If Not For Fear I
"Well, I guess I'll see ya around then."
Ennis couldn't count the times these words had gone through his head over the last two and a half years. He could, though, count the times that guilt and remorse and heartbreaking pain had been associated with that phrase…and that was every single time he thought of it.
He had left Brokeback that summer twisted and tortured, had spent a lot of time wandering and drinking…mostly drinking…trying to forget his guilt at leaving Jack. He hadn't been successful.
Deep inside he knew that he'd wanted to stay but hadn't known how to deal with the feelings that Jack had opened up in him on Brokeback. He ran from something he didn't understand, something that frightened him and, in his mind, was an immediate death sentence should anyone find out.
He simply had not been equipped to handle the emotions that Jack had awakened within him.
He had returned to Riverton, gotten a job at one of the ranches, and rented a room from a widow just outside of town, paying rent by making some needed repairs around the house.
He had been trying hard to stuff Brokeback down as deep as he could. He had told Jack he was marrying Alma and, in the outer realms of his mind, that was the truth. Yet, he kept putting off going to see her…making excuses to himself that he felt were valid. He had too much to do at the widow's house, his job kept him away…cows and calves and fences.
"There just ain't no time. I'll try again tomorrow." But tomorrow brought another excuse that his brain told him was valid enough to not go. She didn't know he was back so it couldn't hurt if he didn't see her right away. This went on for a month and a half.
All of his excuses came crumbling down one day when he happened to turn the corner to the post office on one of his rare trips into town. He nearly bowled Alma over as he walked in, his head down and his mind consumed with not thinking of Jack.
"Ennis? Ennis!" He had walked nearly across the room to his P.O. box when he realized someone had called his name. He turned.
"Alma." This came out kind of strangled. He caught himself looking around as if he needed a means of escape but couldn't find one. Alma quickly walked over to give him a hug and a kiss.
"Ennis, when did you get back? How long you been in town? How was your summer?" and on and on. Ennis felt like he was trapped in quicksand. An inner voice kept badgering him with, "This is your girl, your future wife. Hug her or something. Talk to her. What's the problem here?" But he was frozen where he stood.
Suddenly he was unable to breathe and his need to flee overwhelmed him. He put his hands on Alma to push her away a little.
"Alma, I gotta go…it's the job…the cows, ya know." He looked at her seeing the confusion and hurt on her face. He tried to feel something, to want to hug her, to need to kiss her…but all he wanted to do was get far away as fast as possible.
"I'll see ya around."
There were those damn words again. Was that all he knew how to say to the people he loved? People he loved? People…he…loved? Like what people? There were only two people he knew…Jack and Alma. He knew he loved Alma but…Jack?
He tried to clamp his mind shut on that last thought. "Can't think about Jack." But, as with all people, there are times when our brain does what it wants and not what we want it to. Despite all Ennis' effort, Jack flashed through his brain. Compared to Alma, what he felt for Jack was…well, there was no comparison. But he couldn't love Jack, could he? Jack was a man, a guy. And despite all that happened on Brokeback with Jack, one guy shouldn't love another guy. Look what happened to that old queer Earl, found dead in a ditch. It was clear to Ennis that Earl had died because he had loved another man.
But here he was with thoughts of loving Jack. It felt like he'd been struck by lightning.
He could see Alma talking but couldn't hear what she was saying. He could feel his hands on her shoulders but there was nothing there, not like when he touched Jack. He looked at her but only saw blue eyes and black hair.
He had thought he loved Alma but now, compared to what he was feeling for Jack, saw that his love for her was small and duty-bound.
He was regaining some sense of his surroundings. Quickly he gave Alma a peck on the cheek…like kissing a dead fish compared to Jack…and all but ran out of the post office, hearing her call after him. Once he got around the corner, he did run…as far as his legs and lungs would take him, tears streaming down his face.
Ennis had spent the next couple of weeks working at the widow's house and at the ranch, as many hours as he could, in order to keep his mind occupied on things other than his growing feelings for Jack and to exhaust himself so he would fall into unconsciousness as soon as he had no further work to do. Drinking helped that happen quicker.
Ennis was…and wasn't…so successful at keeping Jack from his thoughts. Exhaustion came quickly enough but, despite all his efforts to push these thoughts out of his mind, Jack was still there. He might be able to occupy his surface thoughts with extra work, but these other thoughts and feelings for Jack, rising like whales from the depths, could not be redirected or ignored. They went their own way, breaking down barriers and insinuating themselves to become part of his basic character.
He had been working out back on a fence line at the widow's house. He had deluded himself into thinking that he hadn't been thinking of Jack. He was confident he had been pretty successful not thinking of Jack. Nope, no thoughts of Jack here. Yep, really getting good at not thinking of Jack.
With his delusion intact, he decided he needed to get something to drink since it was a hot day out. Maybe something to eat, too. He took his gloves off and walked into the house. That morning the widow had gone to see her sister a couple of towns away. She wouldn't be back for another two days.
He walked in the back door that opened into the kitchen wiping his boots on the mat the widow had put down for his use. He walked over to the sink, got himself a glass of water and sat down at the kitchen table for a moment to rest. He was vaguely aware that the widow's radio was playing.
Thinking now might be a good time to eat he went to the cabinets to see what was there. As he opened the door, he froze, his eyes immediately spotting the green cans…a pot of beans on the label, Better Most in white on a blue background. When did she get these? He reached up and took a can down to stare at in amazement.
As he did, in the background, a lone harmonica sounded out…plaintive and lonely. This simple coming together of two separate incidents was enough to completely shatter Ennis' resolve regarding Jack.
Suddenly, he was surrounded by memories of his days and nights on Brokeback. His vision began to blur, his heart slammed against his ribs, he was gasping for air. He could no longer hold the bean can. It bounced off the cabinet and rolled across the floor.
The sobbing began and from deep down inside, the whales of memory and feeling finally breached the surface. Jack was everywhere now…his face, his smell, his laugh, his eyes, the touch of his skin.
Ennis grabbed the edge of the counter in an attempt to stay standing but failed and crashed to the floor of the kitchen. On his hands and knees, he cried like he had never cried before. All he could feel was an overwhelming love and desire for Jack. Yet along with these feelings came the bitter realization that he would never see Jack again. He sat back on his heels, his elbows on the floor, his hands on his head.
He felt all these things overwhelming him, but without sufficient experience dealing with deep emotion, he didn't know how to avoid falling into a black hole of devastation…and that's exactly what he did.
He stayed on the kitchen floor a long time. It was dark when he was able to gather enough of his shattered self-control together to get up.
After his kitchen episode, Ennis withdrew even more. He hurt knowing that he loved Jack and he hurt worse knowing that he would never see him again. He talked little and rarely left the house after he got home from work. If he did it was to go drinking.
Alma had come by a few times. She found out where he lived from a ranch hand that knew Ennis. But Ennis didn't have anything to say or offer to her. She had cried the last couple of times trying to understand why he didn't love her no more. There was nothing he could say but, "I'm sorry. I guess I wasn't husband material after all." She never came back.
About a year later, he heard that she had married the local grocer. He hoped she was happy.
Ennis went on with his life without Jack…but without Jack he didn't really have a life.
About six months after Ennis had come back to Riverton, he had been able to rent this rundown farm house outside of town and get himself what, at one time, could have been considered a truck. He had done a lot of work on the house, which helped to make it more livable, and now was at the point where only minor things came up every now and then.
He had gas to cook with and electricity. There was a fireplace that he had cleaned out and made serviceable for the winter months. He had a couple pieces of furniture, a little radio, and a stray cat that he fed at his back door.
He had made no friends, so no one ever came by. Well, there was Sheriff Parker. J.D. to his friends.
He had come by in Ennis' early days at the house just to introduce himself and get to know Ennis. This house was in his jurisdiction and he liked to know the people he might have to help…or arrest.
Ennis hadn't been expecting anyone that day and met the Sheriff at the door with a rifle. Their relationship had started a little awkwardly that day because of this but the visit had ended just fine.
Every few months, Sheriff Parker would come by with a six-pack and he and Ennis would sit on the front porch. The Sheriff was a lot like Ennis, quiet, withdrawn, solid-appearing to the world. He was a bit older than Ennis, shorter and stockier.
When he visited, they spoke only of casual things and not much of that but both came to enjoy the company. To look at them, it would seem they were carved from the same kind of stone.
So when the knock came at Ennis' door on a cold, windy and rainy night in late March, it startled him but he assumed it was Sheriff Parker. Overly cautious as he typically was, he took the rifle.
He held the gun downward in his right hand, bullet in the chamber. With his left hand he opened the door which swung free of his grasp, pushed by a gust of the wind. A man stood there, his back to Ennis.
There was no light on Ennis' front porch but the light from his living room helped to weakly illuminate the figure. Ennis quickly began to size up the man standing there to decide whether he needed to use his rifle or not, his house being way out in the country.
Ennis saw a black hat, hunched shoulders, hands jammed down in the pockets of a jacket much too light for this bad weather.
The man turned and looked up.
Ennis' heart clenched. He froze where he stood, rain and cold coming in through the open door. His eyes kept telling his brain what they were seeing, but his brain kept refusing to believe it.
"Ennis?" the figure stuttered out from blue lips.
Ennis couldn't move. He didn't feel the tear that rolled down his face.