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Darry’s coughing must have been loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood. It was certainly loud enough to wake up Soda.
“You okay?” Soda asked, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the lights in the kitchen.
Darry nodded while rubbing his chest, aching from his latest coughing fit.
“I’m fine. Go back to sleep, Soda. You’ve got school in the morning,” he said, back still hunched over the spread of bills, last month’s spending, and his own log of the hours that he worked.
Soda hesitated, knowing Darry would be on death’s door before they heard a peep about it. It was just one more thing that he had in common with their mom.
When Soda’s dad was sick, the entire house knew. The instant he got a stuffy nose, and the chill set in, he would be buried under the blankets in his bed. All afternoon, the boys would hear “Soda, bring me some water, would you?” or “Ponyboy, turn that radio down, I can’t stand it,” or “Darrel, help your mother with dinner, I can hardly walk.” Soda learned not to take him too seriously; in fact, the only times he worried about his father being sick was when he actually quit hollering at the boys and just holed up in his room alone.
His mother, on the other hand, wouldn’t stop for the Plague. She’d be up with her alarm, still making the rounds to get everyone ready for the day. She could be sneezing her daylights out, and before Soda could offer a “bless you,” be back to folding the laundry.
And Darry, for as much as he was looking like their father more and more, always took after his mom’s sensibilities.
Soda didn’t take much convincing though, knowing nothing could stop a focused Darry, and returned to his room. Darry sighed, ignoring the twinging in his chest, and continued to add up his expected payments each week. Already, though, he knew it wouldn’t be enough, despite cutting nearly every unnecessary item from their grocery shopping list, and getting another extension on the water bill.
Darry’s breath caught, and he quickly muffled the painful coughs in his arm, trying not to wake his brother again. After a few seconds, he finally took an uninterrupted breath, and slumped back in the chair. He looked at his grocery list again, ruefully crossed off any produce on the list, and started to gather all the papers.
Truth be told, his head was starting to spin, and the numbers weren’t going to balance anymore a fourth time around. Maybe George would have more temporary contract work next week. Darry would call him in the morning.
Darry turned off the light, and quickly got ready for bed, hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep before another long day.
It was a painful start the next morning. Darry felt like his head was stuffed with cotton, and couldn’t seem to take a breath without setting off a coughing storm.
Darry woke his brothers up, and the cough didn’t escape Soda’s notice, who barely had his eyes open before asking, “You sick, Darry?”
“No, just a cough,” Darry said curtly, before leaving the boys’ room. He went to start breakfast, hearing his brothers stumble around each other as they got dressed.
Even if Darry was sick, there was nothing to be done. He couldn’t afford to miss work this month; he probably wouldn’t be able to afford to miss work for the next six months. Funerals were expensive, headstones were expensive, and raising teenage boys was expensive.
It didn’t help that the whole crew had been buzzing about rumors of downsizing. Normally, Darry knew not to listen to the usual nonsense gossip, but like everything else in his life, he couldn’t afford to not take the threat of being fired seriously.
Pony and Soda were out the door soon enough, and Darry was headed to work. He tried to give himself a pep talk, despite the ache in his chest, and pounding in his head.
It won’t be like this forever, he told himself, not sure if he was lying or not. Soda had two more years of high school, and Pony had four. And before that, Darry would work hard to get raises, pay off the funeral, and make the numbers work.
The logical, cynical side of himself that insisted two years was a long time, and even if things changed, even if they got better , life would never go back to normal.
Darry shoved that thought out of his head as he walked over to the work truck to grab another bundle of roofing material.
The day passed in a haze for Darry. Normally prideful about his muscles, Darry felt weak, and had to fight for each step. That, combined with his cough, was significantly slowing him down.
He returned to the box truck again, ready to help unload it. He stepped up with his arms out, breathing through the dizziness, and barely registered a yell from the man standing further inside.
“Watch out!”
Darry stepped back too late, holding up his arms to try to stop the avalanche of bundles sliding from the top of the piles to the ground. Already feeling disoriented, Darry tripped, and fell out the back. He winced as his head hit the metal platform of the truck, and then felt the full impact of the bundles crashing into him.
He felt a stinging pain on his face, and his head screamed at him for both the hit, and the sudden movement. Darry was aware of how pathetic he must look, lying on the ground, but couldn’t find it in himself to move.
“Someone find John!” A voice called behind him.
Don’t get John, Darry thought desperately. John was his boss, and surely if they were looking for someone to fire, this just made Darry the prime target.
Darry started to cough, his chest constricting painfully against the weight on it. The men around him started to move the piles off of Darry, who tried to help, but couldn’t as he struggled for air.
The bundles were off of him, and someone helped him sit up, but the coughing persisted, only adding to his pounding headache.
“Easy, Curtis, easy,” someone said, thumping his back.
Darry let out one last cough, and took a ragged breath, trying to gain his bearings.
“Darry!” John’s voice boomed as he approached the truck. Darry turned his head, feeling like it weighed a million pounds.
John frowned at Darry, staring at the side of his head.
“I’m okay, sir,” Darry said, already moving to stand.
“Hold on, son,” John said, moving Darry’s chin to get a look at the other side of his face. “How about you come to the office for a minute, take a breather.”
Darry’s stomach dropped.
“Really, I’m fine, sir. I can work.”
“I’m not asking, Darry. Come on.” John stood from where he had crouched by Darry, and waited for Darry to stand.
Darry sighed, and struggled to his feet. John nodded, and walked towards his office.
Darry trailed miserably behind. He felt like crap, physically, but worse, he was sure he was about to lose his job. What then? He wasn’t paid nearly as much at his other jobs, and any other job he tried to get would want to know why he had been fired.
He loses his job, and then Pony and Soda are taken by the state, probably far away to some boy’s home in Grant County, where Soda’s stuck inside, and the boys jump Pony for his painting, and Darry is left behind, well and truly alone.
Darry already decided that he is not too proud to keep from begging. This job isn’t about his pride, it’s about keeping his brothers together, with him. It’s about putting food on their table, keeping the water on, making sure Sodapop and Ponyboy have every chance that he had to make it out of the East Side.
All of this was on Darry’s lips when John tossed a wet rag at him. Surprised, Darry just stared at him in confusion.
“You’re bleeding, Curtis,” John said, indicating to his own temple.
“Oh,” Darry said dumbly, bringing the rag up to his head.
“Take a seat,” John said, sitting behind his desk.
Darry sat, feeling his whole body ache as he settled into the chair.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Darry holding the rag against his cut, and occasionally coughing. He kept looking at John, waiting for him to say something. Darry had never been fired before, and his worry was growing, enough he felt like it was going to tear him in two.
“I’m a little worried about you driving home. Is there someone you can call?” John asked.
“I’m fine, sir,” Darry said. “I can keep working.” He stifled a cough, hoping his plea got through to his boss.
John shook his head. “You’re hurt. You’ve earned the rest of the day off.”
Darry opened his mouth to speak, but paused. Did this mean he wasn’t getting fired?
“Is there someone to come pick you up?” John tried again.
“What time is it?”
“4:30.”
4:30 meant school was out. Soda would be working at the DX, but there was a chance that Ponyboy was at home, and could answer the phone.
“I’ll call my brother. It might be a while though.”
John nodded over to the phone in the office, and Darry moved to dial home.
He waited long enough that he almost gave up hope that someone was there, when finally someone picked up.
“Hello?” Ponyboy’s voice came through the phone.
Darry could picture Ponyboy in his room, too caught up in his book and his own head to hear even something as piercing as their telephone. He’d always been like that, but it had only gotten worse after their parents’ death. He withdrew into himself, sometimes just sitting and thinking. Darry almost wished Pony would go out and do something wild and get out of his funk – almost.
“Ponyboy, is Soda or Steve around?”
“Darry? Uh, no, I think they’re both at the DX.”
“Can you ask Steve to drive Soda to my work? I need a ride home.”
“Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” Darry said, not elaborating any further. There was no need to scare the kid.
“Then what’s going on?” Pony asked.
“Nothing’s going on,” Darry said, a little annoyed Pony couldn’t leave it alone. “Just get Soda. And it’s okay if he can’t come until late, I can wait.”
“All right,” Ponyboy said, clearly a little upset Darry would tell him what was happening.
“And walk safe, see if Johnny’s around,” Darry added, remembering the Socs’ propensity for targeting loan greasers.
“Okay!” Pony said, now definitely annoyed.
“Okay,” Darry said, and hung up.
He sat back in his chair, head throbbing. He didn’t understand why everything was a fight with Ponyboy. Darry didn’t think he asked anything unreasonable, just that Pony use his head, so that maybe Darry could get Ponyboy through high school without worrying himself to a head full of gray hair.
“You boys managing okay?” John asked.
“We’re…managing just fine, thank you,” Darry said.
“Can’t be easy,” John said. “You’re doing a good thing.”
Darry looked at him, trying to judge his angle. John was a good man, but Darry still felt the imminent threat of losing his job.
“I’m trying, sir,” Darry settled on.
John left after that, but told Darry to stay in the office until his brother could pick him up. Darry tried once more to go back to work, but John told him under no circumstances would he be climbing up another ladder that day.
Darry acquiesced, and was honestly grateful to get to take a break in the office. He didn’t mean to, but Darry found himself laying his head down in his arms on the desk in front of him. He was sure John didn’t mean for him to take a nap, but now that he had a moment to slow down, his body was determined to rest.
His head had slowed down in its bleeding, but the rest of his body was throbbing in a way that told Darry he’d be waking up with many bruises. Besides that, his coughing hadn’t gotten any better, and he could feel a headache coming on from how clogged his sinuses were.
Surely John wouldn’t fire him over a few minutes with his eyes closed.
“Darry, Darry, get up.”
Soda watched Darry slowly blink his eyes open, looking around the room. He looked awful, with dried blood stained on his head, and the beginnings of bruises showing around his face and neck.
Ponyboy had come running into the DX, and made straight for Soda, who was working the cash register. He had clearly worked himself up, rambling about Darry needing a ride home from work for some reason. Apparently Darry wouldn’t say why, and he had sounded okay on the phone, but there must be something wrong for him to call in the middle of work, unable to drive himself home.
“Soda?” Darry asked, sniffing. “What time is it?”
“5:00, I came right away. What happened?”
Darry coughed, before fully standing and stretching. “It’s stupid. Some roofing fell onto me in the truck, and I tripped backwards. I’m fine, but the boss wouldn’t let me finish out the day.”
Soda nodded, relieved nothing worse had happened. As far as accidents went, this was something they could handle.
Darry groaned, and rubbed at his eyes. “I guess I won’t be getting paid for the rest of today.”
“Sounds like you could use the rest, anyhow,” Soda said, as Darry let loose another cough.
Darry laughed without any amusement. “No time for that,” he said, mostly to himself.
The brothers walked to Darry’s truck. Soda waved at Steve, who had driven him there and was waiting to make sure everything was okay, and got into the driver’s seat.
Soda was quiet on the drive home. Unfortunately, Darry was right. He hardly had any time off, and when he wasn’t working, he was running the house. Soda had been thinking about his solution for the past two months, and it was only becoming clearer that it was the right thing to do.
Soda kept an eye on Darry as they headed into the house. Soda figured he must really be feeling bad, based on the slow way he was moving, constantly sighing like this was mile ten of a hike.
“Sit down,” Soda said, indicating the couch, while he went to grab their first aid kit. The cut was mostly dried up, but it still couldn’t hurt to put a bandage on it.
Pony came bounding into the living room.
“Are you okay, Darry?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” Darry said dismissively, leaning his head onto the back of the couch.
Soda spotted Pony’s reluctance, wanting to ask more details and make sure Darry was okay, but knowing he was liable to get yelled at when Darry was in this kind of mood. Come to think of it, he was always in a mood nowadays, always tired.
“Just an accident with some supplies falling, Ponyboy. He’ll be all right,” Soda said, joining Darry on the couch.
“How about you go start your homework?” Soda said.
Pony looked reluctant, but walked back into his room.
Soda had been debating, and decided Darry was going to be mad no matter how he brought up his plan, so he might as well capitalize on the sour mood he was already in. Still, if Darry was going to be upset, he knew Pony was going to be crushed, and Soda couldn’t deal with his little brother right at this moment.
“Darry,” Soda started, cleaning off the rest of the blood on Darry’s face.
“Hmm?”
Soda felt his mouth go dry. He finished taping on a piece of gauze, before he continued.
“I need to drop out of school.”
Darry snapped his eyes open, and stared at Soda. “What?”
Soda swallowed. “I’m going to drop out of school, and work at the DX full time. Someone full-time just quit, and I already know I’ll get the job if I ask.”
“You will do no such thing,” Darry said, his voice raising.
“I’m going to,” Soda repeated, holding firm.
“High school is a free education,” Darry started, and Soda could practically see the steam starting to smoke out of his ears. “Mom and Dad wouldn’t want–”
“Mom and Dad aren’t here,” Soda snapped.
“Sodapop Patrick do not–”
“They’re not here,” Soda said, more gently. “Things are different now. I mean, look at you: you’re sick as a horse, hurt, and can’t afford to take three hours off of work. Let me help.”
“I don’t need my kid brother lecturing me on my financials,” Darry said heatedly.
“I’d rather be working at the DX full time, then going to school while living on my own in some boys’ home,” Soda continued.
Darry clenched his fist. “It’s not right,” he said quietly.
Soda put his hand on Darry’s shoulder. “If I had any chance in hell of graduating in two years, I wouldn’t quit, but the truth is, I am dumb. I’m failing out, and I don’t even ditch class like Two-Bit does. I’m smart with the cars, I’m good at my job, and I am horrible at school. Let me do this.”
Darry stared at the ground for a long time. His body was aching, his head was buzzing, and worst of all, he knew his kid brother was right. Soda would need to be dragged to the finish line of high school, and would end up working at the DX after anyways. And worse, he was right about Darry. Darry wasn’t managing, not at all. Sodapop dropping out would be another thing on his list of failures, but maybe it could be among the last.
“I don’t want you to think you have to drop out. I can make this work, even with both you and Pony in school,” Darry said.
Soda knew he was wearing Darry down. “I’ve never been more sure of a decision in my life. Let me drop out.”
Darry nodded, already looking like he was regretting his decision. Soda hugged him, not surprised when Darry practically collapsed into his arms.
“Let’s get you up to bed,” Soda said, helping Darry stand.
“You have to tell the kid,” Darry muttered.
Soda grimaced, already knowing how disappointed Pony would be. It might be worse telling him than it was Darry.
“And you have to take the day off tomorrow,” Soda said.
“Soda, I don’t need–”
“I’ll handle everything,” Soda said, practically shoving Darry into bed.
“You’ll need to call my work, and then the DX – make sure you have the job before you quit. Then call the school. Actually, go into the school. You’re sixteen, so you shouldn’t need my signature.”
“I know, Superman. Enjoy your nap.”