Driving down the road towards the job site felt like the last four years had been erased. It was as if Darry was a teenager again, heading in to work with his dad. His ticket out of this town so close yet still out of reach. Unwillingly, his little brother's words echoed in his mind: 'Sounds like you're back to square one. Almost like you abandoned your family for nothing.' Darry shook his head, hoping to erase those thoughts. When that didn't work, he turned up the radio, hoping the soft hum of music would drown them out.
"Curtis," Gene, the foreman, greeted him warmly. "Can't say I'm happy to have you back, but I'm glad to add someone competent to the crew." Before he trailed off about the god-awful new hire, Darry noticed the hint of pity in his words. It was something he still wasn't used to. The sympathy for his dead parents had finally started to wane, only now it was replaced by sorrow for his career. It served as a constant reminder of what could have been, and what should have been. The lucrative football career he'd worked for his whole life snatched away before it could even begin.
"I appreciate the opportunity to be back, sir," he said, giving a small nod. This was the last place Darry wanted to be, but it would do for the time being.
"Your daddy was a good man," Gene said solemnly, clapping Darry on the shoulder. "He put a lotta time into this company. Gave his blood, sweat, and tears. I'd be a fool to turn away his protege."
Though it was meant as a compliment, the words stung. Each one felt like it sliced right to his core. Had all his hard work been for naught? Was this his future- 30 years of mind-numbing, back-breaking manual labor? All he had to strive for was to be the guy carrying the clipboard, telling other people what to do for a little extra pocket change? The thought of it was starting to turn his stomach. Maybe this was his karma for trying to run away and never look back, brothers be damned. If this was all life had in store he would have continued playing ball. He'd rather die young right out there on that field than slave away for pennies for the rest of his life. At least he'd be doing something he loved. He'd be more than Darrel Junior in every sense.
Somehow, Darry managed to shove his existential crisis back into whatever deep, dark recess of his mind it had crawled out of and offered Gene a half smile. "Not sure those are shoes I can fill," he tried to sound light-hearted and modest. It must have worked because it got a laugh out of his boss.
"I have no doubt you will, son," Gene replied as he began walking, and Darry quickly fell in step behind him. "Wait 'til you meet the new hire." The eye roll accompanied by a heavy sigh made it clear he was struggling to find something decent to say. "He's 'bout as sharp as a bowlin' ball, but I think you could teach him a thing or two."
Fortunately, Darry had the good sense not to groan out loud. The last thing he needed was to be paired up with someone who didn't know their ass from their elbow. He'd sooner do the work himself than get weighed down. Maybe, he thought, Gene was just being dramatic. He probably would have felt the same about Darry had it not been for his father. It was probably a young guy just trying to make money to help put food on the table. The positive illusion Darry had painted for himself was soon shattered.
"Mathews! Get over here!" Gene hollered. "Got a new man on the crew, I want y'all to partner up."
The very last person Darry expected to see on a job site was Two-Bit, yet here they were standing face-to-face. A shit-eating grin was plastered across the younger boy's face. "Alright, I already get to train the newbies!"
Gene was fed up with Two-Bit's antics, and the day had barely started. "Stick with him. You might learn a few things," he advised. Unsurprisingly, Two-Bit took this as a compliment instead of advice. Their boss was gone before he had to hear one more smart remark.
What was sure to be a long day now felt like it would last an eternity. Not a moment of peace would be had; that would be far too much to ask. Darry didn't even have time to wallow before Two-Bit started up again. "That's a mighty fine shiner," he said, letting out a low whistle, sticking out a finger ready to poke around at Darry's eye. His hand was pushed away swiftly. "How'd ya get it?"
Darry's silence spoke volumes. Two-Bit, of course, already knew the situation. Word gets around pretty quick in these parts. Plus, he'd found a rather soggy and disheveled Pony walking on the side of the road Sunday evening.
"Don't matter," Darry said gruffly, trying to change the subject. Reliving the embarrassment of letting his kid brother get the upper hand on him wasn't how he wanted to start his morning.
"Family dinner didn't go over well?" Typically, nobody would push Darry's buttons like this. He'd always been the unspoken leader of their little group, a privilege he lost when he chose football over family. It was also a safe bet that Darry wouldn't lose his temper in front of the crew. Two-Bit might pay for his shenanigans later, but at the moment, it felt worth it.
"Did anyone expect it would?" Darry's reply wasn't even sarcastic. Only a fool would have thought that dinner would have gone smoothly.
Diving into work, unfortunately, didn't stop the barrage of questions hurled at the oldest Curtis. Two-Bit wasn't known to do much work as it is, instead, he made himself just useful enough not to get canned. Getting a job wasn't his idea in the first place. Will Rogers High got tired of letting him back. They gave him one last year to graduate. 'Give Keith Mathews a passing grade' must have been the teachers' motto for the year. Then his momma threatened to put him out for good if he didn't get a job. After being locked out for three days he realized she was serious.
Naturally, his first choice was a bar. Everyone always says you should love what you do. There wasn't much Two-Bit loved more than getting sloshed. He made it two hours into his second shift before he got tossed out. Apparently, enjoying a drink with patrons was frowned upon, and despite being employed, drinks were not free. He never saw a dime for those ten grueling hours he worked. The owner said between what he drank himself and gave away the tab was much higher. However, he was willing to call it even to never see Two-Bit again.
Next, he tried to get a job down at the DX. What could be more fun than working alongside your two best buds? Somehow even though there was a help wanted sign in the window, he still didn't get the gig. Soda was just as baffled as his friend. The pair simply couldn't figure out why the boss said no. Steve commiserated with his friends, only feeling a little guilty that he was honest with his boss. When asked if Two-Bit would be a reliable and hard worker, Steve told the truth. As a consolation, Soda offered to put a good word in with Buck. They both knew Two-Bit wouldn't last seven seconds on a stationary horse, let alone a bucking bronc. Nor would he last ten minutes shoveling shit.
That landed Two-Bit here, not on his own accord, but through a few favors. His mom mentioned to a friend she babysat for that her son was looking for a job, to no avail. After much praise from Mrs. Mathews, her friend agreed to put in a good word with her brother-in-law, Gene. The rest is history. For the last month, Two-Bit had been a thorn in everyone's side and hadn't learned much at all.
"I can't believe you let Ponykid get one up on ya." Two-Bit howled with laughter. All Darry could do at this point was let Two-Bit get it out of his system. In the decade-plus they'd been friends, he knew one thing for certain: Two-Bit was going to talk. At least he was making himself somewhat useful. So long as Darry placated his conversation, Two-Bit seemed to mindlessly go along with whatever he was told to do.
"He ain't a lil kid no more," The words had been intended as a defense, despite how lame it sounded. Instead, they held a twinge of sadness. Pony had just been a doe-eyed kid when he'd left for school, not even a teenager. Now he was a junior in high school, almost all grown up, a change that was hard to comprehend. The truth of the matter is he didn't know a single thing about Pony anymore. Did he still dig books and movies like he used to? Getting lost in some faraway land much better than the East side of Tulsa. The only time the kid's head didn't seem to be in the clouds was when he was doodling. Maybe he'd taken to drawing the many expressions of Aunt Birdie, perfectly capturing the depth of those two permanent lines between her eyebrows, etched there from decades of scowling at rowdy boys. The realization he'd gone from a hero in his brother's eyes to a villain was humbling. He probably deserved a lot more than just a black eye.
"Sure ain't," Two-Bit agreed. "Got almost all of Will Rogers eatin' out of the palm of his hand."
It was Darry's turn to cock an eyebrow at his friend now, certain Two-Bit was feeding him a line of bullshit, "Swear!" Two-Bit jerked upright holding his hands up as if that proved his innocence. A few shingles beside him went skittering off the roof, clattering to the ground below. Darry reached over and grabbed his arm before he flailed around anymore and took a tumble, "Man, 'tween him 'n Soda they had girls lined 'round the block. 'Specially once he joined the football team."
Now, that wasn't a surprise when it came to Sodapop; he'd been charming ladies since the day he was born. Last Darry knew Pony still thought girls had cooties or something. And the only time he'd ever picked up a football was when they'd play a pick-up game in the lot. Even that was only because he wanted to be included. It was hard to tell if any of this conversation was serious, or Two-Bit was having fun messing with his head. "He's damn good too," The confidence in his words was leading Darry to believe he was telling the truth.
"Yeah?" Darry replied, unsure of what else to say. He didn't feel he had the right to ask about what had happened while he was gone. Finding out who his brothers were now from a third party was a shitty feeling.
"Might be the best halfback the school's ever seen. He's fast as hell," Two-Bit continued, "When he gets that ball, man, he's gone. Can't nobody catch 'im."
The pride that swelled within him hearing of his brother's achievements was quickly overshadowed by his ever-persistent guilt. He didn't deserve to be proud. He didn't deserve to know any of this. Pony had made it clear that was the last thing he wanted. For the next few hours, Two-Bit filled him in on every minute detail of the last two years. Even things Darry already knew, not that he could get a word in edgewise. This was less of a conversation and more of a monologue. He'd simply interject periodically to ask for a tool or give Two-Bit direction on what he should be doing. Apparently, no one else had been able to keep him on task like this since he started. Gene was thoroughly impressed, though still not sold completely. At least the boss was happy; Darry felt too far behind schedule. He was ready to skip lunch to get back on pace, but Two-Bit nearly had a tantrum. Lunch had been the only thing he'd been looking forward to all day, simply so he could sit down in peace.
"You really have to stop playing?" The question caught Darry off guard. He'd merely been nodding to what his friend had been saying all morning. Perfecting the art of tuning out chatter was something he'd mastered a long time ago.
"Unfortunately," He replied, short and to the point. An answer that was, apparently, not acceptable. Darry let out a sigh. Two-Bit's eyes danced between Darry, eagerly waiting for him to elaborate, and the sandwich in his hands. His gaze lingered longer and longer on Darry's lunch. Begrudgingly, he tore his sandwich in half, offering some to the greaser beside him. This seemed to satiate Two-Bit's desire for food, but not his thirst for information as he encouraged the elder to continue.
"Gettin' hurt comes with the territory; I just pushed through." He shrugged as if it were no big deal. That's how it is in football: you get hit, you get back up. It had never been an issue in high school. He hurt his knee back then and ended up being fine. Power through the season, and worry about everything else afterward. "Someone thought I was a good enough player to pay for my schoolin' I couldn't ride the bench." Mainly he couldn't afford to lose his scholarship and come home tail between his legs.
Typically a man of few words, Darry wasn't sure why he was opening up like this to Two-Bit of all people. Maybe because he knew he'd end up on the losing end of twenty questions either way. "Probably should have taken it more seriously," He sighed, pulling out his pocket knife and cutting a chunk off his apple before tossing the rest to Two-Bit. He scarfed it down like his mama didn't feed him at home; Darry wondered if this would be a daily occurrence.
"You always hurt playin' ball, though. Didn't think some tinglin' in my arm or some pain in my shoulder was a big deal. I was havin' the best season of my life, man. Scouts from the NFL and AFL came out to see me. They're mergin' together, ya know. Gonna do one big draft now, all together." For a moment the old Darry was peaking through. A smile almost threatened to appear as he went on about the game he loved so much- the game he'd given his life to.
Nine months ago, he had been eagerly thinking about where he might play after school. He hadn't worked this hard not to get picked in the draft, even if it was a few rounds in. The hope was the Rams or maybe the 49ers. Any team that would keep him in California would have been ideal. He'd grown quite fond of living there, and Tillie could stay close to her family. There was a new team starting up this year down in New Orleans. St. Louis could be nice, the Cardinals seemed to be on the up and up. At this point, he wouldn't even care if he had to play up north. The Green Bay Packers and Boston Patriots were both strong teams, even if he'd freeze to death playing there. So long as he got to play he'd go anywhere.
"Then I got hit." Reality quickly sent him crashing back down to earth; he grimaced.
"It's fourth and inches, we're inside the 30. 'Bout a minute and a half left in the game. We're down by six, no choice but to go for it. The game's on the line." So easily he was right back in that moment. If he closed his eyes he could hear the roar of the crowd, but just barely over his heart pounding in his ears. He could feel the sweat dripping down his face. This was the second to last game of the season, both teams were hungry for a win. But Darry had been hungrier. Never in his life had he wanted anything more than this win. There wasn't a shot in hell they were turning the ball over. A defensive lineman locked eyes with him, determination blazing in his expression, desperate to run out the clock and maintain their fragile lead. Darry remembered thinking he'd sooner die than let that happen- unaware of how close he would cut it.
"They snap the ball, and I'm ready to take out anything in my way. Just trying to clear a path. We need less than a yard. I had my head down running full steam ahead and thought I hit a brick wall- the guy was so big. Worst pain I've ever felt in my life. Didn't think I was ever gonna get up again. But we got the first down."
There were a million questions Two-Bit had on the tip of his tongue, ready to fire off. However, he resisted, not wanting to upset his friend more than he already was. It was unfathomable to him to lose something you'd worked your whole life for because of one split-second decision. Not that Two-Bit had anything like that going for him; the only thing he deeply cared about was his switchblade, and that wasn't exactly comparable.
"Doc said I messed up the discs in my neck real good. Was surprised I was playin' at all." He frowned. "Said I was lucky I wasn't paralyzed or somethin', but it'd be too dangerous to play again."
By the time Darry finished recounting his tragic downfall, he'd drawn a crowd. The rest of the crew slowly but surely made their way over, initially eavesdropping before joining to listen in on his story. It was for the best; they'd all wanted to ask but hadn't had the guts. Darry was a big deal around town, not many got an opportunity like he did, especially on the East Side. Tulsa's collective heart broke upon hearing of his catastrophic injury.
"Did you at least win the game?" One of the guys chimed in. Darry shifted awkwardly realizing just how many had joined his pity party, and he suddenly wished he would have kept his mouth shut. The whole crew had been hanging onto his every word.
"Uh, yeah. That's what they told me. Wouldn't let me stay to see the end." He replied sheepishly.
Before anyone had the chance to ask any more questions Gene stomped over to break things up. "Alright, now I ain't payin' you to sit around braidin' each other's hair," he said, waving his hands to disburse the band of men. "Lunch is over; get back to work." Slowly, they complied, not before casting pitying glances in Darry's direction.
"Well," Two-Bit said, finally breaking the silence. "I, for one, am glad you're not paralyzed." He slung his arm over Darry's shoulders as they headed back to work. Before Darry could mutter a thanks, he was cut off. "Sure wouldn't be as fun messin' with you if you were in a wheelchair."
Darry actually let out a small laugh and shoved his friend off of him. He didn't need to look over to know Two-Bit had a dumb grin plastered on his face. It was going to be four long hours until quitting time.