Porcelain

Chapter 64

"Just go home, son," the doctor says. "She's not going to wake up for a while yet."

Dally had been camped out in the hospital for over ten hours. The rest of the gang had already left to get some rest, as there was no good reason to be there. But Dally had refused. He had let her down. If he'd just said one more time that she shouldn't have gone, maybe everything would have been okay. So the least he could do, what he felt he had to do at that point, was to be there for her. Really, at that point all he could do for her was to be there.

He shook his head. "Nah, I'm fine sitting here."

The doctor let out a sigh. "You've still got blood all over you, you're doing her no good by wasting yourself away in that chair. Go home, take a shower, change you clothes, get some rest, it will do you all some real good."

He finally got up, and stretched his tired muscles. He was exhausted, sleeping in that chair had done him no good. He had already been tired after the race had ended, but now he had no energy left in him.

He had no idea what time it was, but he figured it could find a phone and get someone to drive him, there was no way he was walking. He'd either have someone drive, or he'd stay right there.

He found a phone, and dialed the Curtis house. He suddenly had a quick flashback to another time he was dialing that number. How he'd changed since that night. Estelle had been there to save him. But he'd almost been to late to save her.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when someone answered the phone.

"Curtis residence, Ponyboy speaking," he said, sounding as tired as Dally felt.

"Yeah, kid, could you tell one of your brothers to come get me at the hospital? The doctors are making me leave."

"Yeah, hold on," he replied, setting down the phone. Dally heard him yell for Darry and Sodapop, and Darry picked up the phone.

"I'll be there soon, just hold on a little while," he said, yawning.

Dally grunted in response, and slammed the phone back down. He walked towards the exit, relishing how the people he encountered balked and jumped away from him. He would be intimidating, he supposed, wearing cowboy boots and jeans spattered with blood, and just a denim jacket on top.

When Darry arrived, he gave Dally a look of pity and concern.

"Wipe that look off your face, I don't want your pity," Dally said as he got into the truck.

"Dallas, you went right from your first race in who knows how long, to stopping your girlfriend from bleeding to death, to the hospital, where she still nearly died, and your son was born. You haven't rested or eaten or changed clothes since then, you look like a zombie, and if you completely exhaust yourself, you can't help Estelle like that," Darry said, in a strong but gentle tone.

"Don't you get it? I let her down. Last time I wasn't fucking fast enough, Johnny died!"

"She made her choice, it wasn't your fault. It was no ones fault but the people who jumped her. And besides, she's strong. She'll keep fighting. But there's someone else who needs you to fight for them," Darry reminded him.

"Who- oh. Yeah."

"Why do you sound so, unenthusiastic? You have a son who needs you, Dally."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But I just met the kid, and it's not like he's got any personality of his own."

"But he's still your and Estelle's son, he needs his dad."

"I don't know how do be a fucking dad," Dally said, his voice raising anxiously.

"And that's okay Dally. You'll learn."

_____
As Dally ate, freshly showered and in new clothes, he thought about his son. His son. His kid. He was a dad. He had a child. He had never wanted kids, never liked them, but now that he had one, his perspective seemed to shift. He still didn't think that he liked kids, but he knew that he would protect his son with his life. Whether that was because he was his son, or because he was Estelle's child, he didn't really know.

He thought back to his choice. Johnny. Was naming his son Johnny a way of honoring his friend, or was it him desperately wishing that he was still there? And what about giving him his own last name? Dallas held no attachment to the last name Winston, he was never given a reason to be proud of the name. In fact, any decent person would be ashamed to have the name, a name attached to a criminal. What if Estelle didn't like it? What would he do then, if she hated that their son was named Johnny? He didn't know. He had no idea what he would do.

What would Johnny, Johnny Cade think of it? He would never want someone named after him. But then again, he didn't get to live long enough for that ever to even be a question.

Dally threw his plate into the sink nearly hard enough to break it. He was frustrated having so many questions with no answers, and even more frustrated that there was nothing he could do to get answers.