(no subject)
Chiron, Part 9: Mama?
Fandom: Human Interest/Two Crows Joy alternate universe ( AU) of BBM, created by
madlori.
Pairing: Not in this section.
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1,078.
Previous Parts (1-8): here
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters-the original Brokeback Mountain characters belong to Annie Proulx, and any extra Human Interest/Two Crows Joy characters belong to the talented Lori Summers a.k.a.
madlori . This fanfic is for entertainment purposes only and I make absolutely no money off of it. Your mileage may vary. Contents may settle during shipping. Wear clean underwear and call your mother already.
Childress, Texas, June 3rd, 1983.
Lureen, all hairsprayed and dressed and ready for work, walked into the kitchen and came to a dead halt at the sight of Bobby at the kitchen table. She blinked and thought: He never gets up this early!
“Hi honey. My, you’re up early today,” she said with forced chirpiness, as she reached into the fridge for the orange juice.
Bobby looked down at his untouched Pop-Tart and shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Damn. He’s upset about something. He’s about as good at hiding his feelings as his daddy. I don’t have time to deal with this now, Daddy ‘n’ me gotta be at that meeting with the banker at 8 sharp.
“Bobby, I have to leave early this morning, so make sure you have somethin’ more for your breakfast than that stupid toaster thing-a-ma-jig.” She deposited her juice glass in the sink, quickly applied her lipstick, donned her dressy heels, and was halfway out the back door when the hesitant question came.
“Mama?...”
Lureen turned and asked with the tiniest hint of steel in her otherwise polite voice: “Yes, dear?” Bobby could see instantly that she was annoyed, that she was in a hurry to get on with her day. That he was simply slowing her down. What’s the point? My life is over anyways. I already have it worked out. I know where she keeps her pistol.
“…nothing. G’bye, mama.” She really don’t care ‘bout me anyways.
A tear slipped free from his eye as the he heard her gun the engine.
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Childress, Texas, February 5th, 1984.
She stood at the mausoleum wall, fingers tracing the inscription: ROBERT LAWRENCE TWIST, 1966-1983, her lips held firmly together but still trembling.
Bobby. Oh Bobby, she thought. She had lost her one remaining tether, and now she was lost. Disconnected.
Somehow she found the strength to make it over to one of the cool marble benches nearby, and sat down heavily, shaking. And there, for the first time since the day of Bobby’s funeral, she let the pain and anger rise up, and she sobbed and she raged and she cried out to her dead son.
At first she did not hear the quiet voice call her name. She jerked her head up from her tissue at the second call: “Lureen.” Her eyes did not immediately register the person now standing before her.
“Mama?”
Fayette sat down next to her daughter, and put an arm around her. Lureen turned into her mother’s embrace and cried even harder. Fayette said nothing, eyes moist, gently rocking Lureen as she grieved in full measure. She knew that this was no time for any lectures about ladylike behavior and keeping one’s emotions in check.
Lureen had no idea how much time passed as she wept against her mother’s coat lapel. She gently let go of Fayette, dabbing at her eyes. “I know it sounds silly, Mama, but I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Fayette gave a sad smile. “I know. But something called me to come visit today.” She reached down and took her daughter’s hand. “You look terrible. How are you?”
“I… I don’t know. I feel like, now that Bobby’s gone, that I have no place to go, no place to be. If only I had stopped to talk to him that morning, instead of rushing out the door to work, like I always do. Did.” She sniffed and made eye contact with her mother. “This is all my fault, Mama.”
Fayette gently shook her head. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You couldn’t have known what would happen when you walked out that door that morning. You can’t burden yourself with what if’s and I could’ve’s, Lureen. Take the time to grieve Bobby if you need it, but eventually you just need to let it go and move on.”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence between the two women as they sat there, each lost in their own thoughts. Fayette was first to speak.
“Lureen, promise me something, a’right? I know you and me, we were never really close. You always was your Daddy’s girl.” Lureen nodded but made no comment. “I know that you and your Daddy aren’t talking anymore, and with good reason too, but… but I want us to talk still.” Fayette caught Lureen’s eye. “I mean, I hope you’re not shutting me out along with your Daddy.”
Lureen said “No, of course not, Mama. And I’m sorry for not calling. Never knew if I’d get you or Daddy on the phone.”
“That’s all right, Lureen. I understand how it is. Perhaps we could just arrange to meet somewhere once a week. Maybe a restaurant, or your friend’s house. Just to stay in touch, coffee and a chat. Sunday evenings are best. Your Daddy’s usually over at Dilly’s for a cigar and a endless glass of whiskey that night, anyways.”
Lureen nodded. “That works. We could meet at that coffee house, Jubi-Latté. I talk with Jack on Sunday nights, but I usually phone him later on in the evening.”
“It was good to see him at the funeral. Wasn’t sure if he would come. How is he holding up?”
“He’s struggling. Like I am. But he has Ennis, and Ennis’ daughter and lots of other people around him, and the ranch keeps them all busy. He’s pretty happy, Mama. I envy him.”
“Someday you’ll be pretty happy too, Lureen. There’s no big secret to happiness. It’s when we get willful, and try to twist things to work our way, that we lose our way.” Fayette gave a deep sigh. “Your Daddy doesn’t see that, of course. Still thinks he was the wronged one here. I’ve given up, trying to get him to see that what he did was so wrong. But it’s not too late for you to learn from his mistakes, Lureen.” Fayette gripped Lureen’s hand for emphasis, looking gravely into her daughter’s uncomprehending eyes.
“Lureen, honey, stop trying to make the world revolve the way you want it to, and learn to turn with it instead of constantly forcing your will on it. Happiness is not something you hunt down; happiness is something that you have to let happen to you.”
As I said in an earlier post, I’m putting this story, Chiron, on hiatus for a while, to return to my fanart. Heartfelt thanks to all of you who commented on previous parts of this story. Your feedback has meant a great deal to me.