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I like to lie, especially to myself, and to others.
That thing never happened, and so I convince myself over and over again until my face turns blue. Even then, I'll still deny it. So, in my head, Dallas and Johnny aren't dead. They're probably somewhere else, maybe the latter is out in the lot, maybe the former is getting sick with alcohol. But some days, they are dead, and they are gone, and I won't see them again, so instead I stare at nothing for the whole day no matter how much Darry tells me to focus on something other than the air, and tries to get me out of the house, since vitamin D is cool or something. When I am forced out, it's either always with Two-Bit or hanging around Curly. They both try to get me to talk "like what I used to be like," so I do try, and I fail, and spend the next hour being quiet.
That's how hard grief can hit you, or something. That's what that doctor said I was experiencing, grief, and my way of dealing with it was being silent.
I liked to talk around Johnny. He'd always listen and never tell me to shut up unless I was complaining too much. He told me to quit gabbing once when I kept complaining about his switchblade cutting through my hair in that wooden desolate church, soon to burn down and bring him with it. He was the one tugging on my hair, I had every right to complain. I wish I could've talked with him more, but I ran out of things to talk about one night and didn't speak for a little longer. I could've talked about anything. I could've talked about more instead of complaining about looking like a sissy because of the stupid peroxide-dyed hair. I didn't know I'd lose him. Johnny Cade was my best friend, and I was his.
Glory, I miss him. It feels like there's a void beside me every single day.
There's not really anyone to fill that void, and I want it to be. I don't want to have an empty spot next to me anymore. I don't want to wish the arms around me in hugs were coated in patchy denim. I don't want to keep having to wish I'd wake up one day and find Johnny on the couch, spending a night over. I don't want my voice to waver anytime I mention him. I don't want Darry to tell someone to stop talking about Johnny because 'I'm not in the right mental state.'
I'm not a kid, not a fragile mess.
There hasn't been anyone to fill that lonely spot, so I've been hanging out with Curly more. I know Johnny would have the disgusted frown on his face when I said I hung out with him. Curly's been my friend for a little while, we have matching scars on our fingers from pressing cigarettes to them. He's a neat friend, but he's constantly getting himself into trouble, and it makes me sick, because I don't know when the next time he's not coming back.
I worry about that a lot.
He had missed out on that big rumble all because he decided to break into a liquor store. I still remember every word his older brother Tim had called him because of it. Sometimes I worry that one day he'll pull another stunt like that and get himself hurt or killed.
Curly tries to get me back to my old self sometimes, smile more, laugh, but nothing he does really helps. I either force a smile and a laugh or look away with tired eyes. I appreciate the effort, but he's embarrassing himself.
Then, one day he invited me to the movie house because I always went there. It was kind of nice, sitting in the back row after sneaking in, staring at the movie screen, but then I'd wish Johnny was beside me so I could nudge him and point out the pretty broads. He'd always slowly look at me with this face of disgust then point out a guy. He didn't seem to focus on ladies. I could do that with Curly, but he wouldn't react the same way, because that'd make me show some sort of emotion. It was halfway through the movie, I faintly remember it. He tried to be... romantic (ew) or something, pretending to yawn and then put an arm around my shoulder. I didn't know why, but I felt a subtle frown tug at my lips. It didn't matter anyways, because I didn't say anything or try to move away. After the movie, we walked away from the movie house, and he thought it was a bright moment to ask if we wanted to date. I didn't react strongly and shrugged, saying 'sure.' It was almost dark out.
Every part of me was begging for me to say no. I wasn't supposed to say yes. I was wearing a bracelet I had matching with Johnny, one that he had given me with a letter with all the reasons why he liked me. He even wrote it neatly instead of the scriggly scrawly handwriting I was used to.
I practically ran home after we separated and silently cried for a little while. Sodapop asked me if I had a nightmare. It felt like a nightmare, pretending to love someone I didn't. So, I forced myself to like Curly. I forced myself to not wish we remained friends.
Darry had noticed my mood change for the worse over the next few days. He asked if I was okay and I snapped at him. We got in a small fight over it and I almost considered bolting out the door. I didn't want to do that again, there wasn't a Johnny to run to. None of us wanted to run out again, because who knows when we wont see each other for a week? So, I complained about it to Curly after skipping class since he was the only one willing to listen. I felt sick when he told me everything would be alright, I just had to keep my cool.
Sodapop tried to ask what was going on that night when we sat in the living room alongside literally all of the gang (minus two for reasons nobody talks about around me) for game night when I sat off to the side, chewing on my nails. I didn't respond. My brothers cared too much.
I only realized I was forcing myself to like Curly just to fill that empty void after two weeks passed. I was just doing homework (I was behind, alright? Living in a church after my best friend (maybe more) killed someone and missing a lot of school puts you in a bad spot) when there were taps on the window, and I looked out and saw his stupid face. He was sort of banned from the house because of his... behaviors, so I think I'd probably get locked in a room without windows if I had let him in. Ignoring that, I decided to take the risk and open the window.
I got grounded for a week when Sodapop walked in to tell me to go to bed. He was probably Curly's second biggest hater, since Johnny took the first spot. It was the same night my brothers found out I was sort of with Curly.
"You like guys?"
"I suppose."
"Why Curly?"
I stared at Darry blankly after he had asked that question, and then I completely broke down into tears, slumping down and sitting on the floor against the wall I had leaned against. I don't know why. It was a little dramatic. My brothers immediately went into caring mode, and I absolutely hated it. I didn't tell them why I was crying. I don't like bawling, I don't do that.
"Show some emotion, act like you enjoy life."
Curly had said that when we were out on a date or whatever at the drive-in. A whole month of pretending. At one point I had convinced myself I actually liked him.
"Does it seem like I like it?"
"Nope, yer lookin' pretty sad. 'Least you're pretty bein' sad."
A small smile had formed on my lips at the compliment, but I suppressed it nonetheless. The tips of my ears didn't turn pink, like they usually would.
"Do I look tuff?"
"You look blonde."
I didn't talk to him for the rest of the night. I didn't like my hair. The reddish-brown had recently started growing out, my hair was longer, the blonde slowly but surely going away. I didn't want to cut it, though, no matter how much I hated it. I didn't like talking about it. I hated what happened in Windrixville.
Our first kiss was something I tried to block out countless of times. Curly decided to try and be a gentleman or something and walked me home. I wore his jacket. I had convinced myself yet again I loved him. I felt sick as I thought about it at that moment, standing outside the short chain gate. He refused to take his jacket back, saying I could borrow it in the meantime. Before I left to go inside the comfort of home after saying I would, he had pulled me in for the kiss. After it I smiled and awkwardly laughed (forced, as per usual) before we said bye, and as soon as I got inside I went and cried into my pillow, the jacket thrown onto the couch in the living room.
Sodapop asked if Curly had broken up with me. That was the night I told him I was just pretending through tears.
I cry too much for a man. I'm not tough, nor tuff. I think I'm being dramatic.
"So you don't like him?"
"No, Soda! I like him as a friend, not– oh, I'm going to hell!"
"Honey, don't say that. Why can't you break stuff off?"
"'Cause then it's weird! You can't date someone for a month and suddenly tell 'im you never even loved him in the first place! Curly's a good friend, sometimes a good boyfriend, I ain't destroying that."
"I don't know about good boyfriend if you're fakin', Pony..."
I let out a loud sob at that singular sentence. Sodapop pulled me in for a hug. Darry walked in at one point, holding the stupid jacket. They shared a few words and it ended up being a group hug thing.
I suddenly hated myself.
I turned my head away every time Curly tried to go ahead and kiss me, pointing out a bird or a tree or anything. I didn't get couples' obsession with having their lips all over each other's, maybe it was just because I didn't really dig that kind of stuff. It was weird on screen, and it's weird in real life. I thought about Johnny once whilst out with Curly and had to swallow the lump in my throat when he noticed my eyes watered. It's been a few months since Johnny died, I needed to get over it.
Except I couldn't. The void wasn't filled still, his presence still haunted me.
I once got so sleep deprived (three days without sleep, not my personal record) that during a midnight snack I started thinking Johnny was there and tried talking to him, just to feel normal for once. When Darry had walked in, he was gone. Then I had a breakdown or something and sat on the cold linoleum floor for what felt like hours whilst my older brother hugged me. I wish there were denim sleeves hugging me instead of overworked arms.
I'm kind of a bawl baby.
"Pony, yer doin' it again," Curly commented as I stared off into the distance. We were sharing a strawberry milkshake.
"Oh," I mumbled, looking back at him, forcing a smile. I got out of the state of thinking I loved him again. I still hated myself, in fact, I considered the thoughts I had after Johnny died. What if the wooden beam had fallen on me instead? It'd probably end all of the pain I'd gone through. I think I was trying to feel some sort of emotion with him, but none of them seemed to come.
Curly tilted his head. I saw the Johnny habits in him and I felt bad for thinking about him on a date. They were sort of similar, dark hair and dark eyes. I guess I liked guys who looked like that. I tilted my head to match his. "What's on yer mind?" He asked. I hated that question.
"Lots of things," I said, looking away.
"Tell me one of 'em."
"I'm missin' my friends again, Curls, it's nothing much."
"Yer always missin' them, Pone, you've got ta move on, Winston and Johnny ain't coming back. Tim wants Dal ta come back too, believe me, he's sad too. I ain't tryin' ta be mean, but you've been hung up on this."
He wasn't wrong, but the truth still hurt. I looked down at the table, more specifically my hands on the table with their chewed up nails. A lot of diner tables were blue. "Sure," was the only thing I said, running my hands over the jacket sleeves. Curly's jacket, once more.
"Yer actin' like you hate me here, tell me the truth," Curly monotoned. It was like a sudden burst of emotion collected after he said that.
"I don't feel good, alright?! Shoot, Curly, I've been drownin', alright? You sayin' I hate you ain't helping me," I suddenly snapped, lowering my voice after the first sentence. Curly put his hands up before dropping them, deciding to not respond. I sighed in frustration, looking away. "Both of my brothers hate you, they keep tryin' to get me to stop going out with you, I'm behind in school, and I'm still grieving my best friend dying, so lay off." My vocal chords felt strangled when I called Johnny my best friend. It felt wrong, it was like I just considered him another one of my friends.
"Fine, keep sulkin' like a sissy, but try to be my boyfriend for a few seconds instead of an ass," Curly stated before softening his tone as he asked, "do ya want the rest of the milkshake? 'S too much sugar for me."
At this point I wanted to get up and walk home. I hesitated before nodding silently. The more I thought as he talked and I finished off the tasteless (a lot of things still tasted like baloney for me for no apparent reason) milkshake, I guess I lost a lot of my traits. I'd be the talkative one, not Curly. He'd be the snappative one, not me.
I felt like shit. I don't swear much, but toddler words wouldn't suffice.
I quickly said I felt like I was about to throw up before sliding out of the booth and going towards the bathroom. I faintly heard Curly checking if I was okay from the table. I didn't really need to throw up, I just stood against the stall's walls for a few minutes, staring at nothing in particular.
Was it really worth it wasting a couple of months to fill a void that could never be filled? Was it really worth it lying to myself?
I hoped that one night Curly would tell me he wanted this to be done because I wasn't very involved in the relationship. I think I'd probably react the same way when he asked to date me. No reaction. I feel like a fragile mess.
I walked out after too many thoughts and splashed cold water on my face before staring at myself in the mirror. I didn't seem like the Ponyboy Curtis I was at the start of September. Scars on my face. Long hair with colours that just didn't mix well.
I seemed like a sort of shell of myself.
Curly's a good friend, sometimes a good boyfriend, I ain't destroying that.
I turned away from the mirror and walked out of the bathroom, giving Curly a reassuring smile as I sat back down across from him. I don't remember when we started holding hands, and I don't want to even remember holding hands.
I hate lying to myself, but I like lying to people I'm close to. Worth a couple of months, I guess.