Teasing Fate |The Outsiders|

28. Good Grief

"HE USED ME."

***

No one ever tells you how heavy grief truly is. The only people who bother to check in on you after the fact are the ones with pearls lining their throats -- keeping their prayers trapped on their tongues -- and casserole dishes clutched in their hands. They don't ask how much sleep you've been getting. They don't ask if there's enough food in the fridge to keep everyone fed. They don't ask if their sons have stopped jumping your brothers, now that you're orphans and all. The only people who really know how heavy grief is, are the ones who refuse to speak of it at all.

No one tells you how heavy grief is, because they've spent what will be the rest of their lives locking it away. In a suitcase, a closet, a shoebox filled with pictures shoved under your bed. No one tells you how heavy grief is because they're still fighting against its weight. They're still struggling to keep their heads above the ever-growing rapids that threaten to pull you under into the abyss, and crush you to pieces, much like whatever is left of your heart.

Grief weighs the same as my textbooks. It weighs the same as my locker door clanging shut in the empty halls, it weighs the same as my backpack being wrestled into my shoulders. I don't miss my parents here. The pain is something new and fresh, its sting is sharp and bitter, instead of dull and old. My legs ache and burn when I push myself to my feet and look over at the endless line of chipped blue paint. Most of the lockers are dented, some are painted with phrases or symbols, like a stripe of gold, here and there. But for the most part, it's familiar.

I miss the beginning of the year. When I was petrified of high school and trying to figure things out on my own. Sure, I had Two-Bit, but I'd barely seen him in any classes, much less my own. But Darry had walked me in on that first day. While Momma and Dady were busy combing Sodapop's hair and helping Ponyboy find his shoes, Darry was with me. He'd stuck to my side so close that day, you'd have thought we'd been glued together. Whether it was prying my locker open when it got stuck, or standing with me on the outskirts of the schoolyard until I found Sylvia, he'd been there for me. Now, all I had was the uncomfortable weight of my bag swinging back and forth against my spine, and the soft patter of my shoes hitting the floor.

It was a little after ten when I sat down on the front steps of Will Rodgers, like I'd done a million times before when I was waiting for the gang. Darry was still inside, signing the last of the papers that would officially dub him a high school dropout. I guess we were both flipping through pages, though, only the one on my lap had nothing to do with me. Tim hadn't been showing up in class for the last few days, either, I guess. I busied myself with his chemistry exam, flipping through the pages and reading each question, all while feeling pride bloom throughout my chest. Some of his answers had been copied from my notes word for word, but I really couldn't care less. The only thing I cared about, was our science teacher's writing, and the red 78% scribbled in the corner.

He'd passed, his grade had shot up to a sixty-five -- not great, but passing -- and I was proud of him for it. I was so hopelessly proud of him, that I didn't even notice the door swing open until Darry dropped to the stairs beside me. "Well," he begins simply, "that's that."

We'd talked over the last few days, but with the same simplicity that we used to. Our words were strained and forced, all for the sake of pretending nothing was wrong at all. We used to stay up together when we were younger. We'd sit in the living room and go over our homework, all because I couldn't do long division and biology was Darry's worst subject. We'd talk about our days, our friends, anything. But at least we'd do it together. Now, it was a miracle I could stand to look at him at all. "So what's the next step?" I ask stiffly while closing the exam. Darry's eyes flicker over the cover -- the name scrawled on it, too -- but doesn't say anything about it at first. "I've gone; through the paper a lot, y'know, lookin' for a good job. I'm thinking I'll swing by the grocery store and see if they're still hiring."