This meant that when he couldn't sleep, like now, he could sit up in bed and read without having to stuff his ears with cotton to block out the chainsaws. He glanced over at Ennis, asleep on his side facing away from him, and the only sound was the blessedly quiet, steady whoosh and draw of his breath. The light from Jack's small bedside reading lamp fell across the pages of his book, which he wasn't having too much luck reading. He'd been staring at the same page for half an hour, re-reading the same few lines over and over without any of the words sinking into his brain. He kept seeing that woman's face, and hearing the shock and fear in her voice when she shouted for Jimmy to come away. Fear of him. Fear that he'd do something to Jimmy, something that he couldn't even stand to hold in his mind. And that look in her eyes...like he and Ennis were an offense to the very air and the sun and the stars, and just by breathing they were somehow upsetting the balance of nature.
He sighed and put his book aside, sliding down and drawing the covers up to his chest. He looked over at the back of Ennis's head again, a black cancer of shame and anger creeping into his mind. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that something he held so precious, something that made him so happy, could be so horrible and threatening to anybody. How could people think so different when their brains were all pretty much the same?
Ennis's breathing hitched. His head rolled toward him a little. "Jack?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "You 'wake?"
"Is the light botherin' you?"
"Y'okay?" he said, rubbing at his face with one hand like a little kid.
"Couldn't sleep."
Ennis rolled over, eyes still shut, and curled into Jack's side, tucking his head down on his chest and throwing one arm across Jack's body. Jack smiled and let his arm drape itself around Ennis's shoulders. Though he'd come a long way, Ennis was still at his most affectionate when he was in some stage of being asleep and didn't quite recall that tough and manly fellas like himself weren't supposed to like to cuddle. "Go t'sleep," Ennis mumbled.
Jack was tempted to keep quiet just so Ennis could go back to sleep, but that wasn't fair. If he couldn't sleep, Ennis could damn well wake up too and keep him company. "I cain't," he said. "I jus'...I keep hearin' what she said."
He felt some waking tension come into Ennis's muscles. "I know," he said.
"Jus' when I'm startin' to really relax..."
"I know," Ennis repeated. "But you know, mos' folks don't think that."
"How d'we know what they think? We only know what they say 'n do. Maybe they all feel like that and they're jus' bein' polite. I mean, I think Myrtle Mayfield is a stupid cow, but I tip my hat 'n say howdy jus' the same."
"Your mamma didn't raise no fools. Myrtle could kill someone with that giant purse 'o hers."
Jack felt a smile spreading slow across his face. "Ain't that the truth," he said, chuckling.
Ennis turned his head and kissed Jack's chest, then propped up on one elbow and looked down at him. "We cain't never know what folks think," he said. "And it don't matter. All's matters is how they treat us, and what they say. If they're civil, and treat us like everone else, what's it matter if they hate us inside?"
Jack sighed. "'Cause hate cain't never stay on the inside," he said. "It likes t'come out 'n make trouble."
"You think too much. What happen'd to that fella I used t'know, the one who always said we c'd get a place together 'n live a sweet life? Now we got it, 'n yer all gloom 'n doom."
"I guess that fella'd never had nobody tell 'im to his face that he was some kinda child molester."
Ennis sobered. "I ain't never hit no woman, but damn if'n I didn't wanna..."
"Shush, now. It ain't worth worryin' over."
"Yeah, 'cause that's why yer sittin' awake at three fuckin' a.m., 'cause it ain't worth worryin' over."
Jack looked up at Ennis's face, stubbly and angular, his eyes dark in the half-light. He reached up with one hand, drew his head down and kissed him, making it last until Ennis relaxed into it. "Wanna take my mind off it, cowboy?" Jack whispered.
He felt Ennis smile against his own lips. "Don't gotta ask me twice," he murmured, pulling Jack close.
Jack pulled on his rattiest jeans and a paint-stained t-shirt. It was just barely morning; the light still had that pinkish-gray color that bore no warmth. He leaned over Ennis, sprawled out on his back asleep. "I'm gonna go work on them brambles down by the river 'afore it gets too hot," he whispered.
"Nnnngh," Ennis grunted, one hand twitching.
"Don't stir yerself, it's early yet. I'm squirrely. Gotta do somethin'."
Another noncommittal grunt. Jack patted Ennis's leg and left him be. He picked up his thickest gloves from the mudroom, a hacksaw and some hedge clippers from the shed, and headed down to the riverbank. "Well, fuck me sideways," he cursed, staring at the mess that they'd been putting off dealing with for weeks now.
The riverbank below the house was a mess of scrub, brambles and couple of fallen trees. They could have a real nice place to set up a bigger firepit and maybe a barbecue if it weren't so beat to hell. Jack felt like tearing the living shit out of something just now, so this seemed like a good project. He slapped his oldest hat on his head, pulled on the elbow-length work gloves, and set to.
Liz brought her coffee out to the back porch, where Ennis was already set up by the railing, staring out towards the river. She came padding up behind him, wondering what he was looking at.
Down by the water's edge, Jack was attacking some scrubby bushes and old logs that were cluttering up the riverbank. The sun was climbing in the sky and he'd taken off his shirt, exposing an attractively muscled chest. Liz smiled to herself. Ennis hadn't even noticed her presence. "Enjoying the scenery?" she said.
He jumped, almost spilling his coffee. "Oh, uh...mornin', Lizzie," he spluttered, color slamming into his face. "Naw, I was just...uh...I mean t'say, I was just watchin' t'see that he minds them trees and don't accidentally..." Abruptly, he turned back toward the river. "Jack!" he yelled. "Careful 'o that there...uh...that spruce tree, now!"
Jack paused and looked around. He was too far away to read his expression, but his posture gave away his confusion. "The hell, Ennis? I ain't anywhere near that tree!" he yelled back. "Shut up 'n lemme work!"
Ennis turned his back to the yard, fiddling with his coffee cup and his empty breakfast plate, muttering to himself. It took a truly heroic effort on Liz's part not to laugh at his embarrassment to have been caught out appreciating Jack's physique. She sat down on the other side of the table. "Calm down, Ennis. You're allowed to look, you know."
He shook his head. "Ain't nothin'. Jus'...takin' in the mornin' sunshine, is all."
"If you say so." She peered over the railing toward the river, grinning. "It certainly is an attractive view you've got here."
Ennis sighed, as if her impertinence exhausted him. "Hardy har har." He kicked his feet up on an empty chair. "You laugh all you want, Lizzie. I'm just gonna sit here and mind my business. I c'n do that, 'cause I get to wake up to that view ever day," he said, the ghost of a smirk twisting his lips.
Liz gaped at him. Had Ennis just made a mildly suggestive smartass remark to her? She did believe he had. He cast her a sidelong glance, and she saw the mischievous twinkle in his eye. She burst out laughing. "Ennis Del Mar, you are a devil."
"No, ma'am, I'm an upstanding citizen. Ask anyone."
They fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Liz tucked her legs up underneath her in the wicker deck chair and sipped her coffee, watching the stock wander around the near paddock and pretending not to notice Ennis sneaking glances at Jack out of the corner of his eye. "What do you call him?" she finally asked, breaking the long pause.
Ennis frowned. "Huh?"
"I mean, how do you refer to each other? Do you call him your partner?"
"Business partner?"
"No, I mean..." She took another tack. "What term do you prefer? Longtime companion? That one seems the favorite lately."
Ennis shrugged. "Mostly I jus' call him Jack."
"But if you're meeting someone new, and you say 'This is Jack Twist, he's my...' What word do you put there?"
"Cain't say's I do."
"You must say something!"
"Why'd I ever wanna introduce him like that? He c'n speak for himself."
"You're making this too complicated, Ennis."
"No, I think you are. Why's there gotta be some kinda special word? There ain't one that fits, is there? Doc McGill, he says 'partner,' like you say." He made a face. "I dunno, that don't sound right t'me, seein's Jack'd be my partner even if'n we had wives, 'cause we're partners in this place. There ain't no proper word, so I don't use one. Seems mos' folks we meet already know our livin' arrangements, so's there ain't no call for mentionin' it, and if'n they don't, then why bother?"
Liz had to concede the point. "I guess it is easier just to avoid it."
"I ain't avoiding nothin'. I just don't see the point 'o shovin' it in people's faces by bein' all 'Nice to meetcha, I'm Ennis and this is Jack, and we're kinda married 'cept not really 'cause that ain't happenin' so he's kinda my husband or maybe some word that don't exist yet, and ain't that confusin'?" Ennis said. Liz watched as he replayed his own words in his head, then flushed purple. "Shit, listen t'me," he muttered. "You're corruptin' me, city gal. Next thing y'know I'll be wearing the damn pink frills and makeup, too."
Liz smiled. "I'd pay money to see that, Ennis."
He smirked at her. "How much? I got my eye on a new saddle."
Liz got a chance to pose the same question to Jack when she rode into town with him later that afternoon. "Ennis didn't really have an answer for me," she said.
Jack snorted. "Yeah, I bet he didn't. Not that he'd ever need any kinda term for me. I do most 'o the talkin' when we're out among folks, 'specially strangers."
"What about you?"
"Well, he is right, there ain't no good word. I try'n avoid it, same as him, just 'cause it gets awkward. If'n I got no choice, I say 'partner.' If folks assume I mean business partner, then that's jus' fine." He hesitated. "I'll tell you somethin', though...long's you don't tell Ennis I said so." Liz nodded. "In my head, jus' to myself, I think of him as my husband." He sighed. "I know that ain't right, and it ain't legal or nothin', but...what else is he? We got a life together, all the trimmin's. House, cars, horses, business...hell, we share everthin'. Good stuff, bad stuff, everday stuff. If that ain't a marriage, what is it?"
Liz nodded. "It is, Jack."
"But it ain't got that say-so from no preacher, or no judge, so I keep that word just for myself. Ennis don't like it, he says it ain't truthful. I say it's the fact that we ain't allowed to use it that ain't truthful."
She watched Jack's profile as he drove, keeping his eyes on the road. "You know, in different circumstances, you could have been a hell of an activist. I can see you in the city, working for equal rights for gay men and women, telling whole crowds of people what you just told me, and maybe changing a few minds."
He grunted. "Mayhap so, Lizzie. Ennis...he jus' wants to be left alone. He jus' wants to protect us and our place and leave the rest 'o the world to rot if'n it wants to. I don't bring it up no more 'cause I got sick 'o fightin' 'bout it, but I'd rather speak out a bit more if'n I had my way. He jus' don't like to lump us in with other queer folks cause that ain't how he thinks of us. I keep tellin' him, it don't matter if you don't think we're queer like other guys are queer, the rest 'o the world sure's hell ain't gonna make that distinction, and if some crazy-ass politician passes some law sayin' anyone c'n shoot queers on sight, you think they gonna give us a pass just 'cause Ennis Del Mar don't think that word applies to him? All they gonna care 'bout is that we share a bed, and that's all they see or all they care to. They won't care if'n we're stand-up guys or cowboys or ranchers or good Christian fellas who help out in town whenever we can, none of that don't matter. We're men what love each other, and therefore we're gay. So I say it's our business what happens to other gay folks, even if we're not much like 'em." Liz just stared, wondering how she'd managed to unleash the dormant gay activist lurking inside Jack Twist. He shifted a little in the driver's seat. "Damn, I'm sorry, Liz. Kinda went off on a tear, didn't I?"
"That's okay, Jack. You're amazingly articulate."
"I've jus' thought about it a lot, is all. I guess I was jus' gettin' some stuff off my chest, stuff I cain't talk about with Ennis."
"You really should say some of these things to him."
"He won't hear it. He don't wanna." Jack sighed. "It's like he has this version of himself as he's always been, the way he was raised, the way he was when we met, and when he was married and had his girls. And now, he's exactly the same fella, same values, same opinions 'n attitudes...with just this tiny little difference, namely, who he sleeps with. I told him before, it might be a tiny little difference to you, and it might not've changed who you are as a person, but to other folks it's a giant, huge difference that turns you into somebody totally new, sometimes it's the difference between you being a good person and a bad person, and ain't nothin' you c'n do to change that 'cept maybe leave me." He hesitated. "Was a time I worried he'd do just that, but I don't worry 'bout that no more."
Liz nodded. "Well...you're allowed to have your own thoughts and opinions, you know, even if he doesn't agree."
"Oh, I know. He knows what I think. I know what he thinks. We cain't try 'n change each other, Lizzie. That ain't right." He smiled. "Enough heavy discussion. You said you had somethin' funny to tell me? Somethin' what happened this mornin'?"
Farmingdale was a small community, but bigger than a wide place in the road. Jack said the population was about 10,000, but there were a lot more people who thought of the town as home who weren't included in that number, because they lived further out on farms. The center of town was a quaint New England picture postcard that Liz had trouble believing wasn't contrived, complete with red churches and white steeples, diners with striped awnings, brick sidewalks and flags fluttering overhead.
Jack pulled up into a parking space on Hanover Street, the main drag. He pulled out a crumpled list of errands, his mouth moving as he pondered what to do first. Liz looked around, wishing she could see the place in autumn. "Are the winters bad here?" she asked.
Jack joined her on the sidewalk. "Are they ever. Folks stock their larders good. Me 'n Ennis were snowed in for two solid weeks once a few years back. Played a lot of double solitaire. C'mon, let's start at Doc McGill's." They headed up the sidewalk towards the veterinarian's office.
"How does the stock handle snow?" Liz asked.
Jack glanced at her, confused. "Uh...they walk over it, Lizzie. Don't trouble them none."
"Oh," Liz said, feeling out of her depth.
A tall, gray-haired man with a bit of a belly passed them. "Hey, Jack," he said, raising a hand to him.
Jack nodded back. "Howdy, Roy."
This was just the beginning. Jack was hailed by several people on the sidewalk, and from across the street, and from the windows of cars. "Damn, everybody knows you," Liz said.
"I'm easy to recognize, I guess. It's the hat," he said, smiling.
A small group of teenage boys were coming towards them. "Hey, Mattie," Jack said to one of them as they passed.
"Hi Jack!" the boy replied.
The group was almost past them when one of the boys bringing up the rear said "faggot." It was low, but loud enough to be heard. Liz flinched.
Jack didn't miss a beat. With an eyeroll of resignation, he reached out and grabbed the boy by the arm, spinning him around and sitting him down on a nearby bench. The boy's friends stopped and turned, but didn't seem to want to come any closer. Jack loomed over the boy. He didn't look angry, just irritated that he had to deal with this, of all things, when he had errands to run. "Now, now. What's a nice boy like you doin' sayin' an ugly word like that?" he said.
The boy was pale and looked terrified. "Uh...I don't know, sir."
"Oh, so it's 'sir' now, is it? Ain't that polite of you. Wasn't it you, or did I maybe imagine it, called me a faggot a second ago?" The boy said nothing. "Now you tell the truth, y'hear?"
The boy nodded, miserably. "Yes, sir. Sorry."
"You're sorry only 'cause I'm callin' you on it. What're you tryin' to do, impress your friends?" Jack turned and looked at the other boys. "You fellas impressed with your buddy's vocabulary? Think he's a big hero, do ya?" All of them shook their heads with such enthusiasm that Liz was afraid one of them would sprain something. "See there? They don't think you're so smart. Now, why'd you wanna go callin' me a faggot, and in front of this nice lady, too?"
"I...I don't know, Mr. Twist."
"The thing is...what's your name, anyhow?"
"Danny Klawitter, sir."
"The thing is, Danny...I c'n say 'faggot' if'n I want to, because I am a faggot, even though that word is ugly 'n demeanin'. But when you use it, you do it to insult me and make yourself feel bigger 'n more important. See how that works?" Jack leaned a little closer. "Or maybe you say it 'cause you're jus' a little bit curious 'bout it. Is that it?" Liz could hear Danny's buddies snickering. "Or maybe it's just that I make you uncomfortable. If that's the case, that's okay. You c'n be uncomfortable if'n you want, I can't help that. But that ain't my fault, and it ain't my problem, so you just keep your ignorant tongue in yer mouth, y'hear me, boy?" Jack's conversational, we're-just-fellas-here tone took a turn into sternness on the last sentence.
Danny nodded furiously. "Yessir, I will."
"Good. Go on, now, get outta here." Danny jumped up and rejoined his friends. "Oh, and Danny?" The boy turned warily. "When I see your daddy at the fair this weekend, mayhap I'll just mention to him that his boy's been goin' around saying things he sure's hell didn't learn to say at home. I'm sure he'll be real interested t'hear all about it." Danny seemed to shrink right into his shoes at this. Jack grinned as they slunk away, and Liz fell into pace next to him as they resumed their course up the street.
She gazed up at Jack with frank admiration. "You're my new hero, Jack."
He shrugged. "I'm bigger'n him. I mighta thunk twice if it were one of them big three hunnert pound road-crew hogs callin' me a faggot."
"Still...I don't know if I could confront someone, even a kid, who'd called me a bad name."
"Lizzie, when folks call you names, they're countin' on you bein' too ashamed or humiliated to do anythin' about it. They're assumin' that I feel 'bout myself the way they feel 'bout me. But I ain't ashamed, and I ain't gonna let no one get away with it. And that there's one boy who'll think twice 'afore he says somethin' rude to somebody else."
Liz grinned. "Well done, rodeo."
Jack's smile slipped a bit. "Thanks, sweet pea, but...you mind not callin' me that?"
She flushed, embarrassed. "Oh. I'm sorry."
"Oh, it ain't no big thing, it's just...well, Ennis calls me that. It's just for him."
"I see. I am sorry, Jack."
"Don't worry yourself none, you didn't know. Well, now that we've wasted all this time, let's get this crap done before Ennis starts thinkin' we run off together."
They got home just before supper. Liz carried a few shopping bags full of clothes for herself...it had just seemed easier to buy some new jeans and shirts than to have her husband bring or ship her more of her own. On her head she was wearing a hat of Ennis's that had been at the repair shop. It was so large that it came down over her ears, and Jack couldn't seem to stop chuckling over how silly it looked.
Ennis met her on the porch and took her bags and his hat. "I cain't say that style becomes you," he said with a half-smile.
Jack dropped his other packages in the kitchen and raced to the bathroom. Liz turned to Ennis, because she just had to get this in as soon as possible. "Ennis, I don't know why I'm saying this, but after spending the afternoon with Jack...well, I'm so impressed by how intelligent and articulate he is."
Ennis met her gaze calmly. "Yes, ma'am, he is all those things, and some others that you're too polite to mention." He smiled. "He spend all that time favorin' you with his opinions, did he?"
"The things he said to me would not have been out of place on the floor of the Senate."
"I know he's a smart fella, Lizzie, I reckon I know it better'n you do. Times I wonder what the hell he's doin' with me. 'Specially when we don't see eye to eye on lots of those things I'm sure you was discussin'."
"He's given up even talking to you about it. Says he's tired of fighting."
"Now, that gives me pause," Ennis said. "I don't like to think he's keepin' quiet on my account. But he ain't wrong that we've fought over it."
Jack came out of the bathroom at that moment, cutting off their discussion. "What're we doin' for dinner?" he said, looking apprehensive.
"Don't worry yourself none," Ennis said. "Fred and Arlene are coming over. She's gonna cook dinner for everbody."
"Think they're feelin' guilty 'bout last night?"
"That'd be my guess. But I ain't gonna look a gift supper in the mouth."
The poker game lay forgotten on the table. Liz, Arlene and Fred were laughing hysterically while Jack sat listening with a shamefaced grin. Ennis just sat with his arms crossed on the table, rolling his eyes periodically. "So Ennis says...he says..." Fred gathered his composure. "He says 'Jack, I think you done had enough, now.' And then Jack turns around...practically fell into the potato salad...and yells 'Shut up, Ennis, I ain't your wife!' So Ennis just loses it completely, and he yells back 'Hell no, you ain't! If you were my wife, at least you'd have tits!'"
Liz doubled over, apoplectic with laughter. Even Ennis was smiling a little now, shaking his head ruefully. "He said that?" Liz asked.
Arlene held up her hand. "As I live and breathe, he did."
Fred continued. "Jack couldn't think of a good retort, so he just punched him. Ennis went down like a ton of bricks. Jack just stood there looking down at Ennis, out cold in the grass, then all of a sudden he got down next to him and started yellin' that someone had punched Ennis and he'd find out who had done it and rearrange their face."
Ennis laughed. "I ain't never heard that part 'afore!" he said. He nudged Jack's side. "Ain't that sweet now, rodeo. Wantin' to avenge me 'n all."
"Did you not realize you'd hit him yourself?" Liz asked Jack.
He shook his head. "I remember none of this. All I know's the stories I heard, and there seems to be a different one ever time dependin' on who's doin' the tellin'."
Fred looked at his watch. "Damn, it's after eleven. We better get home and get Jimmy to bed."
"He looks pretty comfortable to me," Liz said. Little Jimmy had fallen asleep on the couch and was still there, tucked under an afghan.
Everyone stood up. "Well, thanks for comin' over and cookin' for us poor clueless menfolk," Ennis said.
"And us poor clueless city gals," Liz added.
Arlene smiled. "It's the least we could do," she said, looking at Jack. No one had mentioned the incident all evening, but the tone of the Trimbles' visit had been aggressively friendly and solicitious.
Jack came around the table and hugged her. "Don't you worry yourself none," Liz heard him tell her.
Goodbyes were said all around, and the Trimbles got into their car and drove off. Liz followed Jack and Ennis back into the living room of this house that was feeling more like home to her with each passing hour. They started to clear the detritus of the poker game from the dining-room table. "No, no," Jack said, shooing Liz away as she tried to pitch in. "You ain't had a chance to do your writin' all day and it's gettin' late. You go on to bed and take your notes, we'll handle this."
"Well...okay. If you're sure," Liz said, hesitating.
"I insist."
Liz nodded. "Good night, then." She kissed Jack's cheek, then Ennis's, and she had gotten all the way to her room before she realized that she'd never kissed them before, and yet she'd just done it without even thinking about it, and both of them had accepted it as normal.