I dreamed a dream
Chapter 12
"Here, John. I brought you some hot tea."
Mrs. Twist helped her husband sit up on the bed, carefully placing the tin cup in his hands. She knew that her husband was quite ill, she had listened to his troubled breathing and silently witnessed his fatigue, his chest pains. She had even made the doctor look at him once, when they were in town. But John wouldn't take any medication, said it was too expensive and they needed the money for more important things. Plus, what did a pansy ass doctor know, anyway?
Grace thought back to when she'd first met John, a young girl of nineteen. She'd lived in Lightning Flat her whole life and he had too, but they'd never seen each other because he lived up in the ranch with his father. Then, one day at a Fourth of July dance, she was sitting with her sister when a man came up to her and asked her to dance. He was tall and brawny, looked a ranch hand through and through, but when she looked up into his eyes, blue as the sky, she saw a glimpse of something… of laughter, and dreams, of getting out of this town and seeing life…
It was that something that made her accept, made her dance with him the whole night.
Her brother had finally come to get her, but not before the man, who she knew now was called John Twist, asked if he could see her again someday. She said yes.
Time passed and she and John began to go out regularly. He was quiet, but she felt safe with him, her tiny frame encompassed by him when he held her. And before long he had shared his dream with her… he was in rodeo, quite good at it too, saving up to go travel. He wanted to see the ocean, wanted to see the cities. Wanted to get out of the ranch, be someone.
She liked his dream, liked to plan long journeys with him, taking out a battered map and tracing with their fingers what roads they'd take. For the first time in her life she felt truly important to someone, she felt she had a future different from the never-ending routine.
But one terrible winter day, the dreams and plans were torn asunder. John's brother and father died in a car accident, going too fast and hitting black ice, pick-up madly out of control, crashing, burning, killing them instantly.
So in an instant, John had to take the reins of the ranch, had to shoulder the responsibility and put all thoughts of travel, oceans and cities away.
He married Grace and settled to live a life of predictability, the life of a rancher he'd always thought he'd escape.
And in that instant, Grace saw the glimpse in his eyes die, never to be seen again. She'd always known that he could be gruff, somewhat rough… but she was taken aback to see just how much.
She loved him, and she was brought up to be obedient and good to her husband, so she stayed with him even when he became bitter and hard, trying hard to remember when he had been quiet but gentle. She stayed with him, doing her best, though knowing that he saw their son as a reminder of everything he hadn't managed to do and become, as a further responsibility tying him down.
She loved him, you see. That was one of the things she and Jack had in common. They didn't love easy men. But they couldn't help loving them.
John reached out and took her hand in his.
"Grace… could you call Jack, tell him to come talk to me a moment?"
She nodded, got up and wiped the moistness from her eyes before stepping out of the room.
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Jack and Ennis were sitting out on the porch steps, looking out the desolate fields.
It always struck Jack, how very apart this ranch seemed to be. It was like stepping out of the world and into an outlandish place, the bleak and almost barren plains that framed the dilapidated structures worn by the never-ceasing wind, no real color but the whitened-out barely blue of the sky and the muted ochre of the dry grasslands.
Jack had always wanted to get out of Lightning Flat, not only to rodeo or to be someone, not only to get away from his old man… but to find a place he could call home that didn't feel like the end of the world, like a place devoid of any life or joy. He'd desperately looked for that his whole life, realizing only just now that the one place that had ever felt anything like the peace of home was Brokeback Mountain.
"Rodeo…" Ennis spoke in a barely audible whisper.
"Yeah?"
"Do you… do you want me to go to town and get a doctor fer your dad?"
Jack turned to look at Ennis, suddenly incredibly touched by the gesture, by the simple question.
"Nah… thanks, cowboy… but you know what my momma said. He won't see no doctor, and really… it's his call."
"Sure enough."
They were quiet once more, but now Ennis had put his arm around Jack's shoulder, not really knowing what to do or say, but trying to offer what support he could. Support that didn't go unnoticed, that Jack was so very grateful for.
"Son?"
Both men turned at the sound of Mrs. Twist's voice coming from the doorway.
"What is it momma?"
"Yer dad wants to have a word with you."
Jack's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He figured the last thing his dad would ever want would be to have a heart to heart with him… and truthfully, he couldn't muster up the energy to be polite in the face of his nastiness anymore. But the look in his momma's face made Jack stand up, walk towards the screen door and go towards his dad's room.
He knocked and opened the door.
John was propped up by two pillows, looking out the small window.
"Dad? You wanted to talk to me?"
John turned, resting his eyes on Jack's figure. A moment passed, with no words exchanged and Jack felt very exposed by the fixed gaze, felt he was being measured and compared… made him feel like he was young again.
Ah, get yer act together, Twist. Thought you was over getting' intimidated.
He returned John's stare unflinchingly. He moved closer to the bed.
"So, what did you want to talk about?"
Apparently finished with his visual examination, John looked down. After a brief hesitation, he started speaking.
"I… uh, I haven't been feelin' too great fer a while. And… I just know… my time is almost up.
So I wanted to tell you to take good care of yer momma…"
"You don't even have to ask me, dad. Of course I'll take care of her, I would never leave her to her own devices." interrupted Jack somewhat heatedly. Who the hell did the old man think he was… him?
"Yes, well. And… whatever you do with the ranch… sell it, keep it… make sure it's in good hands. My family worked hard for this here property, and I won't have you giving it over to some lazy scumbag like yerself, you hear?"
Patience, Jack. Have patience. Take a deep breath.
"Yes, sir."
John looked at his son once again, his sparkling blue eyes, his glossy black hair with just a hint of gray at the sides, his strong hands, his slightly shifting cowboy boots. He'd always had that habit. Damn kid couldn't stand still.
He wanted to say… he wanted to finally tell Jack all those things he'd never said. That no matter what, he was his son, and he was proud of him.
But… but… his own conflicting feelings stopped him. His pride, his shame stopped him. He just couldn't do it.
"Well, then. Ah… don't get yerself killed, alright? You've always been a trouble magnet, being queer will juss' make it worst."
Ah, the wise advice of John Twist.
"Yes, dad. I'll try and stop my queerness from getting me killed."
He was about to turn away, when John caught his hand in his.
"Jack…" there was an odd vulnerability in his voice Jack had never heard before. "Tell my grandson that… that I'm sorry I never met him."
Jack was stunned. John had never asked after Bobby, had never shown a remote interest in meeting him, knowing who he was. So he just nodded.
"Uh, ok dad. I will."
John released his hand, and Jack turned and walked slowly to the door. He was shutting the door behind him, when he thought he heard something.
"I hope you live happy, son."
He was frozen in place for a few seconds. Then he shook his head.
Nah, Twist, you must've been imagining things. John Twist would never say that.
But he could never quite convince himself that it really had been his imagination.
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"Grace…"
"Yes, John?"
Mrs. Twist was back in the room, sitting in a chair next to the bed, doing some knitting while watching over her husband.
"Does it… bother you, that Jack is the way he is?"
Grace knew all that lay behind that question. Her husband was not only asking what she thought about Jack, but if she felt that somehow his being queer had something to do with him, was something that could be blamed on someone… she knew it was a question coming from a man who was seeing the end coming soon and was trying to come to terms with something he didn't understand, something he'd always been taught to hate and despise… but that had come upon him in the person that no matter how much he tried not to, he couldn't help but silently love.
She figured that it was about time she spoke her mind.
"No, it doesn't. I can't say I understand it… but I can see that he can't help it. It's who he is. And it doesn't make him better or worse… it may make it harder for him, to live in this world, where people are so hateful…" she paused, looking into his eyes with something akin to reproach.". but at least now he's with someone he loves. At least he's happy. That's all that really matters to me."
John was quiet for a while. He knew he was nearing death by the minute. The knowledge suddenly made everything different shades of gray. He couldn't quite bring himself to think in the old black and white he had been raised on… he couldn't really bring himself to condemn and hate his only son for loving another man. Not just now.
He felt uneasy, somewhat cheated, somewhat guilty by implication. But… in the face of his own imminent demise, he didn't feel the need to lie to himself anymore, to adjust the impulse of his feelings to what he'd been taught to believe.
Bottom line was… he loved his son. Damn.
He turned to look at his wife just then. But he didn't see a slightly wrinkled woman, the passing years marked on her face. He saw the beautiful and lithe young girl of nineteen, wearing a blue dress, laughing.
He'd turned hard on her, he knew. He'd let himself become angry and bitter. He wondered just why she'd stayed with him, but he preferred not to question it.
Bursts of pain shot up his left arm. He couldn't breathe. An explosion of deep pain in his chest. Throbbing agony. His vision narrowing, eyes watering. He couldn't breathe.
"John… John…"
He dimly felt someone touching his face. It was Grace, it was his wife.
"Jack!"
"Dad! Dad!"
"Oh, John…"
"I'm calling the doctor!"
Voices intermingling, secondary to the pain he was feeling. He had to say something, quick, before it was too late.
"Grace… I'm sorry… I…"
"Hush, hush now. I know, I know."
Warm tears falling on his face. Who was crying for him? Ah, his chest hurt. Make it stop.
"Dad…"
Oh, Grace, I love you. And Jack… son… I swear I…
Vision gone. Blackness. Heart stopping. Gone.
TBC.
Author's note: whew. Well, I hope you guys like this chapter. A lot of POV thoughts. I know some of you wanted John to make further amends, or live a bit longer. But while I tried to write him sympathetically, I just couldn't see John Twist ever really getting those words of apology out of his mouth. So his thoughts were as far as he got.
Feedback really makes my day, constructive criticism is much appreciated.
Thank you so very much to those who have read and commented on this story : )