Go Fish – Part Nine.
Ennis's eyes shot open in the dark, blinking suddenly awake as fragments of an already forgotten dream left him, replaced with nothing but the still night air closing in around him as thick and black as molasses. He took a second to wonder where he was and what the dead-weight tingle in his arm might be before reclaiming that arm with a swift pull-to, the soft scratch of an unshaven face grazing his skin as he did, and he remembered soon enough that it was Jack Twist asleep beside him. Here they were again, back in the Siesta motel, not twenty miles from the wife and kids he'd left crying in teary-eyed unison just that afternoon.
Ennis threw back the thin, starch-stiff sheets and swung heavy legs out to the floor, taking a minute to shake the pins-and-needles out through numb fingers, and stood, eyes adjusted now to both wakefulness and darkness, and shuffled towards the faint outline of the bathroom door to relieve himself, not taking the trouble to find the lightswitch as he went. He felt slow and groggy from whiskey and too-little sleep, but still his heart seemed to pound too hard in his chest as he remembered the events of the day – and the night – standing with his well-used dick in his hand, glad to hear the piss-on-water splash, confirming his aim was on. He flushed and scratched vaguely at the line of hair on his belly, an unseen ghost of a smile playing on his lips for a second as he circled the bed and saw the shadowy shape of Jack in it, breathing softly, dead to the world. He felt the stiff prickle of a sticky patch of carpet underfoot and, smile fading, stopped beside window to listen to the wind throwing grit and rain against it so hard he had to pull back a cretonne curtain to make sure it was just wind doing the throwing.
Back in bed Ennis lay close to the edge and on his back, mattress sagging under his weight, and mind racing ten to the dozen. Same thoughts he'd been having for months, some of them years, played over in his mind, started worrying at him like rat's teeth. For a time he thought of shaking Jack awake, suddenly angry at him for sleeping there like a baby at a time like this. Instead, he curled his hands into fists at his sides and squeezed his eyes tight shut, anxiety gripping him so he felt he was inhaling it with every breath. He thought about leaving then, quiet and sudden – not too late – then cursed himself for it, knew well enough that it was way too late. Couldn't turn back the clock and, deep down, he knew he didn't want to. He'd spent four years wishing he could go back to a time before he'd set eyes or hands or anything else on Jack Twist, but never had made those wishes with any kind of conviction. Only one wish that held true – a wish he'd had on rare, guilty occasions and now, for sure - was that he never had married Alma Beers, never fathered two precious little girls, because he'd known then, no less clearly than he did now, that the part of him they needed most, both wife and daughters, was a part he didn't have to give; a part of himself left on Brokeback like a bloodied shirt or one of Aguirre's sheep. Still, wishing to change the past was as pointless as tits on a boar hog. Ennis kept his eyes closed and willed sleep to take him, telling himself that this whole thing was just another curve on the road of his life, nothing he could do now but keep hold of the wheel.
They woke late, Ennis first, still anxious, a knot of dread tied tight in his stomach at the thought of going back to Lightning Flat and facing a new life. He wished they could take a tent and go back up the mountain - Brokeback or someplace like it – wished life could ever be that simple, but knew otherwise too well so shoved the wish away, chiding himself for wishing anything at all. In the bathroom, Ennis pulled back the shower curtain, set the rusty hooks it hung from clanging together, and turned the leaky faucet toward red. He felt cold water pool at his feet as he stood back to let it run warm before stepping under it. He heard Jack stir as he hauled the curtain back along it's thin rail, heard the dull patter of bare feet on tile floor as he came into the small room, heard him piss without flushing, then heard the clang of curtain hooks on their thin rail and saw Jack in front of him, coming close to him, pressing them chest to chest under the lukewarm spray.
"Mornin'," Jack smiled at him and blinked as the water ran over his face, shiny droplets clinging to dark eyelashes. "Thought for a second you'd upped an' left."
Ennis smiled back, knot inside him coming slowly undone. He was still there and glad of it in his way, but couldn't yet say it in words. Instead, he tried to say it in a water-wet kiss, then again with Jack pressed face against cool tiles; tried to say it in the slippery slapping sounds he made moving inside him. Still not sure if he'd been heard, as he came so did the words and he whispered them into a wet ear, "I'm still here...Ain't ever goin' nowhere."
"I'm starving," Jack stood by the door of the room and set his hat back on his head, hair still damp from the shower and a shiny-wet glint in his eye. "You?"
"Nah, I don't feel too hungry." Ennis stood by the bed and shook his head, demeanour changing already at the thought of facing the world on the other side of that door.
"Well, you gotta eat. Y'wanna stop someplace? That diner we went to last time, out by the railroad, or could just wait 'til we're back at the house."
"I'd rather stop by that diner. Don't wanna impose any more'n necessary."
"You ain't imposin' any more'n I am."
"Still," Ennis looked at his feet, hooked a thumb into a frayed pocket.
"Okay then, but 'less you wanna move in permanent like with my folks we gotta be careful with money from now on in. No more motels and eatin' out after this," Jack smiled a little and reached for the door handle. "You've a'ready cost me more'n Lureen did, an' least she weren't no good at throwin' a punch."
Ennis looked at him nervously before catching the grin on his face and replied, "Well, bet there's a few things I can do real well that she weren't no good at."
"I'll meet you out front," Jack said with a chuckle and a shake of his head as he left for the motel reception office to hand back the key, leaving Ennis to skulk back to his truck alone, which he did after a minute or so, stood by the pick-up smoking, squinting his eyes as the wind swirled around him, air dry now but clouds hanging ominously low in the sky above him.
They drove to the diner in their respective trucks: Jack with the radio loud, whistling along with any song he knew and smiling at his rear view inbetween; and Ennis, with his hands held tight on the wheel, eyes firmly on the road to stop his thoughts from wandering back to his doubts, or worse, to his dick. They ate quickly and quietly when they got there. Ennis looked as nervous as a bag of cats so Jack let him be, happy enough to have him there without pushing him to look like he might be enjoying it. Soon enough they were driving again, off the freeway and onto the lonely road that lead to Lightning Flat, after two before they got there and for Jack the drive from the diner had taken forever, while for Ennis forever hadn't been long enough. The knot in his stomach tied tight again now, he slowed to a stop and sat there in his truck, Jack ahead of him, already out towards the door and looking back, waiting.
Ennis sat for a minute and looked out, saw nothing between the lonely house and the distant horizon but the dirty-brown plains, green speckled, vast and beautiful in their own bleak way. He jumped out of the cab, smiled nervously at Jack and followed him inside where they were met awkwardly by Eleanor Twist who was washing clothes in the kitchen sink and stopped at the sight of them to dry her hands on the skirt of her grey apron.
"Where'd you two boys get to? We was gettin' worried, Jack…"
"No need, Momma. Jus' some business needed takin' care of, done now an' Ennis'll be stayin' after all." Jack glanced at Ennis then smiled back at his mother.
She turned her eyes on Ennis, something unreadable in her expression. "Your wife's alright is she, Mr Del Mar? Her an' that baby?"
"Uh, she's...uh, jus' fine, but see…there ain't gonna be no baby after all. Seems there was a misunderstandin'."
"Oh, I am sorry," She looked back at Jack, eyes narrowing, noticing the bruise on his face. "Can I get you somethin'? Coffee, some cherry pie I jus' made…"
"We had somethin' on the way here, Ma. Where's Daddy?"
"Gone into town, get some feed and whatnot."
"Right. Well, we'll leave you to what you was doin'."
Jack pushed Ennis towards the staircase, "Go on up, I gotta piss."
And Ennis did, shuffled noisily up the stairs and pushed open the door to Jack's bedroom, maybe his bedroom now. He sat on the bed and saw clothes tangled on the floor by the curtained closet, realised again that he had nothing of his own here, just the shirt on his back that smelled now of smoke and sweat and was, he'd realised when dressing earlier in the day, flecked with tiny red spots that must've come from the bloody spray of Monroe's nose the day before.
Jack appeared at the door then, leaned a shoulder against the chipped paint of the wooden door frame. "Home sweet home, friend."
"That what this is?" Ennis stood up and looked at him, his nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed, looking at Jack like he was some kinda crazy.
"Hell no, Ennis, but it's what we got for now." Jack came inside and closed the door behind him, hung his hat on a crooked nail and sat down on the bed where Ennis had been, running a hand slowly over his jaw. "Shit, I gotta shave," He looked up at Ennis, turned his face to the side. "Can y'see the bruisin' there?"
Ennis looked at him, reached automatically to touch his face, realised what he was doing and pulled his hand back like he'd been caught touching fire. "Can see it a little, be able t'see it when you shave for sure."
"Ah, fuck it, ain't like they never seen me with bruises before," He threw himself back on the bed and let out an exaggerated sigh. "You jus' gonna stand there all day?"
Ennis sat down beside him, took his hat off and played with it some, felt Jack's hand on his back drawing lazy circles just above his ass and he shifted away from his touch. "Not here Jack, I told ya a'ready."
"Shit, I know," He sat up, boots tapping the wooden floor. "I'm gonna go shave, then I'll show you 'round out back, see the horses and heifers."
Ennis nodded soberly as Jack got to his feet. "Jack," he started, embarrassed to be asking but nothing else he could do. "I ain't got nothin' here with me, got blood here on this shirt, an' don't seem right…"
"Plenty clothes right there, friend," Jack cut him off, waving a finger at the general direction of the closet and the bag that lay open at the foot of it. "You don't have t'ask, Ennis, ain't nothin' I got now that I don't plan on sharin' with you." He smiled and opened the door to leave, gave him a wink. "You pick out somethin' nice an' I'll see you in a li'l while."
Ennis smiled to himself and pulled back the curtain covering the closet, eyed the tangled shirts on the floor inside and saw something that looked familiar. He picked them up and tentatively peeled denim back to see his own plaid work shirt – long-thought lost, left on Brokeback with his heart – faded some, torn pocket, specked with dried blood gone brown with age. Figured if Jack'd had a shirt of his for all this time, seemed only fair for him to give one of his own back now. Ennis took a rounded wire hanger from the rail and placed the two tangled shirts on it before digging through the bag on the floor, finding a plain blue shirt that seemed fine and changing into it quickly, afraid of being caught with his shirt off in Jack Twist's bedroom, especially by Jack himself.
Jack had returned to find Ennis, clean shirt on, smoking by the window and they spent the afternoon out on the land of the tired old ranch. The outbuildings all looked like a good gust of wind would send them flying and the few heifers looked scrawny and underfed. Jack told him that his Daddy'd almost run this place into the ground since he'd moved to Texas, refusing to hire hands, laying guilt on him for not coming out to help more, felt he'd run it down just so he'd still have something to blame him for, even seven hundred miles away.
They were back in the house when John Twist returned. He said nothing to greet them, asked if dinner was ready and his wife replied, "Coupla minutes," and he shuffled out back to wash up before eating.
They sat in strained silence around the kitchen table for dinner, breaking it only to say a prayer of thanks for the food. The prayer made Ennis feel more like the sinner he was so he held his head low, eyes lower still and they all went on to eat without another word.
Eleanor stood to clear the table and Ennis offered, "Thanks Mrs Twist."
"Yeah, was real good Ma, thanks," Jack joined in.
"Glad you boys liked it, cherry pie still t'come, I jus' made it today," She replied, and let silverware clatter in the sink. "Nothing more warm an' welcoming than a nice piece of cherry pie."
Ennis wrung his hands and looked nervously at Jack, whose silence made him even more uneasy. Jack cleared his throat then and looked at his Daddy. "Got us both here now, we can get t'work first thing, jus' let us know what needs done."
Ennis noticed the difference in Jack around him, didn't like it one little bit, and he watched as John Twist finally lifted his eyes from the table, set them square on him.
"Ennis Del Mar, he said to us. Fixin' t'come up here an' lick this place inta shape 'fore winter. And here you are," He paused, took accusing eyes off Ennis and looked at the coffee he was swirling in the chipped blue mug in his hand before tipping his head towards Jack. "Think you was somethin' special, the way this one talked."
Dumbstruck, Ennis couldn't think of a damned thing to say to that. Jack looked apologetically at him and, shook his head a little, signalling to keep quiet. His Momma set down pieces of warm cherry pie and smiled at them like she hadn't heard a thing.
"You grow up on a ranch like this, Mr Del Mar?"
"No ma'm, not 'xactly. And it's Ennis, please."
Jack spoke up, "His folks died when he was just a kid."
"Oh. Sure can't've been easy on you," she said and sipped coffee, no pie for her.
Ennis chewed on a sweet mouthful and answered, wishing for the silence they'd had before. "No point dwelling on these things too much."
Jack's Daddy spoke with his mouth half full, "Heard your wife ain't expectin after all."
"No sir," he replied, not looking up from his plate, his foot tapping nervously against his chair leg.
"Got other kids?"
"Two girls." Ennis looked up, half-smiled at him.
"I got a grandson I ain't ever seen. Guess I won't never see him now, neither."
"John…" Eleanor spoke, a quiet protest, wasted on him.
"Now, tell me this. How come you boys can father children but ain't neither one of you man enough to keep a woman?"
Neither answered and Eleanor, too, stayed quiet. John Twist gave a bitter laugh and left the table, headed upstairs on his own.
Ennis was glad to be out of that house and into the dusky air, even if it was still on John Twist's land. Dinner had been as bad as expected, worse even, and Jack felt bad for putting Ennis throught it - knowing it was bad enough for him and he was used to his father's cutting words and accusing eyes from years of the same. They said nothing, waited until they were across the yard at the back and inside the barn that housed the horses.
"You alright?" Jack asked him, concern in his voice, and raised a hand to stroke his hair.
"Better now."
"My Daddy's an asshole, would argue black was white if you was fool enough t'start with him." Jack sidled up close to him, pushing lightly, brought them hip-to-hip. "Don't pay him no mind. I sure didn't, an' I turned out jus' fine."
"You think?"
"You seem t'like how I turned out…" Jack leaned forward, kissed him quick and soft.
Ennis sighed, "Gotta say, I can't see much o'you in neither of 'em."
"Am I t'take that as some kinda compliment?"
"Take it any way y'please."
"We'll be outta here soon enough," Jack promised and kissed him again, longer this time, and Ennis responded even though he knew he shouldn't. Jack pulled back and slid suddenly to his knees, sinking into damp straw, Ennis's button fly was yanked open and his rising cock set free from the it's denim confines and out into the cool air before he had time to protest. He meant to tell him to stop, but Jack's mouth covered him, his tongue searing lines on his dick as it flicked out and across the sensitive skin, so hot and soft. Ennis let his head fall forward to look on at him and laced fingers through his hair. Just a minute more, he thought, and then I'll stop him…But he was lost to it, that feeling, the soft sound of it, the sight of it; Jack's hungry mouth taking him in, more warm and welcoming that his Momma's cherry pie.