Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but it sure feels like they own me. (Way to go, Ms. Proulx ;)
Author's Note: So here's my second attempt at fanfic. I was inspired by all these other wonderful pieces I've been reading. The other AU piece I wrote was more just to imagine some kind of happy ending for the guys, but this one really means a lot to me and I would appreciate any kind of feedback you guys have to offer (even negative, as long as you're not too mean about it :). I really enjoyed writing this part about Lureen; she just sort of showed up in my head early one morning when I was trying to fall asleep and this is the result.
At my profile there are links for images I have created to accompany my stories.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lureen might have been a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. She had to smile to herself sometimes when Jack would get so excited about his trips, thinking that Lureen had no clue about what was really going on, no clue why suddenly Jack was back in their bed rubbing up against her like an animal in heat. When they first married she might have been jealous, sad to see Jack smiling like a fool and singing tunes when he thought she wasn't paying attention. But by now she'd had her own share of nights away from home when Jack was on the road. As long as he was a good daddy to their boy, and kept up his end of the marriage she wouldn't bother him.
Lureen wasn't sure what made this woman so special to Jack. Sometimes she wondered out of idle curiosity if the woman had a traveling husband, whether she disguised her handwriting when she sent the postcards, whether Jack knew her from his youth. Ennis sure was a funny name for a woman, but that had to be her name because Jack mumbled it in his sleep. Maybe a nickname for Eunice? Lureen could see why a sensible woman wouldn't want to go by that godawful name. She didn't have much time to ponder these things anymore with the business growing the way it was. She started to file the information away under her topics to ponder on a rainy day.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Lureen, have you seen my blue parka?"
"The last time I saw it you was in it…that day we had the big ice storm."
"Well, I could of swore I left it here."
Lureen decided to make Jack squirm a little. "You know you been goin' up to Wyoming all these years, why can't your buddy come down here to Texas and fish?"
"Well, for one thing, the Big Horn Mountains ain't in Texas. Don't think his pickup would make it anyways." Pretty smooth. Jack was getting better with his lying.
"New models comin' in this week, remember. You're the best combine salesman we got. You're the only combine salesman we got." Sometimes Lureen wished the men would take her more seriously, but if they would buy from her there was nothing she could do about it.
"I'll be back in a week. That is, I will be unless I freeze to death, which I might if I don't find that parka."
"Well, I don't have your damn parka. I swear you're worse than Bobby when it comes to losin' things."
"Speakin' a Bobby, have you called the school about gettin' him a tutor?"
Lureen bit her lip, and tried to deflect the question. "I thought you were goin' to."
"No, I complain too much and that teacher don't like me. Now it's your turn."
"Well, I'll do it later." Later when I'm good and ready, damn you, she thought. Bobby don't need no tutor.
After Jack had left, Lureen stopped entering numbers into her machine. This little niggling doubt kept worming its way into her concentration. When did Jack get so good at lying? She had been dead serious when she told him he was worse than Bobby sometimes. He was always forgetting things, losing things, missing the little details. But his details were always perfect when it came to Ennis. What if he really was an old friend? Nah, she decided, that Ennis must just be a real good coach. She went back to her numbers; she had to finish them in by the end of the day and she'd already wasted too much time on things that weren't her business.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The second time her daddy went to turn the TV on, Jack shouted, "You sit down, you old son of a bitch! This is my house. This is my child and you are my guest. So sit the hell down or I'll knock your ignorant ass into next week."
Lureen felt her lips quiver, and she fought down the smile. She nodded at Bobby to eat his meal, and once her parents were over the shock, they actually had a pretty nice Thanksgiving. She smiled at Jack, proud of the man she had chosen. Didn't matter that he wasn't perfect; he did right by her.
After her folks were gone and Bobby was in bed, Lureen poured Jack a whiskey and a glass of wine for herself. Sidling up next to him on the couch, she said, "Happy Thanksgiving, Jack. I had a real good night."
Jack smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm glad, Lureen. I got a set a good example for Bobby."
"You tired, baby? Let's get to bed and I'll rub your shoulders for you."
"Thanks, honey. I'm so tired I can't hardly see straight."
Jack hadn't been lying. After Lureen had loosened up some of his muscles, he dropped like a stone. She propped up on her elbow, looking at him while he slept, smoothing the crease between his eyebrows with her finger. He hadn't been sleeping too well lately, drinking himself to bed most nights. She was almost tempted to ask what was wrong, see if there was something she could do to help. But Jack was not one to keep his complaints to himself; he gave them away as freely as his charming smiles. If he was keeping it to himself, there must be no point in talking about it, and she would respect that. She gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and settled in to bed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Hello?"
"Hello, ma'am? This is Ennis del Mar."
No. I must have heard wrong. "Who? Who is this?"
"Ennis del Mar. I was an old friend of Jack's."
Lureen wasn't sure how she managed to get through the rest of the conversation. The words and meanings were all a blur in her mind. It seemed as if this man had taken the life she had known with Jack, all the moments, the observations, the so-called truth, the bare essence of what they had been together, and ripped it all to pieces so she couldn't even recognize the picture anymore. Some part of her brain kept her speaking like a normal human being, instead of yelling WHY, WHY, WHY at this man who was telling her about Brokeback Mountain, talking about her Jack like he was.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She looked at the plaque that had Jack's name, his dates, and "Loving father and husband" inscribed on it. She had written the father part first on purpose; she laughed bitterly at that now. She wanted to yell at what was left of Jack, to call him every dirty word she could come up with, beat her fists into his ashes until there were none left. She wanted to walk into Jack's waiting arms, have his head resting on top of hers, feel his smile through her hair, hear the laughter rumble in his chest.
"Jack, I cain't even think straight no more. Look what you're doin' a me, even when you're… when you're…"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Over the years, Lureen managed to find a semblance of normalcy. She pushed the unwanted knowledge deep, deep down, and never dredged it up again. Still, she found herself turning down the offers of the men around town, staring long hours at her papers without reading a word, waking up feeling like she hadn't managed more than five minutes' rest.
Bobby came into the office carrying the mail. He was a strong young man now, her beautiful boy. He was already moving up in the business, showing more ambition than Jack ever had.
"Whatcha got for me, Bobby?"
"I thought this was interestin'. It's from Mrs. Twist. Her husband kicked the bucket last month."
"Bobby, that's not very polite… John Twist, you say? Lemme see that."
She looked at the note from Jack's momma, written in shaky script, short and to the point. There was going to be a small service next week.
"You wanna go to this, Bobby? They is your grandparents, after all, even though we ain't never met them."
"I already got a conference on that day. And I ain't never met the man, so I don't mind payin' my respects if you want me to, but I'd feel mighty strange goin' up there."
"That's fine, son. I think Mrs. Twist will understand."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She tried to go to sleep. That was the funny thing about sleep, it always ran away like a scared rabbit when you really needed it. The knowledge that she had tried so hard to bury was roaring in her ears, pounding like a drum in her head; she tossed and turned as if she could escape it through sheer force of will. The note seemed to be giving off an ethereal glow, sitting on her nightstand like a malevolent presence.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She watched the road, occasionally glanced at the metal box on the passenger seat, sure that she had finally fallen asleep and entered into a strange dreamland. But she clearly remembered rising from bed, leaving Bobby a very ambiguous note, talking to the confused man who couldn't understand what she wanted with her husband's ashes. Her money shut him up quick enough, stopped the questions that she couldn't answer.
"Jack, you're enough to drive a damn woman crazy, you know that?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mrs. Twist stood in the doorway, a faceless entity framed in the light of the kitchen. Lureen had always wondered how Jack had made these long drives so easily, yet here she was and she wasn't even sure if she had stopped once.
"Can I help you?"
"My name's Lureen, ma'am, we've never met, but…"
"Oh, my, come in, come in. I hope I didn't send you the wrong thing; the service isn't until Thursday."
"No, I just..." Lureen lifted the receptacle into the light, "I just thought you might know what to do with this."
Mrs. Twist took it all in; the metallic container all too similar to the one she had, the tears threatening to spill from Lureen's bloodshot eyes, the time of night. She pulled Lureen over to the couch, placed Jack's ashes on the sideboard, and took the poor girl into her arms.
"Hush now, hush my dear."
Lureen's grief had swelled so fiercely and unexpectedly that she did not resist. Her pain was raw, her sense of betrayal and confusion overpowering. She felt a blinding rage, mostly at herself. But, for first time in many years, a weight began to lift from her spirit; a burning constriction loosened from her chest. It almost felt good, to give in, give reign to the hurt… to let go, to just… let be.