Jack at 23 (2)

September 26, 1967

He was dreaming that he was singing and Ennis was tapping on a coffeepot, keeping time. His mouth was opening and closing but he heard nothing, only the sound of the clanking. Louder, sing louder! At last one sound forced its way out of his throat – UH! He jerked awake. Yellow, flickering light filled the tent. Ennis was deeply asleep next to him, lying on his side facing him, and Jack was on his back. In their ordinary lives these positions were reversed and always had been right up through the first night they ever slept side by side. Ennis' body radiated pulsing waves of heat and his arm was a comforting warm weight across Jack's chest. For four years he'd thought he'd never sleep on his back again.

Jack propped himself on his elbows. Flames outside were the source of the light. When Jack gently lifted aside his arm, Ennis mumbled groggily and rolled onto his other side. Jack sat up and pushed aside the tent flap. The campfire was blazing – hadn't they banked the embers before turning in? When he saw who had built up the fire, he grinned. When he'd last seen himself, he'd been given good advice but he couldn't tell if this was a past or future self. After the slightest pause, his other self smiled broadly and rose from the dead tree trunk that he and Ennis had rolled near the fire to serve as a bench.

Jack crawled out of the tent, glancing back to make sure Ennis was still asleep. He rose and as he walked toward the other Jack he scanned his face and body looking for clues. He saw right away that he was more than a few years older, though he was in good shape and had no gray in his hair. Just like that other time, the main difference was in his eyes.

When his other self sat down again, Jack did too. He asked where he was arriving from and when, and as he expected the answer was long in coming as the other weighed his words. He finally looked at Jack carefully through hooded eyes, smirked and said slowly, "Watching the magnificent seven in a best western." Jack stared at him, trying to will the words into making sense. A minute splinter of understanding lodged in the furthest recesses of his brain but he could not begin to tease it out. He thought for a long moment and decided to ask a far more important question, wondering if he would hear another riddle. Nodding toward the tent he said "Are we... still together?" The older man gave him another measuring gaze while a long silence ensued. Jack understood that whatever answer he received could close more doors than it opened so he waited patiently.

"Yes."

Jack pondered this reply. It seemed that any meeting between him and a past or future self would always be full of silences. Before he could say anything, this older self nudged his arm.

"Well, how bout it? Do I get a turn then?" he said, indicating the tent with his chin.

Jack frowned and turned to face him, puzzled. The older man cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. Jack flushed when he understood what he was asking. Then he remembered that the time he gave up tonight would be reimbursed to him later, maybe when he needed it even more than he did now. He stared at the ground between his feet, fighting back his resentment, then looked up.

"Alright," he muttered.

They stood in unison and his older self moved toward the tent. Jack remembered something.

"Wait," he said, just as the other was turning back to him as if about to speak. "Don't forget this." Jack bent to the bucket by the fire, pulled a washrag from the fire-warmed water, wrung it out and handed it to the other. Their fingers brushed together. His older self grinned and thanked him before turning away and moving toward his long awaited rendez-vous.

As Jack watched him kneel down and crawl into the tent he felt his throat tighten with jealousy. After so long apart from him he could hardly bear to share Ennis with anyone else, not even himself. Part of him hoped that Ennis would be too sleepy to respond to whatever he was planning to do with him. On the other hand, that wouldn't be a good sign, would it? And he would hate to be disappointed in the future. Shit, this was so fucking confusing! He would spare himself the torment and wait it out in the truck, he decided, and as he moved past the tent into the darkness he heard a long sigh. He smiled in spite of himself.

It was still dark when Jack awoke in the cab, propped against the passenger door and wrapped in the old blanket he always kept there. His stomach growled. In their haste to escape into the mountains they'd been disorganized about food and hadn't brought enough. Since breakfast they'd been living on a bag of apples, though they hadn't much cared what they ate. He looked out of the driver's side window toward the tent. The fire beyond it was no longer blazing high as before but its flames glowed through the canvas. His heart clenched when he saw the shadow of two joined forms undulating against the tent walls. He hoped his older self was simply reveling in a return to his youth and not slaking his thirst after a long dry spell. His body looked good but his eyes showed the years. He hoped he had managed to heal the deep wound Ennis bore and that they were living together. You and Ennis, that's a life.

When Jack awoke again he could barely see the tent. The fire had died and the moon was low in the sky, peeking through pine tops that attenuated its light. He stretched his aching muscles and climbed stiffly out of the cab, pulling the blanket around him. Only the sound of the rushing stream filled the night air. He stepped carefully over the cushion of needles covering the earth and padded toward the tent, stubbing his toe against a flashlight on the ground. He stooped and picked it up. Then he knelt at the entrance of the tent and switched on the light, shading the beam with his blanket. Ennis was asleep on his side, his hair tangled and sweat-damp, and his older self was asleep facing him, wrapped in his tight embrace, forehead pressed against Ennis' cheek. Jack watched them for a full minute, imprinting this image in his mind, a photograph he would never have. He would at least have this to feed on during the spaces between the every-once-in-a-while times. Spaces he hoped would shrink down to nothing someday.

When he tired of waiting for himself to wake up and relinquish his place in Ennis' arms, Jack reached out and traced his thumbnail down the sole of his foot. His leg jerked and he opened his eyes, stared at Jack for a few seconds and was gone. His arms suddenly empty and his head unsupported, Ennis tipped forward and startled awake. He looked confusedly around the tent and then saw his lover at the entrance. Jack watched as his face softened into a hazy smile. Ennis held out his arms and Jack crawled forward, letting the blanket slip off. He pulled Jack on top of him and tugged the top sleeping bag over them both.

"Mmm, you do that on purpose, go out and cool off so you'll wake me up?" Ennis drawled sleepily as he ran his warm arms and hands over Jack's chilled skin, squeezing and caressing his ass. Jack found Ennis' mouth and moaned, sucking on and winding his tongue around his lover's as he settled into his body. Every part of him was suffused with relief at possessing this man again, though no other had him in his absence. He was hard in seconds and could feel Ennis' stiffness rubbing against his own.

Something tickled his jaw and he put his hand to his face. He felt the familiar shape of the jay feather he kept in his truck as a talisman, a token of remembrance of the kind old man he'd met once, or maybe twice, years before. Jack twirled the feather between his fingers.

"How'd this get in here?" he asked. Ennis smoothed his hand up Jack's back to his shoulder then down his arm to his hand until he touched the feather. Ennis began to laugh, a low rumble emanating from his throat. Jack had never seen the ocean but his uncle had once and had described being flung up by a wave and tumbled in the surf, his face scraping the sandy shore. That story flashed through his mind as Ennis surged upward and dumped Jack onto his back, rolled onto his body and plunged his tongue into his mouth, raking his fingers through Jack's hair, abrading his face with his own. An older memory was trying to surface as well but before Jack could focus on it Ennis pulled his lips away and rubbed his cheek against Jack's.

"Yer some joker, Jack Fuckin' Twist," Ennis growled, his breath warm in Jack's ear. Then Jack felt Ennis' lips gently close around his earlobe and hold it for a few seconds before releasing it.

"Thank you," he whispered.