I sat with the back of the chair leaned up against the side of the house, the chair balancing solidly on two legs, and placed one of my feet against the railing to keep the chair where it was. I'd tucked my arms up around my chest and allowed my chin to fall forward—almost asleep, but not quite. At least not yet.
"Ennis."
A hand gently shook my shoulder, and I lifted my head to look up into Jack's gentle blue eyes, gazing down at me lovingly. "Welcome back to the world, dreamer. 'S almost five…"
"I been asleep that long?" I asked blearily, rubbing at my eyes with the back of one hand and lowering my chair back down to all four legs.
"Yeah. I thought you could prob'ly use the sleep."
I smiled tiredly, and he returned it with one of the brilliant smiles that always made my heart beat faster. "Thanks, bud. You seen any sign a her yet?"
"Nothin'. Thought about climbin' one a the trees… Ya can't see a single goddamn thing for all the hills… Anyway, I got supper all ready an' waitin'…" He stopped at the distinct rumble of an engine, and a wide grin spread across his face. He jumped up and ran to the rail, leaning out over it as far as he could in an attempt to see who was coming. Finally, the car cruised into view; with a happy whoop, Jack vaulted over the railing and ran to the car as it pulled up, and nearly dragged Alma, Jr. out of the car and into a giant bearhug. He ain't changed a bit, I thought as I rose to my feet, grimacing slightly at the pain in my arthritic knees. Over the past five years we'd been on our little ranch, Jack had become more and more like the Jack of our Brokeback days, acting like he was twenty years younger than he was. I wasn't going to complain—I loved Jack most when he was like this.
I made my way down the three steps to the ground, and Alma, Jr. met me halfway; I wrapped her in a hug of my own—if not as powerful as Jack's, certainly more loving. "How ya been, Junior?" I asked, smiling down at her—she was as small as her mother had ever been.
Her eyes were bright—with tears?—as she smiled back at me. "I'm doin' good, Daddy. Real good. Jack says you're fine, too…?"
"Never been healthier," I assured her, though we all knew it was a lie.
"Come on," Jack said eagerly, rocking back on his heels, the grin still plastered on his face. Having dragged Alma's suitcases from the trunk, he herded us towards the door, but not before I'd wrapped my arm around Junior's shoulders. "I got food ready, an' wine—"
"Wine?" I repeated, looking back at him.
"Yeah, wine. It ain't every day we got a famous New York writer visitin' our house." Alma's face flushed with pleasure, though she kept her eyes modestly on the ground—something she'd inherited from me, no doubt.
Inside, Jack pushed Junior and I into chairs at the kitchen table, and immediately set to serving us both. He was moving so fast it was impossible to keep up with him, and I finally ordered him to sit his own ass down and eat, we had plenty of food on our plates already.
"But…I still got food in the oven…"
"If it's anythin' like the rest a your cookin', it's prob'ly ruined already. A few more minutes in the oven won't do it no harm." I pointed my fork at the chair next to me. "Sit."
Junior watched it all with a small smile on her pretty face.
Over the meal—which was, surprisingly, edible—Jack and I questioned her about life in New York City, about how her books were selling, about how she and her husband Kurt were doing. Jack teasingly asked when she was going to start popping out kids, giving Junior cause to hit him, albeit gently, on the arm. My food done, I put my silverware down and leaned back in my chair, looking over at Alma. "So, Junior—what's brought ya here? Ya said on the phone there was somethin' ya needed to talk to me about, but ya weren't real clear…"
"Ennis!" Jack exclaimed. "She's hardly got here, an' already you're—"
"It's alright, Jack," Alma said, smiling a little. "You go sit down, Daddy. Me and Jack will get everything cleaned up, and then we'll talk."
Nodding to myself, I started to rise from my chair, Jack jumping up to help me; he released me as soon as I was on my feet, and I shuffled over to the big, comfortable chair where I spent most of my time whenever I was indoors. I allowed myself to sink into it, sighing happily, and stretched my legs out, resting the heels of my boots on the coffee table. I watched out of the corners of my eyes as Jack and Alma, Jr. cleared the table and washed the dishes, Jack gently teasing my daughter—though she got in a few jibes of her own. They were like old friends. I envied Jack the relationship he had with Junior, even though I knew that mine with her was something much deeper than their friendship could ever be. But I wished sometimes that I could talk to her as easily as Jack could—hell, I wished I could talk to anyone as easily as Jack could. I sighed, and closed my eyes.
"Don't you fall asleep on us now, cowboy," Jack said sternly, dropping into the chair next to mine. We'd spent many a night sitting in these two chairs in front of the fireplace, sometimes talking, usually just enjoying the nearness of the other. Junior sat down on the only other furniture in the living room, the small couch where Jack and I often curled up together.
"Why I'm here, Daddy," Alma, Jr. said, plunging right in, "is because I wanted to tell you I've got an idea for another book. Talked to my publicist about it, and he thinks it's a good idea, too."
I raised an eyebrow at her. "You coulda told me that on the phone, and I woulda been just as proud."
She blushed a little, but hurried on. "Thing is, Daddy, my book…I wanna make it about you. You and Jack." I said nothing, and neither did Jack; though she looked a little nervous now, Junior continued. "I want it to be about how you met that first time, all the things that happened…up till you ended up here." She seemed to have run out of anything more to say, and now looked profoundly uncomfortable, though still hopeful.
I glanced over at Jack. He was slouched down in his chair, a fist held up to his mouth and slowly tracing the line of his upper lip. He stared at some spot on the floor beyond the coffee table—thinking. I couldn't have said anything even if I'd known what to say, but Jack found his voice sooner than I did. "Seems like a fine idea to me," he said softly, meeting Alma's eyes. And then they both turned to me, for they knew that Jack's by-your-leave meant nothing without mine to accompany it.
I shook my head helplessly, managed to say, "Alma…"
Jack quickly jumped in. "Give us a while to talk it over," he said to Alma, nodding, looking from her to me, his blue eyes troubled. "Big decision to make…"
"Yeah," Junior agreed promptly, nodding as hard as Jack. "We'll talk more tomorrow." She rose and hurried off to the guest bedroom where Jack had put her things.
Jack turned to me, and slid down onto the floor next to my chair, reaching out to wrap my hands in his. "Ennis? Come on, cowboy, we'll go talk a little…" I just nodded, I still being without words or voice. He helped me up and we walked into our bedroom; I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and Jack sat next to me, one leg tucked beneath him, his body turned so he faced me completely. He took one of my hands again, squeezing it gently. Finally finding my voice, I turned to look at him and said softly, "It's our life, Jack. Ours."
"I know." He reached out to gently stroke the side of my face with the backs of his fingers, his eyes full of only concern and love—for me, which never ceased to send a happy tingling up my spine. "But things ain't like they was back in our day. People're a lot more acceptin' nowadays. Town just down the way, near everyone knows we're shacked up together, and don't no one seem to care. It just ain't such a big thing no more. Hell, I ran into a couple a guys like us just last week, livin' together; had a few drinks with 'em spent some time talkin'. They been livin' there their whole lives, both of 'em, and a whole load a people know they're…how'd he put it? 'close friends,' that's it…and they ain't treated no differ'nt 'cause a it." He realized he was babbling, and stopped, blinked a few times, tried to find his original train of thought… "Anyways, what I'm tryin' to say…it wouldn't be all that bad, would it? Havin' Junior write her book about us…"
I shook my head again, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. His arms wrapped around my shoulders and he pulled me against his chest, cradling me there like I was a young child. "I don't want people readin' about us, Jack…readin' about our personal lives…all them things we did…" I pressed my face to his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt. "They're ours. Don't want no one else knowin' 'em."
"Shh, it's alright, Ennis, it's alright…she won't write the book if you don't want her to, that's why she came here to ask you before she did anythin' about it. Come on, now, it's late an' we've had a long day…"
He pulled my boots off after I'd slowly stretched out on the bed, and he got my shirt off before I rolled over onto my side and buried my face in the pillow. "Our lives, Jack. Our lives…no one else's…" He rubbed my back gently with one hand until I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up, I was alone in the bed, but I didn't panic: Jack often got up in the middle of the night and wandered around the house, sometimes ventured outside. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, wincing, and got up—I could do it by myself, but if Jack could have his way, I'd never be in any pain at all, and his helping hands did lessen the pain. Scratching my stomach, I walked out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen and living room; I heard the soft voices, Alma's and Jack's, and rounded the corner to see them sitting at the kitchen table. Jack saw me first, and was half out of his seat in an instant.
"You alright, Ennis? You need anythin'?"
"I'm fine, Jack, sit back down." But he remained standing until I'd taken my own chair.
Alma glanced from Jack to me and back again. Jack nodded a little, said to me, "Junior and me, we been talkin'…'bout her book. She says she won't put anythin' in there we don't want, and she wouldn't use our names…"
"It'd be me tellin' the story, Daddy," Alma explained quickly. "I'd always call you Daddy, or somethin' like that, and I wouldn't use Jack's last name… And you know I write under a different name, so no one could figure out it was you and Jack I was talkin' about…" She was begging me with her voice and her eyes, and I felt my heart go out to her…but still… "I really wanna do this, Daddy. People…people need to be shaken up every now and then, and this would do it…"
Jack's fingers wrapped around mine, drawing my attention to him. "You remember how you were in the beginnin', Ennis? So afraid that somethin' bad might happen… Well, what if there's some other young Ennis out there who's fallen in love with a Jack and doesn't know what to do… I keep thinkin' that, maybe, if someone like that read this book Junior wants to make, it could help someone, someone who's as confused as you were. Those fours years apart were awful, Ennis, an' I wouldn't want somethin' like that happenin' to anyone else, not if there was somethin' we could do to help…"
I swallowed hard, closed my eyes, felt Jack's fingers tighten around mine; I squeezed them back, opened my eyes and looked at Alma. "You won't put anythin' in we don't want you to?"
"No, Daddy."
I nodded a little, had to swallow again. "Fine. You can do it."
Her lip trembled a little, and I could see tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Daddy," she whispered. "You won't be sorry, I promise."
"I know," I said, turning to receive Jack's gentle, proud smile.
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