TITLE: ALL SHOOK UP...part 13
TITLE: ALL SHOOK UP
AUTHOR: VNapier
PAIRING: Ennis/Jack
RATING: R - NC17
FEEDBACK: Always. E mail me at BBMFAN@ZOOMINTERNET.NET
DISCLAIMERS: Standard disclaimers. The characters are not mine, but the story is.
SUMMARY: This is a sequel to 'If Anyone Can Show Just Cause, Speak Now...' and 'Til Death Do Us Part'. Those stories can be found on my
livejournal at http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/
part 1 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/23041.html
part 2 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/23455.html
part 3 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/23618.html
part 4 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/23873.html
part 5 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/24287.html
part 6a - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/24491.html
part 6b - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/24934.html
part 7 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/30628.html
part 8 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/31262.html
part 9 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/32093.html
part 10a - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/32391.html
part 10b - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/32635.html
part 11 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/32778.html
part 12 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/33243.html
"Dammit!" Jack wadded up the paper with his incorrect answers on it and threw it across the dreary laundry room.
"Hey, Twist, this ain't a combat zone."
Startled, Jack looked up to see Private First Class Ore with an armload of laundry standing in the doorway, right next to where his paper missile had impacted the doorjamb. Like Jack, Ore was wearing fatigue pants and green T-shirt. While everyone had civilian clothes, something about being in the barracks seemed to instill a need to remain military, or maybe it was some kind of reason for being issued six uniforms when the norm was to have only five duty shifts a week. Sunday was usually laundry day, and no one put too much effort into much else.
Neither man had shaved, but showers were taken more out of habit than anything else. In basic training, Jack had quickly discovered just how much a man could do automatically while still half asleep. Evidently Ore hadn't been up that long, because his short cropped hair was still wet, the nearly black ends glistening under the bare bulbs dangling from the row of fixtures that ran the length of the ceiling.
"Sorry, Ore. Didn't see ya there."
"S'okay," Private Ore lamented. "I've been known to get a little frustrated with paperwork, too. What are you working on?"
"English," Jack began hesitantly, but forced himself to add, "Didn't finish high school so I'm working on gettin' a GED."
Ore stopped and stared at Jack. A second later the corner of his mouth tilted up and dark green eyes sparkled encouragingly. "Good for you, Twist," he offered with a level of respect that had been missing for a while, or maybe had just gone unnoticed. Jack wasn't sure anymore.
Ore turned towards the washers, and then stopped, turning back towards Jack. "You know," he said hesitantly. "I did okay in English back in high school. Be happy to help out, if I can."
For a moment the two men just looked at each other, and Jack felt something break inside, only it wasn't broken in a bad way. Broken down, maybe, like there had been a wall of insecurity steadily building around him for the last few weeks, until he couldn't see anything but what was wrong, only now he was able to see over the wall again, to all the things that were right in his life. Sure, there were a few assholes like O'Malley around, but mostly he had experienced genuine friendship with his fellow soldiers. How could he have been so stupid to forget all the good that had found in the military? "I'd sure appreciate it."
Ore nodded. "Let me throw this load in the machine and I'll be right over."
For the next couple of hours, Jack and Ore tackled conjugating verbs and tense usage, taking time out to switch clothes between machines and to take a leak. By the time the books were closed and Jack was folding his last pair of boxers, he was feeling a lot more confident. He still didn't get why there had to be so many rules just to string a few words together, but at least he had a better grasp of what those rules were.
"Thanks fer all yer help, Ore. Owe ya a beer down ta the club."
"Any time." Ore slapped Jack on the back and went to gather his clean laundry, while Jack grabbed up his and headed for the door.
"Uh, Twist?" Ore began hesitantly.
Jack paused just inside the doorway. "Yeah."
"That belt buckle you sometimes wear, is it for real?"
Jack considered it his most prized possession, and nodded with pride. He didn't wear his old belt much anymore, only with his jeans, mostly off base on the weekends, but when he did have it on it still made him feel like he had accomplished something in life, something his father always swore he could never do. "Yep. Won it last year, at the Campbell County Rodeo, back in Wyomin'."
"Damn," Ore said with unguarded revere. "Closest thing I ever got to a bull was a steak wrapped in butcher paper from the meat market."
"Not sure that steak ain't a better way of gettin' acquainted."
"How long did it take you to win that buckle?"
"Was ridin' on the circuit for a couple a years. Won some, lost more, but this was my first buckle." Jack's smile slipped a little. "Couldn't take bein' at home no more, so I took off on my own. Different arena, different town, most every weekend. Then the army got me."
Ore shook his head, but his eyes were full of awe. "Must be some kind of life, being free to come and go as you pleased."
For Jack it had been fun, but mainly for those few blissful seconds when he was actually up on a bull that was doing his damnedest to throw him off. In between rides, it had been lonely as hell, but still better than enduring his father's disappointment and disapproval. No matter what, he had that buckle to show the world, and his father, that he could do something right.
"Me," Ore continued, oblivious to Jack's self-realization, seemingly lost in some kind of turmoil of his own. "I never got out of Pittsburgh until I joined the Army. Can't stand the place. Nothing but smokestacks and concrete around there. One steel mill after another. Sure as hell ain't looking forward to going back there, but my time's just about up."
"That's tough," Jack agreed. He could totally understand the desire to stay as far away from his birthplace as possible.
"I'm seriously considering re-enlisting. Hard to decide what's worse, going to war or going back to Pittsburgh." Ore sighed heavily, and ran his hand forcefully through his now dry hair. The frown that had appeared with the first mention of his dreaded hometown deepened. "Only got another month to make up my mind."
Since Jack had no choice about being there, he had never considered that there would be any decision about staying around when his time was up. Cajun had mentioned it a couple of times, but he had a couple of years and even then, was always talking about going back to Louisiana as soon as his time was up. The possibilities hadn't seemed to register the way they were now that Ore was talking about it actually being a choice. For Jack, he had just figured he belonged to Uncle Sam for two years, and after that he would go back to his old life. For the first time he considered that it was actually going to be a decision he would have to make in about eighteen months.
"It really that bad back home?" Even if he had no choice but to go back to Lighting Flats and endure his father's cutting tongue, he couldn't quite wrap his mind around marching off to war as being any better.
"Not so much at home." Ore's frown gave way to a smile, his expressions visually depicting the inner struggle. "My folks aren't too bad. Been married for thirty years; I've got four older brothers. Get that many people under one roof and there's bound to be some arguing, but mostly we were happy enough. All of us boys played on the high school football team, but I was the only one to make starting quarterback, and my sophomore year, too. Dad's worked at the steel mill since he got out of school, and just assumed that'd I'd do the same, like my brothers did."
A pained expression washed over Ore's features. "He was pretty sore when I enlisted. He's gotten better over the last couple of years, but the last time he wrote, he was talking about me coming home and starting a 'real job' at the steel mill. He's going to hit the roof when I tell him I'm actually considering re-enlisting, making the army my career."
Jack leaned against the doorjamb. "You'd really stay in fer twenty years?"
Ore's brilliant smile gave away his true feelings before his words could. "Sure. It's a good life. Work with some really great guys, doing a service to my country, and seeing places most folks back home will never get the chance to see. It's a hell of a lot better than sweating my ass off in some steel mill and choking on coke for the rest of my life," Ore snorted.
"Coke?"
"It's the stuff that's left over when they blast the ore in the furnace to make it into steel. Fume smell is so strong it burns the insides of your nose." Ore shuddered and grabbed up his clothes off the folding table. "Nope, I sure don't want to go back to that. I'd rather do something meaningful with my life, like saving poor folks in Nam from those pinko commies who want to make slaves out of all the poor working stiffs. That's something a man could be proud of when his bones are laid to rest."
Jack wasn't really sure that he agreed with all of this. Part of him wondered what business it was of the U.S. government to demand that he defend people he had never met from a threat that would never affect him, but another part remembered how it had been in that awful year he was in the fourth grade, getting beat up all the time by Herman Carstairs, who was in the fourth grade for the third time and twice as big as Jack and the rest of the kids, and wishing so hard that someone stronger would come along and take care of Herman.
However, it really didn't matter if the war was right or not, he respected Ore for having his own beliefs and not knuckling under to his dad's wishes. As he followed Ore out of the laundry room and up the stairs, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous of the man whose father actually wanted to pass something on to his son, wanted him working by his side, hell, just wanted him at all.
"You coming down to the theater?" Ore asked over his shoulder. "They're showing Dead Ringer, with Bette Davis and Karl Malden."
Although he was tempted, Jack resisted. After his talk with Mrs. Jennings, he had regained his determination to be ready for the November testing. "Nope. I got some math stuff to work on. Haven't been studyin' much the last couple a weeks. Gotta get back on track if I'm gonna pass that test this fall."
"That's cool," Ore replied from down the hall. "See you later."
"Sure thing." Jack climbed the stairs to the next floor, and made his way to his own room. Cajun wasn't there, but that wasn't a big surprise. The man could sleep away most of a Sunday morning, but as soon as he was awake, he was gone, probably trying to stay one step ahead of the woman he had fucked the night before, or maybe trying to catch up to her for a second go round.
There was a time when Jack thought the same way, that fucking was just something all guys wanted to do all the time, and while he hadn't lost any of his enthusiasm for the act itself, he had come to know that it made a big difference when there was love to go along with it. He had never actually fucked with another guy before Ennis, but he wasn't totally inexperienced to handling another man's dick, or having another man handle his dick, either. The gals he had fucked were okay, but nothing any female had ever done felt quite as good as feeling the grip of another man's hand stroking his dick. Then came Ennis.
While Jack could still look and appreciate a nice pair of tits or a muscular ass, neither brought on the lust that they had before. Now it was only Ennis that made him feel that uncontrollable need to fuck, and fuck, and then fuck some more.
Shaking his head, he pushed away those kinds of thoughts. He put his clothes away and turned towards the books he had left on his bed before going down in the hole to do the weekly laundry. Algebra. He didn't get it at all. Even before a six-foot-two hunk of studly distraction had made an unthinkable journey from the lower forty-eight, this particular subject had been giving Jack fits. Not only was he having problems figuring it all out, he couldn't see how any of it would be useful.
What was the point of knowing something if it couldn't help a man make his way in life? The only person he could see would benefit from knowing this was the teachers, like Mrs. Jennings, who were getting paid to teach it. That still didn't explain the benefit to the ones learning it who weren't going to be trying to teach it later, and that certainly was a joke in his case.
He could just see himself up in front of a classroom, a bunch of wide-eyed kids looking to him for all the answers, and him spouting out this useless stuff like it would make a difference if they knew it. What he couldn't understand was why that test wasn't about important stuff, like how to tell when a cow was about to calf, when the sky was going to snow or rain, how to rotate crops and herd to get the most out of the land, or even when to bail off a bull before you got whipped around and your innards plugged by horn or hoof?
"Twist! Phone!" a voice yelled from down the hall.
Fanciful thoughts of a life he still missed vanished and Jack sighed. He knew it would be Ellie. She was the only who ever called. Each floor had one pay phone, and his room was at the other end of the hall. There was a chair under the phone, where a person could look out the window while he was talking to whomever.
How many times had he sat in that very chair, talking to Ennis, and staring out into the bleakness where a voice on the phone was all he had? It wasn't so bleak anymore because Ennis was a whole lot closer, and a whole lot more than just a voice on the phone once in a while. That was one of the things he was now seeing he had lost sight of during the last few weeks, like he had lost sight of the real friends he had made while he was here, too. He had learned a whole lot more than just English during his afternoon of studying with Ore.
When he reached the end of the hall, he grabbed the dangling receiver and put it to his ear. "Twist."
"Jack?"
It definitely wasn't Ellie. "That you, Thelma?"
"Yes. Elmer's on the other extension. I found your number when I was cleaning out the kitchen drawer, and Elmer insisted that we give you a call. Hope you don't mind."
Jack slumped down in the chair. "'m real sorry 'bout not callin'," he apologized through his shame. "An', no, I surely don't mind."
"We're not angry, Jack," Elmer's calming voice came through the line. "We just wanted to know that you were alright. Did you and Ennis have a good time at that cookout?"
Although reluctant to admit his disappointment at being denied the chance to have any kind of time with Ennis at the cookout, Jack was even more surprised that they would know about the event. "Reckon ya must a talked ta Ennis last week?"
"He calls most every Thursday evening. Said a friend of yours from out at the base had invited both of you over for the Fourth of July festivities," Thelma explained. "He didn't sound overly enthused by the idea, but he did say he had told you he'd go."
The relief that Ennis hadn't intentionally ditched the cookout was overshadowed by renewed worries of what else might have kept Ennis away. "Ennis wasn't there," Jack said into the receiver. "I figure he'd chickened out. Better'n thinkin' somethin' had happened ta him."
"I'm sure Ennis had a good reason for not showing," Elmer said in his fatherly and reassuring way. "Thelma's right, Ennis may not have been thrilled over the prospect of facing so many strangers, but I got the feeling he was actually looking forward to it, just the same. He even joked about never seein' fireworks at midnight before."
Jack smiled. He could almost hear Ennis' mumbled words, sounding like a grumble to anyone who didn't know him well, but for those he did know him well, being a fountain of feelings that were never shared easily, not even to those who were trusted the most. Mostly though, Jack found hope in his friends' insistence that Ennis had planned on coming.
"Does it really stay daylight all night up there?" Thelma asked.
"Not all night, but dang near. Wasn't too bad when I first got here. Wasn't much different than mid-winter back there, only it was spring here. The locals say in winter it gets ta be where there's only about four hours a sunlight a day, an' that's includin' dusk and dawn. Sure ain't lookin' forward ta it practically bein' night all the time."
"I can imagine," Elmer agreed sympathetically.
"Jack, are you really doing alright?" Thelma asked unexpectedly, and with a hint of trepidation.
Jack hesitated, but only for a moment. "Yes'm. I'm jus' fine," he assured her confidently. "Had a few rough weeks, but," Jack paused as a few doubts tried to take over, but he held firm. "Things'r goin' pretty good."
"That's good to hear. We worry about you," Thelma admitted. "Not because we don't think you're capable of taking care of yourself, it's just, well..."
Thelma's sniffles could be heard through the static, and Jack berated himself once again for not making the time to call them. Even this call was their doing, not his.
"What Thelma's trying to say, Jack, is that we miss you and Ennis," Elmer interjected in her behalf. "We want you both to be happy, but we miss having you around, too."
"Miss bein' there." And Jack did. More than he had felt in a long time, but it wasn't the painful hurt of when he was in basic training. This was more like the ache of wanting two things that just couldn't be had at the same time. It felt good hearing that he was missed, but it made him realize how much he was missing his old life, too. It hadn't all been bad, just like it wasn't all bad here, either.
"Promise I'll get back ta callin' more often. Ain't got no excuse. I'm real sorry fer worryin' ya so."
"You promise to take care of yourself," Thelma sniffled. "And you bundle up real good when you go outside. I can't believe in the middle of summer it still gets so cold at night. It's a wonder everyone up there doesn't have a perpetual cold. And if you start to feeling congested, make sure you eat lots of chicken noodle soup."
"I will," Jack promised. Some might be offended by Thelma's mothering ways, but he wasn't. It was a mother's gift of love, even if he wasn't really her boy.
"And Ennis, too. He needs you, Jack. Even if he can't say the words, that don't stop that from being what he really feels inside."
"I know." And deep down, Jack did know, but he couldn't help appreciating hearing those words, and knowing that they were spoken with the same affection he felt for the speaker. "Thank ya, for...for everythin'. Went outta town when yer package arrive, but got some a the fudge. Was mighty nice a ya ta send it up here. If ya don't mind, would ya thank Bertha Mae fer the caramel corn? Was real nice a her."
"We sure will." Elmer's deep chuckle floated over the line. "George, the poor fella I hired to bag groceries, doesn't care for you too much. Seems no on can pack a sack like Jack Twist. I think the poor boy'd quit, but he's determined to finally do something better than you could. Of course, nothing short of leaping a tall building in a single bound is going to accomplish that feat with a few of those ladies. They got real fond of you, Jack."
The words of kindness hit like a jolt of electricity. Sending sweets was one thing, all little old ladies liked to bake sweet stuff, but he figured he had long since been replaced at the market, and not just on the Fleishman's payroll. "How 'bout askin' 'em ta give the guy a break? Fer me," he said softly.
"We'll do that, Jack, if you promise to do something for us."
"What's that?"
"Don't be too hard on Ennis if it turns out he did chicken out of going to that cookout. He might stumble along the way, but he's trying."
The thought that Ennis had backed out for no reason except being afraid still hurt, but Jack was finally willing to accept that things could be a lot worse. Not just with Ennis, but with life in general. It definitely beat the hell out living in Texas married to some rich gal, and only seeing Ennis a couple of times a year.
"I'll call ya next Sunday. If ya don't talk ta Ennis first, I'll let ya know what happened and what's goin' on." He took a deep breath. It seemed so long since he had looked forward to making that weekly phone call. "'bout six-thirty, yer time, still okay?"
"Oh, yes. We'll definitely by home from church by then. People don't tend to mingle too long afterwards in the winter. Too crowded inside to talk, and too cold to stand around outside."
The line grew silent except for the few hisses of static that told all parties that line was still open.
"Take care of yourself, Jack."
Elmer's words were spoken in that tone that Jack had longed to hear from his own father. "I will, Sir," he said with all the respect he could muster into words.
"Stay warm," Thelma said in a tone that was more easily recognized, even through the strain of tears that could not be seen through a telephone line.
"Yes, ma'am. I will. You two take care, too."
"We will," Elmer said firmly. "Goodbye, Jack."
"Bye. Be callin' next Sunday. I promise."
After hanging up the phone, Jack slumped back into the chair. Memories of years long since gone flashed through his mind; the few good things on which he could look back, and with them came more guilt. He hadn't talked to his mother since that day back in December, when Hortence had been killed...no, he hadn't talked to her then, either. Just Aunt Mabel. Then Uncle Harold had showed up with that letter from the Army, and...and now he was in Alaska.
He had written to her once a week while in North Carolina, that one long letter when he got out of basic explaining why he couldn't come home for a visit before he shipped out, and a couple of shorter letters since he got his PCS to Richardson. However, like his calls to the Fleishman's, his letters home had come to a stop when Ennis arrived two months ago. As he headed back to his room, he vowed that this was another thing that was going to change. If his mother could write him once a month, he could do the same for her.
About halfway down the hallway, he stopped, dug into his pocket for some change, before turning around to head back to the phone. He lifted the receiver and deposited his nickel and dialed one of the few phone numbers that had ever been worth remembering.
"Hello."
"Ellie?
"Is that you, Jack?" she asked through a burst of static.
"Yeah. I just..." Suddenly Jack had no idea what he wanted to say.
"Ennis just left to catch the bus. About five minutes ago."
Ennis had come after all. Maybe not to the cookout, but he had come for Jack, to *their* place. "Didn't think he was coming this weekend."
"He did."
There was a calm factualness in those two words that he had not heard very often from Ellie, unless she was speaking about her business. "Was late when I left Jennin's house." Suddenly the idea that he would have disturbed a house full of ladies of the night sounded completely stupid. Not to mention that it just wasn't true.
"Couldn't face sleepin' in that bed all alone," he admitted. "Guess Ennis is ticked off at me."
Ellie sighed. "You two might consider giving each other a phone number where you can be reached. Would save a whole lot of unnecessary grief, on both sides."
This was something that Jack had actually considered, once, but the idea had been quickly dismissed. "Ennis'd have a coronary if I called him down ta the construction housin'."
"Grow up, Jack. If the man's old enough to be fucking with you, then he's old enough to take an honest opinion or two. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life worried about saying the wrong thing? Anyway, he has the number here, for the next time something comes up out of the blue."
"Somethin' came up?"
"Ennis said he would be there, didn't he?" Ellie asked rather abruptly. "Do you really think he lied? That he never intended to show up?"
"No," Jack instinctively protested, but instantly felt the shame of actually being guilty of thinking that very thing, at least finally settling on something that only hurt a little less. "Figured he got spooked. Changed his mind at the last minute."
"He didn't."
When Ellie didn't explain further, Jack impatiently prompted, "What happened? Why didn't he show?"
"Ask him. It's about time the two of you realized that there's a lot more to being in a relationship than just fucking."
"Was tryin'," Jack grumbled.
"What?"
"I said I was tryin'," Jack reiterated through his frustration. "Coulda told Jennin's I was busy, an' just met up with Ennis for all that fuckin' you was talkin' about. Hell, I shoulda done jus' that. Got all the rest a the week ta be sociable an' stuff. Only get a little bit a time with Ennis. Don't need nothin' else but a bed an' a basement room with no windows."
For a few long moments there was nothing but the hollow sound of the open phone line between them. "Ellie?"
"Yes."
"I...it was easier bein' mad at Ennis."
"Easier than what?"
Ellie's tone had softened and Jack wondered if maybe she already knew what he meant. "Easier than thinkin' that somethin' bad'd happened ta him."
When Ellie spoke, there was nothing but understanding in her gentle words. "Easier, maybe, but sometimes easier can make things worse, if you start believing it."
'Would a been there, Bud, if I coulda.'
Jack closed his eyes as Ennis' voice spoke to him again. Trust was more important than taking the easy way out.
"I'll be by Wednesday to chop some more wood," he said into the phone.
"See you then, Jack."
With so much more to say, but no way to say it and with the wrong person to hear it, Jack said goodbye and hung up, heading back to his room and the algebra that didn't make too much more sense than his life. One minute he felt like he was back in control, and the next he was right back up on that imaginary bull, fighting to just hang on and not doing much else. The kind of ride that would last until the buzzer, but one that a man sure wouldn't earn enough points to win big.
When had things changed? When had just lasting through the ride become not quite enough? Sure, he had always wanted to end up with the grand prize - the belt buckle he wore so proudly - but there had been a time when just finishing in the money had made the effort worthwhile.
Slouched on his bed, he eyed the textbook in his hand. Last night he had dreamed of not only passing that test, but making an 'A' on it. Schooling had never interested him before, and when he first started this endeavor it had been all about getting his diploma so he wouldn't feel like such an outcast in his own unit. Now he really wanted to get a good grade, not just enough to squeak by. He had always wanted more, but never had it meant so much.
He couldn't stop the smile that tugged the corners of his mouth upwards. This wasn't an entirely new feeling. He had felt it once before, when he was driving from Lightning Flats, bound for Riverton. More wasn't enough when it came to Ennis. He had wanted it all then, too. Alma be damned. And everyone who thought what he felt for Ennis was wrong be damned, too.
Maybe what he and Ennis had here wasn't perfect, but they had more than Jack had dared hope for while he was in the army. Even if Ennis wasn't ready to make a real life with him, he was here, of his own free will, and he was trying. Elmer was right, and maybe Ellie was, too. Next Sunday he was going to listen to what Ennis had to say about what had come up that had made him unable to make it to the cookout, and then he was going to give Ennis the number here at the barracks.
With his sense of control mostly back in place, Jack cracked open the book and pulled out the folded paper with the notes Mrs. Jennings had made on his last attempt at algebraic addition and subtraction. He would get this figured out, if it was the last thing he ever did. Although he really hoped the last thing he ever did would involve a certain cowboy and his mighty fine dick.
TBC...
AUTHOR: VNapier
PAIRING: Ennis/Jack
RATING: R - NC17
FEEDBACK: Always. E mail me at BBMFAN@ZOOMINTERNET.NET
DISCLAIMERS: Standard disclaimers. The characters are not mine, but the story is.
SUMMARY: This is a sequel to 'If Anyone Can Show Just Cause, Speak Now...' and 'Til Death Do Us Part'. Those stories can be found on my
livejournal at http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/
part 1 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/23041.html
part 2 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/23455.html
part 3 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/23618.html
part 4 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/23873.html
part 5 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/24287.html
part 6a - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/24491.html
part 6b - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/24934.html
part 7 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/30628.html
part 8 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/31262.html
part 9 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/32093.html
part 10a - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/32391.html
part 10b - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/32635.html
part 11 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/32778.html
part 12 - http://vln-bbmfan.livejournal.com/33243.html
"Dammit!" Jack wadded up the paper with his incorrect answers on it and threw it across the dreary laundry room.
"Hey, Twist, this ain't a combat zone."
Startled, Jack looked up to see Private First Class Ore with an armload of laundry standing in the doorway, right next to where his paper missile had impacted the doorjamb. Like Jack, Ore was wearing fatigue pants and green T-shirt. While everyone had civilian clothes, something about being in the barracks seemed to instill a need to remain military, or maybe it was some kind of reason for being issued six uniforms when the norm was to have only five duty shifts a week. Sunday was usually laundry day, and no one put too much effort into much else.
Neither man had shaved, but showers were taken more out of habit than anything else. In basic training, Jack had quickly discovered just how much a man could do automatically while still half asleep. Evidently Ore hadn't been up that long, because his short cropped hair was still wet, the nearly black ends glistening under the bare bulbs dangling from the row of fixtures that ran the length of the ceiling.
"Sorry, Ore. Didn't see ya there."
"S'okay," Private Ore lamented. "I've been known to get a little frustrated with paperwork, too. What are you working on?"
"English," Jack began hesitantly, but forced himself to add, "Didn't finish high school so I'm working on gettin' a GED."
Ore stopped and stared at Jack. A second later the corner of his mouth tilted up and dark green eyes sparkled encouragingly. "Good for you, Twist," he offered with a level of respect that had been missing for a while, or maybe had just gone unnoticed. Jack wasn't sure anymore.
Ore turned towards the washers, and then stopped, turning back towards Jack. "You know," he said hesitantly. "I did okay in English back in high school. Be happy to help out, if I can."
For a moment the two men just looked at each other, and Jack felt something break inside, only it wasn't broken in a bad way. Broken down, maybe, like there had been a wall of insecurity steadily building around him for the last few weeks, until he couldn't see anything but what was wrong, only now he was able to see over the wall again, to all the things that were right in his life. Sure, there were a few assholes like O'Malley around, but mostly he had experienced genuine friendship with his fellow soldiers. How could he have been so stupid to forget all the good that had found in the military? "I'd sure appreciate it."
Ore nodded. "Let me throw this load in the machine and I'll be right over."
For the next couple of hours, Jack and Ore tackled conjugating verbs and tense usage, taking time out to switch clothes between machines and to take a leak. By the time the books were closed and Jack was folding his last pair of boxers, he was feeling a lot more confident. He still didn't get why there had to be so many rules just to string a few words together, but at least he had a better grasp of what those rules were.
"Thanks fer all yer help, Ore. Owe ya a beer down ta the club."
"Any time." Ore slapped Jack on the back and went to gather his clean laundry, while Jack grabbed up his and headed for the door.
"Uh, Twist?" Ore began hesitantly.
Jack paused just inside the doorway. "Yeah."
"That belt buckle you sometimes wear, is it for real?"
Jack considered it his most prized possession, and nodded with pride. He didn't wear his old belt much anymore, only with his jeans, mostly off base on the weekends, but when he did have it on it still made him feel like he had accomplished something in life, something his father always swore he could never do. "Yep. Won it last year, at the Campbell County Rodeo, back in Wyomin'."
"Damn," Ore said with unguarded revere. "Closest thing I ever got to a bull was a steak wrapped in butcher paper from the meat market."
"Not sure that steak ain't a better way of gettin' acquainted."
"How long did it take you to win that buckle?"
"Was ridin' on the circuit for a couple a years. Won some, lost more, but this was my first buckle." Jack's smile slipped a little. "Couldn't take bein' at home no more, so I took off on my own. Different arena, different town, most every weekend. Then the army got me."
Ore shook his head, but his eyes were full of awe. "Must be some kind of life, being free to come and go as you pleased."
For Jack it had been fun, but mainly for those few blissful seconds when he was actually up on a bull that was doing his damnedest to throw him off. In between rides, it had been lonely as hell, but still better than enduring his father's disappointment and disapproval. No matter what, he had that buckle to show the world, and his father, that he could do something right.
"Me," Ore continued, oblivious to Jack's self-realization, seemingly lost in some kind of turmoil of his own. "I never got out of Pittsburgh until I joined the Army. Can't stand the place. Nothing but smokestacks and concrete around there. One steel mill after another. Sure as hell ain't looking forward to going back there, but my time's just about up."
"That's tough," Jack agreed. He could totally understand the desire to stay as far away from his birthplace as possible.
"I'm seriously considering re-enlisting. Hard to decide what's worse, going to war or going back to Pittsburgh." Ore sighed heavily, and ran his hand forcefully through his now dry hair. The frown that had appeared with the first mention of his dreaded hometown deepened. "Only got another month to make up my mind."
Since Jack had no choice about being there, he had never considered that there would be any decision about staying around when his time was up. Cajun had mentioned it a couple of times, but he had a couple of years and even then, was always talking about going back to Louisiana as soon as his time was up. The possibilities hadn't seemed to register the way they were now that Ore was talking about it actually being a choice. For Jack, he had just figured he belonged to Uncle Sam for two years, and after that he would go back to his old life. For the first time he considered that it was actually going to be a decision he would have to make in about eighteen months.
"It really that bad back home?" Even if he had no choice but to go back to Lighting Flats and endure his father's cutting tongue, he couldn't quite wrap his mind around marching off to war as being any better.
"Not so much at home." Ore's frown gave way to a smile, his expressions visually depicting the inner struggle. "My folks aren't too bad. Been married for thirty years; I've got four older brothers. Get that many people under one roof and there's bound to be some arguing, but mostly we were happy enough. All of us boys played on the high school football team, but I was the only one to make starting quarterback, and my sophomore year, too. Dad's worked at the steel mill since he got out of school, and just assumed that'd I'd do the same, like my brothers did."
A pained expression washed over Ore's features. "He was pretty sore when I enlisted. He's gotten better over the last couple of years, but the last time he wrote, he was talking about me coming home and starting a 'real job' at the steel mill. He's going to hit the roof when I tell him I'm actually considering re-enlisting, making the army my career."
Jack leaned against the doorjamb. "You'd really stay in fer twenty years?"
Ore's brilliant smile gave away his true feelings before his words could. "Sure. It's a good life. Work with some really great guys, doing a service to my country, and seeing places most folks back home will never get the chance to see. It's a hell of a lot better than sweating my ass off in some steel mill and choking on coke for the rest of my life," Ore snorted.
"Coke?"
"It's the stuff that's left over when they blast the ore in the furnace to make it into steel. Fume smell is so strong it burns the insides of your nose." Ore shuddered and grabbed up his clothes off the folding table. "Nope, I sure don't want to go back to that. I'd rather do something meaningful with my life, like saving poor folks in Nam from those pinko commies who want to make slaves out of all the poor working stiffs. That's something a man could be proud of when his bones are laid to rest."
Jack wasn't really sure that he agreed with all of this. Part of him wondered what business it was of the U.S. government to demand that he defend people he had never met from a threat that would never affect him, but another part remembered how it had been in that awful year he was in the fourth grade, getting beat up all the time by Herman Carstairs, who was in the fourth grade for the third time and twice as big as Jack and the rest of the kids, and wishing so hard that someone stronger would come along and take care of Herman.
However, it really didn't matter if the war was right or not, he respected Ore for having his own beliefs and not knuckling under to his dad's wishes. As he followed Ore out of the laundry room and up the stairs, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous of the man whose father actually wanted to pass something on to his son, wanted him working by his side, hell, just wanted him at all.
"You coming down to the theater?" Ore asked over his shoulder. "They're showing Dead Ringer, with Bette Davis and Karl Malden."
Although he was tempted, Jack resisted. After his talk with Mrs. Jennings, he had regained his determination to be ready for the November testing. "Nope. I got some math stuff to work on. Haven't been studyin' much the last couple a weeks. Gotta get back on track if I'm gonna pass that test this fall."
"That's cool," Ore replied from down the hall. "See you later."
"Sure thing." Jack climbed the stairs to the next floor, and made his way to his own room. Cajun wasn't there, but that wasn't a big surprise. The man could sleep away most of a Sunday morning, but as soon as he was awake, he was gone, probably trying to stay one step ahead of the woman he had fucked the night before, or maybe trying to catch up to her for a second go round.
There was a time when Jack thought the same way, that fucking was just something all guys wanted to do all the time, and while he hadn't lost any of his enthusiasm for the act itself, he had come to know that it made a big difference when there was love to go along with it. He had never actually fucked with another guy before Ennis, but he wasn't totally inexperienced to handling another man's dick, or having another man handle his dick, either. The gals he had fucked were okay, but nothing any female had ever done felt quite as good as feeling the grip of another man's hand stroking his dick. Then came Ennis.
While Jack could still look and appreciate a nice pair of tits or a muscular ass, neither brought on the lust that they had before. Now it was only Ennis that made him feel that uncontrollable need to fuck, and fuck, and then fuck some more.
Shaking his head, he pushed away those kinds of thoughts. He put his clothes away and turned towards the books he had left on his bed before going down in the hole to do the weekly laundry. Algebra. He didn't get it at all. Even before a six-foot-two hunk of studly distraction had made an unthinkable journey from the lower forty-eight, this particular subject had been giving Jack fits. Not only was he having problems figuring it all out, he couldn't see how any of it would be useful.
What was the point of knowing something if it couldn't help a man make his way in life? The only person he could see would benefit from knowing this was the teachers, like Mrs. Jennings, who were getting paid to teach it. That still didn't explain the benefit to the ones learning it who weren't going to be trying to teach it later, and that certainly was a joke in his case.
He could just see himself up in front of a classroom, a bunch of wide-eyed kids looking to him for all the answers, and him spouting out this useless stuff like it would make a difference if they knew it. What he couldn't understand was why that test wasn't about important stuff, like how to tell when a cow was about to calf, when the sky was going to snow or rain, how to rotate crops and herd to get the most out of the land, or even when to bail off a bull before you got whipped around and your innards plugged by horn or hoof?
"Twist! Phone!" a voice yelled from down the hall.
Fanciful thoughts of a life he still missed vanished and Jack sighed. He knew it would be Ellie. She was the only who ever called. Each floor had one pay phone, and his room was at the other end of the hall. There was a chair under the phone, where a person could look out the window while he was talking to whomever.
How many times had he sat in that very chair, talking to Ennis, and staring out into the bleakness where a voice on the phone was all he had? It wasn't so bleak anymore because Ennis was a whole lot closer, and a whole lot more than just a voice on the phone once in a while. That was one of the things he was now seeing he had lost sight of during the last few weeks, like he had lost sight of the real friends he had made while he was here, too. He had learned a whole lot more than just English during his afternoon of studying with Ore.
When he reached the end of the hall, he grabbed the dangling receiver and put it to his ear. "Twist."
"Jack?"
It definitely wasn't Ellie. "That you, Thelma?"
"Yes. Elmer's on the other extension. I found your number when I was cleaning out the kitchen drawer, and Elmer insisted that we give you a call. Hope you don't mind."
Jack slumped down in the chair. "'m real sorry 'bout not callin'," he apologized through his shame. "An', no, I surely don't mind."
"We're not angry, Jack," Elmer's calming voice came through the line. "We just wanted to know that you were alright. Did you and Ennis have a good time at that cookout?"
Although reluctant to admit his disappointment at being denied the chance to have any kind of time with Ennis at the cookout, Jack was even more surprised that they would know about the event. "Reckon ya must a talked ta Ennis last week?"
"He calls most every Thursday evening. Said a friend of yours from out at the base had invited both of you over for the Fourth of July festivities," Thelma explained. "He didn't sound overly enthused by the idea, but he did say he had told you he'd go."
The relief that Ennis hadn't intentionally ditched the cookout was overshadowed by renewed worries of what else might have kept Ennis away. "Ennis wasn't there," Jack said into the receiver. "I figure he'd chickened out. Better'n thinkin' somethin' had happened ta him."
"I'm sure Ennis had a good reason for not showing," Elmer said in his fatherly and reassuring way. "Thelma's right, Ennis may not have been thrilled over the prospect of facing so many strangers, but I got the feeling he was actually looking forward to it, just the same. He even joked about never seein' fireworks at midnight before."
Jack smiled. He could almost hear Ennis' mumbled words, sounding like a grumble to anyone who didn't know him well, but for those he did know him well, being a fountain of feelings that were never shared easily, not even to those who were trusted the most. Mostly though, Jack found hope in his friends' insistence that Ennis had planned on coming.
"Does it really stay daylight all night up there?" Thelma asked.
"Not all night, but dang near. Wasn't too bad when I first got here. Wasn't much different than mid-winter back there, only it was spring here. The locals say in winter it gets ta be where there's only about four hours a sunlight a day, an' that's includin' dusk and dawn. Sure ain't lookin' forward ta it practically bein' night all the time."
"I can imagine," Elmer agreed sympathetically.
"Jack, are you really doing alright?" Thelma asked unexpectedly, and with a hint of trepidation.
Jack hesitated, but only for a moment. "Yes'm. I'm jus' fine," he assured her confidently. "Had a few rough weeks, but," Jack paused as a few doubts tried to take over, but he held firm. "Things'r goin' pretty good."
"That's good to hear. We worry about you," Thelma admitted. "Not because we don't think you're capable of taking care of yourself, it's just, well..."
Thelma's sniffles could be heard through the static, and Jack berated himself once again for not making the time to call them. Even this call was their doing, not his.
"What Thelma's trying to say, Jack, is that we miss you and Ennis," Elmer interjected in her behalf. "We want you both to be happy, but we miss having you around, too."
"Miss bein' there." And Jack did. More than he had felt in a long time, but it wasn't the painful hurt of when he was in basic training. This was more like the ache of wanting two things that just couldn't be had at the same time. It felt good hearing that he was missed, but it made him realize how much he was missing his old life, too. It hadn't all been bad, just like it wasn't all bad here, either.
"Promise I'll get back ta callin' more often. Ain't got no excuse. I'm real sorry fer worryin' ya so."
"You promise to take care of yourself," Thelma sniffled. "And you bundle up real good when you go outside. I can't believe in the middle of summer it still gets so cold at night. It's a wonder everyone up there doesn't have a perpetual cold. And if you start to feeling congested, make sure you eat lots of chicken noodle soup."
"I will," Jack promised. Some might be offended by Thelma's mothering ways, but he wasn't. It was a mother's gift of love, even if he wasn't really her boy.
"And Ennis, too. He needs you, Jack. Even if he can't say the words, that don't stop that from being what he really feels inside."
"I know." And deep down, Jack did know, but he couldn't help appreciating hearing those words, and knowing that they were spoken with the same affection he felt for the speaker. "Thank ya, for...for everythin'. Went outta town when yer package arrive, but got some a the fudge. Was mighty nice a ya ta send it up here. If ya don't mind, would ya thank Bertha Mae fer the caramel corn? Was real nice a her."
"We sure will." Elmer's deep chuckle floated over the line. "George, the poor fella I hired to bag groceries, doesn't care for you too much. Seems no on can pack a sack like Jack Twist. I think the poor boy'd quit, but he's determined to finally do something better than you could. Of course, nothing short of leaping a tall building in a single bound is going to accomplish that feat with a few of those ladies. They got real fond of you, Jack."
The words of kindness hit like a jolt of electricity. Sending sweets was one thing, all little old ladies liked to bake sweet stuff, but he figured he had long since been replaced at the market, and not just on the Fleishman's payroll. "How 'bout askin' 'em ta give the guy a break? Fer me," he said softly.
"We'll do that, Jack, if you promise to do something for us."
"What's that?"
"Don't be too hard on Ennis if it turns out he did chicken out of going to that cookout. He might stumble along the way, but he's trying."
The thought that Ennis had backed out for no reason except being afraid still hurt, but Jack was finally willing to accept that things could be a lot worse. Not just with Ennis, but with life in general. It definitely beat the hell out living in Texas married to some rich gal, and only seeing Ennis a couple of times a year.
"I'll call ya next Sunday. If ya don't talk ta Ennis first, I'll let ya know what happened and what's goin' on." He took a deep breath. It seemed so long since he had looked forward to making that weekly phone call. "'bout six-thirty, yer time, still okay?"
"Oh, yes. We'll definitely by home from church by then. People don't tend to mingle too long afterwards in the winter. Too crowded inside to talk, and too cold to stand around outside."
The line grew silent except for the few hisses of static that told all parties that line was still open.
"Take care of yourself, Jack."
Elmer's words were spoken in that tone that Jack had longed to hear from his own father. "I will, Sir," he said with all the respect he could muster into words.
"Stay warm," Thelma said in a tone that was more easily recognized, even through the strain of tears that could not be seen through a telephone line.
"Yes, ma'am. I will. You two take care, too."
"We will," Elmer said firmly. "Goodbye, Jack."
"Bye. Be callin' next Sunday. I promise."
After hanging up the phone, Jack slumped back into the chair. Memories of years long since gone flashed through his mind; the few good things on which he could look back, and with them came more guilt. He hadn't talked to his mother since that day back in December, when Hortence had been killed...no, he hadn't talked to her then, either. Just Aunt Mabel. Then Uncle Harold had showed up with that letter from the Army, and...and now he was in Alaska.
He had written to her once a week while in North Carolina, that one long letter when he got out of basic explaining why he couldn't come home for a visit before he shipped out, and a couple of shorter letters since he got his PCS to Richardson. However, like his calls to the Fleishman's, his letters home had come to a stop when Ennis arrived two months ago. As he headed back to his room, he vowed that this was another thing that was going to change. If his mother could write him once a month, he could do the same for her.
About halfway down the hallway, he stopped, dug into his pocket for some change, before turning around to head back to the phone. He lifted the receiver and deposited his nickel and dialed one of the few phone numbers that had ever been worth remembering.
"Hello."
"Ellie?
"Is that you, Jack?" she asked through a burst of static.
"Yeah. I just..." Suddenly Jack had no idea what he wanted to say.
"Ennis just left to catch the bus. About five minutes ago."
Ennis had come after all. Maybe not to the cookout, but he had come for Jack, to *their* place. "Didn't think he was coming this weekend."
"He did."
There was a calm factualness in those two words that he had not heard very often from Ellie, unless she was speaking about her business. "Was late when I left Jennin's house." Suddenly the idea that he would have disturbed a house full of ladies of the night sounded completely stupid. Not to mention that it just wasn't true.
"Couldn't face sleepin' in that bed all alone," he admitted. "Guess Ennis is ticked off at me."
Ellie sighed. "You two might consider giving each other a phone number where you can be reached. Would save a whole lot of unnecessary grief, on both sides."
This was something that Jack had actually considered, once, but the idea had been quickly dismissed. "Ennis'd have a coronary if I called him down ta the construction housin'."
"Grow up, Jack. If the man's old enough to be fucking with you, then he's old enough to take an honest opinion or two. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life worried about saying the wrong thing? Anyway, he has the number here, for the next time something comes up out of the blue."
"Somethin' came up?"
"Ennis said he would be there, didn't he?" Ellie asked rather abruptly. "Do you really think he lied? That he never intended to show up?"
"No," Jack instinctively protested, but instantly felt the shame of actually being guilty of thinking that very thing, at least finally settling on something that only hurt a little less. "Figured he got spooked. Changed his mind at the last minute."
"He didn't."
When Ellie didn't explain further, Jack impatiently prompted, "What happened? Why didn't he show?"
"Ask him. It's about time the two of you realized that there's a lot more to being in a relationship than just fucking."
"Was tryin'," Jack grumbled.
"What?"
"I said I was tryin'," Jack reiterated through his frustration. "Coulda told Jennin's I was busy, an' just met up with Ennis for all that fuckin' you was talkin' about. Hell, I shoulda done jus' that. Got all the rest a the week ta be sociable an' stuff. Only get a little bit a time with Ennis. Don't need nothin' else but a bed an' a basement room with no windows."
For a few long moments there was nothing but the hollow sound of the open phone line between them. "Ellie?"
"Yes."
"I...it was easier bein' mad at Ennis."
"Easier than what?"
Ellie's tone had softened and Jack wondered if maybe she already knew what he meant. "Easier than thinkin' that somethin' bad'd happened ta him."
When Ellie spoke, there was nothing but understanding in her gentle words. "Easier, maybe, but sometimes easier can make things worse, if you start believing it."
'Would a been there, Bud, if I coulda.'
Jack closed his eyes as Ennis' voice spoke to him again. Trust was more important than taking the easy way out.
"I'll be by Wednesday to chop some more wood," he said into the phone.
"See you then, Jack."
With so much more to say, but no way to say it and with the wrong person to hear it, Jack said goodbye and hung up, heading back to his room and the algebra that didn't make too much more sense than his life. One minute he felt like he was back in control, and the next he was right back up on that imaginary bull, fighting to just hang on and not doing much else. The kind of ride that would last until the buzzer, but one that a man sure wouldn't earn enough points to win big.
When had things changed? When had just lasting through the ride become not quite enough? Sure, he had always wanted to end up with the grand prize - the belt buckle he wore so proudly - but there had been a time when just finishing in the money had made the effort worthwhile.
Slouched on his bed, he eyed the textbook in his hand. Last night he had dreamed of not only passing that test, but making an 'A' on it. Schooling had never interested him before, and when he first started this endeavor it had been all about getting his diploma so he wouldn't feel like such an outcast in his own unit. Now he really wanted to get a good grade, not just enough to squeak by. He had always wanted more, but never had it meant so much.
He couldn't stop the smile that tugged the corners of his mouth upwards. This wasn't an entirely new feeling. He had felt it once before, when he was driving from Lightning Flats, bound for Riverton. More wasn't enough when it came to Ennis. He had wanted it all then, too. Alma be damned. And everyone who thought what he felt for Ennis was wrong be damned, too.
Maybe what he and Ennis had here wasn't perfect, but they had more than Jack had dared hope for while he was in the army. Even if Ennis wasn't ready to make a real life with him, he was here, of his own free will, and he was trying. Elmer was right, and maybe Ellie was, too. Next Sunday he was going to listen to what Ennis had to say about what had come up that had made him unable to make it to the cookout, and then he was going to give Ennis the number here at the barracks.
With his sense of control mostly back in place, Jack cracked open the book and pulled out the folded paper with the notes Mrs. Jennings had made on his last attempt at algebraic addition and subtraction. He would get this figured out, if it was the last thing he ever did. Although he really hoped the last thing he ever did would involve a certain cowboy and his mighty fine dick.
TBC...