( Read more... ) These next 5 are a group: Water, Fire, Earth Air, Spirit. They all start “Ennis remembered…”</h1> 051. Water.
Ennis remembered the tap dripping into the sink, counting down to Alma’s accusation. Now he heard it in his mind, echoing his thoughts.
Drip, drip. She knew.
Drip, drip. She knew.
But she’d never said anything—not to him, not to the girls, not to anyone—for all those years. She let him take the girls, always coolly polite to his face, never badmouthing him behind his back. She was upset about Jack. Naturally. She was angry. She had every right to be. But she didn’t hate Ennis. Didn’t despise him utterly. She even seemed… to still care a little.
052. Fire.
Ennis remembered the flickering of half a thousand camp fires, lights and shadows playing across Jack’s face, hands, body… Just thinking of Jack’s face in the firelight has always calmed Ennis—made him feel happy and peaceful, like the world was a good place.
Jack, the dreamer, wanting them to be together all the time. Truth be told, Ennis had the same dream. Difference was, Ennis knew dreams from reality.
But you didn’t want it, Ennis!
He had no right to say that. Ennis burned for it and Jack should have known that, even without Ennis saying it. Shouldn’t he?
053. Earth.
Ennis remembered the dusty road he’d walked once in 1953 and hundreds of times since in nightmares, Earl’s mutilated body haunting him for nearly thirty years.
And what about Rich? Going on alone with only his memories of his time with Earl… They’d been there when Daddy came in 1935, so eighteen years together. At least.
For the first time, Ennis wondered if maybe eighteen years together with a tire iron at the end of it wasn’t still a better bargain than eighteen years mostly apart, with that heartbreaking fight and parting last May in the dusty trailhead parking lot.
054. Air.
Ennis remembered the smoky, beery atmosphere of the bar when Cassie dragged him off to dance, introducing herself as she pulled him along. She was cute, and fun… A lot like Jack in a lot of ways. But—unlike Jack—she stirred little sexual interest in him. He’d been seeing her for a few years now, but every time he fucked her, Ennis became more aware that he’d far rather be making love with Jack. And now he’d just dropped her—ignored her messages, avoided places they might meet.
He took a breath. Maybe it was time to face it.
055. Spirit.
Ennis remembered that special feeling of being whole whenever he was with Jack. Remembered the sense of something missing—something important, essential—when they were apart. As though Jack carried half of Ennis with him and took it away when they parted.
They fit so well together: playing, fucking, cuddling, working… A line from an old song crossed his mind: “waking, sleeping, laughing, weeping…”
Ennis’s thoughts always returned to Brokeback: the filly with the low startle point, Jack’s constant bitching, the endless beans… Ennis saying, “I’ll stick with beans.” The set of Jack’s jaw as he said, “Well, I won’t.”
Note: More, the theme song from the movie Mondo Cane.
More than the greatest love the world has known
This is the love I give to you alone.
More than the simple words I try to say
I only live to love you more each day…
More than you'll ever know
My arms long to hold you so,
My life will be in your keeping
Waking… sleeping… laughing… weeping…
Longer than always is a long long time
But far beyond forever you'll be mine,
I know I never lived before
And my heart is very sure
No one else could love you more.
Hear this song at: http://www.piano-bar.com/pages/more.htm
056. Breakfast.
Lureen studies literature on the latest combine attachments while sipping alternately at a cup of black coffee and a canned diet breakfast shake. Jack one-handedly eats a rather sloppy fried egg sandwich, while his other hand shovels oatmeal into Bobby’s widely grinning mouth. Bobby bangs his spoon enthusiastically on his highchair tray.
“Why’s he got that spoon, Jack? He ain’t usin it.”
“Sure he’s usin it. Just not to eat with.”
Lureen rolls her eyes. “Jaaack…”
“Okay then, let’s clean you up.” Jack is wiping Bobby’s chin as the babysitter arrives. “And here’s your date, cowboy!”
“Jaaack…” Lureen repeats irritably.
057. Lunch.
Alma lays out five slices of bread on the counter: Junior, Jenny, Ennis, Ennis, herself. Each gets a quick smear of margarine. Then seven slices of bologna (two each for Ennis’s), four slices of cheese (none for Jenny), and five leaves of lettuce. Five more slices of bread, each with a lick of mayonnaise, and five passes with the knife (vertical for Junior, diagonal for everybody else). Wrapped up tight in waxed paper, tucked into four brown paper bags, each with a piece of fruit—bananas for the girls, an apple for Ennis, and an orange for her. And napkins.
058. Dinner.
“For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen.”
“Amen.”
“Amen.”
A platter of chicken gets passed around the table, followed by mashed potatoes, gravy, and snap beans.
“Cranberry sauce, John? Jack?”
“Yuh.”
“Sure thing, Momma. Missed your cookin somethin awful.”
“You’re back early, boy. Aguirre fired you for somethin, huh?”
“Nope. Big storms comin—wanted em brought down early. Ennis was bellyachin about the short pay.”
“Ennis? What kinda name is that?”
“Just a name.”
“Ennis is the fella who you worked with, son? Did you get on well together?”
“Yeah. We did.”
059. Food. (“If music be the food of love, play on;” Shakespeare, Twelfth Night)
Not only had Jack brought that goddamned harmonica, but he seemed determined to serenade Ennis with every song he knew.
“Now try this one,” Jack said, drawing breath.
Ennis grinned, closing his eyes, thinking of lovesick cats and tormented waterfowl. He recognized the tune—barely. Even liked it, when Dolly Parton sang it.
“Jolene.”
Jack nodded and smiled—as much as a man can while playing harmonica.
Ennis hummed along, varying the words in his head. Lureen, Lureen, Lureen, Luree-een. I’m begging of you please don’t take my man…
What the fuck!! Don’t be a damn fool!
“Let’s eat, huh?”
060. Drink. (With simple-minded apologies to City Girl.)
The day had been hot, and the night promised more of the same when Ennis got home—later than usual and wanting a beer badly. He walked directly across to the kitchen. Opened the drawer for the bottle opener on his way to the fridge. The cool air hit him like a blessing from the opened door. The bottles rattled when he reached in and grabbed one. He popped the cap and gulped it down. Reached for another and asked, “Jack, you want one?” There was no answer. He hadn’t expected one. The shirts hung motionless in the sultry air.
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