The sun was beating down as Darry wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead. It was the hottest day on record in Tulsa—a whole 115 degrees—and Darry was standing on the roof of some soc’s house, helping bring up bundles of roofing.
There was two hours left in his shift and he wasn’t sure he was going to make it if the throbbing behind his right eye had anything to say about it.
The lunch Darry had barely been able to choke was threatening to come back up any second, and it took all of his willpower not to let it. Crawling down the ladder, he could feel his resolve beginning to crack as the sunlight pierced his eyes. An involuntary shudder ran through his body causing him to stumble. The throbbing behind his eye gained traction and was now accompanied by dancing lights in his vision and a pounding in his temples.
Darry winced and grabbed onto the side of the house to keep him upright. His vision swam, and he used the last of his strength to make his way as gracefully as he could to the front porch, where his water was. With sheer luck, he made it just as he collapsed.
In his pain-induced delirium, Darry didn’t notice his boss talking to another one of his coworkers in front of the porch. And he didn’t notice he was trying to get his attention either. “Darrel? You alright kid?”
Darry looked up to see his boss in front of him, crouching down so they were at eye level. He took a swig of water and willed his mouth to work. “I’m alright,” he responded, “just got too hot. I’ll be back to work in a second.”
His boss, George, narrowed his eyes at him. Darry’s vision was blurred, creating three images of George standing up and towering over him. The nausea he had controlled for the past hour was threatening to take over, and the world seemed to swirl around him.
George sighed and put his hand on Darry’s shoulder, meeting his eyes. “You ain’t looking so good Curtis, why don’t you head on home?” Darry almost wanted to cry. He wanted to go home so bad but he couldn’t miss out on even two hours of pay and he didn’t want to leave his coworkers to the rest of the work. George seemed to sense his unease because he followed up his statement with, “you’ll get the full day of pay, don’t ya worry.”
Darry swallowed hard and nodded his head, which only angered the raging pain there. He heaved himself up, and the floor seemed to tilt below him. He would’ve collapsed to the ground if George and his coworker hadn’t grabbed his arms and held him up. Darry thought he heard his coworker saying something but everything sounded underwater. “Easy kid,” his boss whispered to him.
“I’m okay, ‘ust dizzy for a second,” Darry responded, hoping his answer would satisfy them. He bent down and grabbed his stuff, then headed off to his truck.
The drive home took longer than it should’ve, with Darry having to pull over twice to get his vision right or to swallow down the nausea that had begun to creep up once again.
By the time he got home, Darry was ready to collapse into bed and not think about anything for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, he still had to cook dinner and finish the laundry and vacuum the living room an-
Somewhere between pulling into the driveway and the thoughts of everything he had to do beginning to spiral, a gag crept up his throat. Darry slapped a hand over his mouth and opened the door to his truck, intending to make it inside. His body had other plans though. As soon as the door opened, vomit was splattering onto the ground below him.
Taking a deep breath, Darry wiped his mouth and hopped out of his truck, which sent a jolt of pain up his spine and through his head. He stumbled into the house, dropping his keys on the table next to the door. Ponyboy was sitting at the kitchen table doing homework while Soda and Steve were in the living room arguing about who knows what.
Soda perks his head up before being tackled back down to the ground by Steve. “You’re home early,” Ponyboy said without even looking up from his work.
The sunlight streaming in through the blinds burned into Darry’s eyes and closed them tight in a feeble attempt to lessen the pain coursing through his skull. He opened them again, this time in a squint, to both his brothers and Steve staring at him like he’d grown three heads. “Gotta ‘igraine, gonna lie down.” Darry’s own voice was nails on a chalkboard to him, and he held back a flinch. The room felt tense because everyone knew that a migraine was one of the only things that could knock Superman on his ass.
Soda shot up and moved over to Darry, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Close your eyes, I’ll get ya to bed.” Darry almost cried with relief when he was graced with darkness. Soda and Darry moved slowly toward his bedroom, each step sending lighting shocks of pain through Darry’s head.
After what felt like an eternity, Soda helped Darry onto his bed, bending down to take his work boots off. His bed had never seemed so inviting before in his life like it did right now. He went to lie down before Soda stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, making him let out an involuntary whine. “I know you’re hurting but let me grab you some water and an aspirin before you get comfortable.” Darry opened his eyes, which were glossy with unshed tears.
Soda rubbed his shoulder with sympathy before leaving the room. A whole year could’ve passed before Soda returned with a glass of water, a bottle of aspirin, and a wet cloth. Darry smiled and reached a hand out to place it on Soda’s arm. Or he would have if he didn’t miss it, as if his fingers didn’t belong to him. A small, sad smile crossed Soda’s face before he set down the water on the bedside table and poured two aspirin in his hand.
“Take these then get yourself lying down.” Darry grabbed the aspirin and the water, swallowing them with a small gag. He laid down on the bed and Soda draped the cool cloth over his eyes, causing him to let out a heavy sigh. “That feel good?” Darry hummed out a noise of contentment and snuggled down into the covers. Soda ran his fingers through Darry’s hair, which had Darry teetering on the edge of sleep.
Then Soda started to hum, and it was almost like a switch flipped in Darry’s brain, and he was drifting off into a restless slumber.
______
The next morning, Darry was woken up by the blaring of his alarm. Despite his hope that the migraine would be gone with sleep, the ice pick stabbing into his eye socket persisted. Darry slammed his hand on his alarm clock and slowly sat up. The change in his center of gravity had him reeling, vomit attempting to claw its way up his throat.
There was no way he was gonna be able to work today. This meant he had to call his boss. Which meant he had to stand up and walk without collapsing straight down to the floor.
Using as much energy as he could muster, Darry pushed himself up, leaning on his bedside table for support. He could hear his brothers in the living room, presumably getting ready for their respective days. Despite the ground swaying beneath him, Darry put one foot in front of the other until he reached his door. Sheer determination kept him upright as he opened the door and stepped out into the brightness of the living room, causing him to shield his eyes away from the piercing morning sun.
Soda and Ponyboy must have seen him because within seconds Soda was at his side, coaxing him to sit down on the couch and the blinds were closed. “I take it you’re not feeling better,” Soda asks. Darry shook his head, only to wince as his brain rattled in his skull.
Hands appeared on his shoulders and began massaging the tension out of them, and Darry let out a heavy sigh. “No, and I gotta call my boss and tell ‘im I ain’t coming in.” He hadn’t noticed that Pony had gone to the kitchen until a glass of water was pressed into his hand. Darry took small sips, not wanting to tempt his stomach to rebel.
“I’ll call him for you,” Ponyboy said from his new spot behind the couch. Darry wanted to argue and say he could do it, that he didn’t need help. But the warm hands that were now rubbing his neck were turning him into putty.
“Thanks little colt.” Pony smiled and made his way to the phone. Soda and Darry could hear him from their spots on the couch. He sounded older than he ever had, almost as if he was trying to imitate Darry. Darry could feel a small smile creeping up on his face at how grown-up his little brother was getting.
The characteristic sound of the phone hanging up rang through the house, and Ponyboy appeared back behind the couch. “George said his wife gets migraines so he understands and to not come back until you feel better.” He rounded the couch and plopped down next to Darry, a giddy grin on his face.
Soda stopped rubbing Darry’s neck and shoulders, and a wave of disappointment wash over him until his body was being pulled down into Soda’s lap. The hands that were once on his shoulders now snaked their way into his hair, nimble fingers rubbing his temples. “Aw hell Pepsi, you’re gonna put me to sleep doing all that.” Soda laughed quietly and continued his ministrations. Darry felt his legs being lifted and set down into a pajama-pant-clad lap.
“You look miserable big brother, just go back to sleep.” And well, Darry couldn’t argue with that. Between Soda playing with his hair and Pony absentmindedly rubbing his calves, he didn’t stand a chance at trying to stay awake. The last thing he heard was Pony’s soft voice reading something out of a book he must’ve had on the coffee table.
_____
The migraine didn’t let up for three days, leaving Darry writhing in agony. Soda almost wanted to take him to the hospital, but they both knew it wouldn’t do him any good.
Finally, on the fourth day, Darry woke up without a white-hot searing pain in his skull. His muscles still screamed in protest as he got up, but it was bearable enough that he could get ready for work. He pulled on his boots and left his room. For the first time in his life, he was excited to go to his dead-end job.
