Jack dashes more salt on his potatoes, shovels them into his mouth without really tasting them; it's been another bad day, hardly more than three words exchanged between them. Jack knows he needs to call Lureen again tonight, stall on questions he has no answers to, but he wants to check on Bobby, make sure that he's doing okay in school, that Lureen isn't being too hard on him. He glances at his watch, half after eight, he'll call at nine. Ennis stabs at his steak, cutting it into tiny bits, but Jack has yet to see one of them end up in his mouth.
"Plannin' on eatin' it or just obliteratin' it?" It's meant to be a tease but carries an edge.
Ennis drops his fork, shoving the plate away from him violently, a scowl twisting his features. "Just fuck off, Jack." He gets up, turning away from Jack and leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, arms crossed and shoulders tight.
"Sorry…sorry. Just askin'."
"Not my fuckin' mother." His boot squeaks against the faded linoleum.
Jack sets his fork down, taking a deep breath. "Not tryin' a be. Just worried, 's all. Ain't hardly been eatin'."
His shoulders and head drop, voice barely above a whisper. "No point."
Jack gets out of his seat, approaching Ennis slowly—he learned real quick not to crowd Ennis after the first night he spent alone here, "Be back in the morning" the only thing Ennis would say on the phone, voice gravelly and choked with grief. He leans against the wall, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Plenty a point. Turnin' into skin an' bones here."
Ennis shrugs off the hand. "Not hungry."
"…'kay. Be there later, you want it."
He watches as Ennis stalks off into the bedroom, biting his lip. Am I even doin' any good here? Seems like all I do is make 'im mad, half the time. Fuckin' bit my head off about buyin' the wrong brand a milk. He cleans up the dishes automatically, mind racing with everything he wishes he could do. What if I took him away from here? Might help, be in a new place for a little while, take his mind off'a… no. No. Wouldn't be right. Not what I'm here t'do. Ain't 'bout him forgettin'. Man can't never forget somethin' like that. He shudders at the image; he rubs his foot up against his shin where Ennis bruised him last night, thrashing in his sleep. Jack knows what he's dreaming about. He wasn't even there and he can hardly think about it. Gotta be patient with him. Can't forget what he's been through. He sighs, turns on the tap and scrubs at the oily grime on the cast iron pan, the residue shining iridescent along the rim of the sink. Just here for him. Whatever he's wantin'. Skin pickled from the water, clean dishes stacked in the cupboards, nothing left to do but pick up the phone. Paid the bill on it last week, may as well use the damn thing. He runs his fingers along the beige plastic, picks it up, and listening to the monotonous drone, punches in the numbers with a sigh.
She picks up on the first ring. "Hello?"
"Hi, honey. How you doin'?"
"Don't 'hi honey' me, Jack. You was supposed to call yesterday."
I was too busy tryin' a keep from gettin' black eye. "Lost track a the date, sorry. Everythin' goin' okay?"
"Everythin's fine 'cept for the fact that you still ain't tol' me when you're comin' back. Bobby keeps askin' me, what do I tell him?"
"Just wrappin' things up here, I'll be back soon."
"'Soon' like you meant last week? 'Cause that ain't gonna cut it anymore, Jack. An' don't get me wrong here. I know what you're doin' is important, I really do. I just need t'know what's happenin'. I got salespeople I'm talkin' to, Bobby waitin' on that fishin' trip you promised him, an' it'd be nice for my own peace a mind t'have at least some idea of when my husband's comin' home."
Jack twists his wedding ring on his finger, tries to formulate an apology that will explain to her without condemning himself. "Lureen, I can't just up an' leave. He's…" he lowers his voice, craning his neck to check that Ennis's door is closed, "he's got no one. All he does is work an' try to act like nothin's happened. Don't even think he'd eat or take care a hisself if I wasn't here."
"'S understandable, losin' his family like he did. But you got your own family, Jack—"
"Ain't forgotten. Not for a second. But tell me what'm s'posed to do? Got me in a rock an' a hard place here, Lureen."
"You asked 'im 'bout comin' back here? You know we got a job for 'im at the ranch. You don't have to worry 'bout my daddy, neither. Gave 'im a dressin' down for treatin' one a my guests like that. Yolanda tol' me all the things daddy said to Ennis. Won't have that kind of behavior in my household, don't care if he is my daddy."
Jack smiles, remembering a few instances when he quaked in his boots under Lureen's words, could peel the paint off a wall. "Woulda paid good money t'see the look on his face, bet you was on fire."
"Oh, well," she says, and he can almost see her averting her eyes at the compliment, "Weren't nothin'. Needed doin'. Anyway, he's welcome here he wants to come. Give 'im a chance t'get back on his feet, if'n he needs it."
Wish I knew what he needed. "Talk to him about it tomorrow, then. How's everythin' going with Harold? Still whinin' 'bout his last order? 'Cause I tol' him he had to watch the turns on that model…"
They talk business for the next ten minutes—Lureen has everything under control, as usual. Halfway through arguing about which one of them was supposed to send out the invoice to Mr. Abbott, he hears Bobby's voice in the background.
"Just a second, Bobby, daddy and I are tryin' a talk—aw, hell, Jack, he's about to have a conniption over here, we'll figure it out later. You better call 'gain tomorrow and let me know what Ennis says. I'ma go see if I can find that paperwork for Harold."
"I'll call tomorrow, prolly the same time."
"Don't be makin' me sit here'n call you twenty times tomorrow night, y'hear me? I ain't above drivin' myself to Wyomin' if it comes down to it."
Don't doubt it for a second. 'S what I'm afraid of. "Tomorrow. You get that invoice out."
Her grumbling recedes and suddenly Bobby's voice is flooding his ear, "Daddy, daddy, daddy—did mamma tell you? I hit a homerun yesterday! Knocked it right outta the park. Shortstop fell over when I hit 'im with my bat, too, but that was a accident. Coach tol' me we was just tryin' to beat the other team, not kill 'em. But he said 'go'n get 'em, killers' when we started the game, don't that mean we're supposed to?"
Jack blinks, trying to catch up. "Um, I think that's what they call a figger of speech." He's quickly lost in a flood of exuberance, digesting details about gross girls at school and stupid teachers and his friend, Paul, who swears that he can put his whole fist in his mouth. Bobby's voice is like rainfall after a drought, light and carefree and utterly… normal. Jack's face becomes sore from smiling.
"You gonna be back for my next game?"
His smile fades; he crashes back down to reality. "I… sure am goin' a do my best, Bobby."
"Why cain't you come? You can bring Ennis."
"I'll be sure t'ask 'im, Bobby."
A pause. "Could I ask him m'self?"
"Well…" he wavers back and forth, trying to weigh the pros and cons. Oh, the hell with it. What's the worst he could say? "Sure, lemme see if he's awake." He sets the phone down, going into Ennis's room. He doesn't knock on the door, knows what Ennis is doing anyway—but the sight of him curled up on the bed still hits him like a punch in the gut. He sits down beside Ennis, picking up the phone at the nightstand and holding it out to him, "It's Bobby." Ennis opens his eyes, narrowing them at Jack, "Huh?"
"Bobby. He wants t'talk to you."
Ennis seems to consider it for a moment, then shakes his head. "Nothin' a say."
"Don't worry, Bobby'll do 'nough talkin' for the both a you."
Ennis takes the phone, picking up the receiver while glowering at Jack. Jack, satisfied, leaves the room, closing the door with a quiet click. He stares at the phone still laying on the kitchen table; resists the urge to pick it up again, although the occasional words drift his way….third time up at bat…sure wish you'n my Daddy would come…longer in Wyoming?…mamma said…Jack rushes over to the phone when he hears that, hoping that Bobby isn't spilling the beans before he can do damage control.
"…hopes that you'd come back, too. Don't mind my grandpa, he's mean t'ever'body, I wish he was nicer like Paul's grandpa, he always gives me candy when I see 'im."
"Don't think I'll be back in Texas, Bobby, sorry t'say."
"You're not comin' back with my daddy?"
"…don't think so."
"Well, Mr. Ennis, I sure hope you do. My daddy'll be real sad you stay in Wyoming."
"He tell you that?" There's a dangerous note in Ennis's voice, but Bobby is oblivious.
"No, he didn't say nothin'. But when he gets sad he drinks lots, and he didn't hardly drink while you was here. He was drinkin' lots right before you come, more'n we ever seen 'im. My mamma tol' me to stay in my room, but I heard 'em… havin' words."
Jack can't breathe. Bobby heard that? Christ. What else he heard that he hasn't told us about? He hasn't even realized he's stopped listening to the conversation until he hears them exchange goodbyes. He hurriedly sets down the phone and walks over to the fridge, shuffling around the milk carton and sticking his head in. He hears Ennis open the door and sticks his head in farther.
"You can stop pretendin', Jack, you breathe louder'n either of us could talk." He bangs his head on the bottom of the freezer, rubbing his hand over it guiltily. Ennis just smirks and walks back to the bedroom. "Phone's all yours."
Two days later
Jack runs the towel through his damp hair, sitting down on the bed next to Ennis. He's rehearsed his speech about a dozen times, but now that the time has come he wants to make an excuse about going to the store for dinner. Or just pretend that his trip to Childress is a regular one. Let his bags and divorce papers do the talking for him when he returns.
He sits back against the headboard, swinging his legs up, and takes off his wedding ring and rolling it around in his left palm.
"Ennis?"
"Hmmm?" He shifts on the bed, pulling the covers up closer around him.
"Goin' a Childress today."
He squares his shoulders, biting his lip. "Stay for a week. Then… I'm movin' up here."
Nothing. Ennis gets out of the bed, heads straight for the bathroom. The sound of retching nauseates Jack; he closes his eyes, tries to close his ears to the sound, but it invades him, seeps into his skin, soaking him with guilt.
"No fuckin' way." Ennis is barely standing, both hands against the doorway holding him up; his face is white as a sheet and he's covered in a cold sweat.
Jack looks away, unable to hold his ground at the sight of what he's caused, clutching the ring tight. "Goin' a get a divorce, Ennis. I got to. Goin' a do it whether I can come here or not."
Ennis staggers over, falling to his knees in front of Jack. His face is wretched, contorted beyond recognition. "Why?"
Jack sighs, his unable to maintain his strength anymore, putting his hands over Ennis's. "Lemme be real level with you. Ain't doin' no one any favors by stayin'. The whole world knows that L.D. hates my guts, he sure don't pull no punches there. Lureen and I're friends, but we both know it ain't much of a marriage. More like a business partnership than anythin'.
"Hell, even if I didn't know you I'd still be thinkin' 'bout it. It ain't no kind a life to live like this. Almost worse than bein' at Lightning Flat sometimes; least there I always knew I could run away if it got real bad. Cain't run away from a son though, even if Lureen 'n I split. Bobby's for life. Wouldn't have it no other way now, even if when I found out Lureen was pregnant I cursed from here to next Tuesday. Won't never stop bein' his daddy, but I cain't stay there no more. It ain't my life."
He puts his hands on Ennis's face, running his thumbs along his cheeks. "Fuck-all's worked out for either a us, friend. It ain't right, tell you that. But it don't make it right to keep livin' it, neither. Me spendin' all my time fuckin' miserable won't fix a goddamned thing. Just like you killin' yourself won't bring 'em back." Jack takes a deep, shuddering breath when Ennis tries to jerk away. "Tell you what. If I could a taken their place…do it in a second. World'll go on without me. But them girls a yours… didn't never get a fair chance. I'm so fuckin' sorry 'bout that I can hardly stand it." Ennis tries to turn away again, trembling and mouth contorting, but Jack won't let him, coming down the floor to kneel in front of him.
"Just 'member that they're waitin' for you up there. An' I'll think they'd be real sorry t'hear that you spent th'rest a your life beatin' yourself up over what happened. We can't fix this, friend. Damned well wish we could. You just gotta come out the other side, when maybe you can think a them and it'll feel good. I know if I was the one up there waitin' on you, that's what I'd want." Ennis falls apart in his hands, disintegrating, and he holds him close, refusing to let go even when he screams to high heaven, tearing into the guts of his pain, spilling out bile and blood and gore.
Seconds stretch into minutes stretch into hours, the sun slants into the room at uncomfortable angles and burns hot across Jack's shoulder. Ennis groans under him, shifting from where he fell asleep, bringing his hand to his forehead. "Fuck."
"You okay?"
"Mmmm." Ennis sits up, cradling his forehead.
Jack straightens up, popping his neck and rolling his shoulders. "You want some lunch? I gotta head to Childress soon, though."
Ennis drops his hand from his face, turning away from Jack.
"Jack… I—"
Jack's chest clenches. No. Don't say it.
"I can't do it."
"What're you doing?" He mimes the words although he knows the answer.
"I'm—we're—dishonorin' them. Us, like this."
"Ennis, we ain't dishonorin' no one. We're just livin'."
Ennis rises, walking over to the window. He shakes his head. "Cain't do it, Jack…won't be here when you get back."
The room spins before Jack, breath stolen from his lungs, heart pounding in his ears. He gets up and leaves the room.
Nothing he can say to that.
They're standing in front of his truck, no more than a foot apart but already the distance is palpable; Jack already feels like he's halfway to Texas. Ennis is looking at the ground, still as a statue and just as responsible. Jack opens the door to his truck, all the familiar feelings sinking into the pit of his stomach.
He turns to Ennis, knowing that these could very well be the last words they exchange.
"You do whatever you need, friend. Hell…I ain't even met 'em but once and I feel like a bull kicked me in th'guts good 'n hard." He pauses, gathering his thoughts. "You need me, I'm here. You take all the time in th'world, friend. 'Cause they's worth ever' minute a sufferin', even if I wish I could tell you they wasn't. Wish t'God I could tell you that." He takes a step closer to Ennis, taking his hands, stiff and cold in his.
"Cain't force you t'take what I'm offerin' Ennis. Done tryin'. Ain't good for neither of us. But you want it… it'll always be there. No quittin' this one, friend." He releases Ennis's hands, stepping back, slipping into the truck.
As he closes the door, he whispers, mostly to himself, "Love you, Ennis. Goddamn me to Hell for it, but I do. Nothin' you can do about it."