009.

                                    

                                          
"i was born lost and take no pleasure in being found."
- john steinbeck 
                          
it had been a week, exactly, since the game of mailbox baseball.
                          
venus, well, she visited soda and steve at work once or twice, called angela everyday and for a moment spoke with ponyboy as he was leaving the movie house. but Dally, on the other hand, had been put in a holding cell for some dumb fight at the rodeo for the past four days.
                          
in that time he was barricaded within the concrete walls, he couldn't help but let his mind drift to the girl he had met. venus... he thought that name was dumb. was her parents some hippies or something?
                          
he got angry that his mind swayed to the thought of the girl more often than he would like to admit. she looked like a soc, dressed like a soc, and even lived on the south side too, but her witty humor: now that was what interested him. the way she cursed out curly when he picked on her often, or the swift punch she delivered to tim when he swerved the car making her miss the mailbox, that was pretty tuff.
                          
but why did he think about this girl so much, this girl who pulled between virtue and corruption; too dirty for angels but too pure for demons.
                          
as far as Dally was concerned, he had always behaved as if he were and an immovable being, not really there, a machine without a soul. so, why did he allow her to manipulate him into having these distorted thoughts?
                          
he could drive himself crazy trying to solve it.
                          
"what have we got here?" a man asks the officer as they enter the interrogation room that Dally has been in for, what he figures to be, about two hours.
                          
the cop laughs shaking his head at the man with the leather brief case, "don't even bother with him, mr. murphy, he's nothing but bad news".
                          
mr. murphy, placing the case on the metal table, became irritated. "that wasn't what i was asking officer, i meant what did he do," the man clears up, scrapping the chair against the floor as he pulled it out. the screeching made Dally cringe, and he wasn't sure why there was even a lawyer there in the first place. all he did was get into a fight?
                          
"he's being charged with possession of an unregistered fire arm, along with the battery and assault charges he was originally picked up for," the officer begins, and Dally slams his fist on the table. he pulls against his cuffed wrist and tries to lunge at the cop.
                          
"that's what you got me in here for? that ain't even mine!" he yells and the police officer raises his eyebrows in a sarcastic nature.
                          
shaking his head, lurching for the door, the cop glanced to the lawyer one last time. "exactly what i mean. looks like you got your hands full with this one, good luck," the uniformed man laughed. "oh, and anytime you want to give up, mr. murphy, go ahead and do it. no one would blame you".
                          
the lawyer swings the case open, paying little attention to the uniformed law enforcer, and just mumbles, "i don't give up."
                          
shutting the door behind him, the cop leaves and mr. murphy glances at some papers he had in his brief case. the silence was unfathomable and awkward, and Dally coughed uncomfortably as he watched the older man shuffle through this things.
                          
"don't say anything just yet, son," the man said kindly, bringing out an ink pen. "gotta get my things sorted first".
                          
Dally stared at him with intent, he looked so familiar but he couldn't put a finger on where he had seen that face before. "you live in Tulsa your whole life?" mr. murphy asked.
                          
"no, man," Dallas shook his head. "came from new york when i was like ten".
                          
the man laughed, shaking his head amused. "well you got quite the record, being here for only eight years. some of this stuff dates back to before you were a teen," mr. murphy taps the papers he was viewing. "what's a young man like you doing stealing cars and getting into fights and robbing stores?"
                          
scoffing, Dally leaned back into the metal chair, cuffed arm still resting on the table. "don't worry about it".
                          
mr. murphy chuckled again, finally meeting eyes with the juvenile delinquent. like the wheels finally stopped turning, and something marvelous clicked, he realized where he had seen those eyes before. they were just like venus's, about identical. Dally almost cursed at himself for knowing that, for remembering in such detail what that random girls eyes looked like.
                          
of course, how could he be so dumb, murphy- that was her last name. Dally had only known that because every time tim referenced her, he called her "murph".
                          
"you got a daughter, right mr. murphy?" Dally questions accusingly. as the man nodded, he continued, "don't you wonder what she might be doing? what trouble she might be getting into? i don't need to sit here and listen to you lecture me".
                          
"i'm not trying to lecture you, son," he says back, still with that grin plastered to his face, almost as if it could never leave for even a moment. "i'm trying to help you. the same way i would help my daughter if she were in your position, for your information".
                          
Dally rolled his eyes, hand going to his pocket to grab a cig as if it were second nature. but alas, much to his dismay, he had no pack with him since he got arrested. "don't suppose you have a smoke, do you murphy?" 
                          
"as a matter of fact, i do," the man says, pulling a pack of newport's out of his briefcase, along with a small lighter. 
                          
newport's: that was what venus smoked. Dally for a moment wondered if that's where she got her habit, from her father. but once again he felt the anger arise in him as his thoughts were intruded with the girl.
                          
she wasn't even all that interesting, just another broad, so why the hell did he feel the need to relate everything to someone he knew so little about. it was as though her face was inscribed in his brain, like a sinister tattoo, and in his memory it doesn't end, he just sits there staring at her forever.
                          
he couldn't breathe quite right, and Dally had a hunch it had more to do with his constantly wondering mind than the cigarette he now inhaled from. he had to remind himself over and over that he had a girlfriend, sylvia, and this ghost of a thought shouldn't linger with him any longer. after all, wasn't she enough? she was pretty, sure, and she was tough, not in the way venus was tough but nonetheless could hold her own, and he was with her.
                          
he had to stop thinking about that murphy girl. it was as simple and complicated as that.