Things were unraveling. Darry didn't mind the jobs, it was a lot of
work but he could do it.
He didn't really mind not having a girlfriend. He'd like one, sure. But he just didn't have enough time.
He knew what everyone thought. Grown up too fast, too old at 20, too tired, worked too hard. Yeah, well, he had to. There was no one else to do it. One thing his dad had taught him was if it has to be done, do it.
Problem was he wasn't. Look at Pony. The kid was a mess, a real space cadet since that whole thing. Soda, too, what with Sandy leaving.
What could he do? How could he help these things? It wasn't his fault mom and dad died, he'd done the best he could with the fall out. It wasn't his fault Johnny and Dally died on the same night and Pony went crazy for awhile.
Was it? The thought that haunted him and robbed him of sleep was that it was his fault. Soda told him, more than once, to lay off Pony.
"He's a kid, Dar," Soda would say, "he's smart, he'll go to college, you gotta lay off,"
But no one knew better than he did. Hell, he was running this family. Neither of those two could tell him shit.
So he hadn't backed off. And that stupid kid went and fell asleep in the lot, worrying them sick. Asleep! When he'd thought, well...It made him shake with anger, even now he saw red.
So he'd yelled despite his relief to see Ponyboy come home shame faced and sleepy. He'd yelled because that boy had to learn that there were rules and consequences, at home and in life and it was now his place to teach them, to pick up where mom and dad left off, spare the rod and all that.
But if he hadn't done that, if he hadn't sent Pony out into the night all pissed off he wouldn't have run to the park with Johnny. And Johnny wouldn't have killed that soc. And they wouldn't have been in the church when it was on fire.
It was like dominoes. One action sets it all in motion. If he hadn't shoved Pony Johnny would be alive and Dally would be alive.
You don't just stop living because you lose someone. He believed this. You don't quit because death is a part of life, and no one lives forever. You've got to somehow enjoy now, and let go of the rest.
But Ponyboy wasn't doing well. He insisted he killed the soc half the time and that Johnny was still alive the other half of the time.
Darry didn't know what to do. He didn't want to mention anything like reality to Ponyboy, afraid he couldn't handle it and his mind would shatter to little bits, useless glass shards on the floor.
If it hasn't happened already.
He didn't like the look in Ponyboy's eyes, a sort of delusional glow, like a fever without the heat.
And the kid kept banging into things, forgetting things. And not normal things, like school books or appointments but his shoes! He left his shoes at school and walked home in socks.
Then Soda. Soda understood Johnny and Dally were dead, seemed appropriately sad about it. But Soda was in a deep depression over Sandy getting pregnant and being shipped off to some spinster aunt in Florida. He was hardly eating, hardly going out, hardly smiling.
He loved Sandy. Darry knew that, everyone knew that. But Sandy was gone, she'd slept with some other guy and she was gone. Unless it was Soda's? Darry shook his head, felt the sharp pin prick behind his eye of the beginning of a headache. He rubbed his temples.
Ponyboy was insane, thinking Johnny was alive, thinking he killed the soc when five people saw Johnny do it. It was some weird transference of sins, atoning for what Johnny did by taking it on himself.
Truth was Ponyboy scared Darry now. His break with reality was proving more than he could handle.
His parents died, that had happened to all of them. But he, Darry, was 20 when it happened. Old enough to put it into perspective, to deal with it. Ponyboy had only been 13. What could a 13 year old handle? And not that long after he was almost killed, drowned, by the soc. He was there when Johnny killed him, maybe he didn't see it but he was there in that silent night with Johnny clutching a bloody knife and a dead body at their feet. Then not a week later he was in the hospital room when Johnny died and he was at the lot when the cops shot Dally.
No wonder he went crazy.
The doc said he'd get over it if they gave him time. But would he? What if the doc was wrong? Did he fully understand what had happened? Maybe Ponyboy would stay like this forever, locked in a twilight world where Johnny hadn't died and he'd killed the soc and nothing ever made sense.
What if he couldn't pull Ponyboy back from this ledge?
Things were unraveling and Darry had no idea how to stop it.
He didn't really mind not having a girlfriend. He'd like one, sure. But he just didn't have enough time.
He knew what everyone thought. Grown up too fast, too old at 20, too tired, worked too hard. Yeah, well, he had to. There was no one else to do it. One thing his dad had taught him was if it has to be done, do it.
Problem was he wasn't. Look at Pony. The kid was a mess, a real space cadet since that whole thing. Soda, too, what with Sandy leaving.
What could he do? How could he help these things? It wasn't his fault mom and dad died, he'd done the best he could with the fall out. It wasn't his fault Johnny and Dally died on the same night and Pony went crazy for awhile.
Was it? The thought that haunted him and robbed him of sleep was that it was his fault. Soda told him, more than once, to lay off Pony.
"He's a kid, Dar," Soda would say, "he's smart, he'll go to college, you gotta lay off,"
But no one knew better than he did. Hell, he was running this family. Neither of those two could tell him shit.
So he hadn't backed off. And that stupid kid went and fell asleep in the lot, worrying them sick. Asleep! When he'd thought, well...It made him shake with anger, even now he saw red.
So he'd yelled despite his relief to see Ponyboy come home shame faced and sleepy. He'd yelled because that boy had to learn that there were rules and consequences, at home and in life and it was now his place to teach them, to pick up where mom and dad left off, spare the rod and all that.
But if he hadn't done that, if he hadn't sent Pony out into the night all pissed off he wouldn't have run to the park with Johnny. And Johnny wouldn't have killed that soc. And they wouldn't have been in the church when it was on fire.
It was like dominoes. One action sets it all in motion. If he hadn't shoved Pony Johnny would be alive and Dally would be alive.
You don't just stop living because you lose someone. He believed this. You don't quit because death is a part of life, and no one lives forever. You've got to somehow enjoy now, and let go of the rest.
But Ponyboy wasn't doing well. He insisted he killed the soc half the time and that Johnny was still alive the other half of the time.
Darry didn't know what to do. He didn't want to mention anything like reality to Ponyboy, afraid he couldn't handle it and his mind would shatter to little bits, useless glass shards on the floor.
If it hasn't happened already.
He didn't like the look in Ponyboy's eyes, a sort of delusional glow, like a fever without the heat.
And the kid kept banging into things, forgetting things. And not normal things, like school books or appointments but his shoes! He left his shoes at school and walked home in socks.
Then Soda. Soda understood Johnny and Dally were dead, seemed appropriately sad about it. But Soda was in a deep depression over Sandy getting pregnant and being shipped off to some spinster aunt in Florida. He was hardly eating, hardly going out, hardly smiling.
He loved Sandy. Darry knew that, everyone knew that. But Sandy was gone, she'd slept with some other guy and she was gone. Unless it was Soda's? Darry shook his head, felt the sharp pin prick behind his eye of the beginning of a headache. He rubbed his temples.
Ponyboy was insane, thinking Johnny was alive, thinking he killed the soc when five people saw Johnny do it. It was some weird transference of sins, atoning for what Johnny did by taking it on himself.
Truth was Ponyboy scared Darry now. His break with reality was proving more than he could handle.
His parents died, that had happened to all of them. But he, Darry, was 20 when it happened. Old enough to put it into perspective, to deal with it. Ponyboy had only been 13. What could a 13 year old handle? And not that long after he was almost killed, drowned, by the soc. He was there when Johnny killed him, maybe he didn't see it but he was there in that silent night with Johnny clutching a bloody knife and a dead body at their feet. Then not a week later he was in the hospital room when Johnny died and he was at the lot when the cops shot Dally.
No wonder he went crazy.
The doc said he'd get over it if they gave him time. But would he? What if the doc was wrong? Did he fully understand what had happened? Maybe Ponyboy would stay like this forever, locked in a twilight world where Johnny hadn't died and he'd killed the soc and nothing ever made sense.
What if he couldn't pull Ponyboy back from this ledge?
Things were unraveling and Darry had no idea how to stop it.