Ennis turned off the shower, pulled the vinyl curtain back and stepped out on to the gray bathmat. He grabbed his towel from the rack near the door, dried off, then wrapped the towel around his waist and wiped the condensation from the mirror so he could see. He stopped when he caught sight of his reflection. He had dark bags under his eyes from no sleep, and his lip was busted, swollen, and still bleeding slightly. He looked like shit.

"Fuckin' bastard. He got me good."

Ennis felt anger start to rise and he shoved any thoughts of the confrontation he'd had with Jack Twist away. He didn't want to think about him, or his fucking story, or the way he made him laugh, or the way it felt when he had him wrapped in his arms.

Ennis picked up his toothbrush, squeezed some Crest on its head, then slammed the tube of toothpaste on the counter. That was that, he was pulling that thought out of his head by the roots before it developed. He wasn't going to let himself start having any queer thoughts just because he'd read that book, leave that to Jack. He stuck the toothbrush in his mouth and began to move it around vigorously, trying to get the bad taste out of his mouth that couldn't seem to go away.

That day had been a nightmare from the moment he'd woken up. First facing Jack leaving, facing the horrible reality of being alone again, and then to top it all off he'd found the book; that stupid book that had ruined everything. He wished he'd never found it, or especially wished he'd never read it. What had made him do that anyway? He wasn't a reader, and he'd never been so why had he felt the need flip through its pages and let the story of Brokeback Mountain weave its way through him? He would have rested easier had he not, and he preferred missing Jack to hating him.

Ennis spit the toothpaste into the sink. He rinsed his mouth and then put a little shaving cream into his palm. He lathered it over his face and picked up his razor, started to scrape it against the side of his face and slowly over his chin, being extremely careful when he got around to his swollen lip. His could feel his temper trying to return, trying to bust through the door he'd hid it behind, at the tender pain he felt around his lip as he tried to shave, and he finished as quickly as possible so it couldn't have the chance to break loose and run free. He rinsed the rest of the shaving cream off his face and gave himself one more look in the mirror. He turned to the door and stopped.

He couldn't open it. What if Jack was still standing out there?

"I'll kick his ass if he is. Stupid, fuckin'…"

Ennis took a deep breath, once again trying to control his rage; it wouldn't do him any good right now, anyway. Controlling his anger had become a common past time with Ennis. He'd always had a bad temper, had never had the desire or the will to control it when he was younger, but had learned through having children, that he couldn't just fly off the handle whenever he chose. It was harder to keep his anger contained than to let it erupt wherever on whomever, and he found he didn't mind the challenge. It felt good to have control over himself. This time though, well, this time it had taken all he had not to rip Jack's head off.

Ennis shook his head and grabbed the doorknob in his fist. The last thing he wanted was to see Jack again, especially at that particular moment. He cursed himself for his fear. Ennis ran 'full-throttle on all roads whether fence mending or money spending', after all.

He tried the door, remembered he'd locked it, then quickly fiddled with the latch, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway. He walked straight into his bedroom, didn't look around, not wanting to see Jack if he was still standing there, not wanting to see his empty living room if he wasn't. He slammed the door behind him, thought twice and then also locked his bedroom door. He wandered over to the bed and sat on the edge, letting his face fall into his hands.

He sat there, elbows propped on his bare legs, hands supporting his head on either side of his face, staring at the carpet below his feet, angry tears welling in his eyes. He blinked a few times, cursed his stupid allergies, then finally sat up and wiped his face with the back of his hand.

His anger was eating him up. He wanted to punch a hole in the wall, he wanted to push over his chest of drawers, he wanted to rip up his sheets and flip over his mattress, and collapse in the middle of the room, so that chaos reigned outside as well as in. He was so angry, but…it was something else too. It was disappointment, and betrayal, and…

"Jack Fuckin' Twist. You sonofabitch, you sonofabitch."

He hated him. No that wasn't true, he wanted to hate him.

"Shit. Fuck it. Fuck!"

He stood up and kicked the side of his bed, moving it to the right about a foot. He didn't have time to sit around moping and feeling sorry for himself. Even if he did have the time, he wouldn't have, because Ennis couldn't think about it. He was too heated and too tired.

Ennis walked into his closet and started pulling clothes off random hangers, hoping to find something he could wear to Curt's birthday dinner.

Ennis walked out of his bedroom cautiously. He'd thrown some clothes together that weren't dirty and didn't make him look like he was going to work.

He turned slowly and faced the kitchen. No Jack Twist. He took a few more steps until he was standing in front of the little kitchen table and then turned to face the living room. It was empty, empty as it had been before, as if Jack had never been there at all. Ennis entered the living room and looked around. It appeared they hadn't disturbed anything with their fighting, hadn't knocked anything over or broken any furniture.

He stood next to the couch and stared at it. Its pillows were a little flattened and askew. He stood there and let the quiet, the emptiness soak into him.

"Damnit, Jack. Damnit. Why'd this have to happen?"

He kept his eyes locked on the lone couch for a minute longer and then gave the room one more look around. His eye caught something unfamiliar, something that hadn't been there before, on top of the small table next to his recliner. He took a step closer to the table, and there was the book: Close Range. Jack must have picked it up from where Ennis had thrown it on the ground and left it there for him.

Ennis picked it up, hesitantly, as though it may burn him if he wasn't careful. He flipped it over in his hands like he'd done over and over again, before Jack had come back, over and over as he'd sat there confused as hell. The anger hadn't come with Jack's return, mostly because Ennis' first reaction to the sight of the familiar Ford pulling up to the curb out side his house had been excitement. He could have kicked himself.

Suddenly the phone was ringing and his heart jumped up in his throat, his first thought being that it was Jack again. Ennis, despite his anger and despite how he tried to talk himself out of it, hoped it was Jack, hoped he could hear his voice one more time, one more time so he could try and figure him out, try and decided whether to trust or to shun. Maybe one more time and then he could forget all about him.

Ennis went to where the phone hung on the wall in the kitchen and answered it, anxious and a little nervous to hear the all too familiar friendly voice.

"Hello, Ennis?"

He was thrown off for a minute, because it definitely wasn't who he thought it was going to be. He didn't recognize the voice at all.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"Ennis, it's Grady."

Suddenly Ennis knew why he hadn't recognized the voice; he'd never heard him call him by his first name before, it was always "Del Mar" and "Stoutamire". Blood rushed to his face because all at once he understood what the call was about. He felt his stomach drop a little, and for about the fifth time that day felt like he wanted to kick his own ass. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid and reckless at work.

"Uh, hello there, sir." He didn't know what else to say. "Is…is there sometin' ya need?"

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Well, I was jest wonderin' why ya left work in the middle a' the day, today."

Ennis closed his eyes. When it rained it poured.

"Yeah, I, uh…had some bad news."

"Nothin' too bad was it?" Ennis thought he might have heard some concern in Stoutamire's voice.

"No, sir, I just…No, nothin' too bad."

"Well would be okay if I asked what happened?"

Ennis bit his lip then immediately regretted it. Pain from his swollen bottom lip rushed through his body. He sucked in a deep breath and held the phone away from him for a second.

"Ennis? Ennis? You there?"

He brought the phone back to his mouth. "I'm still here."

Silence again. "So…"

"Actually, I'd rather…it's kind a' personal."

Stoutamire grunted and there was a long awkward silence between them.

"Will ya be needin' time off? Or will ya be back tomorrow?"

"I'll be back tomorrow. I don't need no time off. It was jest today. I'm sorry I didn't say nothin' ta ya."

"Yeah, well the way I heard it ya were about ta kill anythin' that crossed yer path."

Ennis gripped the phone harder. He tried not to let the comment get to him, tried to keep his cool, but was positive that if he asked him one more question he'd blow his top. He didn't feel much like explaining himself anymore.

"Ennis, I've gotta go now. The wife's wantin' me ta bring home some dinner. I jest wanted ta make sure ya were okay. I don't like seein' ya so upset."

Ennis was slightly confused, but a little relieved that the call had mainly been about concern.

"Well, I'll be fine. Jest need a little time ta myself, s'all."

Apparently Stoutamire took the hint. "All right. Well, I'll talk ta ya tomorrow. See ya, Del Mar."

Ennis didn't bother saying good-bye and simply hung up the phone. He stood in his kitchen in a daze and decided he needed a drink, a stiff drink. He walked over to one of the lower cabinets where he kept his hard liquor. He pulled out a half empty bottle of Jim Beam Rye Whiskey and went back to the table to sit down.

He tried not to drink too much these days. Junior was always getting on his back about it, and if that wasn't enough, whenever Francine was in town, she'd start preaching to Ennis about how he should take care of himself more and eat more 'organic' foods, how he should stop 'poisoning' his body with liquor and cigarettes and fat. He frowned at the thought, and took a deliberate gulp of whiskey straight from the bottle. The last thing he needed was to be getting hassled by his hippie daughter.

Ennis looked over at the empty seat across from him and remembered the past few nights. He'd been sitting in the same seat he was now, talking and laughing with Jack. He never thought he'd seen the kitchen look so bare. It was bizarre, like something was out of place. The room was eerily quiet too. He couldn't take it.

Ennis stood quickly. He sure as hell wasn't going to sit at that table and stare at Jack's empty seat. No way. He wandered into the living room, whiskey bottle in hand and switched the TV on. He sat on the couch and flipped through the channels until he found a show he didn't mind. He tried to focus on what was going on the TV show, but the whole time his mind kept wandering. He was sitting where Jack had been sleeping for four nights. Ennis remembered the way he'd looked that first morning, laying on his stomach, snoring, mouth open with some drool dripping down his chin, hair mussed. He could just imagine how it would feel to touch his warm skin, to lay an open palm on his chest while it went steadily up and down in his sleep.

Ennis got up from the couch and sat in his recliner.

"Fuck him. The asshole."

Ennis was not going to think about Jack. He was not. But before he knew it, his eyes were back on the couch, thinking how wrong it felt to see it vacant. Ennis bit his lips again and cursed out loud. How was it ever going to get better if he kept biting it? He took another swallow of whiskey and liked how it burned when it went down, numbing the pain.

Before he knew it, the show was over, and he had a little more than a buzz going. In his fog he heard the phone ringing again.

"Damn, sure am popular today."

He got out of his recliner, careful not to trip on his own feet, and walked, slowly into the kitchen.

"Who could it be this time?"

"Hello?" He was able to keep any slur out of his voice, but he couldn't keep from sounding sleepy.

"Daddy? Have you been sleeping? Where are you?"

Ennis shook his head and looked at his watch. 6:30.

"Shee-it." He let his head roll forward and rest against the kitchen wall. He'd forgotten about Junior after he'd started drinking. He couldn't do anything right today.

"Are ya okay? You were supposed ta be here thirty minutes ago. We was all worried about you. You've never been late in yer life!"

Ennis squeezed his eyes shut and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I'll be there jest as soon's I can."

"All right. You be careful drivin' here now.'

Women and their intuition. "Sure thing. Bye, darlin'."

"Bye, Daddy."

Ennis hung up the phone and turned around, leaned his back full against the wall.

"Get yerself together, Del Mar. Ya gotta go and do this fer Junior. Come on, come on."

He breathed in deep and few times, trying to clear his head. He wished he had time to brew a cup of coffee, but he was late as it was, and didn't want more time to pass than needed. He opened his eyes again. Things were still a little blurry, but his head felt a little better, so he walked into the living room, got his hat and his keys, and left.

Ennis pulled his Chevrolet carefully up to the curb outside his ex-wife Alma's house. He'd driven thirty the whole way because he hadn't wanted to lose control and get into an accident. Not like it was very far away—the north side of Riverton, only a few miles from Ennis' house, and there was never much traffic in the small town. But it didn't hurt to be careful, especially since what he was doing, driving while still being a little drunk, was pretty damn reckless.

Ennis opened the door of his truck and got out. He stood there for a minute and looked up at the house. It wasn't very big but was larger than his little house, large enough for a family. It was fairly close to the street and had a nice front porch with a swing and a couple of deck chairs set up. It was a pretty sight. Except Ennis didn't get any warm and fuzzy feelings from it.

"Don't know why all these 'family' functions gotta be held at Alma's." He grumbled to himself under his breath.

Not that they could be held at his house, no he wasn't suggesting that. But it seemed like since it was Junior's husband, Curt's, birthday, that it could have been at their house, or hell, they could have gone out to a restaurant. But no, Alma had to have her way, and her way was that family gathering were to be held at "Grandma's house". That's what she liked to call it, even though she only had two grandkids—one from Francine and one from her oldest boy with Bill.

"Well let her have her little fantasy then."

Ennis started up the driveway and dreaded every moment of the evening the closer he got. It wasn't that he didn't get along with his ex-wife, well maybe he didn't, but it was more like he just didn't want to deal with her at the moment. He always felt out of place at "family" gatherings. He was the ex-husband, father only to Junior, since she was usually the only one of his daughters present. He felt like Alma tried to exclude him sometimes (figured she would if Junior wasn't adamant that he attend everything), like she wanted to rub her big happy family in his face, like she wanted to say, "look at this, Ennis. Look what we could have had, but didn't because you didn't want it."

The words brought back a familiar passage from the damned book and he frowned. He'd nearly gotten to the point of forgetting his troubles in light of being faced with new and present ones. The story returned to his mind in all its glory, except this time it was in regards to his ex-wife Alma. It sure had portrayed their marriage as a sad existence, which unfortunately wasn't far from the truth.

Ennis stopped when he got to the porch. Stood with his hands in his pockets, deep in thought. There had been some good times, but they'd been lost with the harsh reality of his day-to-day existence and ranch life. He thought about how Alma's character in the story had divorced him not only because of his transgressions, but also because he wasn't the reliable man and husband she needed. Part of that was the truth. There was no time to be a good husband when he was busy working and trying to be a good father in his spare time. Alma had wanted more, had wanted him to be some sort of super man that could get a steady job and take care of his girls and love his wife like she was the only person in the whole world. But it had been too hard for Ennis; he did what he could, and working on ranches was what he knew, was what he was good at. He couldn't be blamed for it being such a demanding job, such a rough lifestyle.

"You could've tried harder though. If you'd really loved her."

Ennis had loved her. He thought. But…there was nothing spectacular about their marriage. There was no spark. Ennis just assumed that was the way things went. And he really hadn't tried at all, he hadn't tried to hold their marriage together, hadn't ever gone out of his way to please her. He'd never had the desire to put any effort into it. The sad thing was he hadn't cared much either way, hadn't cared if she'd stayed or if she went, only regretted the divorce because of his girls. His thoughts once again turned to Jack.

"Ennis, are ya jest gonna stand there like a fool, or were ya plannin' on ringin' the doorbell?"

Ennis hadn't noticed that the door had opened and Alma was standing in front of him until he heard her voice. He looked up a little surprised and then took his hat off. She had one hand on her hip. Ennis could see that she'd certainly "been worried" as Junior had put it. More like she'd been pissed off.

"Oh, I'm…uh, I'm sorry that I'm so late."

"Ennis, what happened ta yer face? Ya look terible."

Ennis self-consciously touched his hand to his mouth. He'd forgotten about his busted lip.

"Got…got hit in the face by accident with a fence post. One a' the guys was carryin' it and didn't see me standin' so close."

"Well ya look like ya haven't gotten sleep in a week, either. What've you been doin' over there all alone?"

Ennis cringed at her words, wished she'd just be quiet and let him be.

"I'm fine. I jest didn't get enough sleep last night."

Alma looked skeptical, but didn't say anything else about the matter. She held the door open wider and stepped aside, giving him room to come in. He stepped into the entryway of the house, wiped his boots on the front rug and then allowed Alma to take his hat and jean jacket and hang them on a hook that was near the front door. From where he was standing he could here a few voices, one loudly singing and then another, the voice of a child, screaming in delight. Ennis knew that it was most likely Alma's youngest son, Harold playing with her older son, Will's toddler. He squinted a little at the noise, knew it would be louder once he actually got into the living room, and already felt a headache coming on. He regretted promising Junior he'd come for the hundredth time that day.

Ennis looked down suddenly and noticed that Alma was looking at him expectantly. He took a good look at the woman that once had shared his bed. She was small and fragile looking, had been quiet and sweet as a young woman, but had become hardened, at least with him, as she'd gotten older. Her face was more worn, and she had a few more lines than when he'd first met her, but her hair was still the same bright auburn that he had liked to run his fingers through when they'd be on the verge of falling asleep after having sex. She stood on one hip and tilted her head, frown line now even more pronounced, still obviously upset that he was late.

"Well, I don't see a present in yer hand, so I'm assumin' ya didn't bring one."

Ennis raised his eyebrows, then swallowed. He seemed to have too much saliva in his mouth.

"Was I s'posed ta bring one?"

Alma sniffed. "Well, what did ya think? This is a birthday party, ya bring presents ta birthday parties."

Ennis straightened and clenched his jaw. The last thing he needed was Alma scolding him like he was a child. She seemed to notice he'd raised his defenses and her face softened a little.

"Ennis, I'm sorry." She sighed. "I don't mean ta be like this. It's been a long day, s'all and I've run out a' patience."

Ennis didn't say anything, just ducked his head a little to show her he'd heard. She walked ahead, leading him into the living room where the rest of the "family" was gathered. Junior and Curt were sitting on the main sofa, and Bill was standing near a high back chair, showing another woman, who Ennis thought he remembered was Will's wife Cheryl, pictures from a photo album. As Ennis suspected, Alma's younger son, Harold was playing with Will's young boy on the living room floor. The boy was squealing at something or other and kept running back and forth between Harold sitting on the floor, and Will standing next to the couch with a beer in his hands. It was a perfect family picture, a picture that had no room for Ennis. He thought he'd never felt so alone.

Junior stood when she saw him and walked over him, concern written all over her face.

"Daddy what happened? Are you okay?"

She raised her hand to Ennis' lip, and he jerked his head away and grabbed her hand in his own. All eyes were on Ennis. He hated how he felt uncomfortable under their scrutiny. Hated how he felt like his busted lip might as well be a flashing sign shouting his bizarre trouble to the world. For some reason he couldn't explain, he felt like everyone in the room knew about Jack Twist, knew about the story, knew what the story said about him. He swallowed his paranoia and looked away from all the prying eyes into the dark eyes of his daughter.

"I'm fine, Junior. Jest had a little bit a trouble today at work."

"Nothing too bad, right?"

"Nope."

Curt rose and made his way to Ennis. Ennis reluctantly stuck out his hand for a fast, firm, shake from his son-in-law.

"Thank's fer coming, sir. I do appreciate it, and I know Junior does."

Ennis always found it slightly odd hearing Curt use his daughter's nickname. But like she'd told Jack, everyone called her Junior there days, everyone accept her mama.

"Happy Birthday, son. How many years is it?"

Curt smiled self-consciously. "Thirty-eight, sir. I'm 'fraid I'm getting' up there."

Ennis smirked. "Jest wait till yer my age. Then tell me 'bout getting' up there."

Junior laughed, but there wasn't any light in her eyes. They were full of worry still. She took a step closer to her dad.

"Daddy, I'm glad yer here. I wouldn't let 'em start dinner without ya."

"Speaking of which, can we eat now, Alma?" Bill broke the silence in the room, eager to draw the attention away from Ennis.

Alma stepped forward. "Yes we may. We have to soon anyway, the food's gettin' cold."

She gave Ennis a look and then headed into the kitchen. Everyone stood and started milling in. Ennis felt invisible, not hearing a word from anyone of the family members, except a quick, quiet 'Hey there, Ennis' from Bill. Junior stayed by Ennis' side the whole time, even after Curt had gone into the dining room. She turned her concerned eyes to Ennis once again.

"Daddy have you been drinking?"

Ennis was shocked.

"How could she know that?"

"No."

Junior frowned, and looked more like Alma then Ennis ever thought she had.

"Daddy, don't you lie ta me. I know ya been drinkin'. I'm ashamed that you'd show up fer Curt's birthday in a state like this."

Now he was getting it from his own daughter. Nothing was going his way.

"Well Junior, ya asked me ta come, and I didn't want to, but I'm here, so what more d'ya want from me. I can't be perfect all the time."

Junior frowned, obviously hurt.

"Fine. All right. Yer here. I guess that's all that can be expected."

She turned around and walked into the dining room. Ennis sighed. It was going to be one hell of a long evening.

Dinner had been fairly painless, that is until Junior brought up Jack in front of everyone.

Alma had made a lovely feast, in Curt's honor, of honey baked ham (his favorite) layered salad, sweet potato casserole, macaroni casserole, and fresh fruit with marshmallows. They had some wine that Bill had brought from his store for the celebration. Ennis ate and especially drank, little. Food was still not on his top ten list, and his headache was starting to turn wicked.

He'd been seated next to Alma's young son, Harold, who'd talked the entire meal about his interest in the Internet, and how amazing it was to have all the knowledge in the world at your fingertips. Ennis had half listened, trying to focus on eating some food, so Alma wouldn't find another reason to make him feel guilty. He desperately wanted to leave, though he didn't want to go back to his house. He didn't want to be haunted by the ghosts still roaming his kitchen and living room.

The conversation had mainly revolved around Curt and how his job was going. He'd been working in the oil fields when him and Junior had gotten married, but had eventually gone back to school at the local community college and gotten some more education, enough to get him a job working at a desk with the oil company he'd worked with before. It wasn't much, still not a high paying job, but it was better than rough labor and oil stains everyday for Junior to wash. She was very proud of him. The family had known to skirt the subject of their adoption situation, and had kept the conversation light. Finally, Bill had stood up and given a toast.

"To Curt, a wonderful, hardworkin' man, and a good husband ta Alma Jr., the best and sweetest woman there is. Curt, may you have many more days a' joy and may God protect both you, and Junior in the followin' years. Happy birthday."

Everyone said a 'happy birthday', even Ennis, and then they all drank. Ennis swallowed the wine, found the taste bearable, but not what he particularly wanted to drink at the moment. Ennis had never been much for wine anyway.

After the toast, the conversation switched its focus from Curt to Junior, and then to Will and his wife and baby, and finally to Harold, who told the group the same things that he'd told Ennis, only this time in a louder voice. Ennis wasn't sure which he wanted more, to fall asleep or to punch the boy in the face.

Ennis was completely checked out, he might as well not have been there. He was lost once again in his thoughts and in the pain pounding in his head. Suddenly the table got quiet and he realized that Junior had said something directed at him. He looked up slowly, wincing at the light from the chandelier and the candles.

"Sorry Junior, did ya jest say somthin'?"

Junior was frowning again, and Ennis could tell that she was still a little annoyed with him.

"I asked how yer friend Jack is. Is he back at yer house right now? Maybe ya coulda brought him ta dinner with us."

Ennis swallowed and looked around. All eyes were on him again. Why was it when he wanted to be invisible they all gave him their undying attention?

"Who's Jack?" Alma took a sip of wine and rested her hands on the table.

"Jack's Daddy's new friend. He's having some trouble with his car and he's staying at Daddy's house. Isn't that right?"

Ennis looked around. "Well, he…"

"Why's he staying at yer house? Is there enough room?"

Ennis stared at Alma. "He's been on the couch."

"He should get a hotel room. There's not enough room fer two men in yer little place." She was pushing food around on her plate, preaching to him what should and should not be, not even looking him in the eye. Bill wiped his face with his napkin and sat up.

"The man that owns the Delfelder Inn on Broadway and Washington shops at my store. I could get yer friend a good rate if'n you want."

"That's all right. Jack likes stayin' with you, right Daddy? Seems like enough room fer two old men ta me. I was over there on Sunday and made dinner for the both of them. Jack seems like a real nice guy."

"How'd ya meet him, Ennis?" Alma was looking up now with a blank expression on her face. Junior spoke up.

"I guess he helped him out in a bar fight or somthin', ain't that right?"

Everyone waited for an answer from Ennis. His mouth had gone completely dry, and his head was pounding faster now, in time with his increased heart rate. Ennis didn't know what to do. He couldn't handle all this, couldn't handle this family, and especially couldn't handle his ex-wife talking about Jack Twist. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the strange sense of deja-vu and the scene from the book, that one Thanksgiving dinner, came crashing down on top of him.

"Don't lie, don't try to fool me, Ennis. I know what it means. Jack Twist? Jack Nasty. You and him—"

Alma looked him straight in the eye. "I should've known."

Ennis stood up quickly and felt the room spin around. He stumbled backwards, grabbed at the table, but only got a handful of tablecloth and ended up pulling the plates and dishes towards the edge of the table and knocking his utensils and dining room chair on the ground. It all made a noisy ruckus and made the little boy sitting in a high chair at the end of the table start balling. Ennis caught his balance finally and looked down at the faces around the table, all startled and staring at him as though he'd just gone crazy, and maybe he had. All he knew was that he had to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Ennis what in the world has gotten inta you?" Alma cried, still seated, too shocked to do much else.

Ennis wobbled slightly on his feet, still woozy from the boos and from everything that had just happened. Alma's eyes were angry. He looked over at his daughter; her eyes were wide and full of worry.

"I'm sorry. I have ta go. I'm sorry."

He turned around and ran from the dining room, tripping on the rug on his way out, almost falling once again. He steadied himself on a nearby table and then continued to hightail out of the house. He made it to the front door as fast as possible, grabbed his hat, and his jean jacket, put it on as quickly as he could, getting his arm caught in the sleeve. He opened the door and stepped out, only to be stopped by his daughter's cries behind him.

"Daddy! Daddy! What's wrong? What's wrong?"

She flew from the house, a small angel with her halo of short auburn hair, so like her mother's, and touched down onto the porch where he stood. She caught her breath and placed one of her hands on his forearm. He was shaking, and the feel of her touch soothed him slightly.

"Daddy, tell me what's wrong. I've never seen ya like this before. I know there's somethin' goin' on."

Ennis looked away. He looked out into the darkness at his lonely truck parked by the curb.

"Nothin's wrong. I jest don't feel well. I gotta go home. I'm sorry, darlin'."

"Don't you lie ta me, Ennis Del Mar!" Her voice had turned stern, much like his own when he used to get strict with the girls, but her eyes gave her away.

"Tell me!"

Ennis stared at his daughter, now a woman by a long run. He didn't know when she'd grown up, it had snuck up on him, but he'd never realized it more than he did at that exact moment. After all the years she'd been living on her own, a married woman, it was this one moment that defined Junior as a woman to her daddy. He breathed in, considered lying, then thought how lying never did anyone any good.

"Jack left today. The part fer his truck came in yesterday and he left this mornin'."

Some relief washed over Junior's face. "Is that all?"

Ennis flinched at her words and straightened up.

"Yeah, I guess that's all. Well, no. He came back a little bit later in the day and then we got in a fight. That's why I got this here busted lip."

Junior's eyes softened. "I'm sorry ta here that. So ya didn't part on good terms then?"

Ennis shook his head silently, felt like his heart was breaking again, just thinking about it, telling it to his daughter.

"I remember this one time when Me n' Curt had gotten in the worse fight imaginable. It was horrible. I thought we was goin' ta get a divorce. This was when you was away workin' fer a while." She took a deep breath and then continued.

"Anyway. I told Curt ta pack up his things and leave, and we separated fer a week almost. After he was gone I thought I'd never been so lonely. In the quiet a' the house, I got a chance ta think. I started ta think about what we'd been fighting about, and eventually I realized that it wasn't even that big a deal, though at the time it'd seemed like it."

Ennis looked down at his daughter with a puzzled look.

"Look, Daddy. I'm not tryin' ta teach ya a lesson. Lord knows yer a grown man and can figure things out fer himself, and I know that my story don't quite apply ta you n' yer friend Jack, but…well…"

She tapped him on the chest with her finger.

"Ya jest gotta think, what's more important? Yer friendship? Or yer pride?"

Ennis looked down at the wooden floorboards below his boots.

"Don't know if it's that easy, Junior."

"Well," Junior buttoned a button on Ennis' shirt that had come undone. "It wasn't easy with me n' Curt, either. But I realized I couldn't let a good thing go."

She looked back up at her Dad, looked him straight in the eye.

"I think what you got with Jack is a good thing. He seems like a good friend, and a nice guy. You should give yerself some time ta think it over, and then maybe try and at least make amends."

Ennis swallowed, felt the anxiety bug bite him once again and started to dance from foot to foot. Junior smiled slightly at his display.

"All right. You get on outta here. Go home. Feel better."

Ennis nodded, but was still amazed by the woman that stood before him. Who'd replaced his daughter with such a wise woman of the world? He gave her a quick hug, whispered his apologies, and then let her go back inside to the dinner. After she'd closed the door, he took the steps down from the porch in two big leaps, and headed to his truck. He didn't want to stay any longer, didn't want to wait for Alma to come out and give him the scolding of his life. He felt terrible that he'd ruined Curt's party, but he hadn't been able to sit there and listen to his ex-wife and daughter talk about his troubles, toss around Jack's name like it was no big deal.

Ennis hopped into the passenger seat and pulled away from the house he'd never lived in, the family he'd never been apart of, the life he'd left behind.

He sat outside in his truck. He didn't pull into the carport, had left his truck out in the middle of the drive so he could have a good view of the stars. They were bright and clear, but nowhere near as brilliant as they were on Brokeback. He sat completely still, hands in his lap, head turned to see out the passenger side window.

The last parting words he'd said to Jack ran through his head over and over.

"I'm sorry too. Sorry I ever met you. Sorry I took ya up ta Brokeback."

Ennis wasn't sure if he meant that anymore. He wasn't sure if he'd even meant it when he'd said it. He thought about what Junior had said.

"What's more important? Yer friendship? Or yer pride?"

His mind turned to Jack, the last words he'd said to Ennis.

"I'm sorry it all happened this way, Ennis."

His mind was on fire. Thoughts were racing around his skull at breakneck speed, and he was having a hard time focusing on any one thing. He'd narrow in on something and then just as he had it in his sights it was gone again, and he was left grasping desperately at the other thoughts buzzing around like flies. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, cleared his mind. Then the story, for the thousandth time that day returned. The whole story; the eerie passages that told his life to the 'T', and the other ones, the ones that didn't tell his story, but told a different one, one that involved Jack Twist. Jack Twist, who he'd only known for about five days, and who'd gone from stranger to acquaintance, to best friend, to liar and enemy.

Ennis was confused. There was too much to think about, too many things to consider, too many feelings to question. Ennis found the north star, the star he used to follow when he was out on horseback, taking stock out to graze at night, the star he'd used to guide his way up to the most beautiful spot on earth the first time he'd found it, and when he'd taken Jack the night before. It shined bright in the night sky, bright as it had the night before, and bright as it would the night after. Nothing changed. Nothing ended, nothing begun, nothing resolved.