Chapter 11: The Missing Link

Later in the morning, after Ennis had fed and watered the horses, and they had eaten a quick breakfast, they set about arranging the furniture the way they wanted it, and then went up to the bedroom to unpack the things they had brought with them.

Jack, of course, had many more boxes then Ennis did, and when Ennis was finished, there were still a lot of boxes that needed to be unpacked. Shaking his head at the pitiful amount of clothes he had compared to Jack's, Ennis grabbed a box and began helping him to unpack his stuff.

Emptying a box, he broke it down and tossed it on the growing stack on the landing, He stretched his back, groaning a bit, and grabbed another box. This one was smaller and from the looks of it had been around a while. Unlike the others that had been sealed with packing tape, this one was tied with a piece of baling twine.

Using his pocket knife, Ennis cut the string, and pulled the flaps open. Sitting on the top was a little cowboy sitting on a horse. Darkened and slightly yellowed, the toy appeared to have been around awhile. Setting it on the bed, Ennis reached in and pulled out a lamp with a model covered wagon for a base.

"Hey, Jack…" he said, intrigued by the boxes contents, "this stuff from when ya was a boy?"

Stepping out of the closet, Jack stiffened when he saw the box that Ennis was pawing through… "shit!"

"Ennis… wait… lemme…" Jack began; dropping the shirt he was holding and walking quickly across the room…

"What tha… Jesus, Jack… don' ya throw nothin' away, rich as ya are… whatcha keepin' this ratty old shirt…" suddenly Ennis' voice began to fade as recognition dawned on his face, "I know this shirt…"

"Just an old shirt my ma, kept… don' know why…" Jack said quickly, and reached out trying to take the shirt from Ennis hands. Ennis turned at the last minute, keeping the shirt out of Jack's reach.

"Jack… this's yer shirt from Brokeback… ain't it…?" Ennis lifted the shirt's sleeve and saw the dried brown splotches near the cuff. His heart beating a mile a minute, he ran his thumb across the dried brown spots...blood… his blood… never washed away from a shirt never worn again.

Seeing the expression on Ennis' face, Jack drew a panicky breath, and reached out again, trying to snatch the shirt from his hand. "Oh, God… just get it away from him, Twist… this ain't happening…"

"Just a shirt… didn't fit no more so I guess it nev'r got washed…" making one more swipe at the shirt and missing again as Ennis moved to evade his hands, Jack cringed when the lower part of the shirt flopped open and a bit of white striped cloth showed through.

Jack heard Ennis gasp, and his heart sank even further… "Fuck!"

Walking a few steps away, Ennis, his fingers trembling, unbuttoned the blue denim shirt and felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes at what lay beneath it. His shirt… the one that he had believed lost 30 years ago, was nestled inside of Jack's, the bloody sleeves together, one inside the other.

Ennis turned and looked at Jack. Jack was standing in the same spot, his head down, and shoulders slumped. "Jack…," Ennis said his voice low and hoarse… "what…why…?"

Jack shrugged and said in a choked voice, "Don' know… after that fight, thought ma'be ya hated me… knew ya was gonna leave me… but I still loved ya… wanted ta keep a part'a ya… so I took yer shirt when ya weren' lookin'… pretty stupid, huh?"

"Jack…" Ennis said again, his heart throbbing with pain, sorrow and love, "all this time… even after went met up again… all these years ya kep' these…" his voice was hoarse and Jack had to strain to hear him.

"Was all I had'a ya! Only thin' I had during the months that I could'n be with ya."

Ennis walked forward, and wrapped his arms around Jack, hugging him tightly and planting a kiss on his ear. "Well… ya got the whole thin' now, Darlin', don' need no more souvenirs," he whispered softly.

Wiping his face with his sleeve, Jack pulled away still hiding his face from Ennis. He felt stupid and humiliated and tried to cover his embarrassment with bravado.

"Yeah, well…" Jack said, and turned to pull the shirts from Ennis' hand. Ennis didn't resist this time, "guess you're right… don' need em no more…"

Smiling weakly, still avoiding Ennis' eyes, Jack said, "Yers might still fit… yer scrawny as ya was when ya was 19, but mine won't", he patted his belly to emphasize his point, and added, "might fit ya though…" and started toward the stairs, "Guess I'll just put these in the laundry room…"

"Wait," Ennis said, and walked across the room. Removing the shirts from Jack's hand, he straightened them so they were molded together again leaving the denim shirt unbuttoned so the white plaid shirt showed. Picking up a hanger from the bed, he placed them on the hanger.

Jack watched as Ennis crossed the room and hung them carefully on a picture hook on the wall. He fussed and twitched with it until he was sure they were straight, and then walked across the room to the dresser. Opening a drawer that contained his and Jack's socks and boxers, Ennis reached into the back and pulled out a metal box with a padlock on it.

Head down, Ennis crossed the room slowly, and placed the box and a brass key in Jack's hands.

"Ennis…?" Jack asked, puzzled and surprised.

"Jus' open it…" Ennis muttered his voice low and raw, his head lowered so that his chin was almost touching his chest.

A look of confusion on his face, Jack fumbled with the key, and finally got the old lock open. Lifting the lid, he peered into the box, and felt every wisp of air rush out of his lungs when he saw what was inside.

They were leaving… Aguirre had told him that very morning to bring the sheep down. Jack didn't know for sure, but he had a hunch that the weather had nothing to do with them begin brought down early. He had seen that big old pair of binoculars slung over the saddle horn while Aguirre sat there and glared at him.

He couldn't understand why Ennis was behaving the way he was, weren't like they were saying good-bye… was it? Jack felt a little bit of panic enter his chest as he looked up and saw Ennis sitting alone in the middle of the field. "My poor cowboy…" he thought as he grabbed his rope and started up the hill.

Several minutes later, as he sat on that same hill, watching Ennis walk away and holding on to the side of his face where Ennis had slugged him, he suddenly realized that that was exactly why Ennis was acting the way he was. They were going to say good-bye… and his heart began to hurt so badly that any pain he may have felt from the punch was erased completely.

He sat on the hill for several moments before he worked up the courage to walk back down to the camp. When he got there, there was no sign of Ennis… only his bloody shirt hanging on a tree branch.

Jack heard splashing down by the creek, and surmised that Ennis must have gone down to wash the blood from his face and hands.

Feeling lost and trying to figure out a way to stop what he knew was coming, Jack looked around desperately, and his eyes kept landing on that shirt. Hanging there on the branch, the cuff and lower sleeve all bloody just like his own, and on an impulse, not even thinking or quite aware of what he was doing, he grabbed the shirt, wrapped it up in a ball, and stuffed it deep into his saddle bag.

He knew taking the shirt would not change or solve anything, but somehow, knowing that he had a piece of Ennis… or at least something that belonged to him… made it possible for him to breathe again.

As he was pulling his hand back out of his bag, Ennis walked into the clearing. Bare-chested with water dripping from his face and hair, the sun shining behind him, Jack thought he looked like a Greek god. Sucking in a breath and struggling to quell the immediate reaction in his nether regions, Jack watched Ennis as he paused for a moment, eyes locking with Jack's and then lowered his head and walked to his horse.

Keeping his head down, he dug around in his bag until he found a clean shirt, and then quickly pulled it on.

Sighing, and wishing he could find something… anything to say that would convince Ennis that they did not have to say good-bye, Jack turned and shoulders slumped walked toward the stream.

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Ennis watched Jack walk away, and the pain in his heart throbbed stronger. He wanted nothing more then to grab Jack, kiss him until neither of them could breathe, and beg him to stay with him. Here… Lightening Flat… Timbuktu… Anywhere… he didn't care… as long as he didn't have to say good-bye to this man that had consumed his soul… lifted him up to a place that he hadn't even known existed, and now appeared to be planning to leave him there alone.

Ennis couldn't understand Jack. Why wasn't he upset about them having to leave early? Didn't he care about Ennis at all… or was this all just a summer fling for him… another notch on his belt… something to laugh about… "Yep… ole Ennis Del Mar… a funny one he was… thought I actually cared 'bout him!"

Ennis stood next to his horse, leaning against the strong, solid body, and fought back the tears that had been threatening to fall ever since Jack had told him… so calm and nonchalant, like it meant nothing and mattered little to him… that they were to bring the sheep down nearly a month early.

Feeling lost and trying to figure out a way to stop what he knew was coming, Ennis looked around desperately, and his eyes landed on a metal object. The sun glinted off the tarnished metal, and Ennis stepped forward to pick up the object from the stump where Jack had left it.

He wanted desperately to have something, anything, to remember this summer… something real that he could touch and look at, something to prove that this whole summer hadn't been nothing but a wonderful dream.

He wanted so badly to remember… how happy he had felt… how good it was to have someone to talk to that listened and cared what he had to say…how good it felt to Want to talk to Jack, joke with him, watching and listening in awe as he laughed that intoxicating laugh of his that sent little tremors of joy through Ennis' body whenever he heard it. More then anything, he wanted something to remind how good it felt to lay with Jack and feel his arms around him holding him close, like he was precious, was loved and wanted, a feeling that Ennis had never known in his life until that summer. He wanted to remember what it was like to hold Jack in his arms, hoping that he to could feel how much Ennis wanted and loved him and being filled with that sense of completion, that oneness that swept him away and blocked out everything except the man he was holding.

Desperately trying to hold on to all these things and not wanting to let any of that go, no matter how much he hated that he felt anything at all because obviously Jack did not return that feeling… Ennis put the object in his bag.

"Ennis…" Jack whispered his voice hoarse and strained as he reached into the box and pulled out the tarnished metal object. He had to smile at the lopsided appearance of it, slightly squashed and bent. He could see where it was a bit more worn then when he had last seen it, the finish dulled by repeated handling of calloused fingers… fingers that knew how to work hard but also knew how to be gentle and tender… fingers that knew exactly what to do and where to touch to drive Jack insane.

"Oh, Ennis…" he gasped, perhaps for the first time in his life at a complete loss for words. A sob escaped his throat, and a tear dropped from his chin and landed on the harmonica in his hands.

His voice hoarse, Ennis said, "I wanted somethin' to remember ya… remember how good it was with us," drawing a shuddering breath, he continued, "I'm sorry 'bout that punch… don' guess I ever did say that. I was hurtin' somethin' awful… thought of leavin' ya rippin' me ta shreds… an ya seemed so… jus' seemed like ya didn' care at all that we was parting…" Ennis drew another deep breath that caught in his throat.

"I know I a'ways bitch'd bout ya playin' that thin' but… inside… inside I lov'd when ya play'd it… lov'd how yer face would light up and yer eyes would twinkle. A'ways knew ya was happy when ya dug that damn thin' out and start'd in playin' it… loved everythin' ya did… even yer damn bitchin' about the stupid beans!"

Jack smiled at this, and then looked down at his old harmonica again…

Jack remembered well that day when he had arrived at his parent's farm. He had felt dejected, and empty. He had gone up to his room, and unpacked his pitiful belongings.

When he pulled Ennis' shirt out of the bag, he raised it to his face and inhaled Ennis' scent. The pain of his loss hit him like a ton of bricks and he slumped down on his bed, clutching Ennis shirt to his chest, his face buried in it, and cried.

He didn't know how long he lay there crying, when he had fallen asleep, all he knew was that when he woke the smell of Ennis was in his nose, and for just a moment he lay there with his eyes closed pretending that Ennis was lying there with him, and all he had to do was reach out his hand and he would feel that smooth warm skin under his hungry fingers.

Finally, he opened his eyes and sat up. Sighing deeply, he rubbed Ennis' shirt against his cheek one more time… though most certainly not for the last time; over the following 16 years he would repeat this same thing over and over. Each time he went to his parents after one of their fishing trips he would take out those shirts, and once again cry himself to sleep over what could have been, and what he had to give up each time he and Ennis parted… and on legs that felt rubbery, he went to the closet and got a hanger. Taking it and the shirt back to the bed, he placed Ennis' shirt on the hanger, and then dug his own bloody shirt out of his bag. Carefully, he threaded the sleeves of Ennis' shirt inside of his own, making sure that the bloody patches rested against each other. Running his fingers softly across the surface of Ennis' shirt one last time, he whispered Ennis' name, and then buttoned his own shirt over the top of it, keeping it warm and safe.

After he hung the shirts in the back of closet, he unpacked the rest of his bag, looking for one more item… something that he thought to place in the pocket of that shirt of his… something that he would never play again, but that he would never ever part with.

As he looked for it, he couldn't help but smile a watery smile when he remembered the exasperated look that Ennis always got on his face whenever he took it out and began trying to play a tune on it. Though Ennis always complained and fussed about the "racket" he made, Jack could hear the amusement and affection in his voice and knew that secretly Ennis enjoyed his antics with "that darn noisemaker".

Frowning, he finally upended that bag, scattering the contents on the bed, some of it falling to the floor beside his bed.

"Where is it?" he muttered, beginning to feel panicky. He began pawing through the things on the bed frantically until at last he gave up and his face was once again wet with the knowledge that he had somehow lost or forgotten his harmonica on the mountain.

That was how his mother had found him, standing in the middle of his room, clothes scattered around his feet, and face buried in his hands and tears running through his fingers as he sobbed, heartbroken, over the loss of a battered old harmonica.

"Ennis…" Jack choked, and walked slowly across the room to throw his arms around Ennis. Sobbing into Ennis' shoulder he ranted, "God… we were so fuckin' stupid! If one of us had uttered just one little word neither of us woulda walk'd away! Shit… I hate myself… I hate that stupid idiot of a 19 year old… so sure of hisself, but too fuckin' scared ta hold onta what he really wanted!"

Ennis brought his arms up around Jack and shushed him quietly, rubbing his back and just letting him cry out 16 years of pain and regret, waiting until he had calmed down some before replying quietly, the words pouring out of him from a faucet finally opened by the knowledge that this man in his arms had loved him for so long and so well that he had never given up on him… that he had kept his shirt, just like he himself had kept Jack's harmonica, because something in them both simply could not live without at least some little part of the other.

"I useta hate that 19 year old inside me… hated him for lovin' ya so hard… hated him fer not havin' the guts ta beg ya not to leave… but I don' no more. We was so young, Jack… jus' kids… neither of us knew what we was doin' on that mountain… no… the me I hate is that stupid fuckin' idiot of a 23 year old that let ya get away again. Shoulda learned durin' them 4 years we were apart that I couldn' live without ya… shoulda never let ya get away from me again!"

"Ya did what ya had ta, Ennis… I know that now… didn't fer a long time… blam'd ya fer all my pain and loneliness, but really… was me that brought that on me. If I had jus' thought about it, I woulda known that someday, when yer kids were grow'd ya would realize that we need each other to much to stay apart forever."

Ennis pulled back and looked at Jack's face, and reached up to wipe his cheeks with his thumbs. Smiling, he took the harmonica and walking over to the shirts, placed it, finally, in the pocket of Jack's denim shirt.

"There…" Ennis said as he walked back to Jack and swung his arm around his shoulders.

"Now, they can be both our remind'rs, something fer me ta look at when, I see ya smilin' at some little filly, or some fella we're doin' business with… can look at em when I need to rememb'r how much ya love me… and somethin' fer ya to look on when I'm bein' grumpy and impossible so's ya don't ferget who love's ya more then anythin' in this world." He ducked his head at this, and then lifted his face back to meet Jack's smiling gaze.

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