In Sickness and In Health

Chapter 12

Steve's POV

I start to doubt my abilities to take of Darry. Pushing away the doubt, I think about how I need to do this. The only ones who have ever really taken care of me are God and the Curtis family- or maybe it's God through the Curtis's. Either way I'd like to give back to them. My mind reminds me of another reason I should do this- to convince myself that I'm not as cold as people think I am. Lately I've been feeling like I might be turning into the cold person people see me as. I don't want to be like that. There's way too much of that in the world as it is. Everyone starts to file out of the house realizing it's way later than they thought it was. As Soda is going he quickly starts to try to explain everything to me and tells me how Darry doesn't let on how bad he feels sometimes, but I cut him off reassuring, "Soda, I'll be fine." Soda slows down and catches his breath and puts his hand on my shoulder, "Thanks, Steve, you're a pal," he shoots me his smile that can make any person feel happier. "But you'll call me if you need to right?" Soda asks one more time while he heads out the door. "Of course, now go'on, you might be late!" I try to smile like he does, but I don't know if I did it right. Soda laughs and runs out. I peek my head into Darry's room to tell him I'll be in the living room, but I see him sleeping and quietly close the door. In the living room I sit cross-legged on the floor and switch the TV on. It blasts sound at full volume and I scramble trying to turn it down. "Two-Bit," I mumble. After watching the TV with the volume down so low I can barely hear it, Darry walks in with a blanket wrapped around himself. Once again I'm surprise by how much younger he seems. Not only is he still in sweatpants, socks, and an old high school t-shirt, but with him wrapped in a blanket, not taking steps but instead just sliding inch by inch on his socks, and his tired face I feel like he's the kid I first met him as. He's not his normal I've Been Working 12 Hours Six Days A Week tired, but more of an I Feel Lousy And I Don't Know What To Do tired. "Hey, Dar," I greet lightly, "feelin' any better?" "Oh, you know," Darry answers laying down on the couch. I look at him and understand that response means he doesn't. "Worse?" I ask. He just squeezes his eyes shut. If this had been anyone else in the gang I would've pried them harder, but I knew Darry was making a big step just coming out of his room where people might be able to see him not feeling well. I drop the subject. "How does soup sound for lunch, Darry?" "You don't have to make soup, it's fine, you're doing enough already," Darry responds with his eyes still closed. I decide for him and announce, "We're having soup."