Golden Greaser

- 29 -

Two months later:

   "Where's the football?"

    "Check out back!" Darry called. "I think that's where Soda put it."

   "Soda!" Steve yelled. "Where's the football?"

   "Why don't you go look with ya' own eyes?" Darry retorted. "You ain't blind!"

    I rolled my eyes, setting the newspaper on the table and heading out on the front porch. The gang was almost ready to head to the lot to play football, so I decided to wait outside before they barreled out of the house.

    The afternoon was cooling off and the sun was just below the tops of the trees. The songs of the cicadas slowly came to life as the sun drifted downwards.

    Steve appeared, tossing the football up in the air.

    "Ponyboy, did you finish your homework?" Darry called back into the house.

    "Aw, let him play some football." Soda walked out, flashing his smile. "He's been gettin' his grades back up, workin' hard and everythin', let him play a little while."

   "Alright, but he'd best be gettin' it done when we get back," Darry sighed. "Ponyboy! Come on!"

   "Quit yellin' I'm right here." Pony walked out.

   "Where's Two?" Steve asked, walking down the steps. "I thought he said he was meetin' us here."

   "He said he was meetin' us at the lot." Soda answered. "Let's go before we lose the daylight."

    We set out down the street, the boys going up ahead of me in their huddle of havoc and shenanigans.

   I shook my head to myself, feeling a comforting smile curl my lips. I watched as they ran ahead, their figures getting smaller and smaller as they took off towards the lot.

   The sky was turning into a mosaic of pinks and purples, little hints of orange painting the rims of the clouds.

    When I reached the lot, a thought suddenly crossed my mind that I could walk down the street to the cemetery to visit Johnny's gravesite.

   I don't know why it came to me, since I had pretty much tried to forget about Johnny's death since the day it happened. But it seemed like more of an urge than I thought, so I decided to obey it.

   But as soon as I got to the run-down, sad little entrance to the graveyard, I began to feel a silent pull of regret and reluctance.

   My dad was buried here. Now Johnny was. And deep down it felt as if someone was jabbing at a wound that was still healing...and maybe that was just so.

   And as I neared the shaded place where Johnny had been buried, I saw a shadowed figure standing over a tombstone. Johnny's tombstone.

    I got closer, the sunlight gently revealing the face of the hunched figure.

    It was Dally.

    My heart sank.

    Part of me wanted to just turn back around and leave him here, alone and to his own devices. But another part of me knew Dallas too well to leave him when he'd been left behind so many times before.

   He barely looked at me when I neared him, just stared down at the concrete slab that read:

   Jonathan Andrew Cade

   1949-1965

   Son, Friend, Hero

    I didn't say anything, just stood beside him and watched the sunset that was set before us.

    "Why'd you do it." He glared at me, sadness painting his eyes.

    "Why?" I locked his gaze. "Because you don't get to give up that easily in life, Dallas."

     He turned back to staring at the tombstone, fighting to keep control over his emotions. Then, he pointed feverishly down at Johnny's grave, tears sparkling on his eyelids.

    "That shoulda been me, man." He kicked the ground explosively, raising his voice. "That shoulda been me..."

    He broke.

    Sobs racked him, forcing out anguished and angry cries as he turned away from me.

    I understood now what Pony said about Dallas being torn up about everything. He couldn't hold himself together now, when usually he was the one that could hold it all in place seamlessly.

   I watched as he fell to his knees, ragefully punching the ground before letting his fist rest there. He squeezed the space in between the corners of his eyes and then ran his fingers through his hair.

   I knelt beside him.

   "It wasn't your fault, Dallas." I paused. "It never was."

   "Shut up." He snapped, whipping his head around. "Get outta here. Leave me alone!"

   It got quiet for a moment, as if even the wind had been silenced.

   "I'm so sorry, Dal..." I whispered. "Johnny saw the good in you. He saw it in all of us--"

   "There's no good in me." He said, quietly.

   "That's not true."

   He shook his head, standing and pacing in a small circle.

   "Look, there's pain and grief just like there is joy and happiness, and you have to have both in life to make it worthwhile." I continued, making my tone firm.

   "You don't know what you're talking about..."

    "Maybe not..." I glanced back down at Johnny's name engraved in the stone. "But I haven't been proven wrong just yet."

   He looked down, expression softened to acceptance.

    "It's hard losing somebody you love," I looked over at him. "Movin' on's harder..."

    The sun dipped behind the horizon, creating an explosion in the sky of pinks, reds, and oranges that seemed to infuse the air with dazzling hues.

    "But y'know what," I tried to smile. "We'll get by, remembering Johnny like he's still here...playin' football, watchin' movies, drinkin' chocolate milkshakes..."

    A deep swallow indented Dally's neck as he looked up at the sunset, nodding in acknowledgement.

    It was hard to tell it was a real acceptance, knowing he was a master at hiding everything he felt. But by the way he began to admire the sunset, I knew he was trying to grasp a peace about himself.

   Our lives had changed.

   We weren't kids anymore.

    And in the world we thought we owned, we hadn't realized how much we had until it fell apart at our feet.

   We didn't know the sky could come alive with so many colors. We didn't know that we were more than just greaser and soc. We didn't know that tomorrow could be better than yesterday.

   We didn't know anything but each other, living for more than what we knew.

   We'd be okay.

   Together.