"Storm Winds" - Brokeback ficlet
Short Brokeback fic, movie canon, rated G. Timeline after Ennis and Alma move to town, but before the end of those 4 fuckin' years.
Storm Winds
There were eddies of dust and gravel, then some hail driving across the parking lot. Wind in furious gusts, drawing breath in moments of treacherous quiet before renewing its vigorous attempts to vanquish and flatten anything in its way. Anything that refused to take to the air in an exhilarating rush, to let go, leave everything behind and fly carelessly free for a moment…. only to be battered, smashed and torn apart, bits and pieces scattered like so much useless flotsam.
Some loose boards outside the window were rattling and banging loudly, no rule to the sound, the crazy-quilt rhythm disconcerting and unnerving in its random power. The noise and call of the wind, its hollow moaning and distant wailing shrieks alike, could just as well belong to an uneasy spirit, a ghost from the past, tossing in the storm’s crazy embrace outside, bucking up into air, crashing back down, grappling with reality. Perhaps the pale shape whirling past in the gloom was nothing more than an empty paper bag on its way to nowhere, but it was gone too soon to tell.
Gone. Too soon.
Junior was scared, but she thought it was a little exciting too. Before it got too dark to see much, she stood for a long while, nose pressed against the living room window, her small arms hugging herself. Watching the dust and debris whirl and kick-dance outside, shreds and pieces, back and forth, flying through the air, then lost from sight.
Lost from sight.
Alma walked back and forth through the room, back and forth, the bundled-up baby Jenny in her arms, whispering snatches of lullabies and rocking the little one softly. She feared another asthma attack might be setting in. Jenny was uneasy, the frantic energy in the air making her twist and whimper and sometimes gasp for air.
Gasp for air.
She knew well enough by now that her husband had an almost unreasonable dislike for this kind of weather. Sudden storms made his jaw clench and his eyes squint out the window with a fury to equal the wind’s own, had he not managed to keep such a deadly-tight rein upon it. He prowled through the flat restlessly, short-tempered, taciturn, a slightly accusatory, almost bitter hint of a frown visible when the lamp light hit his face just so.
His heavy mood weighed on her just like the force of the wind pushed against the house, nudged at her uncomprehending heart and mind the way wind pressure rocked the truck outside in its tracks.
In truth, Alma was bone tired, the oppressing feeling in their little flat filling her with unexplained sadness and worry. The storm outside was stealing through cracks into the flat, snatching air and heat, leaving pockets of cold emptiness behind instead. This troubled night sure enough discouraged the peace of calm minds and the steady beat of quiet, content hearts. Alma shuddered, shook her head free of such fancy, continued rocking her daughter.
As darkness fell the girls and their mother went to bed early. Junior didn’t put up any fuss. Jenny had finally calmed down enough to fall asleep, breathing evenly. The invisible force outside was still howling its hopeless lament.
Wyoming born and bred, Alma was used to strong winds. But so was he. No, she really didn’t understand him on nights like these. In fact, she secretly almost liked sudden storms. At any rate, she’d had a soft spot for them ever since a storm in the summer of -63 brought Ennis home one month early. She had been planning the wedding, their life together, talking with sis long into the night sometimes. So excited, longing for him to come back and prove it was all for true and real and ever. And an unexpected mountain storm had granted her wish. No, she couldn’t say storms were all bad, - not after that.
Alma let Ennis be, didn’t speak except to softly wish him good night, her voice hardly a match for the wailing racket symphony outside.
She left him to his tense vigil, a lonely guard pacing slowly along the fragile border between quiet respectable order and dangerous uncharted turmoil.