Part VII: The Dinner

"Pass me the sweet potatoes, Rodeo," L.D. says, mouth already full of them, garishly orange. Jack sends up a prayer of thanks for the umpteenth time that Lureen didn't learn her table manners from her father.

"Here y'are." Jack can see L.D. eyeing Ennis like a vulture circling in for the kill. Ask 'im something quick, Twist. "So, how's it going with the new hire… uhh, Nero's his name?" Of course you know his name, you stupid fuck. Then again… you probably know the shape of his ass better. He grimaces, mentally kicking himself. He stares intently at his food.

"He's been workin' out real well. First I didn't trust 'im, bein' a Negro an' all—I swear Dave wouldn't get off a my ass 'till I gave 'im a chance—but he's been doin' some real sweet-talkin'. He booked us four shows that I been tryin' to get for years, boy's got a way with those managers."

"Any new shows this month I should know about?"

"Yeah, you're going to one next week with 'im. Didn't I tell ya?"

You sure as fuck did not. "You might a mentioned it. One day or two?"

"Well, y'all is going one day for certain, and you'll have to decide between yourselves if'n it's worth staying for the second one, 'cause they got a spot open but I ain't sure if it's worth the money. Likely as not we won't get any profit on it this year, bein' our first." L.D., enamored with the sound of his own voice, turns to Ennis before Jack can respond. "Well, 'nough shop-talk, boy, we got ourselves a guest here and I do reckon we ought a make nice. Where you from, again, Mr. Delmer?"

Jack is trying to swallow the pork that seems to have lodged in throat when Laura puts a gentle hand on her husband's shoulder, "It's del Mar, honey. Del Mar." She smiles and retreats into silence once more.

"Aw, hell, del Mar then. That still don't answer my question."

Ennis hasn't even looked up from his uneaten food. Jack answers quickly, "He's from Riverton, Wyoming. We met in '63 herdin' sheep in Signal. Job paid shit, but I got myself a fishin' buddy out a it." Jack attempts a weak smile, telling himself over and over again that he's not allowed to crawl under the table dinner in front of company.

"I bet you catch all the fish, huh Ennis? I know Jack here cain't fish for beans."

Ennis glances up briefly, shrugs, and continues to roll his peas around.

"Cat got your tongue? Well I can see you made yourself right at home here. What kind a work you do?"

Pause. "He's a ranch foreman for a place near Riverton."

"Didn't get too far after herdin' those sheep, eh?"

Longer pause. "He's got hisself a real nice spread down 'n Riverton." Jack lies like he's defending his own honor—and maybe he is.

L.D. glances at Jack, scowling. "What about family? You want to tell me all about his family, too, Jack? Now what in th'hell is goin' on here? Man can't speak for hisself? I'm tryin' a make polite conversation with you here, Mr. Delmer, but I must rightly say you ain't tryin' too hard to make it back."

Ennis finally puts his fork down, his face an unhealthy pallor. "I'm sorry." Those two words contain such regret and plaintive vulnerability that even L.D. blinks at them. "Thank you kindly for the meal, ma'am." Ennis gets out his chair sedately, but practically runs out of the room.

The room is pregnant with silence, growing heavier by the moment. Jack stares after Ennis, but caution stays him. He thinks he might understand, in this moment, how Ennis has felt all these years.

Bobby looks around the table at all of them, as if willing them to speak. Getting no response, he chimes in, tentative, "Daddy… was the sheep real stinky? I bet your mama gave you a real good warshin' when you got home, huh?" Jack gives a good hard belly laugh, and the tension drains out of the air, like a balloon bursting under the strain of its own inflation.

"You bet your drawers she did, son. I could a fed a whole pond a frogs with all the flies I brought in with me. You learn from your old man and don't get into herdin' work."

"You best be learnin' from your pa, Bobby, 'cause the company's goin' a be all yours someday."

The conversation turns to more pleasant, neutral topics—L.D.'s firm endorsement of Gerald Ford and his outrage that anyone would try to assassinate him, Lureen's new hairstylist who's missing an ear but still gets all the men in town, Bobby's teacher who is always looking for her glasses when they're on top of her head, but refuses to believe the children when they tell her. Dinner passes uneventfully until they're stuffed to the brim with Lureen's famous peach cobbler, and L.D. invites (in a if-you-say-no-you'll-regret it sort of way) Jack have a nightcap out on the porch with him. Bobby returns to his room, complaining about his homework until he's well out of hearing range.

Lureen and Laura clean up after the meal, mopping up the mess Bobby made all over the table and stowing the leftovers in the fridge.

"Honey, you doin' all right?" Laura puts a hand on her shoulder, concerned. "Whatever is goin' on here… well, it ain't right."

Lureen takes a deep breath, nodding. "I really don't know what I'm a do, mama. This whole thing is so strange. Now, I know how to host myself a guest—learned from the best," Laura smiles, "but this Ennis fella acts like he'd rather be anywhere but here. What'm I s'posed to do about it? The worst part is, I think Jack is just as confused as the rest of us. If he can't figure out what to do about his friend, I don't know I'm 'spected to." She soaps the dishes, shaking her head.

"I think you're doin' fine job, dear. No one would judge you unfair, 'specially after the way he just came in here, middle a the night, fists flyin'. I probably would a kicked 'im right out a the house, friend or no friend. You're already a bigger woman than many of us would be. I don't remind him a this enough, but Jack is real lucky to have you."

"Thanks, mama. Jack's been actin' like I ought a be some kind a saint about all this—he actually asked me if I could un-invite y'all to dinner!—but you know I never pay him no mind." They share a laugh, and Laura puts the dried dishes away in the cabinet.

"How long you reckon this fella's goin' a be here?"

"I wish I knew. Jack just beats the devil around the stump ever' time I ask."

"I was thinkin' of talkin' to some of L.D.'s friends, seein' if one a them might have a job for Ennis." Laura watches Lureen carefully, a question-worry gnawing at her brow, "I got a tell you Lureen. I have this feelin' that now that he's here… he ain't goin' a leave."

Lureen can't look at her mother, face flushing slightly. Years of sideways glances, shirts torn mysteriously at the seam, and forgotten anniversaries weigh on her.

Laura continues, voice soft but sure. "We best be gettin' him settled in. I'm a call you as soon as it's set up."

Lureen hugs her mother, grateful tears in her eyes. There are just some things that even a woman grown cannot do alone.