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the blinding light piercing through the curtains wakes me up first.
i squint my eyes and avert my gaze from the bright sun, raising my hand up to my face. i am sitting and listening to the song of the birds chirping outside, the ringing in my ears puts a buzz in my belly.
a light breeze brushes through the open window, the torn screen is the only thing keeping it from being just a hole in the wall. the curtains dance in the wind, and every so often a ray of warm, morning light seeps directly through the window and beams onto my back.
my body rouses awake, i want to feel like this forever.
i breathe deeply, cool and crisp air filling my lungs. the rhythmic clanks of pots and pans ring out from the kitchen, and i immediately know that darry and ponyboy are having the time of their life making chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.
“pony! clean that flour up!” my older brother calls out, his voice still groggy from the morning.
“alright, alright, m’ tryin!” my little brothers voice cracks at the top of the phrase. the walls are thin, and i hear everything.
my heart swells with gratitude. they’re finally getting along, even if it’s because of what happened to me.
i turn my head, greeted by the form of a snoring platinum blonde curled up in the white sheets beside me; lanky limbs all pale and bare. he sweat while he slept; he’s only wearing his boxers, tangled up in the thin sheet.
a light snore escapes his mouth, and his icey eyes begin to flutter. he turns to face me. our gaze locks, and i almost forget my name.
his deep voice is hoarse as he mutters under his breath, “mornin’, sodie pop..”
he reaches out to me, his hands all bony and freckled and warm. he brushes my cheek with the gentlest, most humane touch i’ve ever felt, a touch that you would never guess he might possess the ability to form.
i never thought that before i left for vietnam, i would be here with him. although, i didn’t think i would be here at all. even before i was drafted, everyday was a waging war, between my brothers and the violence on the streets and the despondency in my head.
he holds me when i shake and when i cry and when i have to cover my ears because its so much so fast and i need to feel real again. when i need a tether to the world that i live in now and the life that i lead. when the fireworks are bombs and ponyboy brushing his teeth and the floorboards creaking are the vietcong, when the burger meat is my friends guts and bits and the jam on my eggs is their blood.
all-american boy.
all-american soldier.
pawn. killer. baby killer.
his pointy, yellow-stained teeth grin at me, which somehow always manages to be charming and intimidating at the same time. he warms me up everywhere, in all of the places that i need to be warmed.
“mornin’, dal…” i murmur, pulling my body closer and closer to him. the heat radiates off his chest and onto mine, i wrap my arms around him and stuff my face into his shoulder like the rapture is here.
he takes a deep breath and rubs circles on my back. the birds are still chirping, the sun rising further and further into the sky, all bright and blue, fluffy streaky marshmallow clouds adorn it. it’s at least mid-morning now. we lay together, our bodies entwined like two threads. i start to drift back off to sleep until the door creaks open. ponyboy walks inside.
“breakfast is ready, pepsi-cola, you’re damn lucky it wasn’t darry walkin’ in here! he still doesn’t wantcha together!” he whisper yells, but i can’t blame him. he’s hard of hearing, his hearing aids are almost ran through and we’re still saving up to get him some new ones.
“pone, m’ 20 years old. you’re goin’ off ta’ college. i ain’t so sure dar’ cares s’ much anymore.” i push myself up off of dally’s chest, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed.
ponyboy rolls his eyes at me. “just get ready, soda!”
“sir, yes sir!” i giggle until it hits me what i said, i try to shake the headache setting in behind my eyes out.
i feel a warm hand on my shoulder and turn back around, sinking my face into his chest, basking in his warmth and trying to savor his scent, all cigarettes, leather, and musk. he runs his other hand through my hair, untangling the curly brunette knots.
“you ‘kay?...” he rasps, so softly only i can hear.
“mhm… headache, jus’ wanna sit ‘ere a bit…” my words muffled into him.
a moment later, i finally sit up, then stand, and grab my dx shirt off of ponyboys desk chair. i throw it on over the wife-beater i slept in, slipping on my jeans and doing my belt. dally throws on a black t-shirt, jeans, and his crumbling leather jacket. i walk over to the other side of the room, hooking and strapping on my mechanical, gray prosthetic arm. i suppose it gets the job done, the only thing that frustrates me about it is that people can always tell that i fought, no matter how hard i try to conceal it.
everybody knows anyways, because everybody knows everybody in tulsa. they all say they can tell because i’ve got a prosthetic arm, i look about that age, (you mean 18-20 year olds? i can’t even vote, but i can lose my arm in a fruitless, senseless war!), and because i wear my dog tags around my neck. they never mention the bags under my eyes, or the fact that i’ve lost weight, or the constant falter in my step and the shake of my hand(s).
at least me and steve got a welcome home party from the gang, but i still get spat at and swore at by hippie broads downtown. its almost like we’re seen as a reminder of the defeat of the war, its almost as if i’m being blamed for my number being pulled and being thrown into hell. i cried the first few times, ponyboy says its sad that it doesn’t affect me anymore, because that means i’m used to it and that i shouldn’t have to be used to it because it shouldn’t be happening at all.
ponyboy says that, but then he goes and marches protesting the war alongside all of those people, and he smokes weed in back alleys with curly shepard. our baby brother is growing up and making his own decisions, fucking off god knows where with god knows who. hell, he’s going off to UC fucking berkeley to run track and study english literature. california, the hippie-est fucking place you can imagine!
i want him to be happy, i really do, i don’t want to hold him back. he’s got a brain that can take him further than any of us, he’s got a brain and an ambition to him that can get him out of here. i can’t take that away from him, i can’t let anything keep him from going and making a name for himself, from making this life have a meaning.
i just worry that he’ll end up a damn hippie and i’ll never talk to him about books and sunsets and movies again, because he won’t want to talk to me because of what i did and where i went, because i held a rifle and blew shit up and smoked cancer sticks lit with an zippo lighter engraved with ‘if you wanna fuck, smile when you hand this lighter back’ , because i kept one of dally’s letters in the band of my helmet and told everyone he was a broad named betsey.
i twist the handle and the door opens with a creek, i walk out into the kitchen with my sock-feet and dally follows suit. johnny’s eating his plate of pancakes at the table in his wheelchair, the extra chair moved over to the side. darry eats his standing up in the living room, in front of the tv where ponyboy and curly are sitting on the couch and watching, they aren’t watching cartoons like they usually do, the newscaster on the tv practically shouts: “DEATH COUNT UPDATES IN VIETNAM! WILL THE UPCOMING ELECTION OF 1968 DECIDE THE FATE OF THOUSANDS OF YOUNG MEN?” it hits me that i can vote in the next election, i’ll turn 21 in october. i’ve heard a lot about that bobby guy, kennedy’s little brother. i hope he’s on the ticket. i’ll vote for him. i’ve seen some of his commercials.
dally told me about how he was there when kennedy was shot, freshly 16 and back from new york. he said he heard the shot and ran. he didn’t tell me any more than that, but the fact he was here in oklahoma a week afterwards told me enough. i remember that day like it was yesterday, i remember being sent home from school and walking in the door to mom crying and dad rubbing her neck and shoulders. i gave her a hug and slept in bed with my parents that night.
“hey, johnnycake, how ya doin?” dally walks over and ruffles the kids hair and johnny giggles.
“ey, dallas, m’ good! me n’ pone n’ curly were jus’ gonna go downtown to a movie ‘er somethin’, it’s 25 cent tickets for the matinee.” johnny looked over to ponyboy and curly sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the tv. he chuckles and looks back to his pancakes.
“me n’ soda were just gonna hang out a while, probably go to bucks for a bit n’ have some drinks and then come back fer’ the bonfire. ey, darry, that still on?!” dally pokes his head around the corner, trying to get the attention of my older brother.
“mhm! should be, got work first though.” my older brother walks into the kitchen and rinses off his plate, setting it in the sink. “ponyboy, do these dishes before ya go, please.”
“why can’t soda do em’? i always do em’!” ponyboy groans, obviously over-exaggerating. i know he doesn’t mind doing chores, he always says it makes him feel grown, and he likes to feel useful.
“your brother has one arm.” darry says, his voice monotone.
i chuckled, and i really shouldn’t have, i don’t think it was meant to be a joke. “pony, i’ll help ya’, aight?”
i finally sit down next to johnny with my pancakes and dig in, taking a sip of chocolate milk every so often. darry walks over to me and gives me a noogie. “love ya, see ya later. be back here by 8 fer’ the fire, kay?”
“aye, aye, captain, love ya too.” i smile and watch as he walks over to ponyboy and does the same.
“be safe, don’t do nothin’ stupid. ya hear, kid?” he takes two fingers, puts them to his eyes and points them at pony and curly.
i finish my pancakes and stand up, slipping on my tattered red converse. the laces are ripped and the soles are practically falling off, i’ve had these since i was 15, since before mom and dad died. i put my red cat-eye sunglasses on top of my head and push my hair back with them.
me and dally walk out to his stolen red mustang, i hop in the passengers seat and let the wind run through my hair, i flip my sunglasses down and take a deep breath, allowing the sun to beam on my face.
there are 3 things that i know. number one, i love sodapop curtis. number two, i’m not supposed to love sodapop curtis, and number three, i’ll kill anybody who hurts him.
soda looks how cherries taste, with those star-spangled amber eyes and that heart shaped ass and that happy go-lucky grin. he’s the prettiest fucking thing i’ve ever seen. he’s smart, too, maybe not so book or school smart, but he’s got a way of softening his voice and sweet-talking. he knows just how to help you with any problem you may have, he can fix up cars and machines without having to consult any books, he is so fucking brave and unbelievable, and light beams and a halo erupts around him and brightens everyone and everything around.
we arrive at bucks house with the sun high in the sky, soda jumps out of the car and walks up to the door, he opens it and holds it open for me. he lets me go in first and then follows. as we walk through the door, i wave to buck, and almost immediately girls start looking soda up and down, everything about that boy is eye candy, we all know it. i furrow my brow and snake my arm around sodas waist. socializing as the few who recognize soda ask him about vietnam, but they don’t say welcome back. they ask him about it like its some sort of vacation, not a war.
i can tell soda is trying to respond as best as he possibly can, i don't think he’s upset by it, the questions aren’t graphic and the broads aren’t assuming anything, they just aren’t recognizing the harsh reality that it was a war. “well, uhm.. some shit happened, but m’ back now n’ that's all that matters.” soda nods, goes to the bar, and gets himself a coke.
i follow soda, until a drunk girl giggles and puts a hand lightly on soda’s shoulder. i swat her hand away. “get away, bitch!” she walks away, and i order a beer. “ya’ alright, doll?” i move my hand and put it on the counter, trying to trust that nobody will try and take my boyfriend. i’m sure soda won’t allow it, but i still don’t like it.
another drunk girl grabs soda by the waist, and soda pulls away and puts his arm around my arm, sitting on the counter, he’s visibly uncomfortable, shaking like a leaf or a scared dog. i puff out my chin and put on the meanest face i can muster up. “don’t fucking touch him, or i swear to fucking god- i’ll break that pretty face of yours in two.”
“it’s okay, dal…” he mutters, his eyes softening and his eyelashes fluttering.
“god,” i scoff at the girls. “y’ wanna go sit in my room for a bit? the crowd’ll die down..” i feel disgusting about everybody up in sodas face, not just because i want soda to myself, but because i know it makes soda uncomfortable. he’s been through enough, he’s seen enough. he’s been hurt enough.
i only touch soda on his back, arm, waist, sometimes i touch his butt, but it isn’t a lot and it’s never aggressive. if we had been together back when i was 17, maybe things would be different. soda isn’t like any of the throw-away girls i ever had before, the icky broads with no respect for themselves, in turn, i had no respect for them. they were all fucking whores, sleeping around with other guys and smearing their lipstick.
but god, do i respect soda, he carries himself and looks like a fucking adonis, he’s fucking holy. i want to worship his body. my mom was a catholic. in the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit, amen.
“mhm..” soda nods, grabs his coke and grips my hand, we start discreetly sneaking up the stairs into my room. soda plops down and sits on my broken, but oddly comfortable bed. “i don’t really mind too much, m’ used ta’ it. but still.”
i know he’s lying, i know it bothers him, but i don’t say anything else.
i crouch down and look through my box of old 45 records. i pull out an old elvis 45 and set it on the turntable, carefully placing the needle on. “y’ wanna dance?”
the warm afternoon breeze makes the old floral curtains in my room flutter, and the revving of motorcycles and the rustling of the wind weaving through the trees accompanies the gentle hum of the music.
soda stands up, looks out the open window, and lets the air blow in his face. it makes his brown curls flow backwards, the sun sparkles in his eyes. he turns back around, flashing his perfect smile my way. “yeah.. yeah, of course dal’..” he puts his hand on my shoulders, and we begin swaying to the beat of the song.
blue moon, you saw me standing alone,
without a dream in my heart.
blue moon is playing and i try to match soda’s steps, but i’ve never been much of a dancer. i have one hand on soda’s waist and weave my fingers through soda’s curls with my other. i hum along, kissing soda deeply and press my forehead against soda’s and hold him close and tight and warm.
soda blushes, swaying to the music until the song is over and it stops. “what else is there fun t’ do out here?”
i take a second to think, grabbing an old needle and the ink from a pen. “hmmmm… stick-n-pokes??.. then we can go back ta’ tha’ party.”
“yeah, sure!! i want ya’ name.. and a cherry.”
“let me try it on me first, just ta’ make sure it ain’t poison.” i dip the needle into the ink and pull down my pants, i bring the needle to my thigh and write ‘SODA’, with a heart for the letter O. it doesn’t hurt too bad, just a little sting.
i offer the needle over to soda and he takes it, attempting to write my name on his thigh. ‘DALY’ is written.
“soda, i love ya’ but that ain’t how you spell my name..”
“uh oh…” soda panics and pokes a lonesome L at the end. “NO!!!” he yells so loud, the whole bar can probably hear. my boyfriend now doesn’t just have my name tattooed on him, he has a misspelling of my my name tattooed onto him. he bursts out into a fit of laughter.
i let out a chuckle along with him, brushing my thumb against his freckled upper arm. “it ain’t a big deal doll, it’ll fade. want me to do the cherry?”
“yeah, can ya’ put it on m’ arm?”
i nod and attempt to draw a pair of cherries, being as careful as possible. i finish in a quick few minutes.
“thanks dal’.” soda smiles and looks down at the cherry.
i throw myself down on the bed, tugging sodas shirt collar, i pull him down and kiss him. soda giggles, grabs my face and holds a long kiss, it’s wet and messy and his mouth tastes like coca cola and maple syrup. i close my eyes and try to burn the feeling onto the back of my eyelids. he stands up, grabs the sleeve of my shirt and laughs as he pulls me back downstairs. he has a beautiful laugh, it sounds like the promise of tomorrow.
chain, chain, chain
chain of fools!
some song by aretha franklin plays as we move to an empty spot on the floor, i decide to take off my st. christopher, and i place it around soda's neck. it looks good on soda, the pendant shines red, reflecting the red lights all around the bar.
i was barley tipsy, i had only taken one sip of my beer, normally at these parties i’d have multiple and get shitfaced and then have a pounding headache in the morning, but i already felt drunk being with soda. instead of putting my hands on soda's waist, i take one of soda's hands and lift it up and twirl him around before taking both of his hands and doing a more fast-paced dance to fit the tempo of the song.
he giggles and spins around with me, in all honesty, he seems happier than he’s been in years. “i love ya’.” he whispered into my ear, making my cheeks go hot and red. once the song changes to a slow dance, he pulls me off the floor and back over to the bar. he grabs my face and pulls it back towards him. i lean into the kiss, tasting the sweet coke laced in soda’s spit.
“i love ya’ too, doll,” i whisper back, pulling him into another wet kiss. the air in the bar is thick and heavy, laced with the stench of weed and cigarettes. i trace my finger on sodas sharp jawline, before moving down and kissing his neck, biting some of the skin.
it doesn’t fucking matter that we’re doing this in front of so many people. people have sex down here, and everybody was shitfaced.
“it’s gettin’ late, dal’..” soda licks his lips and grabs his birthday cake chapstick that he got for his most recent birthday, it was sent to the hospital he was in in vietnam. he opens the cap and lathers it onto his lips, kissing my cheek.
my ears go hot when he kisses me. i pull away from his neck, faint red marks beginning to pop up. “yeah, it is, y’ wanna head back?” i hop off the stool, my hand squeezed around soda’s waist.
“mhm..” soda yawns, walking with me to the exit. we hop back into my car, the sun is beginning to set, the air is cooler and the night bugs are beginning to buzz in the sky. the moon is rising on one side, and the sun is sinking on the other. i think about ponyboy and johnny.
we reach the curtis house and i park the car, soda rubs his eyes and we walk inside. darry is outside throwing the wood in the fire, two-bit is, oddly enough, helping him.
soda goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge to a new pack of coke. he grabs one of the new cokes and opens it with the counter. he walks over to me. “the water in my body has been replaced with coca cola…”
“i wouldn’t even be surprised if it was,” i chuckle, just as soda’s about to take a sip of the coke, i push his arm down gently and quickly steal a kiss.
soda kisses back and rolls his eyes at me, taking an actual sip of the coke. “i love ya’.”
i scoot towards soda as our lips clash together, which deepens the kiss. i take soda’s hand and my cheeks grow rosy again. “love you more.” i wait for soda to finish his sip of coke before i kiss him again, my hands tangling in his golden curls.
“get a room!” johnny calls out from the kitchen, eating some french toast.
soda hides his face in my shoulder, and i roll my eyes at johnny. i turn back to soda, “maybe we can get a room later…” i wink at him, trying to get a kick out of him. i walk over to the fridge and sneak one of two-bits beers, that guy drinks too much anyways.
“now don’t you be goin’ drinkin’ too much a’ that..” soda says, sternly. i think he’s joking for the most part, but he’s also half serious. he hates when people get drunk, i know he does, so i try to not be around him when i am.
“don’t worry doll, i won’t.. is darry settin’ up the fire?” i scratch my head.
johnny rolls himself closer to us. “yup. pony n’ curly r’ out there too, watchin’ the sunset. i wanted to eat my french toast, i got ta’ see most of it. did ya’ll see it?”
“yeah, we saw it. it was cool n’ all. pretty, all pink n’ yellow.” i shrug my shoulders.
“i’ll go get bug spray, you go get the chairs and we can sit on a blanket off a’ me n’ pony’s bed.” the boy with the curls stands up and walks to the kitchen, rummaging through the junk drawer and he finds the bug spray. he goes to his and ponyboys room and grabs one of many of ponyboys oversized zip up hoodies and throws it on so he won’t get bit.
i follow him and throw one of soda’s old raggedy flannels on. i’d only ever wear one of soda’s nice flannels with his permission, but i like soda’s older ones more, they’re more broken in. it’s common for the gang, but mostly the brothers, to share clothes. except for darry, because for some odd reason he thinks he’s too old for it.
an idea creeps in my mind as soda throws everything out into the living room, i motion for soda to sit in front of me and take a loose hair-tie off of my wrist. “ey’ soda, y’ mind if i do your hair before we set up?.. no particular reason, jus’ wanna get better at it, y’know?”
“yeah, aight, that's fine.. just don’t mess it up..” soda slightly smiles, i can tell he’s a bit hesitant. i know soda’s very particular about his hair, but he isn’t so particular that he doesn’t let other people do it, that's more of a ponyboy kind of particular.
i took my fingers and split soda’s coily, golden brown hair into 3 equal sections, twisting his hair around my fingers, forming a simple braid in the back, after a few minutes of me accidentally pulling too hard and soda swatting at my hands for being too harsh, i put a hair tie on the end of the braid.
“voila!” my smile drops as i realized how lopsided the braid is, all i really know how to do right is pigtails. “go check it out in the mirror man.” two-bit walks in and giggles, covering his mouth with his hand. i quickly turn around and pull my pointer finger to my mouth, shushing him and shooting him a death glare. i really had tried to make it nice.
i follow soda to the bathroom, he turns around in the mirror and laughs. “you tried.”
“hey! i think i did damn good for a first timer.. no wait maybe second time braidin’.” i reply back, running my fingers over the braid once or twice more.
soda shrugs his shoulders and fixes it up a little bit, appreciating the sentiment. he lightly grabs me by the arm, dragging me out to the firepit and making the rest of the gang follow. the sun has set and the stars and the moon are twinkling in the sky, crickets are chirping and flies and mosquitoes are buzzing all around. darry got the fire ready, the orange blaze illuminates all of its surroundings.
“i ain't sayin' ya' didn’t do good, jus’ a little messy is all.” soda sprays some of the bug repellent, the sticky minty smell covers him. he lays his head on my shoulder and looks up into the sky, understanding his little brothers love for it.
i lay out our blanket and sit down, begrudgingly putting some of the smelly spray on myself. i put my arm loosely around soda’s waist, kissing his cheek and watching the fire crackle, feeling soda’s silky soft hair. i lay down completely on the blanket, gently pulling soda down with me to look at the stars.
soda looks up at the stars, i think he’s trying to see some of the constellations that ponyboy and johnny always talk about. he watches the moon, all full and bright. it makes him smile. he cuddles up to me and i listen to ponyboy and johnny on the other side of the yard faintly talk about the latest book they were reading together. the great gatsby, ponyboy said, if he ever had one, he wanted to name his son after gatsby. i stuff myself into the crevice of sodas chest, enveloping myself in all of the warmth, drowning out the chill of the night.
i kiss soda’s cheek, the warmth of the fire is making it too warm to wear a flannel, so i take it off and cover me and soda in it. i gently lift soda’s chin up so our faces met, and pull him into a deep kiss under the flannel.
soda giggles and kisses back, and i’m hoping that none of our friends are watching our silhouettes underneath the flannel. “you should come with me to the DX tomorrow! at least for a little bit..”
i begin to give him short little kisses and pecks all over his face, kissing the tip of his nose. “sure, i’ll come. you probably gotta teach me how to fix cars n’ stuff if you want me to help around.” i bent down and began to kiss soda’s neck gently, imagining that he was some greek god and i was begging for amnesty. i didn’t kiss for long though, remembering the gang was there. the gang were probably silently laughing at us squirming with faces under the flannel, looking absolutely ridiculous. i take a deep inhale, just to smell soda’s cheap, fruity, sickeningly sweet cologne and the smell of gasoline lingering on his neck.
“you can help up at the register, steve ain’t gonna be there tomorrow ‘cause evie is havin’ their baby soon. that's why he ain’t here right now either. evie’s cool i guess, she better than sylvia but she ain’t as nice as sandy was..” soda shakes his head, his gaze softens as he looks down at the ground. “im sorry.” he apologizes, shifting himself and holding me with him. “i love you.” soda whispers in my ear, trying not to let the gang hear.
i shift a little, i don’t really like hearing the name sylvia a lot anymore, but i know it isn’t sodas fault. “nah, it’s cool man.” i hold soda close and pull the flannel off of us, but i’m still laying on my back to look up at the sky. i rub soda’s shoulder and rest my head in the crook of soda’s neck.
“i can’t believe we let them girls walk all over us..” soda shakes his head, his voice faltering, i embrace him and hold him close and tight, remembering the day that he found out what had happened with sandy. i remember the hot tears streaming down his cheeks, the loud sobs escaping his throat and echoing through the whole house. i remember being the only other person there, reaching my arms out to him and letting his nose run onto my shirt.
“yeah .. y’wanna go inside? it’s gettin’ cold n’ stuff man.” i pipe up, it is, in all honesty, an excuse to be alone with soda again. i don’t care much for being outside with the rest of the gang, even though everyone broke off into their own conversations.
“yeah.. sure..” we both stand up, and soda grabs the blanket off of the ground, he drags it inside, and i follow him in tow. he throws the blanket in the laundry room since it’s covered in grass and musky like a fire pit. i make my way to him and ponyboys bedroom, flopping over in their bed and kicking my boots off. soda walks back through, pulling his jeans and shoes off and throwing on a pair of oversized, red cotton shorts. he pulls off his dx shirt and throws it across the room.
i watch him, my heart begins to beat quicker and my hands start to shake. the room reeks of cigarettes already from ponyboys crippling nicotine and tobacco addiction, (seriously, that kid needs help), so i grab my pack from my pocket and light one up. i take a long drag of it, which helps take the edge off. sodas amber eyes soften and he tilts his head. i finally pipe up.
“y’know .. i’ve been thinkin’ -“ i pause. “do you think we’re gonna be like .. long term? we were talkin’ ‘bout those girls up n’ leavin’ us for other people, and it made me think .. because i really love you. no relationship has ever made me feel like this before. n’ i wanna know if you feel the same. i’m lucky i got you..” i motion for soda to come over and bury my face into ponyboy’s old pillow, it reeks of hair grease and curly.
i try to hide it, but i’m always thinking about the future, and in this case, ours. i’ve recently been craving soda, in a way i can’t explain, especially since he just got back from the war. i don’t think its in a sexual way like i always used to do for my past girlfriends, it’s just the small things soda does, like the way he gives his attention to me as soon as he gets back from the dx every night, no matter the mood he’s in or the things he was told or how bad the day was. the way his entire face lights up when ponyboy proudly shows him and darry his straight A’s, and the way he grabs the kids shoulder and tells him how far he’s going to go. even the sillier things, like the way he lights up whenever there’s a new chapstick flavor at the drug mart, and the way he tries to be all intelligent when he has deep conversations with ponyboy on the porch at sunset, using words he heard ponyboy use once and doesn’t know the meaning of. it all just makes me love him so, so much more.
my face feels hot when it hits me, the fact that i’m definitely, undoubtedly falling head over heels for the middle curtis brother, the boy with the honey colored eyes and the bouncy curls, with the straight pointy pretty teeth and the loud, ugly (but endearing) giggle. the boy who used to ride horses and put pieces of wheat in his lips to look like the cowboys he saw on tv, who drinks too much coca-cola and wears his heart on his sleeve. it’s a new feeling, it sort of feels like i finally have a purpose, a reason to live. for once, i don’t feel as if my heart and my soul is just a selfish black hole, for once i don’t feel like i’m dragging soda down into hell with me.
soda sits down on his side of the bed, turning one of his legs inward and looking up at me.
“i mean, it depends i guess.. me n’ sandy thought we were gonna be long-term, but look how that turned out.” soda shakes his head. “i mean, yeah.. if you want us to be, if you really love me n’ think im enough. cause, if i ain’t enough fer’ you that's alright too. i really do love you, n’ i think you’ve gotta lotta potential. you’ve helped me a-lot, with all the stuff from the war, i don’t think i’d be here without ya’, if im being completely honest.” i watch as he twirls his coily curls in his fingers, he takes off his metal arm and sets it down. he reaches out his hand and begins to play with my tattered blonde hair. it sends a shiver up my spine.
i can see so clearly that dally is really trying to be a good person, after having such a rotten childhood, he had been a bitter, destructive and selfish teenager. before the war, we had some sexual relation, but then i was drafted and all of that seemed a million worlds away. we wrote letters to each other, because i’m a hopeless romantic and used to think that anybody who wanted me really truly loved me. at the time, i wasn’t sure if dally did really love me. i thought so, but it might’ve developed over time. i run my fingers through his ratty hair and stare at the smile lines around his eyes.
dally smells of cigarettes, beer, and tethered leather. we seem to be completely opposite people, people who would’ve never intertwined if it wasn’t for the circumstances.
“yeah, well sandy was an asshole.” dally says, but he hesitantly, quickly takes it back. “ ‘m sorry..” dally sits himself up, caressing his hand over my freckled, goosebumped upper arm. “ n’ i always thought you were enough, and i love ya more than anything else on this planet. more than the gang, cigarettes, and elvis.”
he chuckles, it makes me giddy and warm inside. “you’re real cute n’ tuff, and one of the first ta treat me like ‘m not some ticking time bomb of anger n’ hate. i mean, even johnny treated me like that for most of our friendship..” he cups my cheeks in his rough hands, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing over my skin. he pulls me into a kiss, an ugly kiss with ugly tongue and beer still on his breath.
it’s a quarter till midnight and dally pulls away.
“you wanna dance with me?.. nothin’ long or fast, just dance.” dally stands up and gets out of me and ponyboys bed and walks to the corner of the room, he crouches down and scavenges through our record box. he pulls out one of my favorites, a 45’ record of ‘anna (go to him)’ by the beatles, the sleeve well-loved, the colors fading and rips in the thick paper. my heart softens. i haven’t listened to this song in years, but i can still hear the melody in my head, and i’m back when i was 14, jumping on the bed and dancing with 12 year old ponyboy, singing the lyrics and my voice cracking because i’m fresh into puberty. our parents and darry are in the kitchen cooking dinner, and it doesn’t matter what it is because we love anything made by our parents.
i watch him. “you ain’t gotta be sorry, babe.. its true.. she got pregnant with another dudes kid and ran away, and just pretended like i never existed. sometimes i wonder if she thinks about me, and if she aches for me, and regrets what she did… i was never mad at her, i always thought that it was somethin’ i did.. darry said it wasn’t my fault, but i always thought it was. i wonder how she would feel if she knew about you n’ me, i wonder if she would’ve thought twice knowin’ that i can be happy without her, yknow? i was a virgin, i had been saving myself for marriage, to get married to her…”
i flash a half-happy-go-lucky grin. “yeah, of course i’ll dance with ya’, babe.. i really do care about ya’.. i never thought that you were no ball of anger, ya’ just had a bad childhood, n’ you have flaws, but so do i, n’ so does johnny, n’ pony, n’ darry, n’ everyone else. i think… people treat ya’ like that, cause they don’t know ya’. they just see what everyone says about ya’, n’ they don’t get ta’ know ya.. they think they do, but that ain’t you, it ain’t you at all..”
i place my hand on dallys cheek and rub his pale skin. i stand up, fix my hair, and place my arms on dallys shoulders, and we begin swaying to the song. i flash a grin, a really sincere one. i don’t think i’ve smiled like this, or felt like this in a long time. my amber eyes glow in the full moonlight gleaming through the window, as well as the bonfire still raging on and crackling outside. “i love you, i really do, n’ i ain’t just sayin’ that, cus’ it takes a-lot ta’ get one outta me that’s that sincere.”
“you were a virgin?.. lotsa’ times i was hangin’ with sylvia and her groupa’ greaser broads, n’ they were talkin’ about how you did it with a soc girl.. i half believed it, i didn’t know you was savin’ yourself then, n’ sandy always seemed like the girl to cheat on a perfectly good guy, she was real sweet to you n’ all, but she was always starin’ at other guys in a weird way. i lost my virginity in an abandoned old school bathroom in new york to one of those cool new york chicks, it was scary..”
i nod along with dallys story as he puts his hands on my waist and pulls me closer. he rests his head in the crook of my neck as we sway to the song, i try to bask in the warmth. the thin curtains begin to blow inside from the light breeze, i hear faint giggles and storytelling going on outside. the room smells of ash and smoke and alchohol, it’s filled with years of memories, the echoes and remnants of laughter and sobs, of mom and dad tucking us in at night and kissing our foreheads, of helping ponyboy with his homework when it was still elementary school, of records spun and books read, the earliest of mornings and the latest of nights.
anna, you come and ask me girl, to set you free girl
you say he loves you more than me, so i will set you free
go with him!
after the song ends, dally slows our dancing down and plants a deep kiss to my lips. he grabs my collar and pulls me down onto the bed, i laugh and my heart soars.
“people were spreadin’ rumors about me?” i question, but in all honesty, i’m not even that shocked. tulsa is such a tight-knit town, everybody knows everybody, but everybody also knows everything about everybody, or they want to. even if it isn’t true, they always want to hold onto some sort of righteousness.
i drew a deep breath. “i lost my virginity over in vietnam, i didn’t wanna die a virgin s’ i did it with a prostitute over there.. wasn’t my best decision, but i thought i was gonna get shot down out there, er’ blown up, er’ somethin’. i wasn’t really thinkin’.” my voice began to shake.
as we fall back down onto the bed, i climb back under the covers and hold dally tight and never want to let go.
“yeah.. wait.. did you get her pregnant? thank you fer’ tellin’ me that, soda…” dally yawns. “anyways.. g’night.. love you doll..”
“i ain’t sure, i hope not… love ya, dal. thank ya’ fer’ today. i don’t think i would be here without ya.” my voice tapers off, because he’s already asleep by the time i finish.
i think life is finally starting to feel like it’s worth living. i tie cherry stem knots with my tongue and he holds my hand and we dance and laugh and i think that it’s all finally enough.