Porcelain

Chapter 68

Dally watched as Estelle stood at the porch, a letter in her hand. He felt like he'd seen that letter before, but he didn't quite know where. But if he recognized it, that probably meant that it was important.

He silently admired her, the way she naturally stood with her head held high and proud, how although life had given her every reason to be beaten and defeated, she stood ready to fight every obstacle life threw at her.

He was torn out of his thoughts as he saw tears silently well up in her eyes and start spilling down her cheeks. Her face wore a look of pain, but also mixed with relief. As she glanced at the letter again, her mouth quirked up into a smile, as her eyes fell into a sorrowful expression. She briefly held the note close to her, then wiped her eyes, gave Ollie a pat, and walked into the house as if nothing had happened.

He watched her in confusion. But then it clicked, he remembered where he had seen that note before. It was a letter from Ponyboy. Included in it was the note Johnny had left for her, right before he had died. She had always said she just didn't think it was the right time to read it, but now she was apparently ready.

He was startled to suddenly hear a guitar being quickly tuned, he had thought she had moved on from that. He recognized the tune she was playing as the same one she had played all those months ago. But this time, she was singing in a different voice than the previous verses. This voice was high and clear, very sweet and emotional. As he listened to her work out the song, he realized he'd never heard the verse she was singing either.

[If you want to know the song I had in mind it was "I lied" by Lord Huron featuring Allison Pontheir.]

After a few more minutes, she walked into the living room, guitar in hand.

"I finally finished it," she said. "Want to hear it?"

He nodded, and she played a few chords, then started strumming the melody. The first few voices she sung in her lower voice, the voice he would consider Babydoll's. It was gruffer, closer to that of a male singer. She sung of lies she had told, and promises she had broken. But as she continued, it seemed like maybe the lies weren't so bad after all. They were like chains she had created for herself in a moment of weakness.

The last verse tied her back to that morning, of how she finally read the letter, and cried. But they weren't sad tears. She could finally be free from the lies and broken promises that had been burdening her, and because it turned out those promises were lies, she could finally move on and live her life.

By the time she finished playing the melody, she had more of those same tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm just happy that that part of my life, I can move on from."

"Don't apologize," he replied. "You had to hold on to that shit for too long."

"I'm glad I did though, in a way," she said, with a distant look in her eyes. "Because if I didn't, then we wouldn't be here now. Cause if I had, then I never would have even left Tulsa to hide. I would have just given up and let Pony and Johnny deal with it. And then, after, if I hadn't held onto everything that happened, everything that led us to that point, you would be dead," she said quietly.

She turned to face him. He took in the faint bullet mark across her cheekbone, and the healing cut on the other, both wounds she had gotten because of him.

She saw the look in his eyes as he looked at her face. "I don't regret it. I don't regret any of it. I would take those bullets for you any day. There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you."

It was because of her, really. He had wanted to die that night. He was used to getting what he wanted. And he had been so furious at her. But in the end, he realized now, he had gotten what he wanted. He had her.

_____
Dallas Winston didn't get nervous. Everyone knew that, he was bold and cocky and confident and certain in everything he did. And even though he was confident and certain in what he was doing, he was nervous too.

"Hey, Darry?" He shouted, walking into the Curtis house.

"Yeah? What's up?" The older Greaser replied, setting down the newspaper.

"I need advice, you got a minute?"

"Sure, what's going on?"

"Can we talk, like, in private?" He asked, awkwardly gesturing to Ponyboy reading a book on the couch, pretending he wasn't listening to every word of the conversation.

Darry led him to the porch and shut the door.

"What did you want advice on?"

He took a deep breath. "I want to ask her to marry me."

Darry's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, Dally. That's a big commitment. Are you sure? I'm not saying you're making a mistake or that you shouldn't, but you're only eighteen."

Dally chuckled darkly. "Since when did me being eighteen ever stop anything?"

"True," Darry chuckled. "So you're sure, you want to propose. What did you want me to tell you?"

"I dunno, I just wanted to know if you thought I was making a horrible mistake. I guess I just wanted your approval."

Darry put his hand on Dally's shoulder. "Dallas, you've lived much more in your eighteen years of life than I have in my twenty one. Even if you were making a mistake, that's your mistake to make. I can't really help you, I've never had someone I wanted to propose to. And I'm not you or Estelle's parent, I can't give you my blessing or anything. Dally, if you want to marry her, then you go ask her to marry you."

Dally smiled. "Thanks, Darry," he said, turning to leave.

"You're welcome," Darry replied, smiling just as big as Dally was.

"What did he want?" Ponyboy asked when Darry walked back into the house, trying to sound disinterested.

"Oh, nothing much, he just wanted advice," Darry said in a dismissive tone.

"About what?"

Darry paused a minute, as if to make sure no one else was listening.

"He's gonna propose!" He whispered excitedly.