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Dallas Winston first met Sylvia in an alleyway. Track marks littered her arm, and she smelled of cheap booze. She was dying, and looked just like any other druggie he’d seen on the streets of New York. He’d never paused when walking by them, but for some reason he paused then. Blinked down at her flushed face, pale, clammy skin, and empty eyes that were barely focused on him. Then he picked her up and rushed her to the nearest clinic, where they pumped her stomach and kept her alive. Clinics don’t pump stomachs from where he lived in New York, but he supposed that on the East side of Tulsa, they can only afford life-saving care at clinic prices. Either way, it was a good thing, because the next morning, Dally took her back to Bucks to sleep. She wasn’t dead.
Asleep, she reminded him of himself, and then his mother. The matching track marks, the way they’re both only alive because someone happened to help them; it was like looking into a mirror. So when she woke up and was suspicious of him, he didn’t get annoyed. Yeah he still called her a rude bitch, but he understood, and offered her water and packaged snacks and his bed. He’d tried talking to her but she glared at him, and he understood, so he told her not to run off before going down to the bar. He figured that having your stomach pumped means you get a fresh-start at alcoholism, and that Buck wouldn’t mind giving him a bottle. And he didn’t, but he did warn Dally.
“That girl is trouble, Dallas. You’re young, and so is she, but she’s trouble in a different way than you are.”
If he’d known what Sylvia’s presence in his life would cause back then, he’d like to think he would’ve heeded the warning. Realized that Buck’s voice was strained and cautious. Let her stay for another night before kicking her back to the streets. But he didn’t know what she would do, and so he went back upstairs, bottle in hand. And she was still there. And she was there the next night, and the next night, and the next night.
For a week, the connections he’d made tried to warn him.
“You don’t wanna be near that girl, Dallas. She’s worse news than I am.” Tim Shepard.
“Yeah I’ve heard about Sylvia. She’s got issues, Dally. Do what you want, but be careful.” Darry Curtis.
“Sylvie? Yeah she’s my friend but…She gets weird about boys. Don’t tell her I said this, but be careful.” Evie, Steve’s girlfriend.
“Sylvia? Oh…Her and I, uhm, we don’t talk. She scares most people. I’d stay away from her, if I were you.” Sandy, Soda’s broad.
“That girl, she has a strange look in her eyes. It’s nice you’re trying to help, but some people just can’t be saved. She’s one of them.” Mrs. Curtis. He should’ve known that when Mrs. Curtis says someone can’t be saved, she’s right. But he didn’t listen. He never does.