Ok, I've been working on this for a bit and I am very swamped with school work at the moment, so I am posting this as a distraction/break/pick me up. I also can't find my favorite shirt of 6 years, so yes, I need the pick me up!
Disclaimer: I own the idea, I suppose. Thanks go out to the folks over at WSOTT for their input on a similar plot line. The rest is the usual.
On with the shoe
Rainy Days
"Ponyboy, I'm not having this argument."
"But Darry –"
I turned and glared at Ponyboy. He closed his mouth and glared right back at me. It had been a while since we'd fought like this, but it had also been a while since Ponyboy had stepped on my buttons like this. I would have sworn it was on purpose, too, but he just wasn't the type to purposely get himself or others into trouble. So I was at a loss for his stupid decision last night. And I was grounding him for it.
"No. You knew the rules. You know better than to be within three miles of Buck's place."
"I'm sixteen!" he defended.
"Yeah, you're sixteen," I agreed, waiting for the real defense.
He tried a different approach. "All my friends were hanging out there," he started, "and I wasn't going to drink. I just wanted to do what they were doing!"
"And you think that makes it ok?" I asked. "Pony, it's a rough place. I don't want you there for a reason. And your friends should know better than to be hanging out there."
"God, Darry, do you ever have any fun?" he asked. "Everyone hangs out at Buck's on Friday night!"
"And if everyone was jumping off a cliff, would you be joining them?"
"Soda and Steve were hanging out there when they were younger than I am," he pointed out, getting to the point I thought was most obvious.
"Soda was always with Steve and Steve always carried a blade if things got rough. They watched out for each other. Who was watching out for you?" I asked and he glared at me.
"It's not fair!"
"Life isn't fair," I replied. "You're grounded until next weekend."
He sent me one final glare and made his way down the hall. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Looks like I'd won round one, but the fight was still a toss up. It was times like these that I really missed Sodapop. He'd been over in Vietnam for eight months and every day I prayed he'd get home soon and whole. I couldn't imagine that Sodapop liked being over there much, either. He was away from everything he knew, the conditions were terrible, and he wasn't anywhere near Steve who had also been drafted last November. They both wrote every couple of weeks or so, depending on where the fighting took them and the mail coming out of the various posts. Sodapop always tried to keep his letters light, mentioning how things were different and what he was going to do when he got home. Steve was a little more honest, describing how horrible the place was in detail and how he was going to shower for a month when he made it home. Still, Steve kept his letters censored, too. I knew he had killed people, that Sodapop had killed people. Something like that would never rest well with either of them.
Since Sodapop had gone, it seemed like Ponyboy and I had been fighting a lot more over little things. Two-Bit made a good buffer when he was around, but we still managed to get on each other's nerves. It hadn't come to blows and it never would again, but I really wanted to knock some sense into that kid. He was an honors student. In another year he'd be applying to college. He'd worked too hard to have something like the fuzz crashing a party at Buck's on his record. He had no idea how close he was and how little it would take to mess up all the hard work he'd put in with something stupid like that.
I sighed, wishing again Sodapop was here just so I could talk to him and tell him how frustrated I seemed to be these days. I knew it would be better once school was back in session and Ponyboy had homework and track to keep him too busy too goof up, but it seemed a long way off. Things would be harder between Ponyboy and I once school hit, though. I was already working two jobs and it was hard to spend time with Ponyboy once he had track and homework to do. I was thinking that if I stopped sleeping completely I could fit in a third job and spend time with Ponyboy, but even I knew that was working far too hard. Still, I could have used the third paycheck. We'd been feeling the strain since Sodapop's check quit coming. You'd think we'd be ok without him to feed, but it wasn't working out that way. Ponyboy had a job stocking shelves in a drug store not far from home, but I was putting away any of it that he gave me. He was going to college.
I looked around the room, wondering what I was going to do with my only day off now that Ponyboy wasn't happy with me. We normally spent time together and talked or played cards or something. Two-Bit often made his way over and we'd all find something to do together. But today, Two-Bit had steered clear. Last weekend, I had gotten the gutters fixed and managed to clean out the cupboards and under the stove. The only other place I could think of that needed my attention was the basement.
Our mother had been something of a packrat. Anything that could one day be useful got packed in a box and put in the basement for a rainy day. Dad used to joke that if we ever got rid of the boxes the house would collapse with nothing holding it up. Over the last year I had gotten up my courage a few times to go down there and sort through a few of the boxes. I'd even gotten rid of a few things, but I never did get far with it. Even though Mom and Dad were gone, they were still here in my heart and throwing out things my mother had kept just seemed like a betrayal, even if it was necessary. Don't get me wrong, we'd lived for years with Mom's boxes in the basement, but after they died, Sodapop, Ponyboy, and I had boxed up their stuff and put it in the basement along with Mom's boxes. It had been impossible to move down there for over two years.
A minute later, I was weaving between the boxes I had already marked and worked my way back towards the shelves I had yet to deal with. Mom kept preserves on the shelves. Back when I was ten, Dad had gotten laid off and those shelves had kept us fed. Mom always swore everything we'd ever need was on those shelves. I did agree with her, but a few of the things just didn't fit into that statement. There was an empty birdcage on one shelf, an old coffee pot Soda had knocked off the counter and dented too severely for further use, some wicker baskets, a pot with the handles burnt off, and many more odds and ends that could have come in handy at some point. I could see the value in all of it, but I just couldn't hold onto it when we needed the space.
It was only after setting the cage in the back of the truck, crushing down the baskets, and throwing the pots in the trash bin that I found the cans. Mom was a gardener and always kept tins of seeds sitting around, drying and germinating so they could be planted in the spring. She always grew vegetables and planted flowers all over the yard. I barely recognized our yard that spring. It still looked dead and barren. I just did not have the time, money, or energy to try and make it look like it once did. Right now, it looked pretty much like every other lawn in the neighborhood and I was ok with that.
So, as much as I didn't want to, I reached for the first can of seeds. I could dump it out and use them for holding bolts or something in the shed. Maybe I could even build a bench down here for those kinds of things instead of growling through the mess in the shed for them. I paused then, letting out a long breath as I remembered how the door didn't even shut because it was such a mess. I would have to sort out the shed when I was done here now. I could make it a punishment for Ponyboy, but I wanted it organized, not just cleaned up and straightened out, and I'd have to do that for myself anyway.
My mind was so far away from that can of seeds that it took me a few minutes to realize that there was something wrong to the feel of it in my hand. Generally the seed tins felt weighty and it shifted like old sand. This one didn't. It had some weight to it, but the contents didn't shift.
I frowned, pulling the lid open and froze as I got a good look at what was in there. Bills. Some were dollar bills, others were tens, and there looked to be a twenty in there. On the bottom was a sack of change labeled 'Rainy Days'. I had never seen so much in one place before. It was overwhelming. I closed the lid and leaned back against the shelves for a moment, confident in my father's craftsmanship.
Mom had a can of money hidden down here. I didn't know what to think. It was just so out there, but it was like my mother in so many ways. She always was the type to have something to fall back on. When things got rough, the bills always got paid and we always managed to have enough to keep us fed. I never questioned it. I was too young and my parents could do anything in my eyes. Now I knew where it came from and it puzzled me. The money Dad made rarely stretched past bills, necessities, and groceries. This must have been every dime Mom ever made. She was always doing odd jobs while we were growing up. I guess I never assumed any of the money ever got put away.
It was the emergency fund she probably never told anyone but Dad about, if she even told Dad. Dad wasn't so great with money, but Mom could make a budget stretch to unbelievable limits. It was something I wished I had inherited more of from her. I was having enough trouble paying to keep Ponyboy fed. Then there were bills to pay and taxes to make. And without Soda's money coming in, this was going to help a lot.
I looked at the other tins and wondered if Mom had secretly accumulated a small fortune down here. I reached for another one and found it to actually be full of seeds, while the next was full of recipes I never could find after Mom passed. The last one was really light and I frowned before opening it. I nearly laughed. Inside were comic books and baseball cards. This one was Sodapop's. He always said a comic was the only kind of book he could ever sit through. I chuckled a little and put it back on the shelf. Even a world away, Soda still managed to make me smile. I'd have to remind him it was down here when he got home. The tin had to have been sitting there at least ten years. It made me wonder if Soda knew about the other tins and never said anything.
I picked up the rainy day tin again and pulled the lid off. The money was still there, still shocking me. I carefully lowered my hand into it and helped myself to a handful of the bills they were beaten up and rolled carefully in a rubber band. There was close to a hundred dollars in my hand. I let out a sigh of relief I didn't know I'd been holding and pocked the roll. I looked back at the rest and reluctantly put the lid back on and deposited the tin back beside the one Soda had used to hide his comics.
Mom had it right. This was a survival fund. You used what you needed, when you needed it, and when you had more than you knew what to do with or even a little extra spare change, you added it to the tin in case you had more bad days ahead. So I wasn't going to take more than I needed. This would make up the comfortable difference for at least a few months. Ponyboy might even get a better pair of shoes and some new clothing. I could even do with some new footgear and a couple shirts without holes in them. The money would tide us over until things got back to normal. Once Soda got back, I could even start adding to the jar myself in case one day I wasn't here to take care of Sodapop and Ponyboy. I hoped it never came to that. I knew it would kill them to lose me, just like it killed all of us to lose Mom and Dad. I really hadn't thought much about them lately and made a note to change that. Just because they were gone didn't mean you forgot they were ever there.
I gathered up the two tins of seeds I wanted to throw out and walked towards the stairs, thinking I'd done enough down here today. The money burning a hole in my pocket couldn't have come at a better time and I couldn't help but be grateful that Mom was still taking care of things even though she wasn't here anymore. Maybe things were finally starting to look up again.
- End
And of course we all know what happens after that, but both Zickachik and I disapprove of the Soda dying in Nam plotline, so he makes it home and everything is candycanes and lollipops! And I think I lost three or four IQ points there...
Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.
See ya in the funny papers!!!
Tens and Zickachik