Porcelain

Chapter 63

In that moment, time went from moving slowly to stopping altogether. Estelle was alive. Their child, their son was alive. He was a father.

He continued walking after the doctor, who lead him to where his son was being monitored.

"... we have some concerns about his right leg, it seems he might have taken some damage from the attack, but he seems to be pretty healthy. Five pounds and seven ounces, a little on the smaller size but normal considering he was born a few weeks early," he heard the doctor ramble. "... would you like to hold him?"

"No! No," he stammered. "I don't wanna hurt him, you said you're already concerned he's hurt, I don't wanna mess him up more."

"He's your son, Mr. Winston," the doctor said. "I don't think you'll hurt him."

He relented, and the doctor carefully picked up the baby, and handed it to him.

The world seemed to shrink. All that mattered at that moment was him and his son. The newest human in the world. So pure. To come from such notorious and dangerous people, people with records a mile long and reputations miles longer, this child had never done anything wrong. He had Dallas's nose, and Estelle's face shape. A combination of his parents, and yet he was so pure. So perfect. His vision blurred a bit, and he wiped his eyes on his upper arm.

"Mr. Winston, whenever you're ready, the birth certificate needs to be completed, so you can sign off on that."

He paused. He had never talked about names with Estelle, he had always kind of assumed she would be the one to name their child, and he had been okay with that.

After a moment or two, he handed his son back to the doctor. He was lead to a table, a pen placed in his hand.

He thought for a moment, before writing as clearly as he could in his messy handwriting. He knew exactly what to put.

Johnny Curtis Winston.

_____
Dally walked back out to the waiting room, greeted by the anxious faces of the rest of the Curtis gang.

He didn't know what to say or do, so he just went and sat back down. Their faces held the same look, of them fearing the outcome, but trying not to jump to conclusions.

He tried to muster a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Darry sat down next to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What's the news?" He asked quietly.

"They made it. She's alive. He's okay too," he replied in a gravelly voice.

Darry grinned. "He? It's a boy?"

"Yeah. I have a son," he said, in a still unbelieving tone.

The gang grinned. Sodapop let out a whoop, Two-Bit clapped him on the shoulder.

"Did you name him?" Ponyboy asked.

Dally nodded.

"Ooh, what'd you name the newest member of the Curtis gang?" Two-Bit asked excitedly, already back to joking around.

"Johnny," he said quietly. "Johnny Curtis Winston," he said a bit louder.

The gang quieted down, as they exchanged muted smiles. They all understood his exact thought process through the name, and his way of remembering his "little brother" and how he was in a way giving him a second chance at life.

"Why Curtis?" Sodapop asked quietly.

Dally looked at him as if he was stupid. "Neither Essie or I would be alive now if it wasn't for y'all keeping your front door unlocked all this time."

"Then why not name him Darryl? He's the one who keeps the door open."

"Cause all of y'all are part of the reason we're here, that's why, dipshit. But y'all's family has always been like that, y'all's mama treated me like her own," he said in a subdued tone. He scuffed his boot on the floor, uncomfortable with being put in the spotlight and by the emotional turn the conversation had taken.

The group fell quiet for a moment, before Darry broke the silence.

"When will you be able to go see her?"

Dally just shrugged exasperatedly.

"And can we go see the baby?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want, I don't care," he said, rubbing his eyes.

He took in the situation. He was sitting in the hospital, a place he despised, a place he associated with death and loss and misery, as the person he loved fought for her life, and his literal child rested just down the hall.

He suddenly realized he was still shirtless, still wearing the pants from the race, covered in blood. He wrinkled his nose, suddenly disgusted with his state.

Darry silently handed him his jacket, and he threw it on.

He slowly drifted asleep in the cheap hospital chair. He vaguely heard Ponyboy and Darry leave the room, but all he could think about was Estelle. She didn't even get to be the first person to meet the kid she grew for eight and a half months.

Their life was so fucking unfair. But since when was it not? He should be glad they were all alive at all.