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December 1965
Darry Curtis was too stubborn to get sick.
It was like that thing Ponyboy had learned about in science class: the placebo effect. When people truly believed that the sugar pills were working, they did. He figured that’s how Darry avoided getting sick — he wholeheartedly believed his immune system was strong enough to fight off anything, so it was.
As such, no illness could take Darry down — except for one. No matter how stubbornly Darry fought, he still got terrible headaches on occasion, the kind that knocked him flat on his back for an entire day.
The night had been stormy and cold, with wind and snow battering against the house. Plus, based on all the tossing and turning Pony had heard through the wall, Darry had had another one of his nightmares. Combine that with all the extra hours he’d been working leading up to Christmas and it was no wonder Darry stumbled out of bed fifteen minutes later than normal, eyes squinted against the harsh kitchen lights.
His brothers took one look at his pale face and shaky hands before ordering him back to bed.
“You ain’t goin’ to work today,” Soda told him, leaving no room for argument. “I’ll call your boss and let him know. Pony, get him a glass of water and some meds, would ya?”
“I’m fine,” Darry mumbled unconvincingly. “I just need a little coffee —”
“Uh-uh.” Pony grabbed his hand and dragged him back down the hall. “We ain’t gonna let you ruin Christmas by fallin’ off a roof.” Darry must’ve been in a lot of pain, because he didn’t protest further, just followed Ponyboy obediently back to his room.
Pony made sure his brother was tucked snugly into bed before dashing to the kitchen to get some water and a bottle of aspirin. He came back as quickly as possible, not trusting him to stay put. Upon his return, Darry gave him a grateful look as he tossed a handful of pills into his mouth and gulped them down.
“At least it stopped snowin’,” Pony remarked as he gazed out the window. “I bet the clouds’ll go away soon, too. That’ll help your headache, huh?”
Darry simply grunted in response.
Ponyboy busied himself with preparing Darry’s room for his headache hibernation. He shut the curtains, grabbed some extra blankets from the closet, and placed a trash can by the side of the bed in case the pain made him nauseous. All the while, Darry simply laid there, face screwed up and eyes squeezed shut. If he’d had the energy, Pony was sure he would’ve fought tooth and nail against taking the day off and forced himself to push through the pain. The fact that he was in bed instead of nailing shingles to a roof meant that he must really be suffering.
As Pony lowered himself gently on the edge of the bed, Soda appeared in the doorway and carefully considered the scene in front of him. “Maybe I should call out of work, too. You don’t look so good.”
“I told you, Soda. I’m fine,” Darry said, but it sounded like he was struggling to get the words out. “No reason for both of us to miss out on a day’s pay.”
“I’ll take care of him,” Pony volunteered. “It ain’t like I got school today, so I can babysit.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Darry protested miserably, rolling his head back and forth on the pillow.
Soda ignored him. “You sure, Pone? He ain’t the most…cooperative patient.”
Wasn’t that the understatement of the year? Unless he was literally knocking on death’s door, Darry simply refused to be taken care of, convinced he either didn’t need help or didn’t deserve it.
“Ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle,” Pony replied, trying his best to sound reassuring.
Truthfully, he wasn’t very confident in his caretaking abilities. As the youngest, he was always the one being cared for instead of the other way around, which meant that his skills were limited to fetching things and staying out of the way. But he knew Darry was right; with Christmas in just a few days, they couldn’t afford for Soda to call out of work, too. He’d just have to figure it out.
Soda pinched the bridge of his nose as he considered the offer. Pony could see the moment he decided to accept, his shoulders slumping and a puff of air escaping his lips before he met Darry’s eyes.
“You’d better listen to your brother,” Soda told him. “Eat your soup, take your meds, and no gettin’ up unless you gotta take a leak, you hear? And no sneakin’ off to work when Pony’s back is turned, either.”
Darry huffed. “Yes, Mother.”
“Don’t you sass me. I’m just lookin’ out for you.”
“Go to work, Pepsi,” Darry grumbled, covering his eyes with the back of his hand.
Soda did not, in fact, go to work. He pointed a stern finger at Pony instead. “Take good care of my big brother, alright, Nurse Ponyboy? He’s still gotta help us finish decoratin’ the tree tonight.”
Pony pretended to be annoyed, but he couldn’t begrudge him for being overbearing. Soda was a natural caretaker; he couldn’t help it. “You know I will. Go to work,” he implored.
“Okay, okay.” He pecked Darry’s cheek, then Pony’s. “Love you guys. Remember to call if you need anythin’. I’ll be home around four.” And with one last look backwards, he was off.
In the absence of Soda’s whirlwind of energy, the room was suddenly quiet and still, the snow outside dampening the sounds of cars passing and children laughing. In the dim light, Pony gazed at Darry’s face, wondering whether he was really cut out for this. The two of them had gotten closer over the past few months, but he felt like he still didn’t know Darry well enough to understand how to take care of him when he was like this.
This wasn’t the first time Darry had gotten one of his headaches since their parents died, but it certainly seemed to be the worst. Plus, Pony had never been the one in charge of nursing him back to health, so he was way out of his element.
Now that they weren’t constantly fighting, he wasn’t always sure how to act around Darry, and seeing him look so small and weak didn’t help. Most of the time, Darry seemed like more of a superhero than a man to Ponyboy, just like their dad. But at that moment, Darry had never been more human. He didn’t know what to make of that.
One of the only other times Pony had seen him like this was the month before when he’d crept into his room after Darry had had a nightmare. Pony was pretty sure it had happened again last night, and he figured the lack of sleep was probably making things worse. Whenever Pony had a nightmare, he always felt unsettled and off-kilter until he talked about it with someone, even if he couldn’t remember many specifics. He figured getting it out in the open would help ease Darry’s mind, if not his head.
“Wanna talk about your bad dream?” he asked hesitantly. “I heard you last night.”
“Maybe later when I’m feelin’ better, little buddy,” Darry said, voice barely more than a whisper.
“Okay,” he replied, unsure what to do next. Should he leave Darry to try to get some rest? Maybe. Should he sing to him like their mama used to do when they were little? Definitely not.
He sighed to himself. Nothing seemed quite right.
After his own stomach grumbled, he decided he might as well offer Darry some food. “Do you think you could eat somethin’? I can make you some toast. Double-buttered, like Dad used to.”
Darry propped himself up on an elbow, placing a hand on his stomach while he considered Pony’s offer. “I think I can handle some toast.” He paused for a moment before adding, “No butter, though.”
“One slice of toast, hold the butter. Comin’ right up.”
Dodging the paper snowflakes Soda had taped to every surface, he headed to the kitchen and put three slices of bread in the toaster — two for him, one for Darry. Since Darry was taking his plain, he felt okay spreading butter on both sides of his own toast. What was Christmas break for if not for indulging a bit?
After plating their breakfast, he took it back to Darry’s room, where they munched on it together. Taking cautious nibbles, Darry was eventually able to finish the whole thing, which was an immense relief to Ponyboy. He really didn’t want to have to deal with puke today.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked once they’d finished their food.
“A little better, I think. My head still hurts, but at least I’m not hungry, too.”
“That’s good.” Darry seemed a bit more alert than he’d been earlier, which was a good sign.
They sat in silence for a minute as Pony racked his brain for anything else he could do to help Darry feel better. He’d already had medicine and water and toast; the room was dark and quiet. It was too cold to want a bag of frozen peas on your head. But maybe….
“D’ya think maybe you should take a shower?”
Darry sat up just enough to level him with a glare. “Are you sayin’ I smell or somethin’?”
“No, no — that’s not what I meant,” he hurried to explain. “I just figured, you know, the hot water might help you relax.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Darry replied, a thoughtful note in his voice.
He began climbing out of bed, but Pony rushed over to stop him. “Wait, wait, wait. Lemme help.”
Darry waved him off. “I’ve got a headache, pal. Not a broken leg.”
“Right, right.” Pony backed off, but still kept a watchful eye in case he got dizzy or something. Together, they made the short walk to the bathroom.
Ponyboy reached up to flick the lights on, but immediately turned them off again when Darry hissed in pain. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I forgot! Well, I didn’t really forget, but it’s just a habit —”
“It’s okay,” Darry reassured him. He peeked his eyes open just enough to squint at his brother as he said, “How ‘bout you go get a couple of those candles from the living room so I don’t slip and fall in the dark?”
Shoving down his guilt, Pony rushed to grab the battery-operated candlesticks from the front windowsill. They’d had real ones until Soda somehow managed to singe the ends of his hair one Christmas Eve, but the fake ones were nice, too. And more importantly, their soft glow wouldn’t aggravate Darry’s headache.
When he returned, Darry was already in the shower, but he’d left the bathroom door cracked so Pony could slip in. “I’ll just put these on the counter, ‘kay? And I’ll get you some warm clothes for when you’re done, too.”
He couldn’t really hear Darry’s reply over the sound of the water running, but he sounded appreciative, so Pony counted that as a win. He returned to Darry’s room to rifle through his drawers until he found a pair of worn-in flannel pants and one of his old football sweatshirts, which he placed on the closed lid of the toilet before closing the door.
With Darry taken care of, all that was left to do was wait. Pony knew he should probably get some homework done, but with nearly two weeks left of winter break, he couldn’t convince himself to start on it quite yet. He briefly considered making some sugar cookies, but he knew Soda would be sad he missed it. So he just sat on the couch, listening to the holiday station turned down low and trying not to think about how he’d lost four people since last Christmas.
His mom was always happiest this time of year, her joyful grins making even the coldest nights feel warm and cozy. It would be easy to let himself sink into despair without her, but he knew she’d want him to enjoy the holiday, even if she wasn’t there to enjoy it with him. He resolved to try his best to appreciate the people he still had this Christmas instead of focusing on the empty spaces around the tree.
After about fifteen minutes of staring out the window at the fresh snow in contemplation, he was relieved to hear the water shut off and the sound of Darry’s shuffling footsteps as he headed toward his room. He didn’t want Darry to think he was hovering, so he waited a moment before following.
Dressed in the clothes Pony had set out for him, Darry stood in the middle of his room, drying his hair with a towel. His movements were sluggish and weary, just like they’d been all morning.
“Hey,” Pony said as he walked through the door, “let me help.”
“Help?”
“Just trust me.” He took the towel from Darry’s hands and patted the end of the bed. Darry sat, an eyebrow raised in confusion.
Ponyboy stood in front of him, then draped the towel over Darry’s head and face, making sure to cover his eyes. Once everything was situated, he began drying Darry’s hair for him, gently rubbing the towel over his head in a sort of massage. He had no idea if he was doing it right — Soda was the one with the magic fingers in their family — but was encouraged by Darry’s soft sighs and drooping posture.
“You’re gonna put me to sleep,” Darry joked, relaxation dripping from his voice.
“That’s the goal.” With one last squeeze of his temples, Ponyboy removed the towel from Darry’s head and chucked it across the room into the laundry basket. “How ‘bout you lay down and rest?”
Wordlessly, Darry scooted toward the pillows and slipped under the blankets, then closed his eyes. Pony refilled his water glass and put some crackers on the nightstand before leaving, hoping to catch a Christmas movie on TV while his brother napped. But when he poked his head in Darry’s room during a commercial break a few minutes later, he was staring at the ceiling, still wide awake.
“How come you ain’t asleep yet?”
Darry shot him a truly pitiful look. “Can’t stop thinkin’ about how much my head hurts,” he said. “I need somethin’ to distract me.”
“Want me to read to you?” When Darry nodded, he added, “Like what?"
He thought for a minute. “One of your stories.”
“My theme?” Darry hadn’t stopped singing its praises since he’d read it the month before. He’d even cried when he finished it, which Ponyboy couldn’t decide whether he felt pleased or guilty about.
“Nah, that’s old news by now,” Darry said. “I want somethin’ new.”
Pony knocked softly on the doorframe. “I’ll see what I can rustle up.”
He was gone just long enough to grab his notebook from his desk. When he returned, Darry was still lying just where he’d left him, brow furrowed and blankets pulled up to his neck.
“This one ain’t even close to bein’ done yet, so you’re gonna have to be patient,” Pony told him as he sat back down at the edge of the bed. He wouldn’t usually share his writing with anyone before it was complete, but he felt bad enough for Darry that he was willing to make an exception, just this once.
“I promise not to complain,” Darry assured him.
Ponyboy flipped the cover open to the first page and began reading, making sure to keep his voice low.
While his English theme had recounted the true events of the previous fall, this story was what Ponyboy wished had happened instead. It was a purely self-indulgent fantasy about a group of friends who moved out into the country to escape the pressures of city life and start a new chapter together. It didn’t have much of a plot yet, but this type of story didn’t always need one. It was more about the characters learning and growing as people than solving a mystery or going on a quest. And while he hadn’t figured out yet exactly where this story was going, he was definitely in the mood for a happy ending.
As he listened to Ponyboy’s quiet murmur, Darry’s eyes grew heavier and heavier, his blinks lasting longer and longer. When he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, Pony put the notebook aside for later. “Try to get some sleep, okay?” he said, standing up.
“Mhmm,” Darry hummed as Pony pushed his hair off his clammy forehead, halfway to sleep already. “Thanks, Pone.”
“You’re welcome.” He brushed his lips against Darry’s hairline before pulling away. He told himself that it was what Darry did to him when he was sick after the rumble; he was just returning the favor. But he couldn’t deny the warmth that filled him when Darry’s face seemed to relax a bit. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad caretaker after all.
A yawn escaped him before he could stifle it. Without opening his eyes, Darry remarked under his breath, “Looks like I ain’t the only one who didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
“The wind kept me awake. And Soda snored.” He yawned again, an idea taking hold in his mind. He began nudging Darry toward the edge of the bed. ”Scoot over.”
Darry grumbled in a way that Pony interpreted as, Why?
“Figured I’d take a nap, too. It’s Christmas break, after all.”
The corner of Darry’s mouth twitched upward. “Well, I ain’t gonna stop you.”
Pony climbed up on the other side of the bed and curled up on his side, making himself comfortable under the covers. Drowsiness immediately took hold; it sure was warm and cozy in there.
“Wake me if you get hungry or thirsty or your head gets worse, okay?”
Darry nodded, his damp hair rasping against the pillowcase.
“And if you have to puke, aim away from me.”
Darry chuckled a bit at that as he turned to face his brother. “No promises,” he muttered.
Shushing him, Pony stroked a finger gently over his temple and whispered, “Just go to sleep, honey.”
Darry reached out a hand and clasped Pony’s wrist. Pony reached out a foot and rested it against Darry’s shin.
As the clouds gradually rolled away and the sun began to shine through the gap in the curtains, Pony fell asleep with a smile on his face. And despite the pain, Darry did, too.