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“Sandy,” was the word to wake me up one night. There wasn’t anything special about the name, just being a nickname for Sandra. Sandra was a name that meant “defender.” I couldn’t tell you how right that is in the context of how I heard it.
I turned over in my bed and I saw Soda. He was fast asleep and wasn't saying anything, so I wondered if he said it at all.
“Sandy.”
It was completely normal for Soda to be babbling in his sleep. I know I do it, according to him, so I guess I guess it runs in the family. But he was saying the same name again.
“Sandy.” It was quieter that time.
I only knew one Sandy, and it was Soda’s girl. I don’t even know what happened between them, other than Sandy moving to Florida while I was gone. Even Darry couldn’t even tell me the whole story of everything that went down that week.
“Sandy.” His voice was only slightly above a whisper. “Sorry…”
“Sodapop, what’re you talking about?” I almost-hissed. His eyelids didn’t even do so much as flutter. He was still passed out.
I watched as his mouth opened to say something more.
“Can’t,” his eyebrows furrowed in his sleep, which looked real weird with his eyes closed. He said something that sounded like gibberish to me. I caught him muttering, “Can’t do it.”
He looked awfully stressed for someone not even awake, and it was starting to make me worry too. “Soda.”
“Not me?” It was a question. I didn’t know what to say, or what to do. I just lay there and felt bad that I couldn’t do anything about Soda, or whatever nightmare he was having.
“Sandy?” Soda’s arms shifted, with his voice still whispering. “How?”
“Stop it, you’re scarin’ me, Soda.”
“How could you?” Soda pressed. I felt the need to stop trying to snap him out of it. It was no use anyway. I only listened, and I felt a little bad. I don’t think Soda would want me listening if he could help it. He was used to the fact that me and Darry used to take it for granted that he had no problems.
I frowned.
Soda frowned at the same time with all his incoherent muttering. “Not… mine?”
And suddenly, I figured it out. My heart ached for ol’ Soda. His mumbling stopped for a second, and only for a second. But then he kept going. Even if I couldn’t understand it all, I knew he was still talking about Sandy. I just wanted him to stop, for his sake.
“Soda!” I said slightly louder than I should’ve. I let out a big sigh of relief when he quieted. I lowered my voice, “Soda, stop it, willya?”
I don’t know if he heard me at all, but he stopped. I turned around, grateful for the silence.
“Pony?”
I rolled over my shoulder again. I could’ve sworn he was somewhat conscious. His face suggested the opposite still.
That was the only thing Sodapop said for the rest of the night. I wondered about what he was dreaming about for another half hour before falling back asleep. I wouldn’t tell anything I’d heard in the morning. He didn’t need more things to worry about.