Jack at 29
January 23, 1973
Jack fidgeted in the molded plastic chair in the waiting room and checked his watch again. The tutor he'd finally goaded Lureen into hiring for Bobby had suggested having him tested for something called "dyslexia," so here they were. He'd let Lureen go in alone to deal with the specialist so she could appear to be the concerned mother. Besides, it would force her to pay attention. But he had come along to make the point that he was the one who'd gotten them this far.
Someone had left that day's newspaper on the low table. The main photo on the front page showed a crowd of cheering women, one of whom held up a homemade sign with no words, just a drawing of a wire clothes hanger with a slash through it. The Supreme Court decision had been the main story on the news the night before. Lureen had been watching too and for once neither of them made a single comment. Usually they heckled the anchor and traded jokes about the news of the day; it was when they were at their best together. But he was sure she was thinking the same thing he was that evening: What if…?
They hadn't used anything that time in the back of her father's car. He'd never had to think about it before then. Except for that time at the rodeo in Wyoming... He'd been pretty dumb. Well, they both had been. He'd never seen or heard from that girl again. Suddenly he sat up straight, remembering. His pulse quickened as he stared at the newspaper and he saw his hand reaching for it. Flipping the pages past the news, he didn't need to search for the TV schedule. Somehow, he just knew what he would find. The Thomas Crown Affair was on that night at nine.
After Bobby was in bed Jack made some excuse to Lureen and drove to the Best Western on Route 268. He booked a room and watched the movie on his feet, leaning against the wall, because he'd been standing when he'd seen himself. He recognized the point in the movie when he'd disappeared the first time. Fifteen more minutes went by and then suddenly there he was naked, standing in his old bedroom watching himself fiddling with the tokens on the bed. Jack saw himself turn and look to the doorway, watched his eyes widen in surprise. Remembering, he said quickly "The pancakes are good there." And then he was alone in the room.
He went to the bed and gathered up the objects and replaced them in the bag. Then he opened the drawer of his desk, felt around inside and drew out a tiny gold horseshoe. Turning it in his fingers he thought back to that day. After the briefest pause, he dropped the horseshoe back in the drawer and shut it. If the earring was there but the shirts were not, it meant he was on Brokeback with Ennis.
He walked to the closet and used the straightened hanger to replace the bag deep into the slot. Then he torqued the wire around again and was about to hook it back on the rod next to his old clothes when he stopped, holding the hanger in mid air. He'd hung the shirts from their collars on a nail when he'd returned from Brokeback ten years before but when he came to see his folks after the last fishing trip they were hanging separately with his other clothes and he'd been distressed to see that they'd been laundered. It was as if his mother had given up on his dream before he had. He hesitated, wondering how the future could possibly be altered by what he wanted to do. Finally, he took the empty hanger and hooked it on the nail. Then he went to the desk and took from the drawer a scrap of paper and a pencil stub. He scrawled a note and dropped it on his bed.
MA,
NEVER WASH THE SHIRTS.
LOVE, JACK