Twisted Hearts
Title: Twisted Hearts
Rating: R
Genre: au!au
Disclaimer: Ennis and Jack belong to Annie Proulx. No disrespect intended.
Summary: Under cut
*This is a story told from Ennis's POV. He's an eighteen year old drug addict that winds up in a sober living facility. Jack is the residential counselor/adviser. As Jack helps Ennis with his sobriety, Ennis replaces his old addiction for a new one-Jack. Jack, a recovering addict himself, finds himself spiraling back into addiction, except this time his drug of choice is Ennis. Their love for one another becomes possessive, twisted, but pure and forgiving. Can they find a normal balance? What is "normal" anyway...
Links to previous chapters can be found here: lavender-snow.livejournal.com/
*Sorry for the short chapter, friends. Next round things get a little rough. Thank you all so much for reading :)
Chapter 12
The air hung heavy. The car engine hummed and the heater strained against the frigid night. Jack's jaw was clenched tightly, his eyes fixated straight ahead. He took a sharp turn on to Interstate 89 and adjusted the rear view mirror. I watched as the odometer went from 70 to 80mph in less than five seconds.
"Slow down, Jack."
Jack eased his foot off the pedal and muttered something incoherently under his breath. He grasped my hand, squeezing our fists together with a ferocious strength that hurt, but I didn't dare pull away. The lights on the freeway reflected the tears that started to trickle down his face. "Jack...," I whimpered. I had never seen him like this before. "Jack..tell me what the hell is going on." He didn't reply and began bobbing back and forth, continuing to mumble things I couldn't understand. "Jack! Goddammit! Talk to me!"
The car swerved to the left. My shoulder hit the window. "She's dying, Ennis...she's dying," he said between desperate breaths.
"Who, Jack? Who is dying?"
Jack cut across three lanes of traffic and slowed down just enough to slam on the breaks without sending us both through the windshield. My chest hit the dash board, knocking the wind out of me. Jack's chin slammed onto the steering wheel. "Fuck!" he hollered, smashing his fist onto the console, drawing blood. I gasped and coughed, trying to catch my breath.
"Oh God, baby. Are you okay? Are you okay?" Jack asked, rubbing my back in long strokes. "I'm sorry."
I coughed again and cleared my throat. "I'm alright...just tell me what's going on."
He closed his eyes and turned away from me. Seconds turned into minutes, and I listened to the engine and the sound of my own breathing. "Jack?"
He kept his head turned towards the window, and opened his eyes, watching the frost gathering at the edges of the glass. "My mom, Ennis...she's dying..."
"Oh, Jack...how? What's wrong with her?"
"Cancer. She's been sick for a while, I guess. I haven't seen or heard from her in over nine years."
"My God, Jack..."
"I never...I never got to make peace with her, Ennis...I never...she never..." Jack clutched his stomach and bent forward, looking as if he was going to throw up.
I stared out into the dark night and looked to the stars, searching for the right words say, but found nothing but echoing silence inside of my head. I looked at my Jack and hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him into my chest, just as he had done for me so many times before. "I'm so sorry, Jack...I'm so sorry." I knew my words were probably of no comfort, but it was all I could come up with. He clung to me for dear life, fingers pressing down to bone. His sobs grew louder, longer, and more desperate.
I started to panic. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know how. Jack was the strong one, Jack was the one who had all the answers, Jack was the one to make everything alright...not me... I felt completely helpless.
I closed my eyes and reflected to a moment in time when Jack was able to temporarily remove me from this God awful planet. And just like that, I started humming, humming the same song Jack once sang to me. I didn't know what the name of the song was, nor did I know the words, or if it even had any words, it didn't matter. I just rocked him back and forth, back and forth. I kissed his eyelids and wiped his face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. His body and breathing began to settle in my arms.
"It's okay, Jack...I'm here...I'm here...I'll always be here," I whispered. We held each other in silence for several minutes, trying to bridge the distances caused by the particularity of grief.
"Where are we going?" I asked, when I felt it was okay to speak again.
Jack sniffled and blinked several times. "We're going to Mass General Hospital in Boston. She's there."
"How did you find out?"
"My aunt Susan called me about an hour ago."
I glanced at the clock, it was eleven thirty.
"She said my mom might not make it through the night." Jack lowered his head.
At first, I had a hard time understanding why Jack would be so upset about losing someone who literally turned their back on him the way she did. But the reality of it was, she was his mother. And no matter how terrible your relationship is with a parent, I guess it always hurts to lose them on some level. Jack's situation was much different from mine, though. He actually had a loving mother at one point, I never did.
Jack pulled back from me and returned to an upright position.
"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" I had to ask.
"Yeah, I'm okay."
"How far is the hospital from here?"
Jack ran his hand around the steering wheel and straightened his shoulders. "About four hours. Why don't you try and get some sleep," he said, patting his lap. I nodded and curled up on to my side and nuzzled my face into the warmth of his crotch. Jack heaved a sigh and threaded his fingers through my hair. "I'll wake you up when we get there."
*******
"Ennis," Jack whispered, gently nudging me from my dreams.
I opened my eyes and looked around the parking garage and then at Jack. I sat up, collected my thoughts and got out of the car. We both took a long stretch before walking toward the entrance.
The only time I had been in a hospital was when I was eight years old. I fell off my bike and broke my big toe. I remember how furious my mother was with me. She said I was too stupid and klutzy to be riding a bike and that she was going to take it away from me. I never saw my bike again.
I stood close behind Jack as we began to aimlessly wander the vacant halls. He came to an abrupt stop in front of a big, blue sign next to the elevator that listed the departments and doctors of each floor.
"Oncology," he said in a low voice. "Come on, Ennis." He pressed the white button with an "up" arrow on it and we stepped inside the elevator. Jack's hands were shaking and he kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I brushed my hip to Jack's and tried to get him to read my mind...Jack, I love you...You don't deserve this...I'm here for you...
When the elevator doors opened, there were two nurses standing in the hallway flipping through their files.
"Excuse me," Jack said quietly to the nurse in all white scrubs. "Can you tell me which room Sandy Twist is in?"
The nurse stuck her pen behind her ear and gave Jack a good once over. "Visiting hours aren't until eight in the morning, sir."
"Please," Jack pleaded. "I'm her son. I was told she may not make it through the night...I have to see her." Tears began to free-fall from his eyes again as he stood there at her mercy. I placed a sympathetic hand on his lower back.
She leaned forward and whispered, "Room 19. It's around the corner, about six doors down, on the left."
"Thank you," Jack gasped.
Walking down the hall, I couldn't help but peek in the rooms along the way. Everything was of sickness, the smell overpowering. I looked at Jack and felt tears prick my eyes. I never wanted to see him in a place like this-ever.
Jack suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He turned and slammed his back against the wall just outside the door of room 19.
"Are you okay?" I whispered. I looked inside the dismal room and there was a man who looked like an older version of Jack, sitting by his mother's bedside, holding her hand. "Is that your dad?"
Jack's chest was heaving up and down. He managed a subtle nod. "I can't do this. We should leave," he choked out.
"No, Jack. We drove all this way. You have to..."
Jack's knees began to buckle beneath him. I steadied him the best I could. "You can do it, Jack."
Jack looked into my eyes for reassurance. "Okay... you wait for me over there," he suggested, nodding toward the waiting room at the end of the hall.
"Are you sure? Are you sure you don't-"
"Yes, Ennis. I don't want you to see this if it gets ugly."
I lowered my head. "Alright, Jack, but if you needed me," I looked back up into his eyes," you'll call for me, right?"
A weak smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Yes, Ennis. I will call for you."
*********
Jack didn't say a word as we walked back to the car. I knew if, and when, he wanted to talk, he would, so I remained silent and patient.
"Put on your seat belt," he said in a flat voice, turning the key in the ignition. Jack put the car in drive and we were back on the road in no time.
A half hour into our trip back home, and Jack still had not uttered a single word about the visit with his mother. His eyelids were heavy and almost completely swollen shut. I coughed a couple times to remind him that I was still there, but he remained despondent.
"Jack? Maybe we should stop somewhere. I don't think you should be driving right now." I would have offered to drive, but I could barely keep my eyes open myself.
Without any hesitation, Jack shook his head in agreement.
He got off the highway at the next exit and pulled into a gas station. "I'll be right back," he said.
When he returned, I was already beginning to nod off.
"Ennis? Are you awake?"
My eyelids slowly opened. "Yeah, what's going on?"
Jack buckled his seat belt. "The guy inside said there's a motel not too far from here."
I was so exhausted I could barely see straight. "Good. Let's go."
*****
By the time we got to the motel, it was already nearing seven in the morning. The man at the front desk told us that check-ins weren't until noon. Jack's face turned red, eyes wild. The last thread he was hanging by had just broken.
I took his hand in mine. "Sir, please, please let us check in." I paused and looked at Jack for approval, what for, I'm not exactly sure. Much to my surprise, Jack squeezed my hand and looked at his feet, letting, needing, me to make everything alright.
"No check-in's until noon," he repeated, turning his back to us.
"Look," I snapped, slamming my fist onto the counter. Startled, the man dropped his pen to the floor and spun around.
"We...we just drove four hours here to visit his dying mother," I said, softening my tone. "Can you please help us? Please? We really need a place to stay-now."
The man glanced at Jack and then back at me. "Alright," he said through an understanding nod. "Cash or credit?"
*******
The room had a cheap 1970s painting on the wall of a little girl holding a bouquet of flowers which matched the retro, plaid comforters atop two twin beds. The carpet was maroon and stained and smelled kind of mildewey. It wasn't the Ritz, but all we needed was a place to hang our heads.
I sat on one of the beds and watched as Jack wearily removed his jacket, tossing the car keys onto the nightstand. He double checked the door to be sure it was locked and then closed the blinds.
"Get into bed, Ennis," he said, and began to undress. I stripped down to my underpants and crawled under the covers. Jack did the same and slid in beside me.
We lay on our backs, heads on the same pillow, staring up the once-white-now-yellow ceiling. I reached for Jack's hand underneath the sheets and interlaced our fingers together. Jack rolled away from me, burying his face in the pillow, but I followed, half-burying him under myself. I wrapped my arm around his waist and pressed my heart against his naked back. We were silent for a long time, just listening to each other’s breathing.
Jack choked a sob into his pillow, trying to hide his emotions as if he were afraid I would think less of him. I laid a tender kiss on his ear. "Jack...let it out...it's okay." His mouth opened and closed a couple times, but nothing coherent came out. He was too tired, too weak, too undone to talk. I held him in my arms and rocked and kissed and hushed until he was all cried out.
Rating: R
Genre: au!au
Disclaimer: Ennis and Jack belong to Annie Proulx. No disrespect intended.
Summary: Under cut
*This is a story told from Ennis's POV. He's an eighteen year old drug addict that winds up in a sober living facility. Jack is the residential counselor/adviser. As Jack helps Ennis with his sobriety, Ennis replaces his old addiction for a new one-Jack. Jack, a recovering addict himself, finds himself spiraling back into addiction, except this time his drug of choice is Ennis. Their love for one another becomes possessive, twisted, but pure and forgiving. Can they find a normal balance? What is "normal" anyway...
Links to previous chapters can be found here: lavender-snow.livejournal.com/
*Sorry for the short chapter, friends. Next round things get a little rough. Thank you all so much for reading :)
Chapter 12
The air hung heavy. The car engine hummed and the heater strained against the frigid night. Jack's jaw was clenched tightly, his eyes fixated straight ahead. He took a sharp turn on to Interstate 89 and adjusted the rear view mirror. I watched as the odometer went from 70 to 80mph in less than five seconds.
"Slow down, Jack."
Jack eased his foot off the pedal and muttered something incoherently under his breath. He grasped my hand, squeezing our fists together with a ferocious strength that hurt, but I didn't dare pull away. The lights on the freeway reflected the tears that started to trickle down his face. "Jack...," I whimpered. I had never seen him like this before. "Jack..tell me what the hell is going on." He didn't reply and began bobbing back and forth, continuing to mumble things I couldn't understand. "Jack! Goddammit! Talk to me!"
The car swerved to the left. My shoulder hit the window. "She's dying, Ennis...she's dying," he said between desperate breaths.
"Who, Jack? Who is dying?"
Jack cut across three lanes of traffic and slowed down just enough to slam on the breaks without sending us both through the windshield. My chest hit the dash board, knocking the wind out of me. Jack's chin slammed onto the steering wheel. "Fuck!" he hollered, smashing his fist onto the console, drawing blood. I gasped and coughed, trying to catch my breath.
"Oh God, baby. Are you okay? Are you okay?" Jack asked, rubbing my back in long strokes. "I'm sorry."
I coughed again and cleared my throat. "I'm alright...just tell me what's going on."
He closed his eyes and turned away from me. Seconds turned into minutes, and I listened to the engine and the sound of my own breathing. "Jack?"
He kept his head turned towards the window, and opened his eyes, watching the frost gathering at the edges of the glass. "My mom, Ennis...she's dying..."
"Oh, Jack...how? What's wrong with her?"
"Cancer. She's been sick for a while, I guess. I haven't seen or heard from her in over nine years."
"My God, Jack..."
"I never...I never got to make peace with her, Ennis...I never...she never..." Jack clutched his stomach and bent forward, looking as if he was going to throw up.
I stared out into the dark night and looked to the stars, searching for the right words say, but found nothing but echoing silence inside of my head. I looked at my Jack and hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him into my chest, just as he had done for me so many times before. "I'm so sorry, Jack...I'm so sorry." I knew my words were probably of no comfort, but it was all I could come up with. He clung to me for dear life, fingers pressing down to bone. His sobs grew louder, longer, and more desperate.
I started to panic. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know how. Jack was the strong one, Jack was the one who had all the answers, Jack was the one to make everything alright...not me... I felt completely helpless.
I closed my eyes and reflected to a moment in time when Jack was able to temporarily remove me from this God awful planet. And just like that, I started humming, humming the same song Jack once sang to me. I didn't know what the name of the song was, nor did I know the words, or if it even had any words, it didn't matter. I just rocked him back and forth, back and forth. I kissed his eyelids and wiped his face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. His body and breathing began to settle in my arms.
"It's okay, Jack...I'm here...I'm here...I'll always be here," I whispered. We held each other in silence for several minutes, trying to bridge the distances caused by the particularity of grief.
"Where are we going?" I asked, when I felt it was okay to speak again.
Jack sniffled and blinked several times. "We're going to Mass General Hospital in Boston. She's there."
"How did you find out?"
"My aunt Susan called me about an hour ago."
I glanced at the clock, it was eleven thirty.
"She said my mom might not make it through the night." Jack lowered his head.
At first, I had a hard time understanding why Jack would be so upset about losing someone who literally turned their back on him the way she did. But the reality of it was, she was his mother. And no matter how terrible your relationship is with a parent, I guess it always hurts to lose them on some level. Jack's situation was much different from mine, though. He actually had a loving mother at one point, I never did.
Jack pulled back from me and returned to an upright position.
"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" I had to ask.
"Yeah, I'm okay."
"How far is the hospital from here?"
Jack ran his hand around the steering wheel and straightened his shoulders. "About four hours. Why don't you try and get some sleep," he said, patting his lap. I nodded and curled up on to my side and nuzzled my face into the warmth of his crotch. Jack heaved a sigh and threaded his fingers through my hair. "I'll wake you up when we get there."
*******
"Ennis," Jack whispered, gently nudging me from my dreams.
I opened my eyes and looked around the parking garage and then at Jack. I sat up, collected my thoughts and got out of the car. We both took a long stretch before walking toward the entrance.
The only time I had been in a hospital was when I was eight years old. I fell off my bike and broke my big toe. I remember how furious my mother was with me. She said I was too stupid and klutzy to be riding a bike and that she was going to take it away from me. I never saw my bike again.
I stood close behind Jack as we began to aimlessly wander the vacant halls. He came to an abrupt stop in front of a big, blue sign next to the elevator that listed the departments and doctors of each floor.
"Oncology," he said in a low voice. "Come on, Ennis." He pressed the white button with an "up" arrow on it and we stepped inside the elevator. Jack's hands were shaking and he kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I brushed my hip to Jack's and tried to get him to read my mind...Jack, I love you...You don't deserve this...I'm here for you...
When the elevator doors opened, there were two nurses standing in the hallway flipping through their files.
"Excuse me," Jack said quietly to the nurse in all white scrubs. "Can you tell me which room Sandy Twist is in?"
The nurse stuck her pen behind her ear and gave Jack a good once over. "Visiting hours aren't until eight in the morning, sir."
"Please," Jack pleaded. "I'm her son. I was told she may not make it through the night...I have to see her." Tears began to free-fall from his eyes again as he stood there at her mercy. I placed a sympathetic hand on his lower back.
She leaned forward and whispered, "Room 19. It's around the corner, about six doors down, on the left."
"Thank you," Jack gasped.
Walking down the hall, I couldn't help but peek in the rooms along the way. Everything was of sickness, the smell overpowering. I looked at Jack and felt tears prick my eyes. I never wanted to see him in a place like this-ever.
Jack suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He turned and slammed his back against the wall just outside the door of room 19.
"Are you okay?" I whispered. I looked inside the dismal room and there was a man who looked like an older version of Jack, sitting by his mother's bedside, holding her hand. "Is that your dad?"
Jack's chest was heaving up and down. He managed a subtle nod. "I can't do this. We should leave," he choked out.
"No, Jack. We drove all this way. You have to..."
Jack's knees began to buckle beneath him. I steadied him the best I could. "You can do it, Jack."
Jack looked into my eyes for reassurance. "Okay... you wait for me over there," he suggested, nodding toward the waiting room at the end of the hall.
"Are you sure? Are you sure you don't-"
"Yes, Ennis. I don't want you to see this if it gets ugly."
I lowered my head. "Alright, Jack, but if you needed me," I looked back up into his eyes," you'll call for me, right?"
A weak smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Yes, Ennis. I will call for you."
*********
Jack didn't say a word as we walked back to the car. I knew if, and when, he wanted to talk, he would, so I remained silent and patient.
"Put on your seat belt," he said in a flat voice, turning the key in the ignition. Jack put the car in drive and we were back on the road in no time.
A half hour into our trip back home, and Jack still had not uttered a single word about the visit with his mother. His eyelids were heavy and almost completely swollen shut. I coughed a couple times to remind him that I was still there, but he remained despondent.
"Jack? Maybe we should stop somewhere. I don't think you should be driving right now." I would have offered to drive, but I could barely keep my eyes open myself.
Without any hesitation, Jack shook his head in agreement.
He got off the highway at the next exit and pulled into a gas station. "I'll be right back," he said.
When he returned, I was already beginning to nod off.
"Ennis? Are you awake?"
My eyelids slowly opened. "Yeah, what's going on?"
Jack buckled his seat belt. "The guy inside said there's a motel not too far from here."
I was so exhausted I could barely see straight. "Good. Let's go."
*****
By the time we got to the motel, it was already nearing seven in the morning. The man at the front desk told us that check-ins weren't until noon. Jack's face turned red, eyes wild. The last thread he was hanging by had just broken.
I took his hand in mine. "Sir, please, please let us check in." I paused and looked at Jack for approval, what for, I'm not exactly sure. Much to my surprise, Jack squeezed my hand and looked at his feet, letting, needing, me to make everything alright.
"No check-in's until noon," he repeated, turning his back to us.
"Look," I snapped, slamming my fist onto the counter. Startled, the man dropped his pen to the floor and spun around.
"We...we just drove four hours here to visit his dying mother," I said, softening my tone. "Can you please help us? Please? We really need a place to stay-now."
The man glanced at Jack and then back at me. "Alright," he said through an understanding nod. "Cash or credit?"
*******
The room had a cheap 1970s painting on the wall of a little girl holding a bouquet of flowers which matched the retro, plaid comforters atop two twin beds. The carpet was maroon and stained and smelled kind of mildewey. It wasn't the Ritz, but all we needed was a place to hang our heads.
I sat on one of the beds and watched as Jack wearily removed his jacket, tossing the car keys onto the nightstand. He double checked the door to be sure it was locked and then closed the blinds.
"Get into bed, Ennis," he said, and began to undress. I stripped down to my underpants and crawled under the covers. Jack did the same and slid in beside me.
We lay on our backs, heads on the same pillow, staring up the once-white-now-yellow ceiling. I reached for Jack's hand underneath the sheets and interlaced our fingers together. Jack rolled away from me, burying his face in the pillow, but I followed, half-burying him under myself. I wrapped my arm around his waist and pressed my heart against his naked back. We were silent for a long time, just listening to each other’s breathing.
Jack choked a sob into his pillow, trying to hide his emotions as if he were afraid I would think less of him. I laid a tender kiss on his ear. "Jack...let it out...it's okay." His mouth opened and closed a couple times, but nothing coherent came out. He was too tired, too weak, too undone to talk. I held him in my arms and rocked and kissed and hushed until he was all cried out.