Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
Cherry stood at the fountain, her eyes locked on the blood that hadn’t come out of the concrete. It was the same blood she used to feel under his skin, that rushed to his cheeks when she complimented him, that warmed her during cold football games. She clutched his jacket, pressing her lips to the rough fabric as though it would turn from a frog to a prince and kiss her gently.
All around her were her friends, the people she’d known since kindergarten. Without her realizing, they’d grown into people with ice in their hearts, spitting venom. Was she one of them too? Cherry knew she was, had always been.
She thought of the way she’d treated Ponyboy, how it had surprised her that he was smart. She was no different from any of them. But maybe she could be.
Marcia’s hand was a comforting weight on her shoulder. Bev stood at her other side like a soldier. Their eyes were fixed ahead on Paul. He was speaking, but she wasn’t listening. She knew that the words falling from his mouth were nothing more than a rallying cry that would lead to more violence. With every word, Paul lifted Bob into a martyr, slayed at the hand of the unpredictable greasers.
Robert Sheldon, saint of booze and blood and righteous anger.
It wasn’t true. Cherry knew it in her heart.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.
With confident strides, Cherry pushed through her friends. She ignored Marcia asking her what she was doing and Bev trying to hold her back. Paul’s eyes were wide as she approached, but she didn’t address him, instead she stepped onto the lip of the fountain.
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Caesar.
Paul looked up at her, now towering over him, “Sherri, what are you doing?”
She shook her head and looked at the people before her. She swallowed thickly, knowing that her next words could very well get her shunned by the people she’d grown up with. “I can’t listen to this anymore,” she said. “Bob...he was killed in a fight he started. He’s not a saint, he wasn’t always a good man.”
Paul’s eyes turned icy. Marcia started to move towards Cherry, but Cherry kept talking. “I loved him, but that didn’t mean he was perfect.” She took a deep breath of the cold air and stepped down to stand on level with Paul. “And I know you know that. It was a fight five on two, do you really think that’s fair?”
Some of the other socs started murmuring, but they all knew this was between Paul and Cherry, the two people who loved Bob best.
Paul shook his head, “He wouldn’t have had to fight if you hadn’t been stepping out on him.” He jabbed a finger at her chest. In all her life, she’d never known Paul to be cruel to her. He was now.
Cherry scoffed, “With Ponyboy? He’s a kid. We were just talking! Bob was just drunk and jealous and he used that as an excuse. Just like you all do.” She turned to the crowd. She only saw angry faces staring back at her. Not one of them was on her side. She continued anyway.
“Don’t you get it?” She asked desperately. “You find any excuse to beat on greasers.”
Paul all but growled at her, “They give it just as good as they get it, Sherri.” Her name was said with such malice, she had to stop herself from flinching. He wanted her to shut up, but she wouldn’t.
“And a kicked dog will bite back,” Cherry snapped at him.
“So, Bob deserved what he got?” Paul demanded. He crossed his arms. “Bob had honor! He was fighting for you, Cherry! Did he deserve to die for that?”
Cherry could feel the socs turning against her. Marcia slipped closer, still in the crowd, but close enough that Cherry could reach out and touch her. She wished Marcia would step forward and stand with her, but she didn’t.
Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
“No,” Cherry swallowed thickly. “I’m saying that this was going to happen eventually. We’re here to mourn Bob, not to start a riot and hunt down every greaser in Tulsa. I...” Her voice cracked, “I loved Bob. You know that, you all know that.” She looked back into the crowd, they seemed to be pressing closer and closer.
“You love him? But you don’t want revenge for what they did to him? The greasers killed him like he was nothing! Like he wasn’t our friend!”
Cherry found her voice raising as Paul’s did. “I didn’t want him to die, but I didn’t want him to fight either. I...I will always regret that our last conversation was a fight.” Cherry fought back tears, she didn’t want to cry in front of everyone, especially Paul. But he didn’t look moved at all by her words.
Paul sighed like she was an impetuous child, “Sherri, you’re making a scene. Come one, we can talk about this at home.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder with a look of such condescension that she had a hard time seeing her cousin underneath.
He still was the boy who walked her home from school, right?
She shook her head. “You don’t get it. I loved him, but the person he was with me wasn’t who tried to kill those boys that night. The Bob I loved wouldn’t have done those things. But he did. And he’s not a hero for it and he’s not a saint. You can’t change history by saying he was provoked.”
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
“Are you calling me a liar?” Paul asked. His voice was a low growl.
“No.” Cherry hugged the jacket closer to her chest. She wished anyone would stand beside her. Yet it seemed she was the only one who found issue in what they were doing here. This wasn’t a vigil, this was a call to arms. “You’re an honest man, Paul.” She took a step towards him, “That night, Bob wasn’t defending our relationship or anything like that. He was angry and drunk and he wanted to take it out on someone. And he did; it cost him his life.”
Finally, it seemed that Paul had enough of this. He grabbed her by the arm and all but dragged her away from the fountain and their friends. Cherry let him, she was running out of fight in her. She just wanted this all to be over.
Paul pulled her behind a tree, nostrils flaring with rage. For the first time in her life, Cherry was afraid of him, that he would hit her. His hands curled into fists. If she had room, she would step back. This close to him, she could smell the alcohol on his breath.
“What the fuck has gotten into you?” He demanded.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
“I’m tired,” she admitted. “Paul, I’m so tired of the fighting and the blame. You know I’m right, Bob started the fight, he wasn’t in his right mind. And you all let him get angry, you spurred him on with all of your hatred. Didn’t you love him?” She demanded right back.
Paul looked stricken, “Of course I did-”
“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one who actually is mourning him?” She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back a step. His chest was solid as rock under her hands. “You just want to fight and shed more fucking blood.”
His eyes widened as the curse fell from her lips. She didn’t swear, not in front of him. Tears fell from her eyes then.
She hadn’t cried in front of Paul since she was ten years old, when her dad had gotten drunk enough to yell and throw things. She’d snuck out the back door and run through backyards until she got to his house. He gave her a bowl of ice cream and let her sit with him while he did homework. He never mentioned the tears. Paul walked her back home in the morning, her small hand in his.
She saw none of that boy in the man standing in front of her.
“I loved him!” She shouted. “And no one believes me because I don’t think he was perfect. He-He’s dead and the last thing I did was break his heart. I don’t want more people to get hurt because of us. Please, Paul. Don’t rumble, it’s not worth it.”
For a second, she saw her Paul behind his stony façade. His eyes softened for just a flash. Then he turned into Medusa stone. “That’s not up for you to decide. From now on, keep your opinions to yourself and be glad you’re not a boy.” Because if you were a boy, I’d have no issue with hitting you until you understood your place.
With that, he stormed away. She heard him call a rallying cry and the other boys cheer.
Cherry sank to the grass, leaning her back against the tree. Burying her face into the jacket, she sobbed. If she closed her eyes and inhaled, she could smell his cologne and pretend Bob was with her. But she knew if he was, he’d be on Paul’s side. Just like everyone else.
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.
