Title: Bobby's Birthday

Fandom: Brokeback Mountain

Characters: Jack Twist, Bobby Twist

Prompt: #91--Birthdays

Word Count: 1622

Rating: T

Summary: Bobby Twist is turning eight and all he wants if for his father to be there. He just can't understand why a fishing trip would be more important. (Written for the fanfic100 group on livejournal)

Bobby Twist had been born in the early days of November on 1966, born when the temperature in southern Texas dipped just enough for people to notice. Not that it ever really got cold, but, as his momma put it, 'it was a mite chilled.' That was how Bobby now his birthday was getting close. Whenever it cooled down, presents and cake and a party were just around the corner.

Bobby personally thought that this year, the year that he turned eight, was a very special year. He was halfway to sixteen, which in his family seemed to be the magical age. Sixteen was when you got the drive the truck without sitting on someone else's lap. It was the year his grandpa said he would let him have a job if he wanted it.

So turning eight was something of a special milestone. After this, he was over the hump and it would all be a smooth, downhill ride from there.

The day before his birthday party found him laying on his stomach in front of the TV, watching one the westerns that he and his daddy both loved. Movies where the bull riding cowboys were the good guys and the bag guys were Indians or Mexicans. His daddy had explained that in real life there wasn't nothing wrong with Indians or Mexicans, that was a long time ago.

Truth be told, he wasn't really paying attention to the program, he was daydreaming about all the presents he was going to be get from his family and friends. He knew that his granddaddy would be good for the BB gun he desperately wanted, even though his daddy got a hard look in his eyes whenever they walked about it. Plus a whole bunch of other gifts.

His daddy said that his granddaddy spoiled him too damn much, to which his momma would say that Bobby was his only grandson and it was his right. Normally Bobby would always side with his Daddy because Bobby Twist was Jack Twist's son through and through, but this was one of the rare occasions when he thought his momma had a valid point.

He really wondered what his Daddy was going to get him because his gifts were always the best of the lot. Most often they weren't real expensive and his friends would look at them with unimpressed eyes, but they meant something special to Bobby. Like the year before he'd gotten a bunch of arrowheads they'd found in a little creek when they'd gone on a little weekend camping trip together.

He was so engrossed in his daydreaming of bright wrapping paper and every gift he'd ever dreamed of, he didn't hear his daddy come into the living room.

"Hey, little man." Jack Twist greeted his son, leaning over to ruffle his dark hair and easing himself into the big armchair that belong only to him.

"Hi, Daddy." Bobby said, jumping up and climbing into his father's lap. Most of the time he pretended that he was much too old for something so babyish, but since his momma was out with her girlfriends, he decided it was safe.

"What're you watchin'?" Jack asked. "Must be pretty damn good, if you didn't twitch when I walked in."

"I wasn't really watchin'." Bobby said, settling his head against the expanse of his father's chest. "I was thinkin' about my birthday."

"That's comin' up real quick, ain't it?" Jack said, ruffling his hair again.

"Next Thursday." Bobby said.

"How old you gonna be, little man?" Jack said in mock seriousness. "Three? Maybe four?"

"Eight, Daddy." Bobby said exasperatedly. "On Thursday, I turn eight."

"Betcha don't know what time." Jack said.

"Uh…nope. Do you?"

"Of course." Jack said in mock outrage. "I was there, wasn't I? If I remember right, you was born at nine twenty-eight in the mornin'."

"I didn't know that." Bobby said contemplatively. "Hey, Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you get my present yet?" Bobby asked innocently.

"Ain't getting' greedy, are you little man?"

"Naw. Just…um, curious, I s'pose."

"Well, I have got your present." Jack answered. "But you're gonna have to wait till Thursday to open it."

"Thursday?" Bobby echoed.

"Of course." Jack said with a chuckle. "That's your birthday, ain't it? And then I'll be back."

"Be back?" Bobby asked, a heavy knot beginning to twist his stomach. "You're leavin'?"

"Yep." Jack said easily. "Goin' on a fishin' trip with my buddy in Wyomin' like I do every year Bobby. I'm leavin' tomorrow mornin'."

"But, Daddy, my party's tomorrow." Bobby said, jumping down from his father's lap.

"Naw it ain't." Jack said, sitting up with a worried look in his dark eyes. "It's next week so it's closer to that day."

"No, we changed it, Daddy." Bobby said miserably. "Danny Conner and Mike Perkins couldn't come next week so Momma moved it to this week."

"Goddamn." Jack said, dropping his head in his hands. "She musta forget to tell me, Bobby. Little man, I'm sorry."

"Can't you skip it?" Bobby pleaded. "Just tell your friend that you need to go next week instead?"

For a long moment, Bobby saw something rage behind his father's eyes. He didn't know what it was, but it was making him hurt something bad. Bobby thought of the time they'd had to put his dog Bandana to sleep because she was sick. That kind of guilty hurt.

"Little man, I just can't." Jack said heavily after a few moments. "We made them plans a long time ago and I can't go backing out. I'm real, real sorry."

"S'okay." Bobby lied.

"Little man." Jack began.

"I'm gonna go outside." Bobby said, cutting his father off and running out the front door before he could be stopped. He tried his hardest not to let the salty tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes to go, but as he ran he could feel their wet warmth on his cheeks.

Bobby didn't say a single word to his daddy for the rest of the day. He rushed through dinner, keeping his eyes down and his mouth shut. He went to be early, telling his concerned momma that the sooner he fell asleep the sooner it could be the day of his party. She laughed and Bobby tried not the cry again.

The next morning, he woke up before dawn. The sky outside his window was purple-blue, just beginning to lighten toward morning. He could hear someone thumping and rustling in the main level. He knew it was his daddy getting his things together for his fishing trip. His goddamn finishing trip.

When he heard the quiet creak and bang of the screen door opening and closing, he climbed out of bed and snuck to his bedroom window. From there he could see the front lawn and the drive perfectly.

He watch as his daddy chucked his canvas rucksack and his creel case into the back of the truck. There was already a tent and sleeping bags and other various bits and pieces of camping gear. Checking once more that he had everything, Jack climbed into the cab, started the engine and roared away north in a cloud of smoke.

Bobby thought that this must be what it felt like to have your heart break. Like the whole world was gray and rainy even though the sun was shining. It was like nothing was ever going to be right again.

Knowing that he wasn't going to be able to sleep anymore, he miserably padded down the hallway and the stairs and into the living room, intending to turn on the TV real soft so that his momma wouldn't hear and march his butt back to bed.

However, when he got to the living room, he found a small package and a not sitting on the coffee table. He recognize his father's large messy print especially for him because he hadn't quite mastered cursive yet. He supposed it was the birthday present he's been dreaming about.

Bobby sat crossed legged on the couch and held the little package wrapped in Sunday funnies in his hand. The note was written on what looked like a torn off piece of napkin.

Happy Birthday Little Man. I think it is time that someone else made use of this. Hope you have a good party and year. Love, Daddy

Not knowing why he was doing it since a small part of him was hating his father, he carefully folded the napkin note and tucked it into the pocket of his pajamas. Then he carefully peeled off the newspaper. His daddy had never seen the purpose in buying special paper that was just going to get torn up and thrown away.

His birthday present was his father's harmonica.

Old, bent, twisted, flattened and one of his Daddy's dearest possessions. Bobby knew that this wasn't just a present, it was a gift. It was a gift that carried a little bit of his Daddy inside it and someday it would belong to his kid and then they would have a little bit of their Daddy and their Granddaddy.

It was the best present he could ever hope for and it still wasn't what he wanted.

"I was you were gonna be here, Daddy." Bobby whispered, running his fingers over the planes of the harmonica.

Then he tucked in his pocket along with the note and went back to bed.

END