Jack at 22

June 18, 1966

"C'mon honey," Lureen whined, "my feet are killin me an if we stay out in this sun much longer me 'n the baby both're gonna get heat stroke." She patted her bump with one hand while gripping Jack's arm with the other, trying to pull him from the spot on the pavement he seemed to be welded to. They were standing in front of the Childress Empire movie theater under the blazing sun and Jack was staring at the poster for the film opening that night, a western.

They were heading back to the car laden with brand new baby gear, every item supposedly essential for the optimum well-being of their offspring, whose arrival was many months away — they had known each other for hardly longer than that. Jack had been lost in a reverie about his mother's plain rocking chair when Lureen made a little appreciative sound as they drew near the theater.

"Oooh, there's a picture I wanna see, specially if that cowboy leaves his shirt off like that," she cooed. "Course I usually like 'em tall 'n dark," she added, squeezing his arm.

When he'd raised his eyes from the ground and caught sight of the poster, he'd felt a current shoot right through him. Now he could not take his eyes off the blond actor in the poster, even with his wife yanking impatiently on his sleeve. When he finally turned away he didn't look at Lureen, but down at the jagged crack in the sidewalk at their feet, the last thing he'd laid eyes on before looking up at the picture of the man whose photo he'd hidden away as a teenager. He knew that from now on he would have to avoid walking on this side of the street because that crack would remind him of the day his life in Childress split into two parts: Ennis forgotten and Ennis recalled. He could hardly believe that five minutes before he'd felt like a million bucks, even if he didn't have them. Yet.

When Lureen had informed her father that she was expecting and that they would naturally get married, the old bastard grudgingly offered Jack a sales job, though clearly convinced that Jack would be useless as a salesman. But in only a month he'd made his quota for the quarter, news that set Lureen ablaze with passion. So ended their rodeo days. But for the first time in his life he felt he had a place in the world. He was doing what other men did, had a pretty wife, a kid on the way, a job he was good at. Everything was falling into place. So why did it seem like that crack in the pavement was ripping right through his soul?

He hadn't really forgotten Ennis, no. More like, the seam in his heart that Ennis exposed, mined and abandoned had gradually been filled in — dull gravel trickling into the space where the shining ore had been. He'd seen Lureen, with her dark hair and red lips, staring at him at the rodeo bar six months before, and when the bartender told him her name, the first load of slag shifted into place. No point carrying on searching for his lost silver, easier to submit to fate. He let her lead him along the golden path to his future, hoping that with foreknowledge he could manage to steer them away from an over-the-phone marriage.

That night it was so hot he couldn't sleep. Lureen was restless, too, so he left the bed to her and retreated to the kitchen table to smoke a Lucky Strike. Sitting in the dark in just his boxers, light from surrounding houses shining in the window, he regarded the small room and calculated how many commissions it would take to make a down payment on a place of their own. He was trying to push back the ache that had been pulsing through him since the afternoon, never settling in one place — head, heart, gut and elsewhere. He crushed the butt into the black ashtray and propped his head on his hands, letting his thoughts drift, wondering how expensive air conditioning would be.

As if the mere wish for it had summoned cool air, an icy draft brushed across his bare feet and shins. Goose bumps prickled along his arms and he raised his head. He was still sitting at a table, but it was a different night in a different, even more cramped kitchen, spare and ghostly as bright moonlight flooded in the window over the granite sink. Snow covered the flat landscape outside the window, slashed with sharp shadows cast by fence posts and a few thin, bare trees. He let his gaze roam over the walls and the rough wooden cabinets, taking in the ancient icebox, the washboard under the sink, the feed store calendar on the wall that was the sole decoration. He could make out the year, 1965, but not the month; a large X filled one square in the second week. It was the kind of kitchen his mother had learned to live with.

Jack shivered in the chill and for once longed for the Texas heat. On the wall nearest to him, next to the door, several coats in just two sizes hung on wooden pegs. He reached for the nearest of the larger ones, a tan corduroy jacket with a dark fleece collar, and shrugged it on, hugging it close to his bare skin. Abruptly he staggered to his feet, nostrils flaring. Turning the collar up he buried his cheeks and nose in the soft wool and inhaled deeply. It smelled of ranch... and the taste of Ennis' neck. The image of a pavement crack flashed across his mind's eye, forking like lightning.

Just then a bedspring squeaked in an adjoining room and it was all Jack could do not to rush in there. Instead, he retreated into the dark corner behind him, crouching down next to the kerosene stove that was giving off acrid vapors and just enough heat to keep the pipes from freezing. In his semi-naked state he felt vulnerable, torn between desire to see Ennis and panic at the prospect of being discovered.

Someone pushed off from a mattress and moments later a figure moved ponderously through the doorway, slippers scuffing across the floorboards. The woman's ankles were thin below her flannel bathrobe but her belly was huge and her slow gait awkward. She paused by the sink and spit into it, hands pressing into the small of her back. Jack observed her as she stared out into the moonlit snowscape. He felt a rush of shame remembering his complaints about the rented bungalow he shared with Lureen, a palace compared to this place. One year ago he'd been sleeping in his truck—had he forgotten that quickly what it was like to be broke all the time? This ramshackle house was no place to bring home a first baby in winter.

Another movement in the doorway and his heart leaped when saw Ennis enter the kitchen wearing pajama bottoms and an undershirt, seemingly inured to the frigid air. Jack trembled with cold and emotion, heart pounding, trying to remain silent as he watched Ennis move to stand beside his wife, who seemed so tiny next to him despite her bulk, and place his hand on the back of her neck. Their figures looked like shadow puppets, black silhouettes before the window made brilliant by snow and moonlight. He concentrated on their murmured exchange.

"You alright?"

"No pains yet but think it's gonna come right on time. I should go stay at my sister's tomorrow, be closer to town."

Jack heard Ennis grunt in agreement, and watched as his wife turned her head to look up at him. Even with her face in shadow he could read the adoration in her expression.

"Thought of a nice girl's name. Jenny. If it's a boy you can choose, long as it's a J name."

To Jack's surprise, a baby's cry suddenly erupted from another room. This wasn't their first after all. Ennis had been busy, he thought morosely.

The woman moved away from Ennis, letting her hand smooth along his hip as she left, a caress Jack had never been permitted to give, and he felt a sharp sting of envy. Once alone, Ennis gripped the edge of the sink and let his shoulders slump, head bent, and Jack recalled the photo of President Kennedy leaning on his desk before a tall window during the autumn after that first Brokeback summer, when everyone thought the world was about to end. If Jack had been upright, he would not have been able to stop himself moving forward and pressing himself against Ennis' body, pulling him close.

The baby's cries gradually stuttered to silence. Ennis moved to another window and braced his left forearm above the pane, resting his forehead against it. The sight of Ennis' profile brought tightness to Jack's chest and he pressed his fingers to his mouth, longing to call out his name. Ennis' breath made a patch of steam on the glass; raising his other hand, he touched a finger to it and made some marks before turning, walking back to the bedroom and closing the door.

Jack remained huddled in the corner, but his emotions were jumping all over. He hoped Ennis was happy as a father, and that he was no longer living in this house, that he'd found something better. But god he missed him. Wanted him. Still. Yet even if he knew where to find Ennis, should he disturb him? Ennis had a family, and soon Jack would too. They'd had their chance, that day in Signal, but he'd turned back too late. He bet Ennis no longer even thought of him.

He rose from his crouch with effort, his limbs stiff with cold. Edging quietly past the kitchen table he approached the door to see what Ennis had gazed upon, just so he could share a view with him for the last time, propping his arm on the door exactly the way Ennis had. His breath made steam in the same spot and the letters Ennis had drawn reappeared in the vapor.

J A C K

All at once the kitchen was ablaze with light. "Jack! What're you doin in here?"

He whirled around in the suddenly humid air and there was Lureen in her silk dressing gown, hands on her hips, her head cocked quizzically.

"Whatsa matter, honey? Look like ya seen a ghost."

"Startled me is all," he said.

"Well, any neighbors awake're gonna love lookin at you buck naked in the window," she smirked.

"S'you givin 'em the show, long as you leave that light on," he retorted, grinning a beat too late.

"Well c'mon back to bed, Jack. And don't worry," she added, as she switched off the light and turned away, "it ain't a matin call this time so you can put yer drawers back on."

He turned back to the window and breathed on the pane, but it was too hot to steam the glass. He wondered which of them would find — had found — Ennis' jacket on the floor by the window. He was sure that if he tried he could locate Ennis. But for now he didn't want to risk losing the place in the world he'd found, even if it wasn't a perfect fit. And besides, he had some pride. Let Ennis tell him where he was.

In the meantime, he hoped Ennis' baby was a girl.