(no subject)
THE OUTLAND
Genre: AU
Rating: NC-17 for m/m sex and language
Feedback: Any and all is welcome
Disclaimer: These are Annie Proulx's brilliant original characters and her story, and I have treated it and them (and her) with as much respect as I can muster. And I have no intention of sending her a copy :)
This story is for Canstandit, with thanks for her ongoing support, inspiration and help. In this chapter I also shamelessly borrowed a few of her ideas.
CHAPTER 15
In Denver, first thing Saturday morning, Jack insisted they stop for some important shopping. Ennis stepped out like a man treading on rattlesnakes and he cast furtive glances from under his hat as if expecting to see men coupling on every street corner. Whenever a turn in the road brought a distant glimpse of the Rockies or his ears picked up the sound of the river through the traffic's din, his claustrophobic panic lifted just enough for him to grab a few breaths again. Down towards the railway station was a shop Jack had heard of, that sold just the sort of items he was after. As Ennis alternated between studying the ornate metal ceiling and his boot toes, Jack rummaged through racks of shirts, pulling some out and rejecting them until at last he found one he liked, in soft warm butterscotch and with a cream fringe.
"Here, try this on."
"Look like a fuckin palomino," Ennis grumbled but he did as he was told. He'd never stepped inside a changing room before and couldn't bring himself to look too closely at his multiple reflections. At least now he knew the reason Jack had wrangled him into the shower before they'd left the motel that morning. One of the reasons, anyway.
When he emerged, pulling at the shirt, hunched and frowning, Jack added an amber bolo tie to finish it off, murmuring low as he did, "I may not be there to see you walk up the aisle with your girl but I want a know that my man is the best-lookin feller in that church." What he didn't say, for fear Ennis would flee from the store and never come back, was that the color drew out the gold flecks in his beloved's eyes, that those untidy greying locks looked like sun-blessed meadows, that his weathered face glowed with an inner light, that Jack would happily fall on his knees right there in the midst of the customers and staff, and worship this man whom he adored.
They made better time than expected along the road to Childress, and when Jack's pickup slid in behind his son's car, there was no sign of Lureen's sporty new post-divorce Mercedes. The front door of the house was unlocked and Rob was down in the family room, staring out across the back yard.
"Where's your mo---"
"Dad, what the hell is going on? Hi, Ennis. Mom's been acting like a dog with fleas all week, won't tell me why I can't go up north this summer, and suddenly here you are down here with some big news, so she says."
"Yeah, well, short story is," said Jack in as casual a tone was he could muster, "we had a fallin out with your granpa. He told us to leave."
"He what? But you guys do most of the work! That's crazy. How's he gonna manage?
"I dunno. That's up to him. He managed by himself for years till Ennis went up to help. And we left the place in better shape than it's ever been so I guess he'll be okay -- for a while, anyway."
"But you used to say he was barely holding it together, even with the bit of help you used to give him."
"His problem, Rob. Nothin we can do about it."
"And what'll you two do? Where are you gonna live? He can't just throw you out like that."
"We got some work lined up, keep us goin a month or two. After that, play it by ear, hope the old bast-- hope your granpa comes to his senses. Or drops dead. Know which one I'd prefer."
"You could always come back here. Maybe Mr Sanders would hire you."
"In competition with your mama? That'd raise some eyebrows around here. No, it ain't goin a happen. Besides, Ennis starts to fret once he's over the state line, don't ya." He nudged Ennis who grunted but held his peace, already picking up the shrill edge of anxiety in Jack's voice. Rob looked from one to the other, the question taking form: Why do you have to be together? Instead, he asked a different one.
"What was the problem? Why'd he run you off? You leave a gate open or something?"
"He found out somethin he didn't like."
"Dad?"
"Can we get a coffee first?" said Jack, turning his back on his son and heading for the kitchen. "Been drivin all day." His hands were shaking as he poured their cups, and Ennis gave his arm a hopefully reassuring squeeze, out of Rob's line of sight. "So where's your mother?"
"Should be home soon." He looked at his watch. "Half an hour or so. She rang. Some last-minute business, you know what Mom's like."
They'd decided on the drive down: if at all possible, Jack would do this on his own, one on one, take the brunt of whatever Rob had to say, then Ennis would come in. He likes you, Jack had said, he won't get mad at you. Now, coffee in hand, nerves as tight as a newly-strung fence, he knew the moment had come.
"Maybe best that she ain't around. Let's go into your room, son. We got some serious talkin to do." As they walked away, he rolled his eyes at Ennis and clasped his hands together as if praying, then the door closed and it was just him and Rob. Feeling like some B-grade actor in a C-grade soap, he cleared his throat and said his opening line, just as he'd rehearsed it.
"Rob, sometimes life throws us a curve ball. Somethin comes at us that we don't expect. Happen a me a long, long time ago, before you was born, before me and your mama got together even. I met Ennis." He glanced at his son in the hopes there'd be a tiny sign of understanding, something that he could use so that the words didn't have to be said out loud, but there was nothing, just a puzzled kid waiting for the punchline. "Yeah, I met Ennis. Me and him, we hit it off right away, like it was meant to be, worked together all one summer herdin sheep. If I'd a had my way, I'd a never left Wyomin, never left him there. Trouble was, things didn't work out how I'd a liked em to, and ... and ...goddammit." He pulled their letter from his pocket. "Here."
As Rob read the brief lines, once, twice, three times, Jack jittered about, glancing at the sports trophies, the posters, the few schoolbooks, his own bull-riding buckle displayed along with everything else, looked at anything rather than his son's face.
"No. No way."
"Huh?"
"If this is your idea of a joke, it's pretty sick, Dad. You're just a regular guy."
"Ain't no joke, it's the truth."
"No. No. No! Stop it! Why're you doing this?"
"I'm tryin a tell you 'bout me and Ennis, why we can't live on the ranch no more. Your granpa, well, he don't approve. Come on, Rob, you musta known somethin." Be gentle, Jack, you gotta get this right, your one chance, you owe him, he didn't ask for any a this. "Didn't you know, somewhere inside? Didn't you start to wonder 'bout me and him?"
"I thought he was your friend."
"He is my friend. He's my best friend but he's much more'n that."
"But you and Mom! You can't be ..." Rob was hunting for a word he didn't have, didn't want; none of the vicious high school insults he knew had anything to do with this man who stood in front of him, his own father. He held out the letter instead; it fluttered a little in his outstretched hand. "Why'd you get married? Why'd Ennis get married, if this is how it was?"
Okay, he's upset but he ain't blown a gasket. Guess it's goin all right so far, might turn out okay after all. "That's just how it goes, how it used to go, what a man's supposed to do, what's expected a him. It's complicated. Maybe one day I can explain it all better. Rob, you and Ellen, you know what it feels like to want a be with someone all a the time, like you can't breathe unless you're with them." He brought his hands to his chest, the exquisite pain of twenty lonely years slicing unexpectedly through his heart.
"But she's a girl, it's not the same thing!"
"But it is the same, that's the point! It's like all the songs say, like it is in the movies. You can't just turn it off cause it ain't the way it's suppose ta be!" He caught the quick glance his son threw at his crotch, the shivery head-shake as he looked away. "Don't think a that stuff. That's just about needin to be so close. It's what's in here, in your heart, that matters. Everthin else comes from that. Please, Rob, please, try to understand. Uh, think of it this way - when Ellen looks at you, what does she see? A good-lookin guy - be thankful you got your mama's looks." He tried a rueful little smile but Rob plainly wasn't in the mood to appreciate humor. "She sees a guy she wants to be with, not just as a friend but as everthin. She wants all a you. That's how I feel about Ennis."
"But he's a man, same as you."
"And that's why I love him. Women, they just don't do it for me. I'm sorry I gotta say all this but it's just the way I am."
"But you married Mom. How could you do that if ... if all the time you wanted to be with him? How could he do it?"
"Now don't you go blamin Ennis for nothin. He didn't want none a this to happen, fought it ever goddamn inch a the way. I ain't proud a what I done, was just tryin a get along without him, figured I'd never see him again. And your mama and me had a good thing, honest we did."
"You never loved her."
"That ain't so. I did love her in a way. I tried hard, Rob, you gotta believe me. I tried to do the right thing but I needed Ennis so bad. He wouldn't see me but two or three times a year and it goddamn killed me ever time. After he got divorced I figured we could be together at last. Drove up to see him ..." He bit his lips, shook his head, fought the tears back, some memories too awful to recall. His son's eyes widened, dark pools of painful, dawning comprehension.
"That night you came home, when you locked yourself up in the study. It was then, wasn't it. You only came back here 'cause of him. He turned you down so you came back home, that what happened? Were you ... if he'd said yes, were you just gonna stay there, up in Wyoming? But what about me and Mom? Jesus, Dad, I was just a little kid! I was your son! Didn't I ... how could you ... you were just gonna leave me?"
Jack opened his mouth to speak but the bitter lie got tangled in his throat just a second too long, emerged weak and flat and so transparent the darkness shone right through it. "It weren't like that, you got it wrong. I wouldn't've abandoned you. I'd a found a way, I swear." He slumped onto the bed and dropped his head in his hands.
"You didn't want to be with Mom, you wanted to be with another guy, so how the hell could you have wanted kids? What was I, just some mistake you made when you were too fucking smashed to notice she didn't have a dick? Jesus, Dad, I looked up to you, I thought you were something special, my dad, the fucking rodeo champion" - he'd picked up the big silver buckle, snot and tears now shining on his face - "and all this time you didn't give a fuck about me, couldn't wait to leave!"
"No! That ain't true! You know how I worried about you, 'bout how you was doin at school and all---"
"And all the time you were waiting for Ennis to snap his fingers. Were you ever gonna tell me any a this? Musta been a big, fat joke, hiding it all from the dumb kid you never wanted! Pity Granpa caught you at it!"
"Jesus Christ, will you get it through your thick skull, I love you. You think I'd be down here if I didn't give a fuck about you? Fercrissakes, Rob---" He was reaching out, trying to say with touch what he couldn't say with words, but moving too fast, into the path of the heavy buckle as the boy hurled it blindly across the room. It rebounded off his brow and took out the bedside lamp. Heedless of the oozing blood, Rob screamed into his father's face again and again.
"Get the fuck out! Get out!"
With faultless timing, Lureen arrived almost as soon as Ennis had lit up his first cigarette out in the family room. She'd already heard the murmur of voices on her way up the hall and thought better of putting her head around the door. Jack had made his bed and he could lie in it a while.
"So, Ennis del Mar." She headed straight for the drinks cabinet, poured herself a bourbon, didn't offer him one. "Didn't expect to see you again."
"No, ma'am."
"Cut the cowboy politeness. You got no respect for me."
"That ain't---"
"I don't know how you can have the nerve to show your face in this house after what you done." She'd had a week to figure out what she wanted to say to this man should the chance arise. Play it cool, Lureen. Lighting a cigarette gave her time to get on course. "You had a wife, so Bobby tells me. Coupla kids."
"Two girls, yes, ma'am."
"And did she know what you were like? When you were fatherin those two kids on her, did she know you'd rather have been fuckin a man?" It shocked him to hear the crude, ugly word out of such a pretty, little, lipsticked mouth.
"No, ma'am. I love my girls---"
"And she was a handy brood mare. That it, cowboy? Just some dumb mare, some cow, some sad bitch providin you with what you wanted?"
"It weren't like that! I never meant to hurt her!"
"Of course you didn't. And I bet when her belly's all swollen and her ankles all puffed up and you ain't around to rub her back, she's tellin herself it's all her goddamn fault for not bein attractive, and meanwhile you're shaftin some guy in an alleyway."
His anger was rising, jaw set hard, but this was no weak and vulnerable ex-wife he could cow into silence. She took in his balled-up fists and stood her ground.
"Is that why she divorced you? You don't scare me."
He forced his fingers straight again, cheeks crimson with shame. "I never hit her."
"Guess you didn't need to. Maybe she was smarter than me, saw through you quicker than I saw through Jack. See, I thought I had an okay marriage. All those years I thought Jack and me were doin all right. No fireworks but doin all right. And then it turns out he wanted you the whole time. Do you have any idea what that feels like? Not just someone else - hell, I could take that - but a man! What did you do to Jack to make him the way he is?"
Ennis's face slackened into a look of dumb surprise. "I didn't ... it wasn't---"
"I don't like your kind. That's pretty funny seein as I was married to one for so long. Maybe I was kiddin myself but it took me a long while before I began to suspect Jack had fallen off the straight and narrow. You see, he did everythin right, flirted with our women friends, laughed at all the right jokes. He was even good in bed. But then I guess you know that, right? So come on, tell me straight. When did you get your claws into him, hey?"
And Ennis, no gambler, knew he had the ace up his sleeve and knew what it would do to his opponent. Softly, gently as he could, he said, "We met back in 63, herded sheep one summer up on Brokeback Mountain. I'm sorry."
Into the shocked stillness that followed erupted the shouting from Rob's room, a crash, a door slamming, and there was Jack, wild-eyed like a fox caught in the henhouse, the blood pooling in his right eyebrow.
"Well, that went better'n expected," he gasped, shaking from head to foot.
"What've you done to him?"
Jack grabbed Lureen as she tried to push past. "Leave him alone, give him some space."
"You're gonna rot in hell for what you've done to that boy, Jack Twist!"
"Jesus Christ, Lureen, d'you honestly think it was better the way it was before? Us drinkin and bitchin all a the time? Weren't no friggin perfect marriage, darlin, no matter what you like to tell yourself. Hadn't been any love around here in a long time. Least this way he knows the truth, knows where he stands. Ah shit!" And heedless of the consequences he grabbed a startled Ennis and howled miserably into his shoulder. Lureen's nose wrinkled in disgust and any pretense of cool control deserted her.
"Get off him! Don't you dare do that in my home---"
"Leave him alone! You got---"
"Shut up, Ennis, just makin it worse---"
Amidst the crescendo of shouting no-one heard the bedroom door open, but Rob's hoarse whisper cut clean through the babble.
"Shut the fuck up! All of you! I hate you all."
Three turned as one to reach out for the trembling kid whose red-shot eyes took in each of them in turn before he ran for the front door.
"I'll get after him," said Ennis, the first to come to his senses, and he was out of the door in seconds but not soon enough to see where Rob had disappeared to.
"Least he can't get his car outta the driveway," said Jack weakly, his legs shaky without Ennis's support. Lureen pulled herself together, ran her fingers under her eyes, left wings of black streaking outwards.
"You would have done all of us a favor if you'd just died when you had the chance. Oh, maybe your boyfriend might have missed you for a while. You make me sick. What the hell would you know about love?"
"Ennis ain't my boyfriend. What we got ain't just some thing. It's real."
"Like our marriage was real?" But the fight was draining out of her, she was shattering before his very eyes, the brittle shell so thin and cracked that some of the young Lureen was starting to show through. Moving to her, he did the unthinkable: he gathered her up in his arms, leaned his head against hers and stroked her hair. Red dotted the perfect platinum.
"No, honey, our marriage weren't never real, can't you see that now? I thought it could be real, thought if I tried real hard it'd work out, but my heart just wasn't in it."
"Your balls, you mean." She was shaking all over. Jack frowned.
"You ain't laughin, are ya?"
Laughing, crying, it was all the same as she clung on tight and smeared his shirt with makeup. "I don't know, I don't know. I hate you, Jack Twist." But she didn't let go.
Damn it, why hadn't he paid more attention to the layout of this place, coming and going? Ennis had paced up and down the streets a couple of times, no obvious parks or open spaces, just houses and yards fading off into the open plain, nowhere and everywhere for a kid to hide when he didn't want to deal with the people who'd just ripped his world into pieces. Defeated, he returned to the Twist house, its demure and proper face gazing blankly out onto the well-mannered street. He wasn't ready to handle what he imagined was going on inside so sat in the truck, rested his head on the wheel and tried to slow down the thoughts which swirled around his mind, until he could grab hold of one or two. If this is how Rob's takin it, what about my girls? Three kids, busted apart by me and Jack. Couldn't stand it if they ever looked at me like he just looked at Jack. My poor Jack, he don't deserve none a this. Should a stuck with him right from the start... A sharp rap sounded on the passenger window: Rob, ashen-faced in the gathering twilight, a ghost emerging from some secret hide. He must have been watching. Ennis stretched across and wound down the window. The boy's face was a mask, rigid, contorted, mouth hard with pain, the words fighting their way out.
"How will I find you?"
"Your grandma, she'll know wh---"
But Rob nodded once, and was gone again.
Ennis stumbled back inside. "He's okay, Rob's---" he waved his hand vaguely, "he's outside," and then he had to run for the toilet, guts about to betray him.
Wrung out and well past shouting, the three of them waited. Lureen cleaned Jack's face and stuck a plaster over the wound. None of them questioned her right - and her need - to do this simple act. Then she pulled a couple of plastic containers from the freezer and peered at them.
"Chilli. Take it or leave it."
They took it. The hum of the microwave filled up a little of their silence. She filled four bowls, returned one to the microwave, and dumped the other three without ceremony on the dining table while Jack got forks out and poured drinks for them all. They ate. When at last the front door opened again, followed by the slam of Rob's bedroom door, their shoulders slumped as a tiny bit of tension evaporated. Lureen went to his door, murmured something the other two couldn't hear, then returned to the table. Jack raised his uninjured eyebrow, she quirked her mouth into a tiny smile in response. Ennis kept his head down. A few mouthfuls later he glanced up, sensing the weight of their attention.
"Whut?"
Lureen's hair was all mussed up and streaked with blood, her face smudged and blotchy; she looked like a little girl who'd raided her mother's makeup. Not tough and threatening any longer, just a lost and confused woman trying to do the right thing.
"A while back, Bobby told me what the nurse said, about you takin such good care of Jack and all. Guess I owe you thanks for that. The way he said it, he mightn't have had a daddy to get mad at if it hadn't been for you."
He held her eyes, even managed a bit of a smile in return. "He's a good boy. I wish none a this had happened, not to him."
The bowls and glasses were near-empty and Jack had had more than enough of his old family for one night. All at once he wanted, needed, just Ennis. "We better go find someplace for the night, friend."
"You'll understand if I don't ask you to stay over." Lureen's level tone had returned.
"Yeah, we'll find a motel, sleep in the truck, won't be the first time."
"Just do me one last favor, Jack, and get well away from Childress first. I still got a reputation to uphold around here."
On their way out, Jack knocked on his son's door. "Rob? Can you remember one thing? I'm still your dad. Nothin changes that." He heard no reply.
From behind the curtains Lureen watched them walk to the truck and climb in, and she stayed watching as they pulled each other into a short, fierce embrace. Let be.
Stoutamire was no fool. Sure Ennis could park his truck and horses for a few days so long as he paid in kind on his return. Ennis was no fool either, and had negotiated a few weeks' work for both himself and Jack, at least until after the branding had been done. His old boss had a wicked temper and a steady staff turnover; there was always some poor hand ready to throw in the towel and find an easier way to make a buck. The two hanging on there that May were brothers, the Nobles, who'd taken one look at the bunkhouse and decided to stick with their mother and drive the miles from Signal each morning, so on their return from down south Jack and Ennis had the place to themselves. Ennis's old trailer was now occupied by a weasel-faced foreman, a man of low standards where accommodation was concerned, and that suited Ennis just fine; the trailer rocked in a stiff breeze and questions might have been asked if it had rocked when the wind wasn't blowing.
The bunkhouse was just one big, drafty room, a rough kitchen and eating area down one end, a cast-iron wood-fire placed fair in the middle, and eight bunks, four each side, two up, two down, at the other end. A short but wind-battered step beyond was a concrete-floored shack that functioned as bathroom, toilet, laundry, storeroom and mold incubator. Jack screwed up his face, Ennis just shrugged and told him to get used to it, at least they didn't have to share. They picked out the best-looking lower bunk and in due course found it was comfortable and strong enough for their needs.
As they'd hefted their gear inside, Stoutamire had watched them closely, thought much but said little. That Ennis had always been a queer old duck, never really socialised with the other hands, never seemed to have any friends, although the foreman said Stoutamire's neighbor over Mad Mary Creek reckoned that he'd heard Ennis used to hang around a waitress at the Wolf's Ears Bar up in Signal. So long as this newfound companion of his was as good a worker, the boss didn't care either way.
On the first Saturday in June, at 11.07, Ennis walked up the aisle of the Riverton Methodist Church and delivered his glowing firstborn to her man.
The day started at dawn with an extra big helping of coffee and cigarettes for breakfast, a couple of hours' work, then a quick shower and the long drive to Riverton, his fancy new shirt and plain new jacket swinging from a hook, safe from any father-of-the-bride sweaty panic. He reached the Monroe house with far more time on his hands than was comfortable, changed in the laundry-room then stayed in the yard until Francie pulled him inside, fussing over him and proudly showing him to all and sundry. He hated it, wanting to find the farthest corner to shrink into, but the looks on his daughters' faces made it just bearable. When the rest of the wedding party had at last moved off and it was just him and Junior alone in the house, they studied each other in the sudden quiet and shared the same thought: Darlin, you look beautiful.
He had no idea how he'd made it up the aisle, barely recalled the "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and man" part, but was fully prepared when the preacher asked, "Who gives this woman to this man?", didn't need Junior's quick glance, answered strong and proud, "I do!" His declaration made, the wooden pew felt pillow-soft under his bony backside. His innards unclenched, the scents of flowers and perfume filled his head, a patch of stained-glass sunshine crept across the polished floor, the minister droned on.
Do you promise to love, honor and protect.. . Yes, he'd promised once, in the fervent hope that he could live up to it, could rid himself of that strange summer obsession, and, looking back, he couldn't begrudge Alma her own moment of misplaced happiness, when the progeny of their star-crossed union was standing before them ready to take her own vows. For richer for poorer, for better or worse, in sickness and in health... And he should have been concentrating on his little girl but the memories were flooding back, Jack and him and a midnight feast, words exchanged, declarations of love made, two lives imperceptibly shifting at last from grey uncertainty into the light. A sudden and terrifying urge welled within him to stand up there and then and declare, before this congregation, that he too had someone to love and cherish even unto death. Instead, he dropped his head and mouthed his pledge: Jack, I swear -- although he didn't have the words to finish it, for how do you encompass your gratitude for the gift of life, for the return of your own soul, in mere words? The few folks who noticed his shining eyes thought how lovely it was to see the tough cowboy shedding a tear or two for his daughter on her big day.
If he'd had his way, he would have skipped the reception but Junior and Francie and Kurt were never going to let that happen so he downed a comfortable quantity of fruit punch, augmented it with a sip or two from the hip flask secreted in his jacket, and was more than happy to let Bill Monroe do the honors when it came to the speechifying. Head down, he put on a smile each time the rest of the guests laughed, and mumbled polite responses when anyone addressed a remark directly to him. To his surprise, messages were read out from both his sister and his brother and their families. It took him a few seconds to recognise their names, so far away did that life appear to him now. He'd had no idea that the girls had even kept in touch with their uncle and aunt. When he glanced up - it seemed the proper thing to do under the circumstances - their other aunt, the Beers woman, was staring balefully at him. He looked away; this was enough torture without also wondering what the family gossip was like.
And after the speeches and the jokes and the toasting and the eating came the worst torture of all, the dancing. He resolutely stuck to his seat until Francie hauled him up and took him for an awkward shuffle, then it was Junior's turn. Her face was a little flushed. It might have been the excitement or the fruit punch or the glow of love, he couldn't tell, but he loved the sparkle it gave to her eyes.
"You were wonderful, Daddy. Thank you."
His face screwed up in a lop-sided smile. "Guess your old dad can get somethin right once in a while."
"Second-best-lookin man in the place. Didn't know you had such good taste in clothes," she laughed, smoothing her hand over his chest and rippling the cream fringe across her fingers.
"I don't, you know that, darlin." He'd had enough whiskey to calm the earlier nerves. "Was all Jack's doin. He picked everthin out."
"We couldn't really invite him along but it woulda been nice." Junior snuggled her head into his shoulder, her voice fading away to a faint but deliberate whisper. "Mama's got Bill, I got Kurt. I'm glad you got someone too, Daddy."
After that, there really wasn't anything more that needed to be said.
He hadn't planned on talking to Alma beyond the stilted greeting at the house and the occasional apology for brushing up against her as the photographs were taken after the ceremony, but as their dance ended, as if by chance he and Junior fetched up next to Kurt and his new mother-in-law, and the kids pushed them together for the next dance, and it was their wedding and Ennis and Alma could hardly make a scene, could they. So, holding each other at stiff arms' length, they danced, she staring fixedly at one of his shirt studs, he gazing blankly at a point somewhere behind her head. And wouldn't you know it, it was a long, slow song, with far too many verses. Around the fourth chorus Ennis cleared his throat.
"Alma," he said, to no response. "Alma," he tried again, finding fascination in a lighting fixture above his head, "I'm sorry for what I done to you. Never meant to hurt you. Hope you know that."
At first he thought she mustn't have heard him but all at once her small voice floated up, "Better late than never, I guess." That seemed to be the end of it until a couple of cautious turns later she spoke again. "You still with him." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah, we're still together." Over the other side of the hall he saw Junior and Kurt, heads close, whispering and smiling, lost in their own perfect circle of happiness. "Always will be, god willin."
"Don't bring God into this. I don't know how you can do what you do. It ain't right."
"I love him," he answered quietly, surprising them both. She shook her head and didn't say another word to him, not when the song ended and she made her way back to her husband's safe and secure side, not when everyone cheered off the happy couple on their ten-day honeymoon to the Grand Canyon and beyond, not even when she thrust the boxed-up piece of wedding cake at him as he grabbed his new jacket and headed for the door.
"How'd it go?" mumbled Jack into Ennis's throat as they crushed the life out of each other in the bunkhouse.
"Good, it went good, yeah, real good." He buried his nose in Jack's neck. "Would a been better with you there."
"There in spirit. Thought about you all day. Didn't you feel that itchin in your pants?"
"Thought that was the cheap soap powder they got here."
"Bet you cried. Did you cry, cowboy?"
"Yup, bawled like a baby when the drink ran out." His nose started tingling with the threat of more tears, and kissing Jack seemed as good a way to stop them as any. Once he could get his breath back, Jack laughed his dirty laugh, said he couldn't wait for Francie's wedding if that was the end result, and fondled Ennis's butt as he walked him backwards, over to the long table where a little white and gold box lay.
"That weddin cake? Best part a weddins. That and the booze. You can keep the rest." He let go of Ennis and undid the fancy bow, opened the lid and inspected the rich, dark, heavily-iced contents.
There were two pieces. Alma had handed him two pieces.
tbc
NOTE: There was a discussion on DCF recently about answering comments. I have tended to answer all comments to some chapters and none to others, and I hope that in the process I've responded to everyone who has been kind enough to write something. If I missed anyone out, I do apologise. Please be assured that I read all comments and greatly appreciate them.
Genre: AU
Rating: NC-17 for m/m sex and language
Feedback: Any and all is welcome
Disclaimer: These are Annie Proulx's brilliant original characters and her story, and I have treated it and them (and her) with as much respect as I can muster. And I have no intention of sending her a copy :)
This story is for Canstandit, with thanks for her ongoing support, inspiration and help. In this chapter I also shamelessly borrowed a few of her ideas.
CHAPTER 15
In Denver, first thing Saturday morning, Jack insisted they stop for some important shopping. Ennis stepped out like a man treading on rattlesnakes and he cast furtive glances from under his hat as if expecting to see men coupling on every street corner. Whenever a turn in the road brought a distant glimpse of the Rockies or his ears picked up the sound of the river through the traffic's din, his claustrophobic panic lifted just enough for him to grab a few breaths again. Down towards the railway station was a shop Jack had heard of, that sold just the sort of items he was after. As Ennis alternated between studying the ornate metal ceiling and his boot toes, Jack rummaged through racks of shirts, pulling some out and rejecting them until at last he found one he liked, in soft warm butterscotch and with a cream fringe.
"Here, try this on."
"Look like a fuckin palomino," Ennis grumbled but he did as he was told. He'd never stepped inside a changing room before and couldn't bring himself to look too closely at his multiple reflections. At least now he knew the reason Jack had wrangled him into the shower before they'd left the motel that morning. One of the reasons, anyway.
When he emerged, pulling at the shirt, hunched and frowning, Jack added an amber bolo tie to finish it off, murmuring low as he did, "I may not be there to see you walk up the aisle with your girl but I want a know that my man is the best-lookin feller in that church." What he didn't say, for fear Ennis would flee from the store and never come back, was that the color drew out the gold flecks in his beloved's eyes, that those untidy greying locks looked like sun-blessed meadows, that his weathered face glowed with an inner light, that Jack would happily fall on his knees right there in the midst of the customers and staff, and worship this man whom he adored.
They made better time than expected along the road to Childress, and when Jack's pickup slid in behind his son's car, there was no sign of Lureen's sporty new post-divorce Mercedes. The front door of the house was unlocked and Rob was down in the family room, staring out across the back yard.
"Where's your mo---"
"Dad, what the hell is going on? Hi, Ennis. Mom's been acting like a dog with fleas all week, won't tell me why I can't go up north this summer, and suddenly here you are down here with some big news, so she says."
"Yeah, well, short story is," said Jack in as casual a tone was he could muster, "we had a fallin out with your granpa. He told us to leave."
"He what? But you guys do most of the work! That's crazy. How's he gonna manage?
"I dunno. That's up to him. He managed by himself for years till Ennis went up to help. And we left the place in better shape than it's ever been so I guess he'll be okay -- for a while, anyway."
"But you used to say he was barely holding it together, even with the bit of help you used to give him."
"His problem, Rob. Nothin we can do about it."
"And what'll you two do? Where are you gonna live? He can't just throw you out like that."
"We got some work lined up, keep us goin a month or two. After that, play it by ear, hope the old bast-- hope your granpa comes to his senses. Or drops dead. Know which one I'd prefer."
"You could always come back here. Maybe Mr Sanders would hire you."
"In competition with your mama? That'd raise some eyebrows around here. No, it ain't goin a happen. Besides, Ennis starts to fret once he's over the state line, don't ya." He nudged Ennis who grunted but held his peace, already picking up the shrill edge of anxiety in Jack's voice. Rob looked from one to the other, the question taking form: Why do you have to be together? Instead, he asked a different one.
"What was the problem? Why'd he run you off? You leave a gate open or something?"
"He found out somethin he didn't like."
"Dad?"
"Can we get a coffee first?" said Jack, turning his back on his son and heading for the kitchen. "Been drivin all day." His hands were shaking as he poured their cups, and Ennis gave his arm a hopefully reassuring squeeze, out of Rob's line of sight. "So where's your mother?"
"Should be home soon." He looked at his watch. "Half an hour or so. She rang. Some last-minute business, you know what Mom's like."
They'd decided on the drive down: if at all possible, Jack would do this on his own, one on one, take the brunt of whatever Rob had to say, then Ennis would come in. He likes you, Jack had said, he won't get mad at you. Now, coffee in hand, nerves as tight as a newly-strung fence, he knew the moment had come.
"Maybe best that she ain't around. Let's go into your room, son. We got some serious talkin to do." As they walked away, he rolled his eyes at Ennis and clasped his hands together as if praying, then the door closed and it was just him and Rob. Feeling like some B-grade actor in a C-grade soap, he cleared his throat and said his opening line, just as he'd rehearsed it.
"Rob, sometimes life throws us a curve ball. Somethin comes at us that we don't expect. Happen a me a long, long time ago, before you was born, before me and your mama got together even. I met Ennis." He glanced at his son in the hopes there'd be a tiny sign of understanding, something that he could use so that the words didn't have to be said out loud, but there was nothing, just a puzzled kid waiting for the punchline. "Yeah, I met Ennis. Me and him, we hit it off right away, like it was meant to be, worked together all one summer herdin sheep. If I'd a had my way, I'd a never left Wyomin, never left him there. Trouble was, things didn't work out how I'd a liked em to, and ... and ...goddammit." He pulled their letter from his pocket. "Here."
As Rob read the brief lines, once, twice, three times, Jack jittered about, glancing at the sports trophies, the posters, the few schoolbooks, his own bull-riding buckle displayed along with everything else, looked at anything rather than his son's face.
"No. No way."
"Huh?"
"If this is your idea of a joke, it's pretty sick, Dad. You're just a regular guy."
"Ain't no joke, it's the truth."
"No. No. No! Stop it! Why're you doing this?"
"I'm tryin a tell you 'bout me and Ennis, why we can't live on the ranch no more. Your granpa, well, he don't approve. Come on, Rob, you musta known somethin." Be gentle, Jack, you gotta get this right, your one chance, you owe him, he didn't ask for any a this. "Didn't you know, somewhere inside? Didn't you start to wonder 'bout me and him?"
"I thought he was your friend."
"He is my friend. He's my best friend but he's much more'n that."
"But you and Mom! You can't be ..." Rob was hunting for a word he didn't have, didn't want; none of the vicious high school insults he knew had anything to do with this man who stood in front of him, his own father. He held out the letter instead; it fluttered a little in his outstretched hand. "Why'd you get married? Why'd Ennis get married, if this is how it was?"
Okay, he's upset but he ain't blown a gasket. Guess it's goin all right so far, might turn out okay after all. "That's just how it goes, how it used to go, what a man's supposed to do, what's expected a him. It's complicated. Maybe one day I can explain it all better. Rob, you and Ellen, you know what it feels like to want a be with someone all a the time, like you can't breathe unless you're with them." He brought his hands to his chest, the exquisite pain of twenty lonely years slicing unexpectedly through his heart.
"But she's a girl, it's not the same thing!"
"But it is the same, that's the point! It's like all the songs say, like it is in the movies. You can't just turn it off cause it ain't the way it's suppose ta be!" He caught the quick glance his son threw at his crotch, the shivery head-shake as he looked away. "Don't think a that stuff. That's just about needin to be so close. It's what's in here, in your heart, that matters. Everthin else comes from that. Please, Rob, please, try to understand. Uh, think of it this way - when Ellen looks at you, what does she see? A good-lookin guy - be thankful you got your mama's looks." He tried a rueful little smile but Rob plainly wasn't in the mood to appreciate humor. "She sees a guy she wants to be with, not just as a friend but as everthin. She wants all a you. That's how I feel about Ennis."
"But he's a man, same as you."
"And that's why I love him. Women, they just don't do it for me. I'm sorry I gotta say all this but it's just the way I am."
"But you married Mom. How could you do that if ... if all the time you wanted to be with him? How could he do it?"
"Now don't you go blamin Ennis for nothin. He didn't want none a this to happen, fought it ever goddamn inch a the way. I ain't proud a what I done, was just tryin a get along without him, figured I'd never see him again. And your mama and me had a good thing, honest we did."
"You never loved her."
"That ain't so. I did love her in a way. I tried hard, Rob, you gotta believe me. I tried to do the right thing but I needed Ennis so bad. He wouldn't see me but two or three times a year and it goddamn killed me ever time. After he got divorced I figured we could be together at last. Drove up to see him ..." He bit his lips, shook his head, fought the tears back, some memories too awful to recall. His son's eyes widened, dark pools of painful, dawning comprehension.
"That night you came home, when you locked yourself up in the study. It was then, wasn't it. You only came back here 'cause of him. He turned you down so you came back home, that what happened? Were you ... if he'd said yes, were you just gonna stay there, up in Wyoming? But what about me and Mom? Jesus, Dad, I was just a little kid! I was your son! Didn't I ... how could you ... you were just gonna leave me?"
Jack opened his mouth to speak but the bitter lie got tangled in his throat just a second too long, emerged weak and flat and so transparent the darkness shone right through it. "It weren't like that, you got it wrong. I wouldn't've abandoned you. I'd a found a way, I swear." He slumped onto the bed and dropped his head in his hands.
"You didn't want to be with Mom, you wanted to be with another guy, so how the hell could you have wanted kids? What was I, just some mistake you made when you were too fucking smashed to notice she didn't have a dick? Jesus, Dad, I looked up to you, I thought you were something special, my dad, the fucking rodeo champion" - he'd picked up the big silver buckle, snot and tears now shining on his face - "and all this time you didn't give a fuck about me, couldn't wait to leave!"
"No! That ain't true! You know how I worried about you, 'bout how you was doin at school and all---"
"And all the time you were waiting for Ennis to snap his fingers. Were you ever gonna tell me any a this? Musta been a big, fat joke, hiding it all from the dumb kid you never wanted! Pity Granpa caught you at it!"
"Jesus Christ, will you get it through your thick skull, I love you. You think I'd be down here if I didn't give a fuck about you? Fercrissakes, Rob---" He was reaching out, trying to say with touch what he couldn't say with words, but moving too fast, into the path of the heavy buckle as the boy hurled it blindly across the room. It rebounded off his brow and took out the bedside lamp. Heedless of the oozing blood, Rob screamed into his father's face again and again.
"Get the fuck out! Get out!"
With faultless timing, Lureen arrived almost as soon as Ennis had lit up his first cigarette out in the family room. She'd already heard the murmur of voices on her way up the hall and thought better of putting her head around the door. Jack had made his bed and he could lie in it a while.
"So, Ennis del Mar." She headed straight for the drinks cabinet, poured herself a bourbon, didn't offer him one. "Didn't expect to see you again."
"No, ma'am."
"Cut the cowboy politeness. You got no respect for me."
"That ain't---"
"I don't know how you can have the nerve to show your face in this house after what you done." She'd had a week to figure out what she wanted to say to this man should the chance arise. Play it cool, Lureen. Lighting a cigarette gave her time to get on course. "You had a wife, so Bobby tells me. Coupla kids."
"Two girls, yes, ma'am."
"And did she know what you were like? When you were fatherin those two kids on her, did she know you'd rather have been fuckin a man?" It shocked him to hear the crude, ugly word out of such a pretty, little, lipsticked mouth.
"No, ma'am. I love my girls---"
"And she was a handy brood mare. That it, cowboy? Just some dumb mare, some cow, some sad bitch providin you with what you wanted?"
"It weren't like that! I never meant to hurt her!"
"Of course you didn't. And I bet when her belly's all swollen and her ankles all puffed up and you ain't around to rub her back, she's tellin herself it's all her goddamn fault for not bein attractive, and meanwhile you're shaftin some guy in an alleyway."
His anger was rising, jaw set hard, but this was no weak and vulnerable ex-wife he could cow into silence. She took in his balled-up fists and stood her ground.
"Is that why she divorced you? You don't scare me."
He forced his fingers straight again, cheeks crimson with shame. "I never hit her."
"Guess you didn't need to. Maybe she was smarter than me, saw through you quicker than I saw through Jack. See, I thought I had an okay marriage. All those years I thought Jack and me were doin all right. No fireworks but doin all right. And then it turns out he wanted you the whole time. Do you have any idea what that feels like? Not just someone else - hell, I could take that - but a man! What did you do to Jack to make him the way he is?"
Ennis's face slackened into a look of dumb surprise. "I didn't ... it wasn't---"
"I don't like your kind. That's pretty funny seein as I was married to one for so long. Maybe I was kiddin myself but it took me a long while before I began to suspect Jack had fallen off the straight and narrow. You see, he did everythin right, flirted with our women friends, laughed at all the right jokes. He was even good in bed. But then I guess you know that, right? So come on, tell me straight. When did you get your claws into him, hey?"
And Ennis, no gambler, knew he had the ace up his sleeve and knew what it would do to his opponent. Softly, gently as he could, he said, "We met back in 63, herded sheep one summer up on Brokeback Mountain. I'm sorry."
Into the shocked stillness that followed erupted the shouting from Rob's room, a crash, a door slamming, and there was Jack, wild-eyed like a fox caught in the henhouse, the blood pooling in his right eyebrow.
"Well, that went better'n expected," he gasped, shaking from head to foot.
"What've you done to him?"
Jack grabbed Lureen as she tried to push past. "Leave him alone, give him some space."
"You're gonna rot in hell for what you've done to that boy, Jack Twist!"
"Jesus Christ, Lureen, d'you honestly think it was better the way it was before? Us drinkin and bitchin all a the time? Weren't no friggin perfect marriage, darlin, no matter what you like to tell yourself. Hadn't been any love around here in a long time. Least this way he knows the truth, knows where he stands. Ah shit!" And heedless of the consequences he grabbed a startled Ennis and howled miserably into his shoulder. Lureen's nose wrinkled in disgust and any pretense of cool control deserted her.
"Get off him! Don't you dare do that in my home---"
"Leave him alone! You got---"
"Shut up, Ennis, just makin it worse---"
Amidst the crescendo of shouting no-one heard the bedroom door open, but Rob's hoarse whisper cut clean through the babble.
"Shut the fuck up! All of you! I hate you all."
Three turned as one to reach out for the trembling kid whose red-shot eyes took in each of them in turn before he ran for the front door.
"I'll get after him," said Ennis, the first to come to his senses, and he was out of the door in seconds but not soon enough to see where Rob had disappeared to.
"Least he can't get his car outta the driveway," said Jack weakly, his legs shaky without Ennis's support. Lureen pulled herself together, ran her fingers under her eyes, left wings of black streaking outwards.
"You would have done all of us a favor if you'd just died when you had the chance. Oh, maybe your boyfriend might have missed you for a while. You make me sick. What the hell would you know about love?"
"Ennis ain't my boyfriend. What we got ain't just some thing. It's real."
"Like our marriage was real?" But the fight was draining out of her, she was shattering before his very eyes, the brittle shell so thin and cracked that some of the young Lureen was starting to show through. Moving to her, he did the unthinkable: he gathered her up in his arms, leaned his head against hers and stroked her hair. Red dotted the perfect platinum.
"No, honey, our marriage weren't never real, can't you see that now? I thought it could be real, thought if I tried real hard it'd work out, but my heart just wasn't in it."
"Your balls, you mean." She was shaking all over. Jack frowned.
"You ain't laughin, are ya?"
Laughing, crying, it was all the same as she clung on tight and smeared his shirt with makeup. "I don't know, I don't know. I hate you, Jack Twist." But she didn't let go.
Damn it, why hadn't he paid more attention to the layout of this place, coming and going? Ennis had paced up and down the streets a couple of times, no obvious parks or open spaces, just houses and yards fading off into the open plain, nowhere and everywhere for a kid to hide when he didn't want to deal with the people who'd just ripped his world into pieces. Defeated, he returned to the Twist house, its demure and proper face gazing blankly out onto the well-mannered street. He wasn't ready to handle what he imagined was going on inside so sat in the truck, rested his head on the wheel and tried to slow down the thoughts which swirled around his mind, until he could grab hold of one or two. If this is how Rob's takin it, what about my girls? Three kids, busted apart by me and Jack. Couldn't stand it if they ever looked at me like he just looked at Jack. My poor Jack, he don't deserve none a this. Should a stuck with him right from the start... A sharp rap sounded on the passenger window: Rob, ashen-faced in the gathering twilight, a ghost emerging from some secret hide. He must have been watching. Ennis stretched across and wound down the window. The boy's face was a mask, rigid, contorted, mouth hard with pain, the words fighting their way out.
"How will I find you?"
"Your grandma, she'll know wh---"
But Rob nodded once, and was gone again.
Ennis stumbled back inside. "He's okay, Rob's---" he waved his hand vaguely, "he's outside," and then he had to run for the toilet, guts about to betray him.
Wrung out and well past shouting, the three of them waited. Lureen cleaned Jack's face and stuck a plaster over the wound. None of them questioned her right - and her need - to do this simple act. Then she pulled a couple of plastic containers from the freezer and peered at them.
"Chilli. Take it or leave it."
They took it. The hum of the microwave filled up a little of their silence. She filled four bowls, returned one to the microwave, and dumped the other three without ceremony on the dining table while Jack got forks out and poured drinks for them all. They ate. When at last the front door opened again, followed by the slam of Rob's bedroom door, their shoulders slumped as a tiny bit of tension evaporated. Lureen went to his door, murmured something the other two couldn't hear, then returned to the table. Jack raised his uninjured eyebrow, she quirked her mouth into a tiny smile in response. Ennis kept his head down. A few mouthfuls later he glanced up, sensing the weight of their attention.
"Whut?"
Lureen's hair was all mussed up and streaked with blood, her face smudged and blotchy; she looked like a little girl who'd raided her mother's makeup. Not tough and threatening any longer, just a lost and confused woman trying to do the right thing.
"A while back, Bobby told me what the nurse said, about you takin such good care of Jack and all. Guess I owe you thanks for that. The way he said it, he mightn't have had a daddy to get mad at if it hadn't been for you."
He held her eyes, even managed a bit of a smile in return. "He's a good boy. I wish none a this had happened, not to him."
The bowls and glasses were near-empty and Jack had had more than enough of his old family for one night. All at once he wanted, needed, just Ennis. "We better go find someplace for the night, friend."
"You'll understand if I don't ask you to stay over." Lureen's level tone had returned.
"Yeah, we'll find a motel, sleep in the truck, won't be the first time."
"Just do me one last favor, Jack, and get well away from Childress first. I still got a reputation to uphold around here."
On their way out, Jack knocked on his son's door. "Rob? Can you remember one thing? I'm still your dad. Nothin changes that." He heard no reply.
From behind the curtains Lureen watched them walk to the truck and climb in, and she stayed watching as they pulled each other into a short, fierce embrace. Let be.
Stoutamire was no fool. Sure Ennis could park his truck and horses for a few days so long as he paid in kind on his return. Ennis was no fool either, and had negotiated a few weeks' work for both himself and Jack, at least until after the branding had been done. His old boss had a wicked temper and a steady staff turnover; there was always some poor hand ready to throw in the towel and find an easier way to make a buck. The two hanging on there that May were brothers, the Nobles, who'd taken one look at the bunkhouse and decided to stick with their mother and drive the miles from Signal each morning, so on their return from down south Jack and Ennis had the place to themselves. Ennis's old trailer was now occupied by a weasel-faced foreman, a man of low standards where accommodation was concerned, and that suited Ennis just fine; the trailer rocked in a stiff breeze and questions might have been asked if it had rocked when the wind wasn't blowing.
The bunkhouse was just one big, drafty room, a rough kitchen and eating area down one end, a cast-iron wood-fire placed fair in the middle, and eight bunks, four each side, two up, two down, at the other end. A short but wind-battered step beyond was a concrete-floored shack that functioned as bathroom, toilet, laundry, storeroom and mold incubator. Jack screwed up his face, Ennis just shrugged and told him to get used to it, at least they didn't have to share. They picked out the best-looking lower bunk and in due course found it was comfortable and strong enough for their needs.
As they'd hefted their gear inside, Stoutamire had watched them closely, thought much but said little. That Ennis had always been a queer old duck, never really socialised with the other hands, never seemed to have any friends, although the foreman said Stoutamire's neighbor over Mad Mary Creek reckoned that he'd heard Ennis used to hang around a waitress at the Wolf's Ears Bar up in Signal. So long as this newfound companion of his was as good a worker, the boss didn't care either way.
On the first Saturday in June, at 11.07, Ennis walked up the aisle of the Riverton Methodist Church and delivered his glowing firstborn to her man.
The day started at dawn with an extra big helping of coffee and cigarettes for breakfast, a couple of hours' work, then a quick shower and the long drive to Riverton, his fancy new shirt and plain new jacket swinging from a hook, safe from any father-of-the-bride sweaty panic. He reached the Monroe house with far more time on his hands than was comfortable, changed in the laundry-room then stayed in the yard until Francie pulled him inside, fussing over him and proudly showing him to all and sundry. He hated it, wanting to find the farthest corner to shrink into, but the looks on his daughters' faces made it just bearable. When the rest of the wedding party had at last moved off and it was just him and Junior alone in the house, they studied each other in the sudden quiet and shared the same thought: Darlin, you look beautiful.
He had no idea how he'd made it up the aisle, barely recalled the "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and man" part, but was fully prepared when the preacher asked, "Who gives this woman to this man?", didn't need Junior's quick glance, answered strong and proud, "I do!" His declaration made, the wooden pew felt pillow-soft under his bony backside. His innards unclenched, the scents of flowers and perfume filled his head, a patch of stained-glass sunshine crept across the polished floor, the minister droned on.
Do you promise to love, honor and protect.. . Yes, he'd promised once, in the fervent hope that he could live up to it, could rid himself of that strange summer obsession, and, looking back, he couldn't begrudge Alma her own moment of misplaced happiness, when the progeny of their star-crossed union was standing before them ready to take her own vows. For richer for poorer, for better or worse, in sickness and in health... And he should have been concentrating on his little girl but the memories were flooding back, Jack and him and a midnight feast, words exchanged, declarations of love made, two lives imperceptibly shifting at last from grey uncertainty into the light. A sudden and terrifying urge welled within him to stand up there and then and declare, before this congregation, that he too had someone to love and cherish even unto death. Instead, he dropped his head and mouthed his pledge: Jack, I swear -- although he didn't have the words to finish it, for how do you encompass your gratitude for the gift of life, for the return of your own soul, in mere words? The few folks who noticed his shining eyes thought how lovely it was to see the tough cowboy shedding a tear or two for his daughter on her big day.
If he'd had his way, he would have skipped the reception but Junior and Francie and Kurt were never going to let that happen so he downed a comfortable quantity of fruit punch, augmented it with a sip or two from the hip flask secreted in his jacket, and was more than happy to let Bill Monroe do the honors when it came to the speechifying. Head down, he put on a smile each time the rest of the guests laughed, and mumbled polite responses when anyone addressed a remark directly to him. To his surprise, messages were read out from both his sister and his brother and their families. It took him a few seconds to recognise their names, so far away did that life appear to him now. He'd had no idea that the girls had even kept in touch with their uncle and aunt. When he glanced up - it seemed the proper thing to do under the circumstances - their other aunt, the Beers woman, was staring balefully at him. He looked away; this was enough torture without also wondering what the family gossip was like.
And after the speeches and the jokes and the toasting and the eating came the worst torture of all, the dancing. He resolutely stuck to his seat until Francie hauled him up and took him for an awkward shuffle, then it was Junior's turn. Her face was a little flushed. It might have been the excitement or the fruit punch or the glow of love, he couldn't tell, but he loved the sparkle it gave to her eyes.
"You were wonderful, Daddy. Thank you."
His face screwed up in a lop-sided smile. "Guess your old dad can get somethin right once in a while."
"Second-best-lookin man in the place. Didn't know you had such good taste in clothes," she laughed, smoothing her hand over his chest and rippling the cream fringe across her fingers.
"I don't, you know that, darlin." He'd had enough whiskey to calm the earlier nerves. "Was all Jack's doin. He picked everthin out."
"We couldn't really invite him along but it woulda been nice." Junior snuggled her head into his shoulder, her voice fading away to a faint but deliberate whisper. "Mama's got Bill, I got Kurt. I'm glad you got someone too, Daddy."
After that, there really wasn't anything more that needed to be said.
He hadn't planned on talking to Alma beyond the stilted greeting at the house and the occasional apology for brushing up against her as the photographs were taken after the ceremony, but as their dance ended, as if by chance he and Junior fetched up next to Kurt and his new mother-in-law, and the kids pushed them together for the next dance, and it was their wedding and Ennis and Alma could hardly make a scene, could they. So, holding each other at stiff arms' length, they danced, she staring fixedly at one of his shirt studs, he gazing blankly at a point somewhere behind her head. And wouldn't you know it, it was a long, slow song, with far too many verses. Around the fourth chorus Ennis cleared his throat.
"Alma," he said, to no response. "Alma," he tried again, finding fascination in a lighting fixture above his head, "I'm sorry for what I done to you. Never meant to hurt you. Hope you know that."
At first he thought she mustn't have heard him but all at once her small voice floated up, "Better late than never, I guess." That seemed to be the end of it until a couple of cautious turns later she spoke again. "You still with him." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah, we're still together." Over the other side of the hall he saw Junior and Kurt, heads close, whispering and smiling, lost in their own perfect circle of happiness. "Always will be, god willin."
"Don't bring God into this. I don't know how you can do what you do. It ain't right."
"I love him," he answered quietly, surprising them both. She shook her head and didn't say another word to him, not when the song ended and she made her way back to her husband's safe and secure side, not when everyone cheered off the happy couple on their ten-day honeymoon to the Grand Canyon and beyond, not even when she thrust the boxed-up piece of wedding cake at him as he grabbed his new jacket and headed for the door.
"How'd it go?" mumbled Jack into Ennis's throat as they crushed the life out of each other in the bunkhouse.
"Good, it went good, yeah, real good." He buried his nose in Jack's neck. "Would a been better with you there."
"There in spirit. Thought about you all day. Didn't you feel that itchin in your pants?"
"Thought that was the cheap soap powder they got here."
"Bet you cried. Did you cry, cowboy?"
"Yup, bawled like a baby when the drink ran out." His nose started tingling with the threat of more tears, and kissing Jack seemed as good a way to stop them as any. Once he could get his breath back, Jack laughed his dirty laugh, said he couldn't wait for Francie's wedding if that was the end result, and fondled Ennis's butt as he walked him backwards, over to the long table where a little white and gold box lay.
"That weddin cake? Best part a weddins. That and the booze. You can keep the rest." He let go of Ennis and undid the fancy bow, opened the lid and inspected the rich, dark, heavily-iced contents.
There were two pieces. Alma had handed him two pieces.
tbc
NOTE: There was a discussion on DCF recently about answering comments. I have tended to answer all comments to some chapters and none to others, and I hope that in the process I've responded to everyone who has been kind enough to write something. If I missed anyone out, I do apologise. Please be assured that I read all comments and greatly appreciate them.