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Cherry loves Fridays. Well, most of them. She loves the Fridays’ when she and Bob stay inside by their lonesome, where they get to talk about everything and nothing at the same time. Sometimes, when she’s feeling especially hopeful, she even entertains his thoughts of getting married; she doesn’t change the subject when he asks what color scheme their wedding would be and who would get an invite. Those are her favorite Fridays.
A close second, though, would be the Fridays’ when they go to the drive-in with their clique. Three out of ten times, she’ll make herself dizzy dancing with Bob (sometimes, when she’s feeling incredibly blissful, she likes to pretend it’s practice for their wedding dance).
However, the rest of the time, Bob is usually off getting drunk off of who knows what, leaving Cherry alone with Beverly and Marcia. Cherry doesn’t ever bother to remember what he’s drinking because every time they go to the drive-in, she asks him not to drink. He’d wince and try to compromise with just two drinks, and Cherry agrees every time because two drinks usually aren’t enough for him to lose control.
But the thing about boys is that it usually doesn’t matter how much they drink. The thing about boys is no matter how sober they are, once they’re with their friends, they somehow always lose their self-control. Though, Cherry supposes, maybe it’s not a lack of self-control but rather boys seem to lose every brain cell they have once they’re around other boys. And Bob certainly isn’t an exception.
Despite all this, Cherry wouldn’t say she hates the other boys in their clique. She’s actually quite fond of Chet and Trip; she finds them pretty funny on a good day. Of course, Cherry also appreciates Brill’s company. She sort of has to; he’s always hanging off Beverly’s shoulder. And Melvin and Sergei are… cute, she guesses. She doesn’t see either often enough to have an opinion of them, but it’s fine. The point is she does not hate them.
She loathes them most of the time, though. If Bob is having a bad day (usually thanks to his parents) and is drunk, then the boys can almost always be found egging Bob on.
Take right now, for example. Cherry had been having a thrilling conversation with… Ponyboy Curtis, was it? She’s pretty sure that’s his name. And here comes the boys snickering like fools as Bob marches towards her.
Side note: It is incredibly important to note that Bob has never been the possessive type; that’s always been more Cherry’s thing, embarrassed as she is to admit it. Bob does, however, get jealous, but it’s a jealousy that is easy to explain away when Bob is sober and willing to listen.
Once upon a time, when they were both feeling particularly bare, Cherry promised Bob she wouldn’t let him get away with everything under the sun. It’s been difficult, but she’s been doing a reasonably good job at it, and Bob’s been doing really well at listening and fixing his habits. But it’s been a grueling journey to get where they are now, and Cherry’s always been observant, so she has a good feeling that tonight might just set them back.
“How much have you had to drink?” She feels like a parent talking to their toddler, asking how much sugar they’ve had.
Cherry’s too aggravated to study his eyes, but she can see the way they squint, almost as if he’s trying to think up the actual answer before he scoffs. “Enough to know we’re done here.”
That’s not the answer she wanted, but it was somewhat expected. The important part is that he attempted to give her an honest answer. That means he’s not horribly drunk; she can still get through to him. She can take him home and–
“It’s pretty clear the lady doesn’t want to ride with you, Prom King.”
It takes everything in Cherry not to grit her teeth and glare at the greaser. She’s not angry at him, but it’s much easier to pretend she is. There’s no way Bob’ll be easy to corral now. She has no earthly idea how she’s supposed to convince Bob to back down.
(She’s got no earthly idea, but if she’s honest, she’s tired of being the one who comes up with the ideas. A quick glance around her says none of their friends plan on helping her. They’re all watching like spectators, waiting to see who makes the next move. Ready to see who makes the saving play.
If Cherry knows anything, it’s not going to be her this time.)
Cherry’s jerked out of her thoughts as Bob thrust his jacket into her hands. He must’ve had a lot to drink tonight because she could smell the alcohol on his jacket without even lifting it to her face. “Step up to the line, Sugar Bush.”
“Robert,” she warns in a low tone. He doesn’t turn around, but Cherry spent years staring at him to see the muscles flex in his back. They flex in a manner that makes Cherry think he’s putting his walls up. She hates that more than anything. They haven’t had their walls up around each other since the seventh grade.
“Robert, I’m warning you.” She’s got half a mind to start counting, but then she’d really feel like a parent scolding their child. (Maybe if his actual parents did scold their child, she wouldn’t be in this position.)
She watches in slow motion as the greaser lunges at her boyfriend with a broken bottle, and it is purely instinctual when she forces herself in between them. Cherry swallows hard and forces herself to stay calm. Just thirty seconds. She needs to stay calm for thirty seconds.
It’s a lot easier said than done, though. She can feel the anger coursing through her, and before she can stop herself, she’s shouting, “That’s enough! I’m not going anywhere with anybody!” She whips her head back and forth, making eye contact with both Bob and the greaser. Cherry’s breathing heavily, and she’s furiously blinking back tears. She can’t cry right now; she needs to be strong.
Bob’s got this look in his eyes that she can’t quite place, but his brows are furrowed, and he speaks with startling clarity. “Sherri Elaine Valance, get in the car!”
Cherry freezes and, at that moment, makes up her mind. She’s tired of these back-and-forth games. She’s tired of always having to figure out what kind of drunk he’ll be this time: if he’ll be loving and clingy or angry and looking for a fight she refuses to provide. Cherry’s tired of waking up in the middle of the night to a boyfriend that’s covered in both physical and emotional bruises that she's expected to heal.
She loves him; he’s her first love, so she will probably always love him, but God, is she tired of jumping through hoops to figure out his emotions. She misses when he would just tell her how he felt like a normal person.
And Cherry understands that his parents aren’t so great. She understands why he acts the way he does better than anyone, but it’s really frustrating that he acts like no one else has issues. That he’s the only one in the world suffering silently.
Blinking tears out of her eyes, she looks at the boy in front of her. Cherry isn’t sure who just called her Sherri. Only her boyfriend, her beautiful and loving angel, was allowed to do that, and the boy in front of her sure as hell wasn’t her boyfriend. “Bob, we’re done!” she declares, throwing his jacket to the ground.
Maybe it’s the tears finally flowing or her mind playing tricks, but she swears Bob’s eyes soften a fraction of an inch at her words. Cherry’s not sure there are any pieces left for her heart to break, but her chest sure does ache.
“What do you mean we’re done? What does that- what does that even mean?” he asks with a stutter, and it’s only because she knows him so well that Cherry hears the fear in his voice. A little too late for that, she thinks bitterly. The consequences are already here.
“It means she’s done, Bob!” A little late to the party, but thanks, Marcia. Cherry bites her lip and wipes the tears off her face.
“Eat shit, Marcia!”
Logically, she knows Bob wouldn’t do anything to hurt Marcia; he likes her too much for that, but with the state he’s in currently (the state they’re both in), Cherry doesn’t feel too sure of anything.
“Stop it, just stop it!” She walks around him, forcing him to turn his attention, and subsequently his body, away from Marcia. “It’s over, okay, Ang- Okay, Bob? This?” She gestures wildly to the two of them, and her chest caves in a little more. “Is over!” Her voice cracks, and she can taste the fresh tears falling over her lips.
Just like that. Four years of the best relationship in her life went down the drain. It's almost as if the whole world pauses. The only thing that moves is her thumb twisting the pre-engagement ring her angel gave her just last year. Well, an angel. He is not exactly her’s anymore.
The only other person who moves is Bob, who seems to be physically shaken as he rocks back and forth as if she pushed him. “Did you just break up with me?” he asks slowly. He sounds horrified, and every part of Cherry wants to rush and apologize. To lie and say she didn’t mean it, to coddle and make him feel better. She might do it; Cherry’s never been particularly strong, not like Beverly anyway, and especially not when Bob gets such a terrified look on face. “Is that what just happened?”
Cherry nods once, even though she can hardly believe it herself. Maybe she’s being too harsh. She loves Bob, and if the ring on her finger is anything to go by, then she knows Bob loves her, too. There must be a reasonable explanation as to why he called her Sherri whilst drunk. He swore he’d never taint something so special between them, so there’s no way it was purposeful, right?
Just when she fixes her lips to take it back, she sees something hardening in Bob’s eyes as he nods towards the car. “Cherry, get in the car! Now!” He barks, taking a few too many steps towards her. She doesn’t think he’d hurt her, but she doesn’t need to study his eyes to know how he's feeling. Cherry’s embarrassed him not just in front of their friends but in front of some greasers too. Cherry is well aware a man’s pride is one of the most important yet most fragile things in the world, so it’s not the fear of Bob himself but rather what he might do that has her taking several steps back.
Even still, she doesn’t go to the car like he demands. Cherry’s not sure who he thinks he is, but she knows for damn sure he isn’t going to boss her around like he’s her father. Just like she’s not to coddle him as if she were his mother.
Instead, Cherry crosses her arms and looks just behind Bob. She’s not strong enough to look him in the eyes anymore; she’s sort of scared of what she might find.
Then, abruptly, Bob turns around and lunges at the greasers. Again, Cherry instinctively reaches out for him. Against her will, she finds herself worried about him.
“You’re fucking dead, loser!”
Bob’s too wild right now to get in a fight. She knows it’s her fault, but his emotions are too all over the place for him to think clearly for a fight. Watching Bob storm off, Cherry can feel her mouth quiver as she gets a telltale lump in her throat and the terrible feeling that something’s about to happen.
She watches, almost in a blur-like state, as Beverly, Chet, Trip, and Brill all follow after Bob. God, she prays just this one time they won’t egg him on. In a daze, she walks over to Marcia before remembering the reason for this whole mess.
Changing paths, Cherry nervously plays with her ring. “Ponyboy,” she starts. “If- if I don’t say hi at school, please don’t take it the wrong way.” She doesn’t look him in the eyes, can’t find it in her to look higher than his chin, but she can see it move, so she assumes that he’s nodding.
She nods back once and, with a shuddering breath, walks back over to Marcia, who’s waiting with open arms. Falling into her arms, Cherry allows herself three minutes.
Just three minutes, then she’s going to go home and sob her heart out until she falls asleep. If she wakes up still sad, then she’s going to call her fallen angel. If she’s feeling real sad, then she might even apologize and ask him to take her back.
(She’s not entirely sure she’s ready to throw four years of her life down the drain just like that.)
Taking a deep breath, Cherry removes herself from Marcia and finally begins to leave the drive-in. Not to be dramatic, but she probably won’t ever come back again; they’ll just have to find another drive-in.