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Darrel Curtis Sr. was a family man— there was no doubt about it. Everyone knew that everything he did was in the best interest of his cherished wife and children. Darrel Curtis Jr. tried to follow in his father's footsteps although it was never the easiest task.
There was a certain way the Curtis household ran. Granted, everything had changed when the children's parents passed away. It was like a tornado ripped through their lives and left behind broken debris and hearts in its wake. Resilience was their strength. But Darry had a way to support the house the best he could and that involved equal effort from his younger brothers and sister.
Sometimes Virginia could tell when Darry was irritated by her, Sodapop, and Ponyboy. He'd get a crinkle in his forehead that was reminiscent of their father's but a stark coldness would fill his green-blue eyes.
"Those dishes aren't gonna wash themselves," he said, flipping the page of the Sunday newspaper. He wasn't really reading the fertilizer column but he wanted to act occupied in front of his sister.
Virginia glanced up at him from her worn book of piano music. "It's Soda's turn 'cause he got in late last night. He said he'd do 'em this morning. Soda, Ponyboy, and I are goin' to Mel's with Steve and Two-Bit."
Darry rose from the chair at the head of the dining table and looked at his sister who was perched on the small chair in front of the old spinet. Her plate of honey butter toast was cold now, resting on the very edge of the keys that was bound to fall and break.
The idea of it was enough to tip him into a scolding manner. "This place better be spotless when you come back."
"Yeah, yeah," Virginia mumbled in disinterest. She sighed and took her plate, choosing to move over to the living room just to get away from his nagging and focus on the lovely weather.
The sun streamed through the windows, warming up the house which was not usual for that particular autumn. It seemed like the lingering touch of summer and her blessings had yet to vanish and make way for the splendors of winter. Ponyboy would be upset to wake up on Christmas morning without a thick sheet of white fluffy snow covering everything in sight. The sunlight cast a golden glow across the oak coffee table, making shadows of a stack of books stretch out past the squared edge.
It was the most perfect of mornings... until she heard the sound of a car door closing shut from outside.
Peering through the heated blinds blocking the windows, Virginia frowned curiously when she spotted a man wearing a bowler hat and exiting a car. It was a nice-looking, red vehicle parked on the side of the street. It was nothing as old and beat-up as the usual rusty hunks of metal greasers owned and it looked as shiny as a brand new car.
"Hey, Darry?" Virginia called as she scrutinized the man make his way up to the front door. "Someone's here."
"It's probably a Jehovah's Witness," muttered Darry as he threw on a cuffed flannel shirt over his bare torso.
