Go Fish – Part Four
Son of a whoreson bitch, Jack thought, Ennis Del Mar had gotten cold feet after all. Long days, come and gone, early storm had hit and all week it rained like an old cow pissing on flat rock. Not much getting done on his Daddy's ranch, weather an excuse, and Jack spent slow, cold hours at his bedroom window, feeling like a scolded child, waiting to see a rusty spec in the distance, to hear an engine rumble and Ennis's quiet voice speaking his name.
"When 'xactly is this Del Mar fella plannin' on showin' his face round here, boy?" John Twist asked his son, a week passed now since he'd arrived and they sat down to supper each night, different version of this same question asked. Twist Senior always finding a way to make a simple question sound like a biting insult.
Jack sighed and looked at the plate of food in front of him, stabbed at a potato with his fork, broke it up, like it was his Daddy's words he was dismantling, and answered impatiently, "Told you a'ready, thought he'd a'been here by now. Musta got caught up with somethin'."
"Maybe changed his mind. He's anythin' like you, I'd bet he ain't one to stick with anythin' for too long."
"Hush now," protective mother's voice from Eleanor Twist, "Eat your supper, both o'you. Jack'll help jus' fine, soon's the weather turns right. Mr Del Mar'll be here 'fore you know it an' you'll lick this place into shape, ain't that so Jack?"
"Sure will try Momma, but y'know I can't stay here too long, s'just 'til I find myself some place, things t'do 'sides helpin' here."
A snort from his father then, and they finished the meal in silence before heading upstairs to his bedroom. Jack could hardly stand it back at his folks' place; too long gone to return to the nest, a place that never had been no home-sweet-home, and it definitely wasn't meant to be going like this. Hadn't counted on stormy weather coming this early, even given that Lightning Flat was named just that for a reason. Sure hadn't counted on being alone, with his Daddy on his back about the damn-fool friend not showing and no work of any worth getting done around the place. He'd been relying on the notion that - no matter what bitching his Daddy found to do, no matter what the early fall weather had to give - Ennis just being there would take the sting out of harsh words and the bleakness from the skies.
Nothing to do in Lightning Flat on a Saturday night or any other, either on the ranch or away from it, and that crazy fool feeling had returned to Jack in ever-evolving stages over the course of the week; excitement giving way to nerves; nerves to worry, then anger to hurt. Jack was hurting bad and tired of it; laying flat out on his boy-sized bed - not even the radio for company since the storm hit - thinking on what he might be doing instead, if Ennis had shown. Those thoughts pushed aside for the umpteenth time, he sat up, swung his feet to the floor and sighed heavily. He was convinced now that Ennis had changed his mind, only certainty wavering over whether it was because he'd been too afraid to act on his real feelings or because he had no real feelings after all.
He looked out the window at the rain and the darkening sky and decided he couldn't spend another night this way, the waiting and his foolishness was over. He didn't want to think anymore, about being this way, about leaving his life in Texas to start something up with Ennis, he'd gone through it all more times than he knew was natural and now seemed like the time to move on. Only one thought he had now, the one way he knew of obliterating all the other thoughts he'd been having – alcohol. None in the house and nowhere to get it in Lightning Flat, he decided he'd drive over to Sheridan, find a bar, get as drunk as his gut would allow him and sleep in his truck, pissing rain or not.
Early Sunday morning, Ennis had a postcard in his work-worn hand, plain white, from a pack he'd bought to reply to the first one Jack'd sent months back; had been trying to find words to write in it for days, wondering if it'd really be easier to do it this way than in person, less sure with every try. Alma and the girls still asleep, he stood in the kitchen, all quiet except for the thoughts in his head. His pen hovered whisper-close to the card, ink never quite making it, words never coming to mind let alone making it all the way down his arm to set his fingertips in motion. No real idea of how to say what had to be said, how he'd do it with any kind of words. He didn't know if speaking the words would be any easier than trying to write them down, doubted it, but it was all over and he had to tell Jack, he owed him that much, but sealing that fact in ink was proving too hard to do.
Not much in the way of conversation had passed between him and Alma since she broke the news about the baby. After crying like a baby himself in her arms - told her he wouldn't go to Lightning Flat after all, that he'd stay and take care of her instead - he felt selfish and worthless, guilt eating him up like a hungry coyote, and found himself falling back into the reality that was his life with an almighty bump. Leaving a wife and two kids'd be bad enough, but leaving a pregnant wife with two kids? He was more of a man than that, responsibilities to face, all his own doing. Ennis saw the measure of his life, then; three kids by the age of twenty-four, wife he didn't love and a lifetime of longing ahead of him for something, someone, he couldn't have and shouldn't ever have gotten so close to in the first place. No idea how he ended up in any one of these messes. Nothing else for it though; if he couldn't fix it - and he surely couldn't, too late for that now – he knew he had to stand it.
"What's that you got there, Ennis?" Alma asked as she entered the kitchen, made Ennis jump with a start when she spoke, and he attempted to shove the card back in the brown paper packet it came from.
"Nothin', I's just thinkin' on writin' a postcard…let my buddy Jack know I ain't gonna be goin' up to his folks' place after all."
"S'pose that'd be the decent thing t'do. Must feel bad that you're lettin' them down an' all."
"I guess, " Ennis laid the card down and looked at Alma. She stared back at him, way she'd been looking at him lately like she was daring him to open his mouth. "But I been thinkin' I might jus' go up there today an' tell 'em in person, can lend a hand if it's needed real bad."
"That so?" Alma asked, nodding her head a little and biting on her lip. "Tell me this, Ennis, you gonna go fish again while you're out there?"
Ennis paused before answering, alarm bells set off in his head, he could tell by her tone that this wasn't an innocent question. "What you mean by that, Alma?" he asked sternly and stepped closer to her, fists balled at his sides, eyes avoiding hers, paying focus on the red-tiled floor.
"Fishin' buddy, ain't he, this Jack Twist?"
"Yeah, that's what I told you."
Forced fake-laugh and she replied with an elaborate nod, "That's what you told me."
"I know you was sore that I up an' left for few days last time, but it won't be like, If'n I head on up there now' I'll be back tonight." He went towards her and reached to lay a hand on her shoulder, hoping to soften her, but she jerked away from his touch, made to turn away from him before she spoke again.
"It's not how long you'll be gone Ennis, it's what you'll be doin' while your there."
He felt pain then, shoot through his head and his chest, every nerve in his body reacting, face flushed, as he grabbed her by narrow shoulders causing her to let out a little screech, eyes wide and looking right at him. "You best be ready to tell me what in hell you mean by that now Alma."
She didn't reply, tears welling in saucer-sized eyes, her lip began to tremble. Ennis was trembling himself as he held onto her, vice-tight grip and he knew he'd be hurting her but he couldn't stop, all he could think of was how she might know.
"Goddamnit, Alma, tell me what you gettin' at…"
"I saw it," she answered him then, voice shrill with tears, sobs coming hard between words, "I saw you and him, that Jack…Jack Nasty, doin' what ain't natural for two men to do…and right outside, Ennis, front of my own home…"
Ennis let her shoulders go with a push and she slumped against the doorway. No idea what to say, no explaining this away, he stormed past her, through the messy living room and out the front door, slamming it hard behind him and he was down the steps and into his truck before he had time for another thought.
Jack woke in the passenger seat of his pick-up, stiffer than a southern bow, blinking back at the bright sun that had seen fit to shine right down on him at that moment. He looked around him for his hat and shoved it on his head, brim of the Stetson pulled down to shade his tired eyes, head hurting now worse than his heart. He'd stuck to his plan for the night before, found a quiet bar, got so drunk he'd thought on driving down to Riverton and confronting the cause of all this, but not so drunk he didn't realise it was a bad idea when it took him twenty minutes to put the key in the lock to open the goddamn door. Instead, he slid into the passenger seat and stretched his legs as best he could, grateful that a drunken sleep would take him through the night.
He drove back to Lightning Flat, hangover-headache distracting enough to stop him rethinking the kind of thoughts that had lead him here in the first place.
By the time he pulled into the flat expanse of the ranch, last thing he'd expected to see was Ennis's familiar truck, hadn't expected to see it or it's driver ever again, but there it was, clear as it could be through drink-bleary eyes. He pulled up and saw Ennis sitting there, no smile on his face, but Jack's heart raced at the sight of him anyway, jumped out of the pick-up and towards Ennis before he could think on his aching bones.
"And here I was thinkin' you wasn't comin' after all, friend," Jack said, smiling ear to ear and arms outstretched as Ennis, out of the truck now, came towards him, tight-lipped smile on his face with something behind it that Jack couldn't see; lost hope flooding back into his system, clouding his judgement and making him giddy, along with the booze left in his blood.
Jack grabbed him in his arms, a restrained embrace, and whispered, "Don't go grabbin' me like y'did last time, now – wouldn't be decent if the folks saw," and pulled back, looking at him.
"Why you waitin' out here anyway?" Jack asked before Ennis could speak a word, casting a glance towards the house.
"No answer at the door." Ennis answered, first thing he'd said and as he did he looked at his feet, kicking lightly at the drying mud beneath him.
"Folks musta gone to church. Shit, Ennis, what kept y'so long? I'd jus' 'bout gave up on ya."
"Can't stay Jack, jus' come up to tell you…."
His heart sank, words he'd dreaded, "Fuck it, Ennis, don't do this."
"I jus' drove three hours so's you'd know Jack, I didn't plan it this way, never did, but's how it is."
"What in hell's name are you talkin' bout? What's changed in a week?"
"Ev'rything, Jack, whole thing's a damn mess, I dunno what to do…was gonna send a postcard, but…"
"A fuckin' postcard?"
"I'm here now, ain't I? Jack," Ennis walked towards him, hand shoved deep in his pockets and shoulders hunched, "Can we go somewhere to talk 'bout this? Don't feel right out here."
"Ain't no-one here but me Ennis, so jus' make your damn excuses and go to hell." Jack turned back towards the pick-up and slammed the door he'd left open.
"Alma's pregnant."
Jack looked at Ennis for a long minute - fidgeting on the spot, avoiding looking back at him – before making his way towards the house.
"Son of whoreson bitch, Ennis Del Mar, you better get your fertile ass in here."