management somewhat conservative outpatient with just acetaminophen. Do any of you have any questions for me?"
Darry and I both shook our heads. Personally, I was so lost that I didn't even know where to begin. He might as well have been speaking alien to me. Darry, no doubt, had already thoroughly researched the procedures, probably after we went to bed last night.
Pony spoke up. "Um," he said hesitantly, fidgeting with the corner of the sheet and avoiding eye contact. "Has anyone ever, um, not woken up before?"
Dr. Mohammed smiled kindly. "Not one. And this is my 23rd year here at St. Francis. I'm not in the habit of letting patients die. It's bad for business."
The corners of Ponyboy's mouth twitched, and he looked placated. Doctor Mohammed walked over to Darry and took the paperwork, flipping through it. "Everything seems to be in order."
"Thanks, doc," Darry said. "If you can't tell, he's pretty freaked 'bout all of this."
"I understand. It's a lot for a young teenager to process."
I glanced over to Ponyboy. He was again engrossed in conversation with Cynthia, now flipping through the book to point out a passage to her. "So what kinda stuff you testin' him for, anyway?" I asked, staring pointedly at Darry. He glared at me.
"I'm just the general surgeon," he explained. "I perform the diagnostic procedures, but I don't typically follow cases beyond that, just ensure that my patients are established with the right specialist. My colleague, Dr. Thompson, is the hematologist who will be working with Ponyboy. He'll be coming by to speak with you briefly about the clinical indications. Whether that will be before, during, or after the procedure, I can't tell you. But you're in good hands with him."
He clapped his hands together. "Alright, let me just confirm that everything is set up. Nurse Cynthia here will do a quick exam to make sure there aren't any immediate concerns, give you some medicine to relax you a bit, and we'll get this show on the road."
He left, and Cynthia turned back to Ponyboy.
"You gotta take off that necklace you're wearing, hun," she said.
Pony's fingers automatically reached to fiddle with it, a nervous habit he'd developed. It wasn't really a necklace, but mom's wedding ring strung on a black cord he wore around his neck. When we were making funeral preparations, Darry asked if we thought we should bury mom and dad with their wedding rings or if we should keep them. It was one of those little things that made me grateful for the thousandth time that Darry was the one in charge of that whole operation. Pony and I would have never thought of it. Deciding what they would wear, if there would be a viewing, if the service itself would be open or closed casket, who would speak, what hymns to sing- that was all Darry. It hurt too much. Still, that was one of the few things Pony spoke on. He tearily admitted to me later that night that he felt it was the "right thing" to leave them with mom and dad, but he really wanted mom's ring. I wondered if he was remembering how much he loved her ring, especially when he was little- he would fiddle with it when he sat on her lap and constantly ask her to retell the story of dad surprising her with it on their fifth wedding anniversary, as they couldn't afford a ring when they first got married. I reassured him that mom and dad were already bonded together forever, and them having wedding rings on didn't change that, but mom sure would want him to have it if it made him feel better. So it was decided. Pony got mom's ring, Darry got dad's, and I got dad's dog tags. Like Pony, I never took the tags off, not even to shower. Darry, on the other hand, never worse dad's ring. Knowing him, he would think it impractical; too much risk that it would get lost or damaged.
"I'll hold onto it," I reassured him, and when he looked unconvinced, I gently slipped it off his neck and around my own. "I ain't gonna lose it, see? I'll keep it safe with dad's tags."
He nodded, though still looked wary. Cynthia smiled at me in thanks and continued on, listening to his chest with her stethoscope and prodding his stomach. "Alright, everything looks good. I'm going to give you a little medicine through your IV, okay? It's not going to hurt, it's just going to make you feel a bit sleepy and relaxed."
Pony nodded again. To anyone else, he probably looked unbothered, but I knew his tells. I could see him worrying at a hangnail on his thumb. Darry crossed the room and knelt down on his other side. "You're okay, bud," he said, his voice softer than I'd heard it in a long time. "You just gonna take a quick nap, and Sodapop and I'll be right here waitin' for ya when it's over, ain't we Soda?"
I took his hand. It was cold and clammy, but I squeezed it tightly and he squeezed it back. "'Course we will. You got this, Pone."
Within a minute of receiving the medicine, his head was lolling to the side and eyes were fluttering shut. Dr. Mohammed and the anesthesiologist returned and rolled him away through the double doors at the end of the hall, and Darry and I were confined to the small waiting room, left to pace and worry.
Dr. Thompson was nice enough, but he certainly wasn't as personable as Dr. Mohammed was. He was clearly in a hurry, but told us that he would ensure the samples were sent off to Pathology as soon they were collected and he would personally see that they were placed as high priority. Even so, he estimated it'd be at least a week before the results were known. I was overwhelmed by the medical jargon he'd thrown at me when I attempted to ask him just what exactly was wrong with my little brother. All I gathered was that there were about twenty crazy-sounding diseases he might have, or he might just have some fluke infection that would resolve on its own, or maybe it was even a lab error. I hated to admit when Darrel was right, but I was in over my head. I didn't have the desire to find out anything more about what was going on with Pony until they could give us something concrete.
At quarter to eleven, Dr. Mohammed called us back.
"He did great," he said, smiling kindly as Darry and I breathed sighs of relief. "We got all the samples we needed, no complications whatsoever. He tolerated the anesthesia without any issues… though I must say, he was certainly keeping us amused with his stories once it started to keep effect. He'll probably be a bit loopy for the next hour, but within the next two to three hours I anticipate you should be able to take him home, barring any unforeseen issues, of course.
We followed him down the hallway and into the bay, where about twenty different beds were sectioned off into little cubicles with curtains.
"Josephine will be his postoperative nurse," he said, and short, middle-aged woman with curly black hair joined us. "It's been a pleasure meeting y'all."
Josephine led us over to the end of the bay. "He's certainly having a fine time coming off the medication," she chuckled. "He's been asking for you."
"You go on, Pepsi," Darry urged. "Just got a few more questions for the nurse. I'll join y'all in a sec."
I pulled back the curtain almost cautiously, bracing myself for a tearful or confused kid brother. However, I was met by Pony beaming at the sight of me, as if he hadn't seen me in years.
"Soda!" he exclaimed loudly. "You're here, man!"
"Yeah, I'm here," I chuckled, perching myself on one of the chairs next to his bed and taking his hand. "How do you feel, Pone?"
"Fantastic," he drawled, lolling his head to look at me. His pupils were blown so wide that I could barely see the rims of his green-gray irises. "I ain't sure what they gave me, but can I just say I know why people do drugs now? And drink? I ain't never gonna do drugs. But if I did do drugs, I would want this stuff."
I snorted. I had the feeling I was in for an entertaining couple of hours. I recalled a few weeks ago when we took Johnny out for his first drink on his birthday (16 being what most of us considered the legal age on this side of the tracks). Johnny, being Johnny, had politely drank a single beer and refused anything else, but given his family history, we laid off and didn't drag him for it. He'd seen what too much alcohol did. Two-Bit, who took the liberty of drinking the rest of Johnny's share, declared that he was looking forward to Pony's milestone birthday, predicting he'd be a happy drunk. Looked like he might've been onto something there.
Darry pulled back the curtain, moving quietly, as I had. "How is h-".
He was cut off by Ponyboy attempting to rise (I easily pinned him back down) and greeting him enthusiastically. Darry looked taken aback but pleased as Pony attempted to hug him. "Hi, Darry!"
"Hey, Pony," Darry chuckled. "You feelin' pretty good, huh?"
He nodded so hard that the bed moved a couple of inches. "Yeah! Can we go now?"
"Soon, bud. You gotta let the medicine wear off first. Nurse said it might be a few hours."
Josephine entered too, holding a syringe. "Just giving you a little pain medicine and checking your vitals. How do you feel? Any pain? Do you feel sick to your stomach?"
"Nah, I feel great. You ever tried this stuff before?"
She chuckled. "I have, both times when I gave birth. Luckily my husband made me wait to name our boys until after the effects wore off."
"I don't want kids. 'Least not now. Maybe when I'm old, like your age. Darrel almost had a kid, though. Well, he was scared he was gonna. She wasn't really pregnant. What was that girl's name, Dar? Linda? Lisa?"
Jesus, this really was a gold mine. The nurse simply laughed again, while Darry looked positively mortified. If it wasn't for the fact that the kid had just had freaking spinal fluid drained from his body, Darry would've cuffed him. "Alright, that's enough outta you, kid. Go to sleep."
He was quiet while the nurse checked his temperature and blood pressure, then injected some liquid into the IV port. "I'll be back to check on him in a few minutes. Y'all let us know if you need anything."
My stomach rumbled. Now that Pony was safely through surgery, those onion rings sounded a hell of a lot more appealing. "Can I go get somethin' to eat?"
Darry handed me a dollar, which I pocketed. "You want anything?"
"Nah, I'm good. Bring back the change."
I ate my onion rings in the cafeteria, feeling it wouldn't be right to enjoy them when Pony still couldn't eat, not that he would really mind. They were worth the fuss Dally made about them. I then wandered the lobby and took the stairs back to the PACU, stopping on each floor to snoop around a bit. I was going a little stir-crazy, and it wasn't even noon yet. My ears were assaulted the minute I entered the bay, thanks to a young girl with a cast on her arm who was fighting her mother and three nurses as they tried to poke her with a needle. I plopped down next to Darry and tilted my chair back on two legs, balancing precariously. "What'd I miss?"
"Nothin' excitin'. Where's my change?" He took it and inspected the coins. "Seventy cents for onion rings?! That's highway robbery. The hell they put in that stuff? Nothin's worth that."
Ponyboy, who had been entertaining himself by waving his hand at varying speeds in front of his face, suddenly caught sight of the IV trailing from his hand. "The fuck is this?"
I cracked up. "Pony, hush," Darry hissed, though he was trying hard not to smile. "There are kids here."
"Kids?" Pony attempted to sit up, but Darry guided him back down. "I ain't a kid."
"Well, you under eighteen, so technically you are, little man," Darry informed him. Pony seemed satisfied with this for a minute, then tried to sit up again.
"Ponyboy, you gotta lay still." Darry sighed exasperatedly. "What now?"
"There's a dog in the hallway," Pony explained patiently, as if Darry was slow on the uptake. "I wanna go pet it."
I was amused and would be willing to indulge him, but he was still straining to get up and I could tell Darry was getting frustrated. I rested a hand on his head and carded my fingers through his ungreased hair. "There ain't no dog Pone, that's just the medicine makin' ya feel a little funny. Just calm down."
He complied, though his eyes still darted around, staring at something we couldn't see. "It looks like Scout," he said matter-of-factly. Scout was our old yellow cur dog who dad had rescued when she wandered onto one of his construction sites about seven years ago. Ponyboy and Johnny in particular were enamored with her, but we didn't have money for vet bills and when she got sick two years back, she went quick. "I miss her. Can we get another dog, Darrel?"
Darry wasn't listening. He was zoned out, staring into space with his eyelids drooping. I knew he probably hadn't slept at all last night.
Pony faded in and out of consciousness for the next two hours, gradually becoming less loopy. I could see his face getting tighter with pain even while sleeping, and his ever-present look of fatigue from the last few weeks was creeping back in. Darry had dozed off too, so I was left to keep watch and try not to wander off in boredom. Finally, Josephine determined that it was time for him to sit up and try something to drink, then we could head out. I helped her guide Pony into a sitting position, an action that left him grimacing in pain.
"You want to try a little ginger ale?" she asked, and he nodded tiredly.
"How are you feelin', squirt? You back in the land of the livin' for good now?"
"I guess," he said slowly, yawning. "Did everything go okay?"
"You did great. Dr. Mohammed said you his favorite patient of the week so far."
He rolled his eyes, though looked a little pleased. "He just sayin' that. I liked 'im, though. He was funny."
"No, really. He said he sick of dealin' with cranky old geysers who yell at him and that you was makin' him and the anesthesia guy and nurse laugh 'fore you went to sleep."
"I don't remember. Did I say anythin' funny while I was on that stuff?"
"Boy, did you ever. Pretty sure Darrel's gonna wanna tape your mouth shut if you ever have to have some again. You was hilarious. I'll tell ya tonight when we tell the guys. They gonna get a kick outta it. It was better than Stevie when he got his wisdom teeth out."
Josephine returned with a Styrofoam cup full of ginger ale and a straw. He sipped at it cautiously, wincing. "My throat hurts."
"That's from the intubation tube. It might be a little sore for the next few hours." She glanced at me and Darry, who was stirring in the chair. "I think your big brothers owe you some ice cream. It'll help."
Pony looked triumphant. "You hear that, Darry?"
"I got ears, Pone. "Long as you don't go spillin' any more of my deepest secrets, I'll consider it."
Fifteen minutes later, Darry had pulled the car around the front pickup circle and one of the techs and I were helping Pony from the wheelchair to the backseat. He was moving gingerly and was clearly uncomfortable but was doing a hell of a lot better than I expected anyone could be after having someone take a drill to their bone. The nurse had said the pain meds she'd given him would hold a while but after they wore off he'd definitely be feeling it and the pills for home weren't quite as strong.
After some maneuvering, Pony was sprawled in the backseat, and I slid in next to him. He curled up a little more to make room for me, knees to his chest and feet smushed against the door, then shifted until his head was in my lap.
"Comfy?"
He hummed groggily in affirmation. "Can I sleep?"
"'Course. We'll wake ya when we get home."
He closed his eyes and within a couple of minutes, his breathing was deep and even. I looked down at him, and felt a mixture of unease and guilt swirling in my stomach.
It's easy to overlook something when it's right in front of you. Like when you're a kid and you go through a growth spurt, you don't notice that you've grown a little every day but suddenly you wake up and you're a foot taller than you were the month before. Sure, Pony had changed after mom and dad died. He'd stopped eating and slept more and wasn't interested in doing much. But he was grieving. His whole world had been turned upside down. I wanted to reassure myself that anyone would've written his behavior of late off as grief. But seeing him curled up with his head in my lap, I felt like a curtain had been pulled back. He was thinner than I'd ever seen him before, cheekbones defined and all sharp angles at the edge of his face. He was pale; even his eyelids and lips seemed drained of color. Tiny red dots were dusted across his eyelids and cheeks, like spontaneous freckles. Those dark bruises on his arms were so stark it seemed astounding that anyone could miss them but here I was, completely oblivious until Darry mentioned them last night. I knew all this must have manifested gradually, but it might as well have happened overnight in my mind.
I prided myself on being Ponyboy's person. The one he would truly open up to, the one he went to when he was sad, or scared, or hurt, even when mom and dad were around. I'd always taken on the protector role, but I needed Pony just as much as he needed me. Hell, I probably needed him more. In the last three months, he'd given me a purpose more than 't go to pieces. Keep it together. Pony needs you.I remembered Darry's words in a rare moment of vulnerability after the funeral, when Pony was in bed."I ain't sure I could do this without you, Pepsi. You're the only one who really gets him. I'm so proud of how you've stepped up to be there for him."
But sitting in the backseat of the truck, looking down at my little brother, I wasn't so sure I'd done such a good job anymore. Something had been seriously wrong, and I was too afraid to let myself dwell on it until it was staring me right in the face.
"He doin' alright back there?" Darry asked.
I couldn't respond. Instead, I allowed myself to voice what I'd been pushing below the surface, the words that, once spoken aloud, would upset the balance of my carefree facade. "I'm scared, Darrel."
I waited for him to tell me that it would all be okay. He didn't.
"Hey, there he is," Johnny sat down carefully next to Pony, looking relieved as he put a hand on his ankle. "How you feelin', man?
It was nearly four, and Pony was situated on the couch, propped up on several pillows with mom's quilt on his lap and an icepack shoved in the waistband of his pajama pants, over the bandage on his lower back. Johnny and Two-Bit had returned from school, bearing the news that a disgruntled Steve had to go to his Socy lab partner's house to finish up their group project.
Pony grimaced as he carefully shifted positions. "Sore."
"That's the understatement of the century," I chimed in. "Y'all should've seen it. They drilled fuckin' holes through his hipbones and he ain't even cried. Way tougher than any o' us could be."
"That's for sure." Two-Bit said. "Man, I'd be such a pussy. 'Member when I did the school blood drive 'cause Susan Parks was volunteerin' and I thought she'd think I was some sorta saint but I puked in her lap?"
Pony snorted. "Yeah, you really showed her."
Two-Bit messed up his hair, and Pony let him. "Well, I heard somethin' 'bout ice cream. Whadda ya say about dinner from Dairy Queen, kiddo?"
"Yeah! Can I get a barbeque sandwich and a hot fudge sundae?"
Two-Bit nodded. "Whadda the rest of y'all want? My treat." He tossed Johnny a notepad. "Write it down so I don't forget."
Darry, who'd been pouring over papers at the kitchen table, yelled, "You don't gotta do that, Two. We can pay."
He rolled his eyes in response. "I know I ain't have to, Superman. I want to. Now don't y'all forget to write down something for Dallas and Steve, too. They'd be pissed if we don't."
It was one of the best nights we'd had since mom and dad died. Steve arrived an hour later and entertained us all with vivid descriptions of the verifiable mansion he'd spent the afternoon in. That Soc had a goddamn pizza oven in his kitchen. Two-Bit was already laying the groundwork for an elaborate heist to lure the guy and his family out of their house one day and give it a whirl. Dallas arrived, full of bravado after whipping some poor bastard in what used to be his best rodeo event. I detailed Pony's stoned ramblings, much to everyone's great amusement. Johnny was spunkier than usual, making us laugh with a startlingly good impersonation of the principal, Mr. McKay, pulling a back muscle trying to break up a fistfight during lunch and having to be carried off to the school nurse by three teachers. Ponyboy was in stitches, pain all but forgotten, and I was grateful. There was only so much I could do to soothe him from his worries when I felt so wound up myself. We all feasted on Dairy Queen, and Pony devoured his portion, plus half of Darry's banana split.
My heart felt lighter than it had in ages. Pony's appetite had been practically nonexistent over the past few weeks. Maybe this really was something that had been blown out of proportion, the surgery a precaution, just like Darrel said. Maybe I'd wake up tomorrow to him bouncing off the walls and running track and begging me to go to the movies with him, continuing to gradually return to the kid brother I knew and loved. Maybe this was just another bump in the road, and we'd return to building up a new life without mom and dad.
Notes
9/12/24 Original Author's Notes on AO3:So much going on in this chapter that I could yap about and offer insight to, but it's late and I'm tired. Feel free to ask questions or for more details about anything in the comments and I'll happily ramble. Sodapop's POV is not my comfort zone, and I hope I did everyone's favorite big brother/ Golden Retriever of a greaser justice. Thanks again for y'all's patience with the delay in updating. Nursing school is in full swing and this last year is going to be so fun but so challenging. I actually had the opportunity to assist on a bone marrow biopsy a couple weeks ago, which was absolutely amazing. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments... knowing that people are reading this and interested in more keeps me writing. Take care and stay gold :)
