Jack at 31 (2)
November 16, 1975
The sun was sitting on the horizon when he crossed the border and it glared at him through the passenger side window. He ached everywhere. The guy had been kind, had shared his cigarette afterwards, and found a way to make Jack understand this was a temporary measure for him, a way to save up some money to buy a good camera. Jack had almost asked him how many pesos he had in the coffee can.
There was no need to get back to Childress in a hurry but he didn't know where else to go. He was so tired, tired of driving. He played the game with his watch and a target up the road for a while. He passed a Best Western motel. An hour later another one. Much later his eyelids felt like they were made of lead, so when he saw the third one he let the truck drift off the road and into the parking lot.
Before he collapsed on the bed he looked through the Sunday TV guide he'd slid from the front desk. At four o'clock there was an old one from 1963 that he'd never even heard of and he stared at the title, incredulous: Love With the Proper Stranger. He didn't even want to think what that was about. If he didn't turn on the TV, would he stay put? He just wanted to sleep.
He dreamt he was sitting naked on the edge of Ennis' bed in the moonlight in the shabby house — the one he hadn't been invited to enter after searching for it for so long. Ennis couldn't sleep so Jack lay down behind him and held him close, humming to him and telling him not to worry, he would be back.
When he woke up sixteen hours later, he knew that was the truth.
The dream (written January 23, 2008):
"You don't need those."
Night after night he had lain awake, unable to shut off the endless loop: a white pickup rolling past led by a black crow, Jack's smile dying and his truck backing out onto the road. His girls waiting patiently, waiting to spend the little time alotted to him, never enough. One pill didn't bring sleep so he'd taken another. Still no rest. Now he was groping for the little bottle to try again but another hand was there. Ennis opened one eye and saw Jack sitting on the edge of his sagging bed, his body gleaming silver in the full moon light flooding in through the window of the ramshackle house lost on the plain. "You don't need those to sleep. I'll help you." Jack crawled behind Ennis and spooned against him. "Let me sing you to sleep," he murmured. "You sent me away, but I'll be back." Ennis heard the humming in his ear and felt it vibrating against his shoulder as warmth spread over his back and through him. He slept at last.
