Cadaverous Love

Chapter Fifty-Six

Dallas

A crisp wind blows down past the roofs of the houses and into the streets, making me flick up the collar of my jacket. The weight of a six pack of beer digs into my palm as I walk. The cold cups around my nose and I have to sniffle to keep it from running to my lips.

"Are you crying?" Two-Bit says snarkily, punching me in the shoulder.

"No," I shake my head, my words choking at the back of my throat, "it's cold outside, ass hole."

"Okay, okay, Dally. I was just poking fun," his voice drops off at the end, like I disappointed him when I didn't throw the assery back at him. He sighs and looks ahead at the sky that looms grey and heavy with rain. All of the leaves have fallen and turned brown, they skitter across the street in clusters. I wonder if Em will be awake when we get there. "Dal, are you saying something?"

"No."

"Yeah, you are. You keep mumbling."

I glare at him. Dumb ass. But as my attention focuses on my lips and my throat, I can feel them move and the sound buzz against my neck. I force myself to stop. I wish she was here. She would want to hold my hand, wear my hat, tell me how nice I look.

"When's Thanksgiving?" I ask Two.

"It's in three days."

"D'ya think Dary'll want to have dinner with all of us?"

"Don't you usually go to New York for Thanksgiving and see your friends there?" Two-Bit asks.

"What friends?" I chuckle, "just a bunch of dumbasses who drink too much. I need-" to stay with my girl. What if she's not out by then?

"Need what?" He pauses and turns to walk down the road towards the Curtis' house.

"Nothin'."

"Dal," Two starts, "what are you gonna do about the kid?"

"What do you mean what am I going to do? That shit show is not my issue."

"If it's Emily's issue," he squeezes my shoulder and slaps me hard on the back, "that makes it yours, tough guy."

I sigh. "Em said she knows somebody who'd want to adopt him."

Two-Bit laughs, "like who?"

I shrug as we walk up the porch steps of the Curtis' house. It smells like a fire full of leaves and wood. Smells like home.

"Why didn't we do anything for Halloween?" I ask Two absent mindedly, opening the screen door. She would have loved that.

"Dallas," he stops dead in his tracks, "Pony, Morgan, and Emily went trick'r treating. You drank beer and slept on the couch."

"Oh." I step inside. All of the windows are open and the cold air slips sleepily through, playing with the curtains on the way in. The back door is propped open too. I head back that way, finding a cigarette in my pocket.

The guys surround a bonfire in the center of the yard; Darry sits back in a chair, his dad-look completed with a knitted sweater and his dumb little glasses on the edge of his nose, he glances over the sport section of Tulsa Daily; Pony has his own nose buried in some thick book, Morgan leaned against him, a sketchbook and pencil in her hand; Johnny wipes his mouth on the back of his jean jacket, practicing shuffling a deck of cards; and Sodapop holds the kid at his hip, the kid practically drowning in Pony's hand me downs, Soda points out the birds sitting on the telephone wires.

Two takes the beer out of my hand as I take a seat on the blanket next to Pony, Morgan, and Johnny.

"How are you, Dallas?" Morgan looks up from her drawing.