Chapter 6: Coldless Snow
The burgundy shirt. Yeah that's the one. With the Wranglers. Remember lots of clean underwear. Maybe throw in a couple more. Socks, yeah. Sweatpants probably more comfortable than jeans, dumbass.

Jack stopped frantically shovin' things in his bag long enough to look down at his feet where the dark cream-colored skin, still tanned from goin' barefoot on the deck in the summer, pressed down against the nearly-white carpet. Eggshell, Lureen'd called it. Jack thought it was a little ironic that he was permanently walkin' on eggshells in the bedroom they shared. He wondered if he ought to give Lureen credit for bein' that clever, and figured maybe so.

His feet were size ten. His left big toe had a slightly ingrown toenail that hurt him from time ta time. His toenails were alright, though, fit for being seen outdoors. Ennis had some kind a yellow toenails, with long toes kinda like a monkey, and that man were self-conscious 'bout his feet a little bit as he got older. Not around Jack, though, because Jack wouldn't let him. Thought it was cute. Ennis was a little piss-shy, too. Nothin' cuter than that.

The dark, coarse hair sprouted on Jack's feet, across the back, and especially from his big toe. He kind a liked the hair the way it grew on his toes, mimicking the little, light tuft a dark hair on his hands, or elsewhere. It made his feet look darker, too, more tanned.

He shook his attention back to the present and finished packing the bag for his hospital stay. He was fidgety an' nervous. The doc had warned him that the recovery would be pretty damn painful, an' while Jack had a decent pain tolerance, knew that from years on the rodeo, standin' up and walkin' away on a leg with the bone stickin' out one time, an' the years before with his daddy. Still, bein' able ta stand it and wantin' ta stand it were two very different things, an' Jack knew that well.

"Jack, you ready ta go?"

Jack broke his reverie and raced ta the bathroom, grabbing deodorant, toothbrush, comb, before calling, "Comin'."

He met Lureen in the kitchen. Bobby'd left for school already. Lureen made pancakes, as it was the last meal at home Jack would have for a while. He forced himself to sit and eat it, but had ta admit he didn't quite have the taste for it. Still, was awful nice a Lureen ta make it, as she usually was pretty happy with toast n' coffee, and in fact that's all she was eatin' right now.

Jack cleared his throat. "You, uh, Lureen?"

"What's that, Jack?" She didn't look up from the morning newspaper she was reading.

"Any decent way you could think ta get Randall inta ICU?" There it was, on his kitchen table, in his an' Lureen's kitchen, plain as day.

She stopped chewing for a second, but then continued, voice flat like the fryin' pan she'd used ta make the pancakes. "Sure I could think a something."

"You're a real friend."

Lureen turned the page. "New county commissioner looks alright."

"Yeah?"

She nodded, her blond hair bouncing, then swung the paper closed, looked up, and declared, "We gotta go. You done eatin'?"

More than half his food was still on the plate, but he just nodded and let her take his plate ta the sink. He grabbed his bag and piled into Lureen's brown Chevy Celebrity. She was a no-nonsense gal, that one.

They arrived at the hospital 'round ten o'clock. The Childress Regional Medical Center was a bustlin' place. The new hospital had a big, open foyer complete with some stonework and a bunch a sofas an' chairs 'round a fireplace. Why they'd need one a those in Texas, Jack didn't know.

Lureen talked ta the woman at the desk. They'd been here before for tests, but that was a different wing, out where there was a garden an' some bird feeders attracted goldfinches an' other sorts a song birds. Maybe larks even. But the hallway Jack was headin' down now was a far cry. Not even decent sunlight, no windows, just a bank a fluorescent bulbs and an endless road, like all them other endless roads, only made a tile. He'd traded one road for another, but that was how life was.

That road led them up in the elevator to the fifth floor, where Dr. Meyers had an office. Jack felt more like he was bein' led around by his ma than being there with his wife, but just now he was feelin' a bit small. Lureen was always bigger n' life when she could help it, an' that was a blessing today. He was happy he'd asked her to come and not Randall. It wadn't like he wanted a mama, but he'd never had one in the way that Ennis had, Ennis tellin' him 'bout the stories his ma used a tell him and the songs she sang him an' the way she said she loved him ten times every day. Nothin' like Jack's ma, or like how Lureen mothered Bobby. But just for once it was nice ta have someone takin' care of him an' who was strong enough ta do so, all the way down.

After waitin', and browsin' Newsweek, because it was between that an' Southern Livin', Jack and Lureen were called into an office by Dr. Meyers.

Dr. Meyers was a quiet, middle-aged man, shortish, with a shy, happy smile, a small spare tire, and plenty a white facial hair, including a thick mustache Jack liked the looks of. Made him look somethin' like how Jack imaged Doc Holliday. But also Dr. Meyers reminded him mostly of Bob Newhart. But 'cept with facial hair. He liked ta think he was a funny as Newhart, too, but he lacked in that department.

"Jack, nice to see you."

"Doc. You 'member my wife, Lureen."

"Sure, yeah. Ok. Have a seat, will you both."

Jack was smiling, Dr. Meyers' own smile just a bit contagious.

In the next hour, Dr. Meyers reviewed to Jack and Lureen everythin' 'bout the surgery. Jack had a admit, he didn't pay too much attention. Been through all a this before. His mind mostly wandered to the walls of Dr. Meyers' office. He been made a doctor someplace called Johns Hopkins which was in Maryland. Also had a picture of a cat playing piano (probably gift from his wife, Jack thought, amused by the idea that maybe the doc hated it. Jack didn't like it none, anyways), a photograph of some lake in the fall, and then there were bookcases overflowin' with books an' papers. Half a them Jack wasn't even educated enough to sound out the titles of, an' he wasn't a crap reader or nothin'. Feelin' a fool suddenly in his doc's presence, he hung his hands between his knees and kept nodding. The bruise on his wrist was nearly gone, but if Jack knew where ta look he imagined he could still see it.

Eventually they were headin' ta get some tests, just Jack and Lureen. They took some blood, which didn't take three minutes, and Jack headed from there to pre-op. He hugged Lureen a cordial goodbye as she went home for the evenin'. There really wasn't no need for her ta stay, and she'd done more'n enough. They told him about not eating or drinkin' after a certain time, took cigarettes away from him on two separate occasions (which had Jack in a swearing mood by supper time, not that they let him have any food, goddammit), an' let him sleep in his own sweats. He was glad he'd packed 'em, otherwise it would a been paper gown time. Bein' poked and prodded by a dozen strangers was one thing, but Jack mighta drawn a line at doin' it in a paper gown. You been poked and prodded plenty by strangers down in Mexico.

Where the hell that thought come from? Seemed like Ennis had come to the hospital after all.

They went ahead and took his duffel, sayin' it'd be wherever he would be when he woke up. Jack didn't have any choice but to trust them, an' it made him nervous, even when he was sure it was meant ta give him less ta worry about. He slipped off inta sleep at his earliest convenience, still an ungodly early hour, havin' not slept the night before and feelin' a world a tired.

The next day was both a rush and a slow wait. Most a Jack's time in the hospital so far'd been waitin', but that was one thing Jack was a pro at, though he didn't consider himself a patient person in the least. Nervous flappin' a butterflies filled his tummy, remindin' him still a those Brokeback swallows, except this whole situation was 'bout as far from Brokeback as a person could get. They was gonna pump him full a drugs an' take out a organ when he was asleep, in a sterile clean white bright hospital room in Texas. Real fuckin' far from Brokeback, an' Jack, who felt brave in most situations, was havin' a hard time keepin' his palms from sweatin' over this one.

Lureen didn't visit him that mornin' before his surgery, and even Jack was surprised, but not really, not when he thought on it. He'd been hopeful, wondered if maybe Lureen would bring Bobby, but no such luck. Jack even let himself spare a moment an' get a little misty blue thinkin' on when that boy was young an' how Jack would sometimes even feel like a real, live, whole human being holdin' his young son against his chest. Jack missed that Bobby. In his heart he knew the ornery teenager was the same one, and all boys were bound to grow into ornery teenagers at some point, but Jack did miss that young Bobby who looked in his daddy's eyes like his daddy was the one responsible for bringin' the sun up every mornin'. Jack heaved a sigh and leaned back hard against his bed.

They changed him into one of those paper-feelin' gowns, wheeled him into another room, and started givin' him IVs. The nurse who did that said she had some trouble findin' veins, laughed an' said Jack carried his life's-blood deep inside, like she thought she was bein' poetic. Jack nodded and laughed, but thought it was an ironic comment somehow, 'cause he sure had a lot a secrets for someone wore his heart on his sleeve.

Next thing Jack knew he was drifting into a sleep, which felt alright, felt restful, felt... strawberry-flavored and royal purple. Felt...

When Jack woke up, it was to the feelin' of about three people tappin' him. "Are you awake Jack? Can you hear me, honey?" The voice was friendly an' feminine.

"Unnnh," came his own highly-articulate answer. It took him a minute to realize the three people was just one person, and that he couldn't talk partially because of a tube in his throat. He was staring up into Ennis-almond-colored eyes set in a dark chocolate face. He hoped his eyes weren't wide an' betrayin' all the fear he felt, wakin' up with tubes and not knowin' where he was.

But the woman cast a wide, very toothy, and impossibly white smile at him. "I'm Kay, Jack, can you do me a favor, Jack, and I'm going to take this tube out of your throat. I just want you to cough as hard as you can on the count of three. Can you do that, Jack?"

He nodded.

"Ok. One. Two. Three. Perfect. Great." She was smiling again, but just kept talking, "Now, the intubation tube, that's what was down your throat to keep you breathing evenly while under general anesthesia, it leaves most people's throats raw or sore, so you might want some water." She was pouring some into a paper cup as she spoke, and handed it over to him. "A lot of patients in this stage might feel very floaty, disoriented, or dizzy. Do you feel any of these things, Jack?"

She was movin' 'bout four hundred miles an hour too fast for him, but all those words rang a bit true, as he groaned around his water cup.

"Yeah I bet you do. Your wife hasn't come to see you yet?"

Jack managed ta shake his head, but only wished he hadn't because it started some kinda spear of nausea in his stomach, an' he had a concentrate to keep the room from churnin', after. "Well, I can't rightly say. Not so sure what day it is, even."

"Oh, it's Wednesday morning. You must have slept through all of Tuesday, Jack. Welcome to Wednesday, honey. And I think it's too bad your wife hasn't come to see you. But I understand. My husband and I barely manage to see each other anymore, between his business trips and my long hours here at the hospital. When I was in school, though, it was worse. Although I didn't have kids when I was in school, so maybe that's not a fair comparison." She giggled, an' it were a pleasant sound to Jack's tired ears. He did sort of like this Kay, he reflected. She was a talker, an' had this habit of sayin' his name way too often, like maybe she was still tryin' a memorize it, but still, her voice was a bit musical, an' she certainly had no trouble sharin' 'bout herself.

Kay got him set up with a TV that assaulted him with normalcy, showed him how to use the morphine pump that made him sail on a sea a calm, pointed out the nurse's button that put the exclamation point on his helplessness, and went over the other half dozen medical items on her checklist: when the catheter come out, what time meals are, how shitty he was goin' a feel for a couple days. Finishin' her speech, she took a step back and seemed to evaluate him. "Anyway, I need to get going. See you later." Her departure was graced with a smile. Jack took the silence followin' to slip off into sleep, though that wasn't optional in the slightest sense.

Sometime later, Jack resurfaced to consciousness by a pretty nasty pain sweeping through his body. His world shrunk down to where his neck made a funny kink into a flattish pillow, and where his hand lazed onto the morphine pump. As long as he could control his thumb, the pain, always there, was like a distant story bein' told him by someone else. He couldn't even muster the energy ta straighten 'is neck and end what he knew must be hurtin' there, too, but it didn't matter. The idea of movin' hurt more than the lazy white haze of layin' still. It tasted like sex, but far more hilarious. It tasted like cool whip when he ate it on a spoon. Jack giggled. At least, he thought he giggled. He didn't hear anythin' except Sally Jessy's voice at the end of a long tunnel, but he liked that sound and had asked Kay to leave it on, 'cause he didn't want to be alone right now. But in his heart, he giggled.

And ached, a hopeless ache, as the world smelled sugary and his everything fell soft on his senses, like being wrapped in a down bedroll, which Jack had only ever been wrapped in one summer, when the world had turned white then, too, white with the moon, and with snow, and with softness.

Jack hit the pump with his thumb again. He knew he shouldn't. He didn't feel no pain, but sadness was edging in, and loneliness, and it hurt, goddammit, it hurt more than his insides or his neck or any part a him. He thought the doctors must have missed and sliced his heart open, because God he needed---

A white flush of misty bled the thought from him. He'd needed the morphine, he thought with another silent giggle. It made the pain alright. All kinds a pain were alright in this white place. Like clouds. Like Jack Twist was floating in heaven with Sally Jessy Raphael.

Jack's non-thought was interrupted by a noise at the door, and he moved his eyes, though not his head. He wasn't facin' the right way to see who it was, anyway, though, so he dropped his eyes closed and thought maybe if he held real still they'd go away and let him be, let him be without moving in this place where moving felt like a sacrilege, something that pulled you away from God. Jack thought he could see real good how people became addicted to this stuff. His thumb slid a prayer across the button, but he didn't push. Not that far gone. People get addicted to this stuff.

"Jack?"

It was Kay. He steeled himself and turned over, sat up. Found it was easier than he thought it'd be.

"Are you awake, dear?"

It was weird to have a woman nearly ten years his junior talkin' to him like he was her son. He'd found out by now she had a boy. She talked a blue streak in general, all about her six-year-old son and nine-year-old daughter. She was thirty-four, didn't trust the boy to brush his teeth proper, had a husband in advertising, and wanted to go on a vacation to Hawaii but couldn't stand the thought of being on the plane with her kids that long. She spoke spot-on proper English to a nearly farcical, for Texas, degree, and liked to explain every last little thing she was doing in more medical detail than Jack could digest. It was like the chatter was the music that lit Kay's day, and Jack didn't mind, not one bit. Her voice was musical, and he liked listening, even if it was to medical terms. Besides, he liked her a lot more than Sally Jessy.

"Yeah, I'm up."

"Good, we got a phone call for you at the nurse's station, and I'd like to patch it in to your room line right here."

"Who's it?"

"Your mother."

"Oh. Alright." He craned to pick up the bedside phone, and not without considerable pain, but Kay didn't help him. He was secretly glad. He needed ta not be completely helpless, and considerable pain was an old bud of his from his rodeo days. Might be a long path ta travel yet, an' if he couldn't go this far, what chance did he really have?

"Jack?"

"Hi, ma."

"Jack, that you?" She might be his ma, but she was clearly still a old lady.

"Yeah, ma, it's me."

"You doin' well?"

"Yeah, I sure am." It mighta been an exaggeration, but it served well enough.

"That's good, that's good." Quiet fell between them, silence for each of the nearly-thousand miles between them, for all the years that fell between them, too. "Well, you rest up an' take care."

"Yeah, you too."

"I will. You be good."

"Thanks, ma."

"Goodbye."

She was gone before Jack could respond, and he was all alone again.

Except he wasn't. Kay was still in the room, like she had some kinda right ta listen to his conversation. Jack wasn't mad, though, but that woman better watch it. One day she would overstep her bounds with someone didn't take it so well. "Kay? You got a minute?"

She excelled at sure smiles. "I have to go check on Mrs. Scanley in a minute. She just got out of a hip replacement. She's seventy-six and by next month she'll be running around like she's seven, but I'm betting she's still asleep right now, so I can stay a minute. What's on your mind?"

"Nothin' in particular. Jus' lonely. Don' know why mah wife ain't been in yet."

"I'm sorry about that. She did call earlier, but you were sound asleep. I'm surprised she hasn't visited."

"Yeah, well, she's a pretty busy lady."

Kay pulled over a chair. "Is she? What does she do?"

"Oh, she runs her daddy's farm machinery business."

"She runs a business? I can see how she's so busy. Probably pretty smart, too, huh?" She was filling out forms on her clipboard as she talked, but her smile was bright and sincere, and her glances up frequent.

"Yeah, you bet. What you fillin' out there?"

"Just some forms. They make us do all sorts of bureaucratic work on you patients." Her large white teeth made their typical belle-of-the-ball debut. "I bet, with your wife running a business, you know all about bureaucracy."

"Ma'am, I sold farm machinery for half my life. I'm an old hand with carbons."

She laughed. "So that's what you do, then?"

"Yeah. I'm jus' a tractor salesman. Disappointed?"

"Don't say 'just.' You get to interact with a large variety of people. That's one of the things that drew me to nursing. I bet it's a pretty exciting job."

Jack laughed from his belly, drawing up pain, the pain ringin' through his chest, stealin' his breath away. Kay noticed and pushed Jack's little button before he coul' protest. The pain was a welcomed change, but as soon as it had come, Jack was floating in the coldless snow again.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothin'. It's jus'. Well, first off, the only variety you get in combine sales is that some people wear a tan hat an' others a white. 'Sides that everyone's the same ol' fat farm owner. Second, I was a bull rider before I was a salesman. Got inta sales to escape the excitin'."

Her eyes grew wide. "Bull riding? Now that's fascinating to me. Why would anyone ride a bull?"

"Can pay pretty well if you're any good."

"That's neat." She stood. "Listen, I have to go check on Mrs. Scanley now, but I'll see you soon."

Jack would a been lyin' if he didn't admit he watched her rounded backside until it faded inta the hallway.

Jack didn't remember fallin' asleep, but he woke this time to a gentle tap on his arm. The window told him it was full evenin'. The tap belonged to Lureen, but Jack's eyes focused immedi't'ly on the big, blue eyes at the foot a his bed, broadcastin' fear an' lookin' not at all like those of a apathetic teenage boy.

"Say now, Lureen, why you bringin' handsome young men inta my hospital room?" It was out a his mouth before he realized there were two ways it could be taken, now that he knew 'bout Lureen's knowin'. Her glare spoke that she didn't miss it, neither, an' Jack, feelin' like a slug, looked down. When he looked back up, though, Bobby's eyes were smilin', so he just went on an' ignored Lureen. "How you doin', buddy?"

"Ok."

Jack waited for more, but got nothin'. "Alright."

"Jack," Lureen started, "you okay in here? You need me to bring anything from home?"

Funny how she made it sound like prison. "No, I'm just fine. Even think I made myself a friend."

"Oh yeah?"

"My nurse Kay is real sweet."

"That's good." Lureen took a seat, and Bobby hauled one of his own over to the far wall.

"Bob, get on over here." Bobby looked nervous and startled when he pulled a chair closer. Jack guessed he was feelin' maybe some of the mushier emotions an' didn't know how to deal with 'em.

"Uh, Bobby got a B on an English test."

"That so?" Jack felt a huge-ass grin break through to the sluggish muscles of his face.

"Yup." Bobby was looking down at his feet an' tryin' not ta smile.

"That's real good, Bob, real good."

"An' he also had a big day in the mowin' business."

"Yeah?"

Bobby's head snapped up. This was shop, sales an' shop talk was somethin' the family shared pretty well. This other stuff, health n' grades, was such new ground that Jack thought they'd never had higher quality family time'n now. Sort a ironic he had ta get so sick to have it, but even so it wasn't never what he really wanted from the people he called his family.

"Yeah. Corndog an' I got a contract with Don Mills. Three acres, one year." He was grinnin'.

"Yeah? Way to go." Bobby an' his small-minded, big-walletted friend Colin "Corndog" Arlington had themselves a mowin' business. Lureen'd gone in for the mowers, sure thing, but Bobby was the sales and manpower. Corndog was good with figures despite bein' a dumbass ta others, an' put in his fair share a sweat.

"Anyway," Lureen cleared her throat. "You look tired. We should be goin'." Jack felt tired, sure 'nough, but he didn't wanna be left alone. Didn't matter, though, 'cause Lureen did what she though ta do, so she an' Bobby got up, not even' havin' stayed a half hour, and were gone. Though Lureen did stop and say "I'll check on how you're doin' later" on her way out the door.

An' so the days passed that way, pain-red button-coldless snow in an endless rhythm like night n' day. Only wasn't neither. It was like the misty place after dawn when you say five more minutes, five more minutes, an' five minutes stretches out n' out forever. Jack ain't had many days like that in his life, so he wasn't mindin' this lazy succession. He lived in a world of clean sheets an' practiced TV voices, openin' an eye occasionally to watch a Plinko game.

Lureen came by again on Thursday evening, but no Bobby. They didn't say much with any meat-- talked on work mostly.

Friday night Lureen came again, but with a sour-ass expression an' Jack's "half-brother" Randall in tow. "You didn't tell me you had such a handsome brother," Kay'd cooed on her way out a the room. Jack had swallowed hard with a smile he didn't mean ta have.

It was pretty quiet an' uncomfortable, Lureen glarin' at a wall, Randall snatchin' smiles at Jack between frowns at his boots. They talked health, Jack's an' LaShawn's, an' weather, 'cause it were safe ground n' neutral.

Just as the interaction were growin' so strained it made Jack eye that candy apple red button, the door opened with a quietly deafening "screeeee."

"Uh, excuse me." Kay was careful not ta actually enter the room. "Jack, your mother's on the line for you again. Do you want to take it?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Oh God yes. Yes, oh, yes, God, an' thank you.

"Ok, Jack, I'll transfer it." She left with a smile, as always. Least somethin' 'round here niver change.

"Do you want us ta...," Lureen started.

"Naw, naw, stay, it's jus' my mah." He was talkin' over the ringin', so he shifted-- oww-- ta pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Jack."

"Hi, ma, how are you?"

"Good, good. You doin' as well?"

"Sure, yeah."

"That's good. Listen, somethin' I'm callin' about."

A steel fist clamped down around Jack. His mama hadn't never called 'bout nothing, so it couldn' be good. "What's that, mama?"

"I jus'..." She sounded nervous, an' when she started 'gain, her voice was barely discernible 'bove a whisper. "I jus' thought you might 'preciate knowin' your friend called here."

Jack's whole whitewashed, pain-dizzy, socially sticky world spun down to slow motion, even as his heart sped up. "He did."

"Yeah, he was... hopin' I knew how you was. I tol' him you were fine like you tol' me Wednesday. Hope that's alright."

"That's..." Jack couldn't finish his sentence. The last few days, colored by the aching loneliness from the week before, that loneliness overgrown by the lack of dronin' out distractions, they'd been hard. Harder'n he was lettin' on even ta himself. Didn' wanna cry front a these two, but a glance at Lureen--. Damn. Her mouth was drawn into a frown n' her face was still as stone, but her large brown eyes shown with somethin' like relief. 'Cause surely she knew what had brought the light back so suddenly, where her sparse visits had failed. She was no fool, no how.

Jack didn't wanna glance at Randall, so he didn't. Was afraid a seein' Randall hurtin' at what just might be a moment a personal salvation, moments like people spoke of at church, I been saved, Lordy Jesus!, but this one just for Jack alone. Mine. My friend, my ma, my phone call, my man, and my life ta live. Fuck what Randall thinks. Jack'd had it 'bout up to here tryin' a spare Randall's feelin's. Sort of ironic that he'd spent more time sparin' Randall's feelin's than he spent on Ennis's recently, but that was the truth of it-- when you knew there weren't no way ta push someone away for permanent, you could take more liberties with them than was likely wise. It was a lesson Jack reckoned both he an' Ennis had ahead of them ta learn, if they was ever--

If we was ever ta what? 'Cause I know there's nothing ta end that sentence with no more. Jack killed the thought, rememberin' his ma was still on the line. He cleared the lump from his throat an' resisted the urge ta ask for Ennis's words from his mama, ta demand, What'd he say? Tell me every goddamn last word, every sigh n' inflection. 'Cause they might not sound like nothin' ta you, but I know how ta read 'em, an' I need to know, Christ, bad as I ever needed anything. But what he said was, "That's real nice, ma. Thanks for callin' a let me know."

"He was real nice, Jack. Courteous."

"Yeah. He's a... he's real respectful."

"I could tell."

"How did... how... how's dad?"

"Oh, he's alright. Jus' fine. He didn't care ta hear much 'bout your friend, but you know we don't get too many telephone calls. On that account, I thought it was of interest."

"I bet." Jack didn't even bother restrainin' his smile. He heard between his mother's words alright, an' was reminded why he loved his mama. Distant an' careful as she was, she also had for him a kind a unconditional love he weren't even sure he had for Bobby. Hoped so, but. Well, Bobby ain't never tested him like he had his ma. Never came home waxin' romantic over another full-grown man. Never sat at his ma's dinner table thinkin' on how much he wanted that taste a manhood against his tongue. Jack knew it wouldn't be appropriate to push the subject further right now. His ma's silence agreed with him. "Well, your grandson got a B in English."

"Did he now? You got a smart one there, Jack."

It was not a compliment he'd heard before, from anyone, an' he wanted ta beam a bigger smile, but it weren't physically possible at this point. Not 'less he wanted his face ta jus' explode. He'd pondered a lot a ways to die in the past few weeks, but that might be the best. Jack even chuckled out loud, which hurt all through his belly, but fuckit, 'cause it felt damn good, too, n' he needed an' deserved it. Man gets too happy an' face explodes. He is survived by a whole bunch a people who're fuckin' mad at him for 'parently havin' a queer lover somewhere. Cept'n the queer lover who---. Bad train a thought an' he shouldn't a ever have gone there.

"Well, ma, I got some medical test in the mornin', an' Lureen's here visitin', so I better head on off."

"Alright. You take care."

"I will." Jack was not surprised that she hadn't asked ta speak ta Lureen. "Goodnight."

"Night, Jack."

Jack twisted ta lay down the phone in its cradle 'gain, an' not without pain, though he was a bit ticked Lureen hadn't helped him considerin' it was within her reach. Not a lot more a uncomfortable conversation was shared before Lureen said she was tired an' needed ta head on home. After she left, though, the room only got smaller an' hotter, the conversation more stilted. Randall didn't stay too much longer.

In the mornin', Jack went to an MRI. They even had him walk there. They were makin' him move around a bit, gettin' ready ta release him soon, an' even though he had ta continue ta take it easy when he went home, Jack was feelin' pretty good by now an' couldn't get out a the hospital fast enough. They had him off IV painkillers and medicines, and on to pills, which was fine. Still plenty a floatin' feelin', still a white an hazy world.

In the afternoon, he got a knock on his door, an' it pushed open without waitin' for a response. There was Dr. Meyers, the same demure smile plastered on his face as usual, but it had some fakeness 'bout it today.

"Well. We didn't find anything on the MRI." He pulled over a chair, and Jack didn't miss the scowl he was doin' a poor job hidin' peak through for a instant.

"Yeah? That's good, ain't it?"

"Well, sure. Yeah it is."

"That's good."

"Mr. Twist. Your tumor was four centimeters. You need to know that can be a pretty serious size."

"What you sayin'? You need to start me on chemo or somethin'?" Jack frowned deep, not likin' the train a this conversation much.

"Renal cell carcinoma is pretty indifferent to chemotherapy. But either way, it doesn't appear to have spread anywhere, so you may be in the clear."

"Why you say it like that, then?" Jack didn't need to explain more. It was obvious enough to both of them that Doc Meyers was sittin' on some bad news.

Meyers blew out a breath. He was slouching in a chair way past the foot a Jack's bed. He started with a little fake smile. "Call it a feeling? I've been in this business more than a few years, an' your tumor looked pretty aggressive to myself, the urologist, and the surgeon."

"What are you trying to say?" Jack was losing his patience an' quickly.

"Look. I can give you a pretty clean bill a health out of here today, an' you can go back to your job an' your life. But I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again, and not for a check-up." Meyers had lost some patience too, it seemed, though Jack didn't figure it was at him. Maybe Meyers'd had a bad day. "So I'm just going to give you the best advice I know of. Take a vacation. Take your wife and son to Hawaii or something. You may be just fine, but good health is a blessing, and I'm advising you to take advantage-- but come back here immediately if you feel even the slightest bit bad. So maybe Hawaii's not a great idea. But I hope you get my point."

"Yeah, I gotchyou." Jack just wanted him out, now. Feelin' every bit of a tired ol' no-count queer salesman, Jack let his head slam back against his inclined bed.

Meyers seemed to sense something, because he nodded and stood. "Sorry I can't be more optimistic for you, Jack. I couldn't, well, you understand, I hope." And he left.

Jack felt a stomach knot rise up inta his throat, like them Brokeback swallows aged to mountain rock itself, inside him an' tryin' ta leave. He thought for a flicker of time that maybe the doc was castin' spells on him with his pessimism. Keep him in a room with no wood to knock on, not of any kind... but Jack weren't a highly superstitious man.

Jack felt his world slow n' collapse. There was the flashin' a faces from a muted TV screen. There was a gentle cooin' a city pigeons outside the window. Somewhere in the room he could hear a fly strugglin' 'gainst this unnatural environment, cold walls holdin' him in.

A vacation, he'd said. With his wife, he'd sad. Well, a vacation wasn't anything he done before, cept'n his week in San Antonio as a honeymoon, an' it sounded alright. Sure did. But not with Lureen.

Jack thought maybe he should a been more upset, but he couldn't feel it. He began to feel like he was soarin'. Ennis thought he was foolish, maybe even romantic, probably, but now Jack had leave. He had a goddamn good excuse. So he spent the entire rest a his hospital stay thinkin' on the only thing he thought he could really never get tired a thinkin' on-- what sort a lure he needed ta hook Ennis inta his cockassed plans. More time, Ennis'd said. Jack didn't know what that meant no more, and 'parently neither did the doc, but Jack was aimin' ta spend as much of what he had left with Ennis as he could, even if he had a sell his pride ta get there.

When Jack left that hospital on a Sunday mornin' early, the brown wintry grasses were frost-kissed and sparklin' in the new light. An' even though the dawn made the frost as tender as new-fallen snow, an' even though the grass sparkled like diamond under the influence a the frost, it wasn't the frost that Jack was watchin'. He'd never seen the broken post-autumn stems seem as gold as they did now. Jack was drawn by the gold. 'Cause maybe that was what life was like, the dry death underneath the snow, just waiting to turn into gold at dawn.