The Time Traveler's Lover : Jack at 35
Inspired by The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger.
The characters belong to Annie Proulx.
Jack travels back and forth in time throughout the course of his life and encounters Ennis and himself - visits that change everything and almost nothing.
March 28, 1979
Sprawled on the window seat in the den at the back of the house, Jack could see the clear night sky dense with stars, no street or house lights to compete with them. The room was dark and so was he; Lureen had walked right past the doorway without noticing he was there, still dressed all in black long after their return from the benefit dance. He had watched her platinum hair and white nightgown float down the hall like a ghost.
The moon was new, or maybe just on the other side of the house; at any rate, he couldn't see it. He was trying to locate the north star. There was the big dipper, over there the little one. Was Polaris at the end of the big dipper's handle or on the pot side? Or was it part of the little dipper? The whiskey was not helping him to remember this one little thing that had been a constant growing up in Wyoming.
He replayed in his head the conversation, if you could call it that, with Randall Malone. We oughta go down there some weekend. Whiskey and fishing. Get away. That a stranger could speak fluently the private language he and Ennis had created over the years had stunned him speechless on that bench. But did it mean the same thing to Randall? Jack closed his eyes and rested his head against the window frame. If the guy's wife had been less... what was the word he'd used? lively? he would've been more sure of the signals but Jack thought any man married to Lashawn would be desperate to get away for a fishing weekend, with anyone.
He heard the back door shut quietly and the sound of slow footsteps in the garden. When he opened his eyes he thought he must have fallen asleep because the sun was up. But he was naked and cool air was flowing in through the partly open window next to him. He knew immediately that he was in his room at Lightning Flat, sitting on the wooden bench with his head resting on the window frame. Down below he saw Ennis walking away from the house toward his truck, clutching a paper bag in both hands. He watched him pause and look toward the family graveyard. Then Ennis climbed into the cab, started the engine and pulled away. It didn't occur to Jack to lean out and call to him, or throw on clothes from his closet and run after him. He had seen Ennis' truck drive off so many times over the years, and the despair he had been feeling since returning from the dance was so familiar, that he observed his departure with detachment, as though he were watching a tv news report of a yet another earthquake or war on the other side of the planet. He couldn't even stir his mind to wonder why Ennis had come here. He'd find out someday anyway.
The bitch of it was, he couldn't tell whether he was in the past or the future. This room never changed, nor did the view from this window and above all, neither did Ennis. He had driven off in the same battered blue pickup, wearing his uniform of faded jeans, brown jacket and white hat. This could be last month or five years from now. Ennis was the one fixed, unchanging point in his life, the one Jack came back to again and again. The rising sun, the bleating lamb, the shining stone. No matter what he did or whom he spent time with, he eventually made the journey to Ennis, one way or another, for better or worse. He didn't know why he couldn't stop himself. It was just that way.
He heard the door open again and saw his mother walk out to the barn with a pan in her hand, bringing scraps for the dog. A minute later she re-emerged and paused in the doorway. She stood as straight as ever but was too far away for him to tell if her faced had aged. He saw her look up to his window and he automatically put his palm to the glass in greeting. With no change of expression or posture she lifted her hand. Night fell suddenly and he was touching the window of his own house.
He left his clothes and empty glass where they'd fallen and moved across the room to stretch out on the sofa, pulling the knitted blanket from the back of it and spreading it over his body. Had he had an epiphany back there? Epiphany: a sudden and important realization. He had just learned that word at the spelling bee he'd attended at Bobby's school last week, at first thinking it was one of those weird names people were giving their baby daughters these days. He'd almost missed Bobby's one and only turn, thinking about that word, and that one that meant confidently optimistic. Realized that an epiphany is what he'd been waiting for Ennis to have for the past 16 years, and that now he had no confidence or optimism that it would ever happen. Best to get the little he could from him, even if it was never as much as he needed, and find solace where it was available the rest of the time.
Soon enough, he would learn whether he and Randall Malone spoke the same language.
<< Jack at 33 | Jack at 36 >>
The characters belong to Annie Proulx.
Jack travels back and forth in time throughout the course of his life and encounters Ennis and himself - visits that change everything and almost nothing.
March 28, 1979
Sprawled on the window seat in the den at the back of the house, Jack could see the clear night sky dense with stars, no street or house lights to compete with them. The room was dark and so was he; Lureen had walked right past the doorway without noticing he was there, still dressed all in black long after their return from the benefit dance. He had watched her platinum hair and white nightgown float down the hall like a ghost.
The moon was new, or maybe just on the other side of the house; at any rate, he couldn't see it. He was trying to locate the north star. There was the big dipper, over there the little one. Was Polaris at the end of the big dipper's handle or on the pot side? Or was it part of the little dipper? The whiskey was not helping him to remember this one little thing that had been a constant growing up in Wyoming.
He replayed in his head the conversation, if you could call it that, with Randall Malone. We oughta go down there some weekend. Whiskey and fishing. Get away. That a stranger could speak fluently the private language he and Ennis had created over the years had stunned him speechless on that bench. But did it mean the same thing to Randall? Jack closed his eyes and rested his head against the window frame. If the guy's wife had been less... what was the word he'd used? lively? he would've been more sure of the signals but Jack thought any man married to Lashawn would be desperate to get away for a fishing weekend, with anyone.
He heard the back door shut quietly and the sound of slow footsteps in the garden. When he opened his eyes he thought he must have fallen asleep because the sun was up. But he was naked and cool air was flowing in through the partly open window next to him. He knew immediately that he was in his room at Lightning Flat, sitting on the wooden bench with his head resting on the window frame. Down below he saw Ennis walking away from the house toward his truck, clutching a paper bag in both hands. He watched him pause and look toward the family graveyard. Then Ennis climbed into the cab, started the engine and pulled away. It didn't occur to Jack to lean out and call to him, or throw on clothes from his closet and run after him. He had seen Ennis' truck drive off so many times over the years, and the despair he had been feeling since returning from the dance was so familiar, that he observed his departure with detachment, as though he were watching a tv news report of a yet another earthquake or war on the other side of the planet. He couldn't even stir his mind to wonder why Ennis had come here. He'd find out someday anyway.
The bitch of it was, he couldn't tell whether he was in the past or the future. This room never changed, nor did the view from this window and above all, neither did Ennis. He had driven off in the same battered blue pickup, wearing his uniform of faded jeans, brown jacket and white hat. This could be last month or five years from now. Ennis was the one fixed, unchanging point in his life, the one Jack came back to again and again. The rising sun, the bleating lamb, the shining stone. No matter what he did or whom he spent time with, he eventually made the journey to Ennis, one way or another, for better or worse. He didn't know why he couldn't stop himself. It was just that way.
He heard the door open again and saw his mother walk out to the barn with a pan in her hand, bringing scraps for the dog. A minute later she re-emerged and paused in the doorway. She stood as straight as ever but was too far away for him to tell if her faced had aged. He saw her look up to his window and he automatically put his palm to the glass in greeting. With no change of expression or posture she lifted her hand. Night fell suddenly and he was touching the window of his own house.
He left his clothes and empty glass where they'd fallen and moved across the room to stretch out on the sofa, pulling the knitted blanket from the back of it and spreading it over his body. Had he had an epiphany back there? Epiphany: a sudden and important realization. He had just learned that word at the spelling bee he'd attended at Bobby's school last week, at first thinking it was one of those weird names people were giving their baby daughters these days. He'd almost missed Bobby's one and only turn, thinking about that word, and that one that meant confidently optimistic. Realized that an epiphany is what he'd been waiting for Ennis to have for the past 16 years, and that now he had no confidence or optimism that it would ever happen. Best to get the little he could from him, even if it was never as much as he needed, and find solace where it was available the rest of the time.
Soon enough, he would learn whether he and Randall Malone spoke the same language.
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