HERITAGE OF THE PAST - Chapter 1
Title: HERITAGE OF THE PAST
Chapter 1
Disclaimer: The characters of Brokeback are not mine and belong to Annie Proulx (God bless her!). Quotes from the original masterpiece have been used to simply give fans that sweet, old home-like feeling...
Authors Note: This an idea which suddenly came into my mind. I don't know whether I'll be able to develop it to its full potential (said I'm not english-mother tongue nor a pro-writer...) but, with your help and support, it might work somehow... Should any more skilled writer come up, I'll be pleased to hand over the pen... pardon, the mouse! I'm here now with a full chapter: the actual plot is a long-developing one but I hope you will give me the enthusiasm to continue.
Other fanfics have been used as starting-point: I shall credit them later on as the story proceeds.
Summary: Life hasn't been easy for Alma Jr. since she divorced in November '86 and only her baby son, Ennis Jr., gives her hope for a brighter future...
--- June 2006 ---
Ennis Del Mar Jr. woke up before five, that morning, the wind gently blowing in through the window curtains.
He got up, scratching his belly and pubic hair and reached for the kitchen to turn on the coffee-maker. Yawning wide open in the dawn light coming through the kitchen windows, he looked at the huge Swatch clock hanging on the wall and realized he got up damn too early (and, also, that he had to get rid of that cumbersome piece of plastic at the first occasion). However, the strong smell of coffee was already casting its magic and he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to bed.
At least, he could go footing, have a shower and wait for his mother to wake up while cooking some sort of breakfast. Not that he actually could cook but at least he was pretty good with the can opener, as he kept telling his mother when she complained about his poor house-keeping skills. "Nowadays guys have to look after themselves! You won't find a decent girl willing to take care of you if you cannot help her with the house!", she was used to say. Yes, she WAS used to say that. But only before yesterday evening. Before their “funny” chat.
Grinning at the thought, he waited for the first cup of coffee to be ready before getting his grey gym pants, a black t-shirt and his favourite white runners.
He scratched his dark blond hair, stretched his neck, put the cup in the sink and went to the front door, still enjoying the strong, black coffee in his mouth. When he opened the door he felt the refreshing morning air sorrounding his body and face. He breathed deeply, nose up towards the blue and orange sky, just like a wolf searching the smell of its preys in the wind. He checked he had the keys with him and locked the door before moving.
The sky was crystal clear: it was going to be a gorgeous day. A perfect beginning for his new summer job. He might have to stay with his mother until he finished the college but at least he could take care of part of his own expenses by working during the summer.
Not that his mother and her present husband couldn't but it was somehow relieving for him to be able to buy on his own clothes, CDs and even his new laptop.
His step-father was really a good man, after all. Alex (as Ennis got soon used to call him) supported Ennis’s mother in all the possible ways and even if he was somewhat rigid (but only for the right reasons) he was in general kind to Ennis and let his mother take care of her son’s education without much interference.
That morning, however, Ennis was suffused with a sense of pleasure because a guy named Jack Twist was in his dreams. Later, that very morning, his mother would be going to tell him the story about his grandfather (of whom he carried the same name) and this man, Jack Twist. He couldn’t believe it at first: he’s grandpa, a real rough-mannered, son-of-a-gun cowboy was...
With that thought on his mind and not knowing why a person he never met could make him happy and homesick at the same time, Ennis started to run, heading downtown...
--- 12 hours earlier ---
Ennis got home before supper, as usual, and threw his backpack on the sofa.
He heard his mother Alma working in the kitchen and shouted: “I’m home, Ma!”.
“Hi, honey! I’m in the kitchen.”, she replied.
It took a while for him to step forward: chewing his nails (as he was used to do when he was nervous), he tried to recall the words of the speech he prepared in many weeks. This talk to his mother was long due: not that it was really necessary but Ennis decided that making things clear would have been better for their relationship. Talking to his stepfather would have been another question but, thanks God, he was often traveling south because of his job and he wouldn’t have made it back before a week or two.
“Hi, Ma.” he said stepping into the kitchen.
“What the...” Ennis started. “Have we been robbered?!” he continued, cocking an eyebrow.
The kitchen was such a mess he could barely recognize the room and even his mother was covered in flour.
“Oh, come on darling! Stop teasing me and help. I’m trying Mrs Minelli’s recipe for homemade pasta. She even lent me her diabolic little machine.”
“You are trying to stuff too much pasta in the machine. That’s why.”, he stated.
“Well. Hear, now. My son can’t-find-my-own-socks now comes out to be a pro chef in italian cuisine, nonetheless. How the hell would you know?”. She glanced at him, half-smiling, waiting for an answer.
“Oh, let go. Anyway, I... er... I have a more important matter to tell you about.”
He lowered his eyes, trying to gain an appropriate seriousness, thing not always easy with his mother. She seemed to try and make fun of anything all the time, as to avoid serious matters, as if she was actually scared of them. Ennis never got exactly why even if he remembered a period of his life (but he was too young to recall the full memory of it) when his mother was often sad and even her smiles looked... pretending. Eyes like a dog’s, missing its master.
“What’s up, dear? Huh?”, she said gently tilting her head to catch his gaze from below.
“Mmm... looks important: are you in love or something?”, she continued.
“Something.”. Another pause.
“Oh, stars! Come on, honey. Don’t keep me on pins and needles! What’s the matter?”
“Mom, I’m gay.”, Ennis said so rapidly it almost seemed one word. It was his time to gaze at her, waiting for an answer. Or shouts. Or an insult. Or any other reaction. He just hoped it wasn’t a flying kneading machine: it was made of steel...
Her reaction surprised him: “Oh, you are not gay: it’s a phase.”, she replied and went back to turning the crank.
“Now, why do you think it’s phase? I know I AM gay and always was!”
“Honey, gay men have taste and if you were gay you would at least know how to match the colours of your clothes.”, she stated, giving his t-shirt a meaningful look.
Ennis watched down his own t-shirt and then, confused and amused at the same time, looked again at her: “Who’s teasing whom now, Junior?”
She suddenly stared at him.
Ops.
He forgot in the rush of the moment that he wasn’t allowed to call her that way. That was the only thing really capable of setting her on a war footing.
She slammed a hand on the table (raising a generous cloud of flour) and lowered her eyes.
Ennis waited for the worst.
But then she looked at him with a gentle, tender gaze. She whitened his left cheek with her hand and said on a low, deep voice: “Enie, dear. I’m sorry. I should know it’s not easy for you but that’s how I always dealt with my problems: grinning and bearing them.”
“Mom...” he tried.
“Shhh... listen.” she continued, wet eyed. “Let’s say a kind of knew it.”
“How d...” Ennis protested, knowing he was definitely not the usual girly fag but she stopped him again.
“Nevermind. Let’s say I never found you very... involved with girls but that’s not the question. Fact is I was scared to death you COULD be gay because of the way your grandpa lived.”
Tears were making their way down her cheeks, now.
Ennis was astonished: “My grandpa? What the hell? I barely remember him!”
“True, but you DO resemble him, more in appearance than in manners, fortunately. Your hair is blonder and your eyes are slightly brighter but features are the same when he was your age. I have got a couple of pictures, somewhere. And a worn-out picture of Jack Twist, too.”
A deep sigh came from her breast.
“Who’s he? And what’s the story with my grandpa? Mom, I really don’t get it...”
Well, he maybe WAS getting the picture but it sounded so unbelievable he wanted his mother clearly declare it.
“Wait a moment.”, she said, taking off the pinafore and heading to the living room.
She came back with a small bronze-like box. Opening it, Ennis noticed her hands were slightly trembling. She handed him two pictures, both black and white: one portrayed his grandfather with a horse and the other one a handsome, dark haired man handling a prize. A rodeo prize maybe, Ennis thought. His mother was true: he really resembled Ennis Del Mar Sr. but he was never that serious. On the other hand, that Jack Twist was gorgeous! They both had to be in their twenties in those pictures.
Ennis rubbed Jack Twist’s photo with his thumb, as if hoping to remove stains and scratches to admire it better. He was now too intrigued (and quite relieved his declaration went to the background, by then). “So, what’s the story with these two, Mom?”
She dried up her eyes with the back of the hand. “It’s a long, long story. But not in a far, far galaxy, dear.” she said, anticipating his joke much to his disappointment. She knew perfectly how fond he was of Star Wars.
“Actually, it’s a twenty-year long story, Enie. Of love and pain. Between these two men. And after Jack Twist died, your grandfather did his best to help me until I was settled and then he...” now she was crying. “Then he just let himself die. Not even the joy of your birth gave him the strenght to go on alone.”
It took a while for her to be able to speak again, while Ennis tried to hug and comfort her.
“Enie, I do want to tell you what I know of their story because I don’t want you to suffer as much as my father did. That’s my only concern. I don’t care whether you are into boys or girls as long as you are happy. Believe me!”, her eyes were wide open and steadily looked at him.
“Thank you, Mom.” was all Ennis was able to say while hugging her mother even tighter.
They had dinner quietly, neither of them speaking of the topic for the rest of the evening.
She cleaned the mess in the kitchen, watched a new episode of “Desperate Housewives” on the sofa and then headed to her bedroom. Passing by Ennis’s, she stepped in and said: “Honey, tomorrow I’ll tell you about your grandfather and Jack Twist. Goodnight.”
“’Night, Mom.”, said Ennis nodding.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow will be a great day, he thought.
.
.
.
Chapter 1
Disclaimer: The characters of Brokeback are not mine and belong to Annie Proulx (God bless her!). Quotes from the original masterpiece have been used to simply give fans that sweet, old home-like feeling...
Authors Note: This an idea which suddenly came into my mind. I don't know whether I'll be able to develop it to its full potential (said I'm not english-mother tongue nor a pro-writer...) but, with your help and support, it might work somehow... Should any more skilled writer come up, I'll be pleased to hand over the pen... pardon, the mouse! I'm here now with a full chapter: the actual plot is a long-developing one but I hope you will give me the enthusiasm to continue.
Other fanfics have been used as starting-point: I shall credit them later on as the story proceeds.
Summary: Life hasn't been easy for Alma Jr. since she divorced in November '86 and only her baby son, Ennis Jr., gives her hope for a brighter future...
--- June 2006 ---
Ennis Del Mar Jr. woke up before five, that morning, the wind gently blowing in through the window curtains.
He got up, scratching his belly and pubic hair and reached for the kitchen to turn on the coffee-maker. Yawning wide open in the dawn light coming through the kitchen windows, he looked at the huge Swatch clock hanging on the wall and realized he got up damn too early (and, also, that he had to get rid of that cumbersome piece of plastic at the first occasion). However, the strong smell of coffee was already casting its magic and he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to bed.
At least, he could go footing, have a shower and wait for his mother to wake up while cooking some sort of breakfast. Not that he actually could cook but at least he was pretty good with the can opener, as he kept telling his mother when she complained about his poor house-keeping skills. "Nowadays guys have to look after themselves! You won't find a decent girl willing to take care of you if you cannot help her with the house!", she was used to say. Yes, she WAS used to say that. But only before yesterday evening. Before their “funny” chat.
Grinning at the thought, he waited for the first cup of coffee to be ready before getting his grey gym pants, a black t-shirt and his favourite white runners.
He scratched his dark blond hair, stretched his neck, put the cup in the sink and went to the front door, still enjoying the strong, black coffee in his mouth. When he opened the door he felt the refreshing morning air sorrounding his body and face. He breathed deeply, nose up towards the blue and orange sky, just like a wolf searching the smell of its preys in the wind. He checked he had the keys with him and locked the door before moving.
The sky was crystal clear: it was going to be a gorgeous day. A perfect beginning for his new summer job. He might have to stay with his mother until he finished the college but at least he could take care of part of his own expenses by working during the summer.
Not that his mother and her present husband couldn't but it was somehow relieving for him to be able to buy on his own clothes, CDs and even his new laptop.
His step-father was really a good man, after all. Alex (as Ennis got soon used to call him) supported Ennis’s mother in all the possible ways and even if he was somewhat rigid (but only for the right reasons) he was in general kind to Ennis and let his mother take care of her son’s education without much interference.
That morning, however, Ennis was suffused with a sense of pleasure because a guy named Jack Twist was in his dreams. Later, that very morning, his mother would be going to tell him the story about his grandfather (of whom he carried the same name) and this man, Jack Twist. He couldn’t believe it at first: he’s grandpa, a real rough-mannered, son-of-a-gun cowboy was...
With that thought on his mind and not knowing why a person he never met could make him happy and homesick at the same time, Ennis started to run, heading downtown...
--- 12 hours earlier ---
Ennis got home before supper, as usual, and threw his backpack on the sofa.
He heard his mother Alma working in the kitchen and shouted: “I’m home, Ma!”.
“Hi, honey! I’m in the kitchen.”, she replied.
It took a while for him to step forward: chewing his nails (as he was used to do when he was nervous), he tried to recall the words of the speech he prepared in many weeks. This talk to his mother was long due: not that it was really necessary but Ennis decided that making things clear would have been better for their relationship. Talking to his stepfather would have been another question but, thanks God, he was often traveling south because of his job and he wouldn’t have made it back before a week or two.
“Hi, Ma.” he said stepping into the kitchen.
“What the...” Ennis started. “Have we been robbered?!” he continued, cocking an eyebrow.
The kitchen was such a mess he could barely recognize the room and even his mother was covered in flour.
“Oh, come on darling! Stop teasing me and help. I’m trying Mrs Minelli’s recipe for homemade pasta. She even lent me her diabolic little machine.”
“You are trying to stuff too much pasta in the machine. That’s why.”, he stated.
“Well. Hear, now. My son can’t-find-my-own-socks now comes out to be a pro chef in italian cuisine, nonetheless. How the hell would you know?”. She glanced at him, half-smiling, waiting for an answer.
“Oh, let go. Anyway, I... er... I have a more important matter to tell you about.”
He lowered his eyes, trying to gain an appropriate seriousness, thing not always easy with his mother. She seemed to try and make fun of anything all the time, as to avoid serious matters, as if she was actually scared of them. Ennis never got exactly why even if he remembered a period of his life (but he was too young to recall the full memory of it) when his mother was often sad and even her smiles looked... pretending. Eyes like a dog’s, missing its master.
“What’s up, dear? Huh?”, she said gently tilting her head to catch his gaze from below.
“Mmm... looks important: are you in love or something?”, she continued.
“Something.”. Another pause.
“Oh, stars! Come on, honey. Don’t keep me on pins and needles! What’s the matter?”
“Mom, I’m gay.”, Ennis said so rapidly it almost seemed one word. It was his time to gaze at her, waiting for an answer. Or shouts. Or an insult. Or any other reaction. He just hoped it wasn’t a flying kneading machine: it was made of steel...
Her reaction surprised him: “Oh, you are not gay: it’s a phase.”, she replied and went back to turning the crank.
“Now, why do you think it’s phase? I know I AM gay and always was!”
“Honey, gay men have taste and if you were gay you would at least know how to match the colours of your clothes.”, she stated, giving his t-shirt a meaningful look.
Ennis watched down his own t-shirt and then, confused and amused at the same time, looked again at her: “Who’s teasing whom now, Junior?”
She suddenly stared at him.
Ops.
He forgot in the rush of the moment that he wasn’t allowed to call her that way. That was the only thing really capable of setting her on a war footing.
She slammed a hand on the table (raising a generous cloud of flour) and lowered her eyes.
Ennis waited for the worst.
But then she looked at him with a gentle, tender gaze. She whitened his left cheek with her hand and said on a low, deep voice: “Enie, dear. I’m sorry. I should know it’s not easy for you but that’s how I always dealt with my problems: grinning and bearing them.”
“Mom...” he tried.
“Shhh... listen.” she continued, wet eyed. “Let’s say a kind of knew it.”
“How d...” Ennis protested, knowing he was definitely not the usual girly fag but she stopped him again.
“Nevermind. Let’s say I never found you very... involved with girls but that’s not the question. Fact is I was scared to death you COULD be gay because of the way your grandpa lived.”
Tears were making their way down her cheeks, now.
Ennis was astonished: “My grandpa? What the hell? I barely remember him!”
“True, but you DO resemble him, more in appearance than in manners, fortunately. Your hair is blonder and your eyes are slightly brighter but features are the same when he was your age. I have got a couple of pictures, somewhere. And a worn-out picture of Jack Twist, too.”
A deep sigh came from her breast.
“Who’s he? And what’s the story with my grandpa? Mom, I really don’t get it...”
Well, he maybe WAS getting the picture but it sounded so unbelievable he wanted his mother clearly declare it.
“Wait a moment.”, she said, taking off the pinafore and heading to the living room.
She came back with a small bronze-like box. Opening it, Ennis noticed her hands were slightly trembling. She handed him two pictures, both black and white: one portrayed his grandfather with a horse and the other one a handsome, dark haired man handling a prize. A rodeo prize maybe, Ennis thought. His mother was true: he really resembled Ennis Del Mar Sr. but he was never that serious. On the other hand, that Jack Twist was gorgeous! They both had to be in their twenties in those pictures.
Ennis rubbed Jack Twist’s photo with his thumb, as if hoping to remove stains and scratches to admire it better. He was now too intrigued (and quite relieved his declaration went to the background, by then). “So, what’s the story with these two, Mom?”
She dried up her eyes with the back of the hand. “It’s a long, long story. But not in a far, far galaxy, dear.” she said, anticipating his joke much to his disappointment. She knew perfectly how fond he was of Star Wars.
“Actually, it’s a twenty-year long story, Enie. Of love and pain. Between these two men. And after Jack Twist died, your grandfather did his best to help me until I was settled and then he...” now she was crying. “Then he just let himself die. Not even the joy of your birth gave him the strenght to go on alone.”
It took a while for her to be able to speak again, while Ennis tried to hug and comfort her.
“Enie, I do want to tell you what I know of their story because I don’t want you to suffer as much as my father did. That’s my only concern. I don’t care whether you are into boys or girls as long as you are happy. Believe me!”, her eyes were wide open and steadily looked at him.
“Thank you, Mom.” was all Ennis was able to say while hugging her mother even tighter.
They had dinner quietly, neither of them speaking of the topic for the rest of the evening.
She cleaned the mess in the kitchen, watched a new episode of “Desperate Housewives” on the sofa and then headed to her bedroom. Passing by Ennis’s, she stepped in and said: “Honey, tomorrow I’ll tell you about your grandfather and Jack Twist. Goodnight.”
“’Night, Mom.”, said Ennis nodding.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow will be a great day, he thought.
.
.
.