Shattered

home heartbreak

I was mad, boiling mad, the day Soda left. He chose Steve over Darry and I. The day after Steve was enlisted, Soda went downtown and signed himself up for the Vietnam War. I could barely look him in the eye when he left and I knew that was killing him. I didn't return any of his letters because I knew that would hurt him too. I wanted to make him feel as small and as upset as I felt then.
Looking back, I realized how wrong I was. If I could rewind time and take it all back, I would do it in a heart beat. I think the idea of another person leaving sent me over the edge. I was too stupid to come to my senses and realize that it was Soda. Sodapop has the biggest heart of anyone I know and cares about everyone, especially his family. I should've trusted him when he said he was going to come back. Now, looking down at Soda's weak, defeated self lying curled up in a hospital bed makes me feel sick to my stomach. If I could trade places with him, I would. A tear slips out of the corner of my eye and I wipe it away hastily. Darry spins me around and pulls me into a tight hug, running his hands through my hair comfortingly. He's trying to shield me from seeing Soda like this and is trying to shield me from the guilt he knows I'm feeling. Darry was the one who tried to get me to write Soda, the one who would make excuses for me when I refused to talk to him on the phone. Obviously, if I couldn't even bring myself to forgive and support my brother, there is no way I was going to do that for Steve. Again, standing here wrapped up in Darry's arms, I feel beyond horrible about everything I didn't say or do for him because after seeing what happened to Soda, I can't begin to imagine what Steve is going through. What if he's dead in a ditch somewhere in 'Nam and died alone with no one there to mourn for him? No one to hold his hand in his last moments? Darry and Two-Bit wrote to him all the time and I wish like hell I did too. Whether I like it or not, Steve was one of us. He was a part of our little five person family. I know I don't deserve to cry for Soda or Steve now but I want to so badly. I want to scream apologies at the top of my lungs until I run out of air. Two-Bit shows up in the doorway and immediately looks away, needing time to come to terms with everything that's happened. I take a deep breath, turn around, and tell myself it's okay. I look at Soda and my stomach flips. Soda's right leg was blown off about a week ago. They removed most of the shrapnel from his leg but now they need to get do another surgery to try and repair some nerves and stuff like that. Soda has been on some extremely heavy pain medications and has only woken up in fits of feverish hallucinations. Basically, that means he doesn't know that he's missing a leg yet and I feel bad for the person who has to tell him. I hope to goodness Darry won't have too. He's been through so much already. Darry thinks I don't notice when he cries quietly at night, thinks I don't notice the empty beer bottles in the trash can. I think that's what scares me the most. Darry has always been the strong one, the sensible one. When Darry gets scared, you know things are bad. Two-Bit walks further into the room and sits down heavily in one of the chairs. Darry does the same but grabs Soda's hand. I sit on Soda's other side and take his hand too. The three of us bow our heads and wait. We're waiting for the nurses to take him away in a few hours and then we would wait some more and then we would see if this moment was really the last time we ever saw Soda. The only thing we have to hold onto right now is the steady beeping from Soda's heart monitor and the little puff of air that fills the oxygen mask everytime Soda takes a breath. This is going to be a long night.