How things really are. // Johnnyboy

grief is the price we pay for love.

(A month later)

The loss of Johnny has left me beyond desolate. I find the most comfort in sleeping, so that's what I do. I go to school, do my work, eat when Darry or Soda makes me, and sleep. Sleep, surprisingly, is the only time when Johnny's memory leaves me be.

But I can't sleep all the time, and Johnny haunts me wherever I go. I see him in sunrises and sunsets. I see him in the lot. I see him at the drive-in. Sometimes I think I can hear his voice when I'm lying in bed, desperately waiting for the relief of sleep to rescue me. I can hear Soda and Darry trying to decide what they are supposed to do with me, but I don't do anything about it.

But one day, I can't run away from my despair anymore.

"Pony, buddy, can we talk?" Soda says one day when I come home from school.

"Can we wait? I'm super tired-" I start.

"Pony, you're tired every day. We need to talk." Darry says.

I stop short. I guess I can't get out of this one.

I sit down on the couch in between my brothers.

"I won't pretend I know the depth of what you're going through. I wasn't as close to Johnny as you were. None of us were. But, Ponyboy, I'm worried about you. It's almost like you died too." Darry says in the gentlest tone I've ever heard him use.

I say nothing, even though I feel like I should. But there are no words that can even begin to measure my misery.

"Silent grief is dangerous, Ponyboy. Darry and I want to be there for you, but we can't be there if you don't talk to us." Soda says.

"I have nothing to say," I say dully, which isn't too far from the truth.

Darry sighs. "You know, Johnny wouldn't want this for you-"

I don't know why, but something about him saying that makes me so unbelievably angry that I immediately get up from the couch and turn to both of them.

"DON'T YOU DARE USE HIM AGAINST ME! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM! NEITHER OF YOU DID!" I yell.

To my surprise, Darry doesn't immediately lash out at me.

"Pony, we aren't using him against you-" Soda begins, but all of my emotions that I've been keeping in are suddenly, finally, breaking free.

"LIKE HELL YOU ARENT! HE'S DEAD. I LOVED HIM, AND HE'S DEAD!" I yell.

"Ponyboy-" Soda says.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! HE'S DEAD, DAMMIT! HE'S DEAD! Johnny's dead..." And finally, after a month, it hits me. Johnny's dead. He isn't at the bowling alley, playing pinball. He isn't asleep at the lot.

Johnny Cade's gone. And he's never coming back.

The full force of this hits me, and I drop to the ground crying. He's dead, he's dead, he's dead.

I feel arms pull me up into a sitting position and wrap around me. Soda holds me while I cry, and I cling to him like I did all those nights when I would have that damn nightmare I will never remember. Darry sits next to us on the floor, a helpless, pleading look on his face, which makes me cry harder.

"Let it out, baby. Let it all out." Soda whispers.

And I do. I cry until I feel hollow.

For the first month after mom and dad died, Darry, Soda, and I all slept in the same bed. Soda and I were crying ourselves to sleep every night, and I think Darry was scared to death of being alone at night. None of us ever admitted it, but it might have been the only reason we made it through that first month. We needed each other's strength to wake up each day to a reality where we were all orphans.

Darry carries me to bed, and Soda lays down with me. Darry pulls up our dad's old sitting chair, and we all stay silent, gripped by sadness but thankful to not be alone.

All of us hold hands until we fall asleep.