(no subject)
KISS, CHAPTER 5
He didn't even have a photo. A photo would just support a lie, the lie that somewhere in Wyoming a child with hair like sunset - a woman now - was waiting, eyes wide and shining, to see her Daddy again. That child was gone; let the memory go too. The last time he had seen her, she had been pale as the pillow on which her bandaged head lay, eyes closed against the coming daylight. Her right leg, swathed in plaster, had been hoisted up in traction, and on a stupid, sentimental whim, he'd scouted round for a pen, had carefully written “Love from Daddy” on the cast, and drawn a horse underneath. Then he'd kissed her one last time and like a ghost of the old West, had slipped away as quietly as he'd come.
On that day, as he thumbed a ride south to Laramie, the process had begun of shoving the memories down into a hole deep enough to stop them hurting him ever again. It had taken another decade or so but he'd finally buried them completely. Sure, over the long years he'd remembered he had a daughter, but she was an abstraction, faceless and without feeling, a representation of the wider world, and that world had no time, understanding, or need for one such as himself.
So what the fuck was he doing now, in the house of the man who'd set him on this path?
In the spare room, having avoided all of Jesse's conversation openers by muttering promises about talking “tomorrow”, Ellis mulled over his immediate options: he could try drinking away the newly-freed thoughts, but he owed his boss - his friend - a whole lot more than another drunken rage; he could pull out the chessboard and lose himself in the move and countermove of those inanimate pieces, but the game's power to distract had begun to fade the day Jesse Turner appeared at his trailer door; he could walk outside, pace amongst the roses until exhaustion dropped him into sleep, but every part of his aching body screamed a protest at the idea; or he could start talking right now, stare down the demons at last. A towelling bathrobe had been placed on his bed; he pulled it on over his undershirt and boxer shorts, slid his smokes into the top pocket, and walked up the hallway.
“Move over,” he told a startled Jesse as he entered the master bedroom without the courtesy of a knock. Jesse laid aside the book he'd been reading, took off his glasses, and shuffled to one side of his queen-size bed. Ellis eased himself down against the headboard, and lit up a cigarette.
“Turn out the light.”
“Here.” Jesse passed him an ashtray and killed the bedside lamp. For a while, there was nothing but the glow of burning tobacco, reflecting off bandaged fingers, and the sound of raspy breathing. Ellis tried to clear his throat but the movement sent pain knifing through his chest.
“You shoulda stayed in, like the doctor recommended.”
“Got no time for hospitals.” He steadied his ragged breaths, his hammering thoughts, and began.
“Caitlyn. Her name was - is - Caitlyn, and she was born in, uh, nineteen and seventy-five. I ain't seen her since she was ten. I loved that little girl ta pieces. She weren't nothin like her ma, 'cept the hair. Caitlyn was ... she could look at ya so solemn and serious, like she knew everthin there was ta know, then she'd smile ...” He inhaled, held his breath a while, let the smoke out slow and easy. “Smile bright enough ta blind a body. And when she laughed ... Anyway, Aileen, her ma, was a crazy bitch. Quiet crazy, y'know? Like somethin was broke inside. She smoked a hell of a lot of weed, all home-grown. Pretty good shit, it was. Use ta tell me how she'd lived on the West Coast for a while. For what it's worth, I reckon she fried her brain on more than dope.”
“You and her ...?”
“We scratched each other's itches for a time, that's all. I left my horses with her while I looked for work, and we kinda fell into an arrangement that suited us both. Then she gets it into her head she wants ta have a baby afore she's too old.” He sighed. “In the end, she got her wish. I thought ... I figured I could walk away, but one sight a that kid and I was a gonner. She was such a great kid, like you took the best of a boy and a girl and put em together. Stubborn as a damn mule sometimes, had a temper on her too, but--” he tried to snap his fingers, “--next thing it'd be gone, all blowed over, back to smiles. Always took her away from her ma whenever I could, take her into town, buy her an ice-cream, push her on the swings, go and play by the river. Once she was old enough we'd go ridin up in the hills or campin further up the valley if I could string a coupla days off in a row. She never cared about getting dirty or skinnin her knees or nothin. Smart too - didn't miss a trick.”
The path he was heading down led to dangerous territory, he knew that for sure, and he was leaving himself more open and vulnerable with every word: he'd learned the hard way that memories and regrets wound with deep and vicious cuts which never really heal. And yet, his tired heart was beginning to enjoy the journey. The more he talked, the more he recalled, the more he wanted to say. It wasn't happiness exactly; rather, it was the memory of happiness, the drawing forward of a time when even he had been allowed a taste of something good and honest and pure. Slowly, haltingly, he recounted all those good times, half forgot Jesse was even in the room. There were moments when his throat wouldn't quite open enough to let him speak, long pauses that hung in the darkness until Jesse came in with a gentle prompt.
“Used ta wish sometimes that Aileen would fall off a ladder, or somethin, get kicked by a horse, drown in the bath when she was stoned. Then me and Caitlyn could live up on that ranch. I killed her off dozens a times in my head. Guess that sounds mighty sick. Didn't hate the woman or nothin, just had no use for her. I didn't have no right ta feel that way about her. She was fine about lettin me see my girl. Musta been hard raisin a kid at her age.”
“So what went wrong?”
Ellis sighed; here came the hard part. “One day I go up there to pick up Caitlyn, and Aileen's screamin at me I can't see her no more. Anyway, long story short, kid's already up in the truck so we take off. I'm yellin out the window at Aileen that I'll bring her back safe and sound soon. 'Cept some asshole cuts in front of us on the highway and we wind up in a ditch. Blood all over her face, leg all bent, and all I got is a bruised chest from the steerin wheel.” He lapse into silence again.
“Was she okay?”
“In the end. But Jesus Christ, I thought my heart would stop beatin when I saw her there. She was in my care ...”
“But the crash weren't your fault.”
“Nope.”
“You hadn't been drinkin?”
“Stone cold sober. Never drank around my girl.”
“No charges?”
“None. Too many witnesses ta what happened. But that don't mean nothin. I blamed myself. If I hadn't a been so riled up over Aileen ... I dunno. Anyway, I cleared out right after that. Like I said, Aileen was a crazy bitch, and I didn't--” He cut his words short.
“Didn't what?”
“Don't matter.” He stubbed out his cigarette; the low glow of a waning moon was the only light in the room. “Weren't long after that I got throwed in jail. You know I did time?”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“Manslaughter. I'm guessin you know that too. Man. Slaughter. “ He said both words distinctly, not flinching away from the image they brought to his mind's eye. “D'ya reckon that sounds better'n murder?”
“Guess so. I dunno. Maybe not.”
“Same result in the end. Someone's dead and someone's ta blame.”
“I heard you beat him up. Was it like you and Lou, only it got outta hand? You didn't mean ta kill the guy?”
Silence was the reply. Not all the gates were opening. Some were still firmly locked. Some shame would never see the light of day, if Ellis had anything to do with it.
“You wanta tell me?”
“There've been a few Lous in the past. More than a few. No, it weren't like Lou. There's some things ...”
“You can trust me.”
“It ain't about trust. There's some things ... you don't wanta know. Believe me.”
After a while Jesse realised the day had finally caught up with Ellis, who was now beginning to snore. Jesse removed the ashtray and watched him for a while, then eased out of bed and into the en suite. He emerged ten minutes later, relaxed and ready to sleep. Several hours later he awoke to an empty bed and the smell of coffee floating down the hall.
“I seem to recall you ate eggs fer breakfast,” said Ellis as Jesse stumbled bleary-eyed into the kitchen, “but I ain't got the skills right now.” The would-be cook held up his broken hands in explanation.
Despite the injuries, Ellis declared himself fit enough for light work, and was out of the house before Jesse had managed his second sip of coffee. He hitched a ride on the back of a quad bike driven by one of the other hands, wincing at every rut in the track, and baled out at the machine shed, where he spent the entire day in mind-numbing small tasks. The men who came by spoke to him in a kindly enough, if awkward, fashion, and one or two even joked with him about taking on a big lug like Lou. If there was any undercurrent beneath their words it escaped Ellis's keen antennae. It was Ramon who gave him a lift back up at the end of the day, dropping him outside the ranch house without saying a word about the new and unusual arrangement. Over supper -Jesse had defrosted some chilli, easily handled with bandaged hands - they managed to keep the silence at bay with non-commital chitchat until Ellis couldn't stand it any longer.
“What?”
“Whaddaya mean, what?” replied Jesse.
“What's on yer mind?”
“Nothin.”
“Bullshit.”
Jesse shrugged. “Oh, some scuttlebut I picked up while I was tryin a find you. Don't give it no mind.”
“But you are.”
“Okay, you wanta talk about it now? No dark room? No fallin asleep on me?”
Ellis pushed away his empty plate and leaned forward, eyeballing Jesse. He slowly and deliberately nodded his head. Jesse took a breath, spoke rapidly.
“Okay, someone hinted there'd been an accusation you was a danger to a kid. The accident weren't no fault a yours, so ... what?”
“Fuckin Aileen.” He didn't sound angry, just resigned to the petty inevitability of life. “Fuckin small-town fuckin gossips. How the fuck do they get to know this shit? So you heard this and you still hired me?”
“I made a judgment call,” said Jesse, “and I ain't had a reason to doubt my judgment. Wouldn't've asked, if you hadn't started talkin.”
“AIDS,” said Ellis abruptly. “She suddenly decides I'm goin a kill her baby with the fuckin 'gay disease'. Don't know what she heard or read or saw, but suddenly she gets this damn notion--”
“Whoa, whoa! Back up, friend! AIDS? Fuckin AIDS?”
“I didn't catch it, Jesse, if that's what yer thinkin.”
“But she thought you might? You were ... ?”
“I got it when I could.”
“And she knew.”
“I said Aileen was crazy, didn't say she was stupid. I guess she figured me out over time. Never said nothin, and maybe she really didn't care so long as I treated Caitlyn right.”
“So what triggered the fight? Why'd she suddenly turn like that?”
Ellis just shrugged. “Don't matter now. Too late ta find out, too late ta care. Makes no difference anyway.” He got up and poured them both some more coffee, then stood at the window, his back to the room, looking out across the ranch to those distant low hills, rosy under the setting sun. His voice drifted back to Jesse, soft and shaky. “Aileen swore if I hung around she'd out me. Ain't that what they call it? Then she wrote me in jail, just ta rub in the fact I wouldn't be seein Caitlyn again. Can't blame her. No place for a kid to be seein her father, 'specially after what I done. But then ...” He leaned his forehead on the glass for a few steadying seconds. “A year or so afore I was up for parole, I got a letter from my girl, tellin me ta stay away, she didn't want me comin back into her life. That's it.”
He tried to take a mouthful of coffee but the tight mouth, the closed throat, wouldn't let him do it. Jesse's footfalls were soundless over the plush carpet, his hand tentative on Ellis's shoulder. Ellis felt the cup being taken from his trembling hand. He offered no resistence to Jesse's touch, and was even grateful for the arms sliding around his waist in a light hug.
“The window,” Ellis murmured. Jesse reached out to the drapes cord and secured their privacy.
“You didn't try ta make contact after?”
“Would you? Dunno what her ma told her, but Caitlyn made it plain enough how she felt.”
“But she was just a kid--”
“Eighteen.”
“She might a changed her mind once she got out in the world.”
“If she did. I weren't willin ta find out, just in case. Better that way. Better for everone. It's not like I could offer her anythin. A growed-up woman ain't interested in horse-ridin and campin with some old jailbird she ain't seen in years.”
“Even her dad?”
“No, that's enough. I don't wanta talk about her no more.” But suddenly, surprisingly, Ellis found himself wanting to talk about other things which had been preying on his mind for a day or two. “Jesse?”
“Mmm.”
“That thing I said about it bein yer fault. It weren't true.”
“No shit.”
“I just ... it was so damn hard, what was happenin after we split up that summer. I fought it ever inch a the way.” He glanced down at his hands, let slip a mirthless laugh. “Guess I'm a slow learner.”
“So long as you get there in the end.”
“Took me years, fuckin dumb things I did. Never forgot you, though.”
As he talked, each breath pushed his cracked ribs against Jesse's encircling arms but the pain wasn't as bad as he'd imagined it would be. He leaned back a little, dog-tired, a lifetime's weariness making itself known. So easy just to relax into it, let it all happen. Jesse's right hand was inching down his belly, Jesse's mouth was brushing his grey-stubbled cheek, seeking out his own, but he jerked his head away.
“Don't! No! Don't do that! Please.”
For a frozen moment, neither knew what to do next, then Ellis guided that searching hand back where he wanted it to be.