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Deliverance	By : rvanv Category: 1 through F > Brokeback Mountain Views: 1397 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Brokeback Mountain, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Smile
- 1
Tendrils of smoke swirled up around Ennis Del Mar’s face as he stubbed out the last of the pack in the cracked glass ashtray on the dark wood bar worn down by fifty years of elbows.
He could have had his beers at home, if that’s what you would call it, but more and more the store wanted to sell six-packs of cans. Didn’t want to deal with bottle returns and all that. He preferred the bottles to cans because the connection to mouth was much more deliberate. Made him feel that he was doing something meaningful. Tilt, suck, smack of lips, and then a deep “ahh.” A comforting sound of masculine satisfaction.
And besides, the tinny, wind-beaten trailer was way too … well, Ennis wasn’t a thinker at all, and even so he just had too much time to think about things when he was there. Too much time to think about how alone he was, always would be. He saw the shirts every morning as it was, his and Jack’s, reminding him how things could have been, if only he … if only … if only …
But he couldn’t fix it, so he had to stand it. Ha! So here he sat, harboring a terrible loneliness, a victim of his own pearl of wisdom.
Jack Twist had been dead ten years now, and Ennis sat at this bar or one of the other two in town most every night. Including holidays that for most men would have been champagne occasions with family and friends. So many beers, so many whiskeys since then.
There had been no cure for his guilty love for Jack back then, and Ennis knew there would never be a cure for the loving guilt that now burdened him.
But he tried to soften the impact just the same. He hoped that one morning he would wake up to find that the booze had washed away certain of his dreams about Jack. The bad dreams, the nightmares, the ones where he vividly experienced with Jack the violence that had ended his life. When Ennis awoke at dawn, restless after such episodes, he cursed the fact that he dreamt in color. Nightmares providing the only color in his monochrome life! It didn’t seem fair.
During these dreams Ennis would frantically twitch or kick, as he tried in vain to save Jack from the tire iron. Had there been just one? Ennis didn’t know, and sometimes he and Jack were surrounded by many men wielding such weapons, coming closer … faceless men closing in on them. And Ennis could not … he could not … save Jack.
Ennis himself never died.
On the surface, his was a ranch hand’s life—long, long hours dedicated to livestock, and then the rest of the time drinking away the fact that most of his life was spent working. He had six empties before him already, and the night wasn’t half over.
Ennis was almost fifty, looked a little older for all the smoking and drinking. But still not bad. Ruggedly handsome especially with his day’s worth of stubble. Built lean and sturdy despite being eternally rough around the edges, he could still get respect from a man and turn a lady’s head.
But there were no heads to turn this evening, and he had long ago given up on that anyway. After that waitress, the one he had been seeing when Jack was alive. That little blonde who had dragged him out on to the dance floor, such as it was. What was her name? Jesus, he had really let her down, hadn’t he? Had never understood how or why he broke that girl’s heart, never understood why he had to apologize to her, but he vowed it would be the last time.
The clientele tonight was all men. The place was busy, poker-playing groups of men having captured most of the tables. Plus a few loners like Ennis, some at the bar, a couple more at small tables in the shadows, lost in their booze. On Saturday nights there was a waitress, but this was Friday, and the lone bartender was a man.
A low rumble of conversation came from the corner where a few ranch hands took turns at the pool table under a haze of smoke. Two others tried their hand at darts, aiming for a badly pocked target that had seen better days. Only a few buttons worked anymore on the cranky jukebox, and one of the few available country tunes filled in where the conversation didn’t. No one paid Ennis any attention.
Ennis, with his hat pulled low even indoors, usually avoided eye contact with anyone but the bartender, and even then he was cautious. He would never forget the lesson of Jack’s death, and felt that many of these men knew about him and Jack. He relied on his temper and that handy right punch to set things straight if anyone challenged him. But life was simpler if he just kept to himself.
The cigarette machine was back by the restroom. He had to piss and figured he’d pick up a pack of smokes on the way back. The still-smoking ashtray, six empty brown bottles and Ennis’s half-drunk seventh beer would hold his place at the bar until he got back.
He slid off his stool and walked with a slight stagger toward the wood sign with the word “Gents” burned into it, scrounged in the pocket of his denim jacket to make sure he had six quarters. Smoking was becoming goddamned expensive, but it was one of the few pleasures Ennis allowed himself.
The small, rank restroom had a wood stall, a rust-stained sink with a dripping faucet, and two old urinals with hairline cracks. Ennis was uncomfortable in there sometimes, worried that in one of those awkward shared moments some guy might say something to let on that he knew.
And Ennis had only one way of dealing with that sort of thing. Cracks in a few of the grimy ceramic tiles on the wall attested to his previous problems with other drunks, usually at the far end of nights just like this. After he had pushed that one guy’s face into one of the urinals, however, even the toughest customers would wait until he was done in there, unless they really had to go.
He was relieved that he had the place to himself. Seconds later, though, the creaky wooden door swung open and another man came in. Must have been practically on Ennis’s heels. Strode up to the other urinal. A slight exchange of nods would have been acceptable. Just an acknowledgment that there was another person in the room, nothing further. Never any eye contact, never any words exchanged.
Ennis was surprised, and it took him a few seconds to remember why he was there before he started pissing. He had expected one of the regulars, the guys who knew the routine, knew enough to leave him alone. But his side vision told him this was a young man he hadn’t seen in these parts before. Fresh-faced with dark curly hair under that ten-gallon hat. Ennis surprised himself by saying “Evenin’” with a nod in the fellow’s direction. Well, he was a stranger, after all, nothing wrong with being friendly, was there?
The young man didn’t reply, just nodded back. But looked directly at Ennis and didn’t turn away. Pulled his own cock out and began to urinate. Ennis turned his face to the wall, swallowed hard, took a deep breath. Felt his face redden and hoped it wouldn’t be noticed under the dim single bulb in the ceiling.
Ennis finished, didn’t shake quite enough times but didn’t care. Tucked his dick back in his boxers and zipped up his pants.
The other man watched Ennis hurry out the door, apparently all flustered. He smiled to himself. Damn! Here he was, twenty-six already, but he could still do it, couldn’t he? Had been watching Ennis from a table in a dark corner. Had been admiring the other man’s masculine, angular profile, the confident way he held his cigarette, the way he slowly released the smoke through his nose. The long legs, the way his butt met the bar stool. He imagined the muscular body under all that faded denim.
Still the young man was a little surprised. Thought he had this guy figured out—strong, quiet, but ready to play. Could he be wrong about the older man? He didn’t think so, but he did decide that he might have to make the next move too. A funny notion—he had just assumed the older man, surely much more experienced, having seen a lot of action no doubt, would instinctively play the alpha male.
Ennis was in such a hurry to get back to the bar and bury his face in a beer that he forgot to stop for the cigarettes. He felt that all eyes were on him. Was so confused by a sudden, unexpected mix of humiliation and hope that he wanted to cry.
Back at the bar he sat down, drained his beer. Humiliation and … hope. Could have gotten up and walked out, but didn’t. He needed a cigarette, damn it! Didn’t know what to do with his hands without a cigarette in one and a beer to anchor the other. He glanced up to draw the bartender’s attention. The young guy had moved from a table to the far end of the bar, and when Ennis looked up, their eyes met for barely a second. Maybe he had seen this guy around after all?
Ennis swallowed hard, signaled for another beer and cast his eyes down again. Damn it! He would have to walk by the young man to get to the cigarette machine. The two men were sitting far apart, yet Ennis felt threatened, felt his emotional space was being violated.
While the bartender uncapped Ennis’s next bottle, the other man genially sauntered over—beer bottle in hand, cigarette dangling over his lower lip—as though he had just noticed an old friend. Ennis stared at his foaming beer with undue intensity.
The bartender glanced at Ennis, one eyebrow raised. Looked more amused than anything. Hell, he didn’t care. Business was business. Ennis was a regular, that was for sure. Didn’t talk or bother anyone unless they provoked him. The bartender had heard things third-hand but wasn’t sure. Had never spread the rumors himself, and like any self-respecting barkeep never would.
Shit, Ennis thought. He was trapped. Took a quick swig, almost inhaled his beer. Figured he would have to head this guy off before things got ugly. He didn’t know why or how things would get ugly, but that’s what usually happened when someone bothered him in public.
He swiveled on his stool a quarter of the way toward the uninvited visitor.
Not the usual bar-brawl type, Ennis noted. Expensively dressed for this kind of place. Real nice ten-gallon hat pulled down at a cocky angle. Crisp flannel shirt. The boy wore his jeans real well.
Whoa! Where did that last thought come from? Ennis wondered with a shock. Why the fuck would he care how a man wore his jeans … how a man wore a shirt, coat, whatever? He didn’t look at men the same way he looked at women, he was sure he didn’t!
Real young, mid-twenties maybe? If that. Ennis reddened again, once more averted his eyes. Was embarrassed that this kid hadn’t even spoken a word and had Ennis on the defensive. About what? Ennis didn’t know.
The young guy swung a sturdy leg over the stool next to Ennis and sat down. Wow, damned nice boots, too. Like new. Wasn’t a ranch hand, that was for sure.
But what the fuck was this kid doing? How could he know? What did he think he knew? Ennis sure as hell had not returned his stare in the restroom, and their eyes had met for barely a second at the bar!
This was a game Ennis had not played before, and he did not know where it was going. His right shoulder and arm tensed up for action, his hand balled into a fist, but when he raised it, his fingers relaxed to take the cigarette the kid offered him. It was one of those new “lite” brands or whatever, but Ennis was grateful.
So here he was, in a busy bar … out in public … with another man.
Despite his frequent dreams about Jack, ten years of loneliness and lack of physical release—with another person anyway—had taken its toll. Ennis had always been, still was a one-man man. But that man happened to be dead, didn’t he? Nevertheless, Ennis reminded himself that he wasn’t interested in men, but only in Jack.
Ennis wondered why he was burning inside with guilt. He felt the stares of all these men settling on his back, like a cattle brand. It was like when Alma had confronted him in the kitchen that one Thanksgiving. All but called him a queer, she had. People knew. Knew he was … well he wasn’t, was he? He had kids, had dated women. Had dated women and fucked them, for chrissake. And enjoyed it. He had enjoyed it … hadn’t he?
Jack had been the first man in his life, and for thirty years now had been the only man in his life. And that just wasn’t the same as … those types of men. Even so, Ennis had never reconciled his and Jack’s relationship with the fact that Jack had turned out to be … well, like that. Jack was like that when Ennis was not available; the latter didn’t really know how much and preferred it that way. Jack would not have been like that if Ennis had been around, that much he knew. Both of them had known that.
So Ennis was astonished that he was finding another man attractive. He feared being unfaithful to Jack, to Jack’s memory, whatever.
But of course it went much deeper, went back to the reason why he could never commit in the first place to Jack’s dream of them living together. The murder of that queer when Ennis was nine years old …. Jesus, that was forty years ago, but things had not changed at all, had they?
He nervously bounced one foot, his worn boot scuffing the bar’s dull brass foot rail.
A brief, involuntary fantasy startled him. He imagined himself coming up behind this young man, pressing hard against him, like he had come up behind Jack that one time, when Jack was “sleeping on his feet like a horse.” But it would not be an innocent, romantic interlude like then.
No, this was all about … sex? He would reach around and unbutton the kid’s jeans, unzip his fly. Slip his hand into the boy’s underpants, slide his rough fingers down into the soft pubic hair, stroke his balls. Wrap his hand around the inevitable erection. Would hold on until he owned the other’s manhood.
Where were these thoughts coming from? Ennis thought in a panic. These vivid, disturbingly physical images. He sought to assure himself how unnatural this was, whatever was going on, so unnatural! But was it, after all? Jesus, he wasn’t sure at all about his feelings one way or the other.
What was certain was that he was mesmerized by the stirrings of long-dormant passions, and he didn’t turn away. He was relieved he was sitting down, because his longing quickly became apparent through his faded, worn jeans. His hands were sweating, making the unlit cigarette he held damp.
This guy was so young, though! What was this fantasy, some sort of father-son thing? It had been so, that one time when he hugged Jack, and off and on through the years, when his paternal instincts took over. He had thought he could protect Jack from the world, could hold him tight enough to make up for all their time apart, could protect Jack from himself, from those dangerous romantic longings.
Ennis dismissed the parental thoughts quickly as irrelevant. And disturbing. Psychology was not his forte, that much he knew. And even though they had moved away, he loved his daughters and had never dwelled on the absence of a son.
His frequent dreams about Jack—many of them warm and erotic—were one thing, but fantasies? About a man he didn’t even know? In a crowded bar?
Well, he figured that if he had any fantasies, they always focused on Jack. Vivid images of Jack had inspired the many times Ennis had masturbated during their four years apart, the many times he still found his hand reaching for his cock. It had always been so whenever Jack was absent. His sexual memories of Jack had even colored many of his passionate moments with Alma. Had she ever figured that out? He didn’t know, didn’t really care anymore, it had been so long ago. Yes, if Ennis ever had daydreams, they were always about Jack.
Ennis had wondered sometimes what Jack thought about when he was getting off. Or when he was with another … man. Or screwing his wife.
Never in the course of their twenty-year love affair did it occur to Ennis that he himself could be worthy of Jack’s fantasies, had in fact been very worthy of Jack’s fantasies. He knew Jack wanted to be with him more, but that was quantifiable, concerned only with the amount of time they could spend together.
Ennis did not understand the depths of Jack’s physical and emotional despair when he admitted to Ennis that sometimes he missed him so much, he could hardly stand it. He did not understand that all Jack could take away as a salve for his wounded heart were fantasies about Ennis.
Jack, Jack, Jack. Poor, dead Jack, Ennis kept repeating in his head, a sort of mantra to help him avoid the disconcerting reality of the young man’s audacious proximity and how awkwardly he was responding to it. The flushed face. That disturbing ache in his groin. And why the fuck was he getting an erection?
Fearful and confused, Ennis wanted to get up and walk away.
Yet perversely he felt compelled to learn more about this stranger … who wore his jeans so well. Shit, it was just a fact that the guy’s tight jeans looked good on his slim body, wasn’t it? Didn’t mean a goddamn thing.
Well, Ennis thought, here he is. Gave me a cigarette, for chrissake, can’t punch him out now!
Ennis took a deep breath, took the plunge. Held out his hand toward the stranger, a friendly yet formal gesture that he thought would establish some physical boundary. Maybe the other patrons would think it was just Ennis and a nephew, or something normal like that, he hoped. Otherwise … well, he didn’t want to ponder that.
“Name’s Ennis.” Said with a cough, wasn’t sure he should say it, reveal too much about himself. Shit, he was out in public here, dangerous territory. He couldn’t believe he had blurted out his name!
“Dennis?” the young man asked.
“No. Ennis.” Said clearly with more confidence this time. Might as well go all the way. Swiveled his stool to look directly at his new friend, who had pulled his hat up a bit. Liked the sincerity he saw in those bright blue eyes. Liked the fire he saw in those eyes.
“Pleased ta meet ya, Ennis. Just call me Bobby,” the kid replied with a sweet North Texas twang as he flashed a familiar, friendly smile.
*
The simple introduction startled Ennis, who noticeably drew back from his new companion. Guess he’s a little nervous, Bobby thought. Well, the kid actually reveled in the fact that he sometimes had that effect on people—he was damned good-looking once that hat no longer shaded his face.
It couldn’t be, Ennis thought. But if …? He had to verify his suspicions, one way or the other.
A Texas accent? A North Texas accent? Those eyes. The hair. That … smile. God, that smile. No, he was … well, it wouldn’t be unusual if he took a second look at any man who looked like Jack, now would it? But the voice … so close to that voice … did he remember correctly? Could he remember correctly?
Ennis still didn’t know what he was going to do with the kid either way, what he was supposed to do. This was all new territory, that was for sure.
“You from Texas, Bobby?” Ennis asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite his wavering voice. Sometimes he savored the name of the state that had come to embody Jack since the other man had left Wyoming. Thirty years now, wasn’t it? But after those nightmares about Jack’s death that he sometimes had, he thought of Texas with abhorrence, of the faceless Texans who had murdered the man he loved.
The young man nodded.
“Whereabouts?” Ennis asked. He listened with pained hope for the nuances of the accent. Was his mind playing tricks, or was it really that Panhandle twang Jack had picked up after twenty years down there? He decided he really couldn’t tell with all the background music and chatter, now could he?
“Oh, a lil’ place name a Childress, up north, kinda in the middle a the Panhandle,” Bobby replied.
Ennis slammed his beer down on the bar, darned near breaking the bottle.
The bartender jumped at the noise, looked over. Was relieved to see there wasn’t going to be a fight. He was curious, though, thought this kid was really taking chances moving in on Ennis like that. Fucking with Ennis Del Mar. He shook his head. Well, you could always spot a stranger ….
“Been there all mah life,” Bobby continued, not necessarily with pride, just that it was a fact. “I gotta say, lil’ Childress ain’t so lil’ anymore. Ain’t nothin’ about Texas that’s lil’ anymore, that’s for sure!” He winked at Ennis.
But Ennis wasn’t listening for entendres. He was counting years in his head, and for a man who had counted thousands of cows and sheep, ten was an easy enough number. Jack’s son would have been … what, fifteen, sixteen when his father died? And now he would be … well, all grown up. All grown up indeed!
Ennis trembled as he listened to Bobby, tried to control his breathing. Tried to keep his hand from shaking as he attempted to light the cigarette the young man had given him. Bobby held out a flame, and Ennis gratefully took a deep drag.
He grasped his beer with his other hand, tight, as if his life depended on it.Had to keep those hands busy. Already one foot kept hitting the bar with a thud, old leather against splintered wood, then swinging back against the stool. Repeatedly, like a metronome timing this mind-fucking encounter.
What was with this guy? Bobby wondered. Jesus, he got so nervous all of a sudden. Not like nervous when you were trying to score, and not unfriendly, but something different he couldn’t quite pin down. Like seriously bothered about something else … to the point of distraction. Oh well.
Pretty sure he wasn’t going to get further conversation from Ennis under the circumstances, Bobby acted like he didn’t notice the other man’s rampant nerves. He casually continued his monologue.
“On mah way ta see mah gramma. Up in Lightnin’ Flat, she is. Know where that is? Way up in the east near Montana, ‘tis. Livin’ all alone there on some ol’ ranch since her ol’ man kicked off. I ain’t never even seen her. Mama made sure a that. But hell, I got a right ta know mah daddy’s people, don’t ya think?”
He didn’t wait for a reply from Ennis.
“Was just takin’ the scenic route, guess ya could say. Cuttin’ through the reservation here. Seems like Riverton the biggest place around, huh?”
Another rhetorical question, he knew.
Ennis turned his head away from the kid. Christ, he thought, what’s happening to me? He felt helpless, like he was losing control of his mind.
Like he had felt when he and Jack parted after that first summer on Brokeback Mountain.
Like he had felt when Alma backed him into a corner with her knowledge about his trysts with Jack.
Like he had felt in that phone booth when he learned of Jack’s death.
He was overcome with emotion, with a range of emotions that he had never before experienced at one time. Loneliness. Fear. Rage. Sorrow. Lust.
He wanted this young man badly—but how? He felt stirrings like those so long ago when he and Jack had tended the sheep together, had shared the incredible vistas, had sat around the campfire on Brokeback Mountain. When they had still been just friends.
And here was a flesh-and-blood connection to Jack Twist, the only man he had ever loved, ever could or would love. This handsome kid who was almost Jack … who was surely not much older than when Ennis and Jack had met.
Now that Ennis knew damn well who this young man was, he was horrified that he was not disgusted by his temptation to … fuck him. Could that really be what he was thinking?
Oh, no, Ennis warned himself. He had to kill at once that image of the person next to him, and replace it with that of … what … a saint? An angel? He just had to! Someone very special, even pure, holy. Someone not to be touched.
The reality of this living, breathing man barely two feet from Ennis suggested, however, that temptation might well trump any of Ennis’s noble ideas. This man who was warm, smiling. Friendly. A person who for some reason thought Ennis was special.
Ennis hadn’t prayed since he was a child, but he hoped that God, whoever, whatever, was on his side here. He needed inspiration, guidance as to what his next move should be, how he might free himself from the clutches of carnal desire.
He had felt some sort of divine intervention that first summer on Brokeback Mountain, but it led him toward the object of his affections, not away. Even before he fucked Jack in a passionate rage that cold night. Ennis had found a friend, he had. Not only that, he had been falling in love and didn’t know it. Was so goddamned happy! Could have pawed the white out of the moon ….
If God had brought him and Jack’s son together here, was it just for an innocent friendship? Bobby wanted more than that, didn’t he? What the hell did he himself really want? Ennis wondered uneasily.
Ennis would have settled for just hugging this kid if that’s all that was meant to be. Hug him and then … let him go, like he had done with Jack? He remembered that last hug after the fight about Jack’s … screwing around with other men.
After the verbal violence ended, Jack had rushed to Ennis, who had fallen to his knees. Ennis instinctively fought him off, but after a brief struggle, he had collapsed sobbing into Jack’s open arms. Jack had wrapped his arms so tightly around him. They had clung so desperately to one another that way, both spilling who knows how many years of dammed-up tears.
When all was said and done, they had felt as one again. Both knew there would be no end to their deep love. It was a love that would always trump any indiscretions, recriminations, separations.
Ennis had been so vulnerable then, hadn’t he? So exposed, broken down, and he felt the same way now. He swallowed hard, his eyes brightening with the beginnings of tears.What had really brought Bobby to this godforsaken bar? Did the young man know who Ennis was? No, it was obvious he didn’t. Was just passing through Riverton, it was as simple as that.
It was fate, and again Ennis didn’t know what to do about it.
“If ya can’t fix it, ya gotta stand it.” That is what he had declared to Jack as he had dashed the other man’s hopes … for a life together.
Bobby had turned to his own beer, tapped his fingers on the cold, wet bottle in time to the sad guitar strains that wafted from the jukebox through the din and heavy haze of smoke.
Okay, he’s a quiet one, Bobby thought. And let Ennis have his silence. Until he noticed the repeated up and down movement of Ennis’s Adam’s apple, how the man was trying to swallow his emotions and not cry.
“Uh, Ennis, mah friend …”
Friend? Friend! No, there was only one person who had ever called him “friend,” and that was Jack!
Jesus Christ, Jack, what am I doing? What am I doing? Ennis thought in a panic. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Help me, Jack, please help me ….
Distinct memories of Jack came back. Again the last time he had seen the other man alive … that bitter fight. Ten years ago and the image still so fresh!
“You know, friend, this is a goddamn bitch of a unsatisfactory situation,” Jack had warned him. The very last time Ennis had heard that word from Jack. A hell of a friend Ennis had turned out to be ….
That was the fight about Jack going … to … Mexico. Ennis had wanted to kill him. His Jack, his only friend, his only love! Sometimes he wished he had killed Jack. It would have been a crime of passion, not of blind hatred. But the main thing is that at least he would have been there when he died.
But that singularly desperate hug had made enough right so that both he and Jack could look forward to their next trip in November. Not quite sure how it would play out, but that was love, wasn’t it? Passionate, uncertain … ever hopeful.
Soon enough Ennis came to regret his jealousy of the faceless men who had fulfilled Jack when Ennis couldn’t … wouldn’t. So many regrets … after it was too late.
But now, here with this young stranger at the bar, it disturbed Ennis deep down that Jack would have known what to do in a situation like this. No questions asked, no strings attached.
“Ennis,” Bobby continued in a soft voice. “Um, maybe this ain’t a good time for ya? I didn’t mean ta bother ya, didn’t mean no harm.”
Ennis had to say something, but what? Anything. Thank god the tears hadn’t taken hold. His hat still shaded his eyes.
He kept his eyes down, let it out almost with a sigh of relief. Sharing his feelings with a very special young man who didn’t know how special he really was.
“Look, Bobby … s’just … s’just been so long, ya know, I been so lonely here a by myself an’ everthin’.”
Had he really said that? He had never admitted even to his daughters that he was a lonely, lonely man. Not even when he was drunk. They figured as much, knew why all he did was work and drink, and tried to keep him company as best they could. But he had never actually said it.
“S’all right,” Bobby assured him. “S’all right, Ennis.”
Now he wondered what he was supposed to do. Here he had this full-grown man—a man’s man by his reckoning—in a bar full of rowdy ranch hands, who was about to cry. Damn—he had thought Ennis was going to be an easy pickup!
But then again, Bobby was touched by it all, felt that Ennis’s vulnerability was so … alluring. It reminded him of a certain tenderness he had sensed now and again in his own father, romantic, a little feminine even. Hadn’t seen it often enough maybe, but he had loved the man all the more for it. It had filled a void in the world of macho posturing that surrounded Bobby all his life, a world he had never fit into, never would.
Ennis was man enough, Bobby had determined that right away, but he obviously had deep feelings that for some reason were surfacing in a most unlikely public place. Was it because of the beer? Because of something Bobby had said or done?
He didn’t quite understand, but he was becoming sexually aroused by Ennis’s vulnerability. Was this perverse? Shit, he didn’t know.
Maybe it was like an untapped paternal streak or something, he thought. But if so, this was some sort of weird role reversal. He had never had to play parent to anyone.
On the contrary, it had always worked the other way. He was adept at finding “daddies” on excursions like this. And if he was feeling paternal, what on earth did that have to do with his dick anyway?
He wanted to touch Ennis’s cheek and tell him it was okay to cry. Wanted to hug the man and tell him it was okay. But of course it wasn’t okay, not there in the bar. Bobby knew not to put even a reassuring hand on Ennis’s shoulder. Not there.
What Bobby wanted, in fact, was to caress Ennis. To touch this man with so many feelings. All over. Through his jeans. Until Ennis got hard. And then he wanted Ennis to pull all that masculinity together and fuck him. Fuck … the … hell … out of him. Bobby’s own cock strained against his clothing as he stiffened at the thought.
Goddamn it, what was he thinking? Sure, he had come in here looking for some action, a quick rough-and-tumble in the hay. Knew it could be a real challenge to find the right kind of “daddy” in a bar like this. Felt good about picking up Ennis, felt he had made quite a score. Good-looking guy, right age and all.
He had noticed the bulge in Ennis’s jeans at one point and figured it was going to be a fine night, a mighty fine night.
But shit, Bobby thought despite his mounting lust, how could he take advantage of some guy when something was making him sad? A man who was on the verge of having a breakdown, by the looks of it. Maybe a relative had just died? Maybe he’d just lost his job? His house burned down?
“It’s all right. It’s all right,” Jack had whispered thirty years earlier as a nervous Ennis shyly entered the tent their second night as lovers on Brokeback Mountain.
Ennis hadn’t known if he was supposed to be there. Did Jack want him there? He had thought so, but he hadn’t been sure. Had entered with his hat in front of him, like a gentleman suitor would. Or was it a shield?
As soon as Ennis had realized he could not expect to experience the spontaneous struggle of the night before, never would again, he was at a loss as to how he should proceed.
But it didn’t matter. Jack had been so reassuring, intuitively knew how to comfort Ennis. The tender, slow and sensual kisses that followed … they made his heart race. He would not have known how to do that on his own.
Ennis could figure out the rough stuff, they had both seen that, no doubt about it! How he had instinctively taken control on that first night and plunged his cock with frantic passion into Jack’s ass. Jack had stoically taken the pain as Ennis, barely lubricated, had shoved his entire length repeatedly into him. But the pain had soon turned to pleasure, and Jack had grunted sharply, pounding the ground in response to the violent thrusting as he came all over the bedroll. Ennis had bucked into Jack like a bronco, digging his fingers deeply, bruising Jack’s hips upon his own shuddering release.
They had fucked like that a lot the rest of that summer. And beyond. Sometimes rough and forceful, other times more playful and sporting.
But Ennis had needed Jack to teach him the rest, had desperately needed Jack to teach him how to make love. How to kiss. How to touch. To show him how intimately two men could come together, their muscular bodies, sweat, musky scents of hair, skin, sex mingling gently into one.
And so Jack had.
No one could ever take that away, ever replace that. But what was happening right here with this gentle young man … well, Ennis was reliving similar sensations. He was surprised to feel such emotions again … emotions that he thought had died with Jack … to feel—as he had with Jack—that maybe there was a way after all to ease his loneliness.
Bobby figured the best way to get through this was to play for time, try to get the other man to relax again so they could have a nice time. He thought some small talk might help get Ennis’s mind off whatever, get him back in the game.
“Ya know, Ennis, I kinda got this wanderin’ streak like mah daddy. Was a salesman, yes sir. Traveled lots. Always drivin’ off ta El Paso or someplace tryin’ to sell some big-ass tractors there. Never took me with, though. Sent postcards ever’ now ‘n then. Guess ahm makin’ up for it on mah own.”
He paused, looked pensive himself.
“He, uh … he died quite a while back. Weren’t even forty, mah dad.”
Ennis avoided asking how Bobby’s father had died. He already knew, and he sure as hell didn’t want to hear whatever lie the kid had no doubt been told by his mother.
Ennis frowned. El Paso … Juarez was right over the border, wasn’t it? Goddamned Mexico! What had he said? Something accusatory that last time he saw Jack. “I know what they got in Mexico for boys like you!” Boys like you. He had called Jack a queer, hadn’t he? No two ways about it.
Jack had returned the accusations. Told Ennis, “I wish I could quit you!”
That had brought Ennis down. That was when he had fallen to his knees, just like one of those big old elk he hunted every November. He was a good shot, but that time Jack had fired—for the first time with perfect aim.
Ennis had blamed Jack for his own misery, for his own inability to return the other man’s love as it needed to be returned. As it deserved to be returned. Had blamed Jack for the fact that Ennis had become “nobody, nowhere.”
“Go ahead and leave me, Jack!” he had challenged.
Truth be told, Ennis had no idea at all what he would have done without Jack, even though their time together was scarce. If Jack had lived, of course. Ennis hated himself not only for that neediness, but for the cowardice that would have allowed him to send away the most precious person in his life, destroy the one relationship that signified his very humanity!
All the same, Jack had come back with that unforgettable hug, with comfort for the man he would never walk away from. Ennis had offended Jack. Angered him. Maybe even despised him. Yet Jack had remained loyal. Knew he would always be in love, knew that they would always be in love.
Jack knew it would not get any easier, his love for Ennis. He missed the other man so goddamned much!
He would meet Ennis in November if that’s the soonest it could be. In the meantime … well, as usual, he didn’t know. Could live only a day at a time. Still couldn’t survive on one or two high-altitude fucks a year like Ennis. But could take only one day at a time.
Ennis tuned back in to Bobby’s chatter.
“But if my daddy weren’t out sellin’ tractors ‘n such, he always used ta run off ta fish. Up north. Why, mostly right up here in Wyomin’, come ta think of it!” Bobby sounded like he had just had a revelation.
“Tell ya what, he never took me along on those trips, neither. Weren’t fair, ‘cause he always come back a different man. At least for a few days. Ah mean, whistlin’ ‘n shit, even singin’!”
Ennis was especially attentive.
“Yep, mah old man just loved ta fish, he did!”
Ennis’s face took on a warm glow. He smiled.
*
“Tell ya what, Ennis. Mah mama always wondered why daddy never went fishin’ in Texas. Never could get his friend to come down, he told her. Somethin’ ’bout a truck that wouldn’t make the distance,” Bobby recalled. “So he never brought his friend home. Funniest thing was, daddy never brought no fish home neither!”
“But hell, ah guess all those hundreds a miles or whatever … well, ya don’t wanna eat no fish been on a trip like that, do ya? Even if it been on ice,” he added with a grimace.
The smile disappeared from Ennis’s face, and his mouth twitched to one side, as it always did when he was about to make a pronouncement.
“Um, Bobby, well, look … your daddy ‘n me … uh … so your daddy liked ta fish, huh?”
“Yes sir. Besides watchin’ rodeo, was pretty much his only love. Weren't never into ball like me. I used ta sit in front a that tv for hours watchin’ those games. Even watched from the dinner table sometimes!” He grinned. “Damned near flunked mah sophomore year in high school ‘cause a them Longhorns!”
Bobby continued. “Daddy, ya know, told me over ‘n over ‘bout his bein’ a rodeo champ ‘n all. Made pretty good money when he was a kid like me, ah guess.”
He paused, a gleam coming to his eye.
“Had these belt buckles, man, ya shoulda seen ‘em … beauties ever’ one of ‘em! Mama let me have ‘em after … after the accident. Darned near threw ‘em at me, she did. Guess she hated that he spent so much time watchin’ rodeo ‘n all.”
Bobby waited for Ennis to ask about the accident.
Ennis turned away to hide the lump in his throat. So an “accident” it was … well, he already knew that, didn’t he?
And those goddamned belt buckles! They had been Jack’s pride and joy, hadn’t they? Ennis remembered fondly the first time Jack had shown his buckle off, an eyecatching glint on the metal from the campfire.
But how many times did Jack have to get thrown to earn one of those? How many strains, sprains, broken limbs to get one of those? He didn’t know how many buckles Jack had honestly collected during his mercifully short career. A career that ended because bronc busting had worn his body down and he couldn’t even feed himself on the proceeds. Maybe he had bought a couple of the buckles?
Ah, it didn’t matter, did it though? Bobby was so proud. Hell, those pieces of brass probably were all Bobby had left of his father—memories … and buckles.
Nonetheless, Ennis imagined Jack fibbing to his son. Jack, who had never quite got the hang of anything, let alone rodeo!
Well, of anything that could be mentioned in public, anyway. Jack was damned good at all those things just he and Ennis shared. How many times had Ennis grabbed Jack and unfastened one of those prized buckles, after all? Or watched how deftly Jack was able to do it, removing his pants in just seconds. Bittersweet memories of Jack’s talents indeed.
So Bobby’s dad had liked to fish. And he had never brought any home. And his fishing buddy never could visit Texas. Never … in how many years? And his dad had always returned from those trips in a good mood. Singing? Jack singing? Wouldn’t have been pretty, but better than the harmonica, Ennis supposed.
Seemed to him like this was a good time for the moment of truth. Especially when he already was fantasizing about Bobby. If he was going to do this—whatever this was—he had to be honest about it. He didn’t know any other way. Jack had deserved the truth, Bobby deserved the truth.
Ennis cleared his throat.
Bobby braced himself for the inevitable questions about the accident, about his father’s death. As a rule, he mentioned it to very few of his scores; after all, he usually wasn’t looking for talk.
But every now and then Bobby would run across a man who seemed sympathetic, who seemed almost to invite his confidences. He could see sure enough that Ennis wasn’t much of a talker, but he found him to be … natural? Was that the right word? Obviously a man who had experienced, was still experiencing, much pain. Or fear. Or something.
The loneliness, for sure, that had nearly made him cry right here at the bar. That much Ennis himself had said. Bobby didn’t know why the other man was lonely, but he thought he might understand more by the time the night was over.
Bobby had found the “daddy” he needed for his sexual role-playing all right. But Ennis, he thought, needed something to salve that loneliness, too. No doubt deserved something more. At least for one night. Affection. Not passionate, like from a lover, but more measured. Something comfortable, familial even. A sense of caring that a son might really have for his father.
Ennis was scrambling to organize his thoughts, wasn’t quite there.
“Bobby,” he began. The kid looked serious and attentive. “So … um … did your daddy have a favorite place ta fish?”
Bobby looked blankly at Ennis. Had the man not been listening to him at all?
“Just askin’, ‘cause ya know … well, truth be told, I’m big on fishin’ myself. Just thought if your daddy knew ‘bout some great spots ….”
The young man was disconcerted, offended really, by the banal turn the conversation seemed to be taking. His face reddened, and he flicked the ash off his cigarette more forcefully than he needed to. Sure it had been a long time since his father had died, but still … wouldn’t any stranger ask just to be polite?
“Well, Ennis.” Said in a measured, less friendly voice. “Like ah said, he come up here for fishin’. Here, to Wyomin’. Don’t know that he ever tried anyplace else.”
“Lakes or rivers? He liked one of ‘em better than the other?” Ennis knew well that while he himself liked the deep stillness of lakes, Jack had preferred the rushing restlessness of rivers.
Shit, this guy is a fishing nut, Bobby decided. He fucking doesn’t care about anything else. No wonder he’s lonely!
Bobby reconsidered Ennis, decided he would just be another warm body. His fuck buddy for the night. Nothing further, no meaningful conversation.
He was glad that Ennis didn’t talk much.
Christ, by the time they were done, Ennis would be asking him about the details of his daddy’s fishing flies!
“Ennis, like ah said, mah daddy never took me with, okay?” Bobby was getting testy. “Ah don’t know where the fuck he went. Maybe there was lots a lakes ‘n rivers. Come ta think of it, ah think he liked the mountains a whole lot. Yep, that was it. Mountains.”
Pause.
Ennis did not know how to say what he needed to say, and Bobby apparently wasn’t too happy with the fishing questions.
Bobby tried to be civil. Could he maybe bring the conversation back to something that at least mildly interested him, too? Ennis had not picked up on his reference to being a football fan, so that was a dead end.
“Mah daddy, he sold big-ass farm equipment like tractors ‘n combines ‘n such. Ya know? Used ta let me drive one a them tractors in the parkin’ lot. But mostly he traveled a lot.”
He added wistfully, “But nothin’ beyond the parkin’ lot for me! Never let me go on none a them sales trips. I been all over the place now, though, so ya know, it’s okay. Ya like ta travel Ennis?” Surely Ennis had been somewhere interesting.
“Bobby, gotta be honest with ya, the only travelin’ I ever done was ‘round the coffee pot lookin’ for the handle!” He looked sheepish. “Nah, it’s always been Wyomin’ for me.”
Bobby looked at Ennis with puzzled interest.
“Funniest thing, Ennis. My daddy said just that ‘bout his fishin’ buddy. Laughed ever’ time he said it! I thought he made it up, but ah guess he picked it up somewhere, huh?”
Ennis wasn’t going to get a better opening than this, now was he?
“Yeah, funny, ain’t it? Look, Bobby.” He paused. “Well, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell ya.”
Some sort of confession from Ennis? He was going to share … what?
“Son, I was that fishin’ buddy,” he said in a rush, a little too loudly.
Bobby didn’t register this new information at all. His dad’s fishing buddy had always been an abstract character, someone who had called his mother once after the accident, and that was that. But otherwise just a barely developed figment of Bobby’s imagination when he was a child. He did not remember if he had ever even heard a name mentioned.
All he knew was that the fishing buddy, the fishing, all that, was a good thing. The sum of it made his dad happier. His mood already would have improved by the time he drove off, and he would be happy when he returned.
But Ennis here, well Ennis was flesh and blood, damn it! On a Friday night in a bar. All muscle and manliness. Waiting to be cruised, picked up, whatever. No, this guy wasn’t a figment of Bobby’s imagination, wasn’t anybody’s fishing buddy.
Ennis was perplexed when Bobby did not respond.
He wanted to shake the kid.
“Bobby! It was me. Your daddy … Jack Twist’s fishin’ buddy!”
The kid recoiled at the sound of his father’s name. How could Ennis be his dad’s … his … yet … he … he was here … with Bobby, Bobby Twist, not Jack Twist! Bobby … this was Bobby Twist‘s world. The other world—the rodeos, the sales trips, the fishing … and the fishing buddy—had died with his dad. Hadn’t it? Of course it had!
Ennis saw the wild confusion in Bobby’s eyes, bright as ever. Those eyes ….
He had seen that look in Jack’s eyes only once, when Jack had driven up to Ennis’s place after hearing about the divorce. Certain that they would finally be together. Having had a thousand miles to work out the details of the cow-and-calf operation. The details of their sweet life to be.
And all Ennis could say was, “I’m sorry, Jack. Ya know I am.”
Ennis had to remind himself that despite the similarities, this man was not Jack.
“What can I say, Bobby? It’s true … just a fact … I don’t know. A coincidence, no doubt about it!”
Bobby nodded vaguely. Reached for his beer. Anything to get through whatever was happening here. This sure as hell wasn’t part of his script.
“I think your mama always wanted ta meet me. I didn’t want a meet her, but I think I always wanted a meet you. An’ here we are!” Said with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Had Ennis been the type, that would have been a back-slapper.
“But your daddy ‘n me … I mean, Jack …” the name stuck in his throat, “Jack an’ me was buddies for twenty years.” As though that were reason not to meet Lureen or Bobby. Seemed like all the more reason he should have visited.
Bobby was shaking his head back and forth. Mouth agape, looking at Ennis in disbelief.
“It’s all right, Bobby, it’s all right. We’ll work somethin’ out. It’s all right, really.” Ennis wasn’t sure exactly what they were going to work out, what exactly that meant. But he could see how urgent it was that he comfort the kid.
Bobby stared at Ennis as though he were a new life form.
“Well, fuck me! Sure is a small world, ain’t it!”
Nothing more profound than that. But it was a start. Their interest in each other had been obvious as they had sat at the bar, their laps visible only to one another. Bobby knew exactly what he wanted, and Ennis wanted something from Bobby, just wasn’t sure what it was. Or was he? And now this.
*
Each man wondered whether they would be able to “work things out,” redefine their relationship, such as it was. And if so, could this happen in a few hours? In one night?
Ennis didn’t know what or how much Bobby knew about his father, decided he had better ease into anything that might shock the kid. After all, just because Bobby liked men didn’t mean that he and Jack had cruised Juarez together! There were reasons Jack had never taken Bobby to El Paso, weren’t there? Wouldn’t have been appropriate to have a child along, that’s for sure!
Ennis noticed that Bobby’s erection had disappeared. Shit, there he was, again looking where it wasn’t natural! It disturbed him that he had noticed the activity at Bobby’s crotch in the first place. His own hard-on had dwindled as he tried to figure out where this was going. How the hell was he going to handle this?
Bobby looked at him quizzically. “Twenty years? Damn! Well, all the more reason ta come down visit his family, don’t ya think, Ennis? Ya seem like a nice ‘nuff guy. And hell, ya knew him more ‘n half his life!” He added, “Longer ‘n my mother even!”
Ennis was stung by the reminder of his and Jack’s familial complications. It was true, wasn’t it, that Jack had known Ennis longer than he had known Lureen? Ennis blushed and didn’t say anything. What could he say? He felt guilty, as though he had stolen Jack from his family, when actually … well, for chrissake, the opposite was actually true, wasn’t it?
And it had all led to Jack’s death, hadn’t it? There Jack was, so very long ago, before the campfire, Ennis remembered starkly. Jack telling Ennis that it could always be just like that moment … a sweet life … if they set up a small ranch together. Jack, willing to leave his wife and son. His own son! It never would have occurred to Ennis to leave his daughters, although the divorce pretty much took care of that anyway.
Ennis had insisted that he and Jack keep things as they were, with their families and all. “If ya can’t fix it, ya gotta stand it,” and all his other ingrained notions. That had set Jack on the road to disaster, hadn’t it?
Now, Ennis wondered, looking at this fresh-faced young man who looked so much like Jack, had he been so wrong?
At the time, he had thought he had good reasons. Only upon learning of Jack’s murder did he realize that his reasons—any reasons—just were not good enough. Not even Bobby Twist. Not that Bobby Twist, and not this Bobby Twist.
It would not have worked out for the kid either way. If his dad had taken off, Bobby would have been raised without his real father, by a woman who was too busy to care. Or … what had actually happened: a sixteen-year-old boy, having lost his dad, learned the ways of adulthood too soon.
Bobby pondered his beer. It was his turn to be quiet as he thought. So Ennis had known Bobby’s father longer than anyone, longer even than his own mother. So what?
Thought unfinished, hand slap to forehead. Time to put two and two together, wasn’t it?
Oh. Here he had just picked up his dad’s best fishing buddy! For sex. As unlikely as that might seem. Did he have any reason after all to doubt that Ennis was really that unknown fishing buddy? He didn’t think so.
“So … so … uh …,” Bobby stammered. “Uh, you … uh … you ….”
He asked anxiously, “Ennis, um … did mah daddy know? ‘bout you, I mean? Was ya always …?”
Ennis stared at him incredulously.
What was the kid asking? Ennis had assumed Bobby would immediately understand, experienced as he seemed in the ways of men with men. But the boy didn’t get the picture, did he?
Ennis wanted to laugh when he recalled how it was Jack who had initiated their whole affair. Jack’s stiff cock, Ennis’s hand, and then … yeah … and then! That indelible fuck, Ennis’s first exploration of another man, of another person, truth be told. Ennis Del Mar: a virgin who became a sinner in one blessed moment. The rest of that magical summer on Brokeback Mountain!
But this was going to get delicate, wasn’t it? He’d just have to play it by ear, ‘cause he was on his own.
For starters, he still couldn’t fathom that he was even attracted to a man other than Jack, and he sure as hell wasn’t … well, one of them. So what exactly did Bobby mean when he asked, “Did mah daddy know”? Was he saying that … no! … and then that Jack … wasn’t? … No, Ennis reckoned he was hearing the kid wrong.
If anything, Bobby had it all backwards.
With that thought, Ennis felt a pang of guilt. Had Jack been less of a man than himself for all that? Was his and Jack’s love something to be ashamed of after all, really nothing better than … all those others? Did Jack have more reason to be ashamed than Ennis? Why?
As though he and Jack hadn’t known each other through and through. Unspoken sentiments and secrets, everything. For twenty years. No doubt about it—Jack too had been all man.
“Bobby, look. Your daddy an’ me .… “
Bobby was rapt, anxious to hear if his father had known. Wanting to hear that his father had known and had been tolerant, in this bastion of macho hostility. What he ultimately wanted to know: Would his father have accepted that his own son was gay? It hadn’t gone well at all with his mother. She had wanted him to marry some sorority girl from down the street in Childress.
“Bobby … Jack an’ me, your daddy an’ me, ya know, we saw a whole lot a Wyomin’ together. Most a the mountains. Lots a beautiful times together.”
He swallowed hard as that sank in. Lots of beautiful times. But he had to get to the point, didn’t he?
“I don’t know how ta … Bobby, I’m sorry … oh, goddamn it, Bobby, we never done no fuckin’ fishin’!”
Simple as that. Just like Alma had accused him on that one Thanksgiving Day so many years ago. The closest he had ever come to hitting her. But now, out of his mouth, said and done.
Bobby’s eyes widened. Well, this was news. So … what exactly was Ennis saying?
He reddened at his own naivete.
“Oh, shit!” he said as the reality dawned on him.
So his father had taken vacations … with another man … and had lied to his family about what he was doing. Had driven to another goddamn state to do it! A classic closet case? His own dad? And he had never had a clue!
“Ennis, ya don’t mean … oh man, you’re sayin’ mah daddy was gay?”
Ennis protested, “No, no, no! Nothin’ like that! We was just … just … ya know, it was just us.”
Ennis read the puzzlement on Bobby’s face.
“What I mean is … well….” How was Ennis going to do this, explain that he sure as hell wasn’t queer, but that Jack had … gone with others? Probably had gone way beyond El Paso for all he knew.
No, Ennis determined, he and Jack would be equals here. Bobby could draw his own conclusions about his dad’s other trips.
“I mean it was just the two a us, Bobby. Weren’t nothin’ queer. Nothin’ gay neither.” As though they were two different concepts. But that was the word they used these days, wasn’t it?
Shit, Bobby thought. What the hell was this guy talking about? Gay was gay, and two men fucking each other was gay! Two men fucking each other for twenty fucking years sure as fucking hell was gay!
Jesus, this guy is really fucked up, he thought, but fondly. So damned nice. And with my dad for how long? … shit, that was too weird, he couldn’t think about that a lot yet. Yet deep down he was flattered for his father that Ennis had never gotten over him, never would, so far as Bobby could tell.
The kid had neither known true love nor seen the aftermath when it dissipated. After all, his parents … well, he had always felt there was little love there, certainly after his mother had taken over the business. He now understood a lot more why that was, and it had nothing to do with combine and tractor sales.
But his dad and Ennis? Bobby had never seen a man act like Ennis was acting, had thought the man was going to have a breakdown right there in the bar. He had never met a man so desperate for love, trying to somehow regain what Bobby could only take to have been, for lack of a better term, “true” love. He thrilled to the thought of the two men having had such an intense love. But he could also imagine his dad doing just what he was doing. Handsome, charismatic, always on the move. But still unreal, wasn’t it? He regretted that his father never could have shared that with him.
“Ennis, look,” Bobby began to challenge Ennis. He was going to tell him what was what. But he caught himself. Well, damn, he got turned on by cruising guys like Ennis because they looked straight, because they acted straight. Not like some of the boys he had met in gay bars in Dallas, Denver, wherever. Ranch-hand, roper, rodeo straight—those were the ones.
And here he had a gem: a gay guy who really believed he was straight!
He found that idea immensely exciting, having sex with a man who didn’t even identify as gay. What was he supposed to do with this diamond in the rough? He almost felt like he was initiating a novice, although he suspected that wasn’t true at all.
He wondered about his father, though. How had he fit into Ennis’s world … really? What had they actually done that would allow Ennis to think that he—and maybe even Jack—was heterosexual? Had his father thought one or both of them was straight? Ennis was so sure of himself that Bobby assumed that had been the case.
He could picture his dad cruising guys, but having sex with another man? Fathers just weren’t gay, everyone knew that.
Okay, his dad might have admitted to swinging both ways, but Ennis didn’t seem to grasp even that concept. Was this just one hell of a fantasy that had survived their twenty-year relationship, that had survived thirty years in Ennis’s mind?
Thirty years. Bobby looked at Ennis, this sincere, lonely man sitting there at the bar, so close … yet so far. Did it fucking matter what he called himself, if he labeled himself at all? Here Ennis was, responding to him in the most natural, unassuming way, after a ten-year emotional exile because he had loved Jack so much.
Ennis was a gem all right—a gem of a man, a gem of a human being. How lucky his father was, to have been loved by him!
When Bobby had approached Ennis, he sure as hell didn’t know he was getting into this. He knew it would take some time for him to absorb the shock about his dad’s secret life. He would have to navigate through his memories in search of clues to that unknown father. His first feelings were of being cheated, deceived. Much to his distress, stirrings of his own latent homophobia instantly and ironically devalued his father’s love for him. He would have to outgrow that, wouldn’t he?
In the moment, however, Bobby didn’t blame Ennis for any of it. Ennis, the miraculously resurrected fishing buddy!
Indeed, Bobby had a feeling that Ennis was somehow going to make it all right, just like he said. Before the night was over, Bobby told himself, he would understand a whole lot more about his dad. Maybe through conversation, maybe through physical contact. He needed to know more about his father, but he also needed to have Ennis fuck him. He wanted to discover Ennis the lover, and he thought that Ennis the lover needed to rediscover himself.
Bobby brightened. His dad had driven a thousand miles to fuck this guy. Over and over, year after year. For better or for worse, he reckoned. Well, something must have been worthwhile!
He looked at Ennis with new approval.
He decided he was going to get himself some of whatever that was. After all, that’s why he was in town, wasn’t it? And a night of passion with a part of Jack surely would do Ennis a world of good, wouldn’t it?
“Hey Ennis. Tell ya what,” Bobby said. “Ahm stayin’ in a motel down the road. Why don’t we head on over there an’ chat some more, huh?” He winked. “Ah’ll bet ya got lots a stories ‘bout mah daddy.”
Was Ennis prepared to let those emotions spill forth that he had never shared, not even with Jack? Deep, deep feelings that he knew would surface once he started talking about Jack?
The thought made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t think of a better person to share with than Bobby, the other star in Jack’s short life. Who knew Jack intimately enough to understand the worlds that he had occupied when he wasn’t with Ennis. Both the straight … and the … gay.
“Sure ‘nuff,” Ennis replied. But as far as he knew, there was only one motel out this way.
“The Siesta?” he asked.
“You got it,” Bobby replied. “Wanna follow me out there?”
“Let’s go,” Ennis said, leaving more than a few bills on the bar to cover the evening’s tab. The Siesta Motel—where he and Jack had gone for their reunion after four years apart!
Twenty-five years ago it was. Yet Ennis clearly remembered every sight, sound, touch, smell, taste. In Jack’s truck on the way there, they had furiously pulled at each other’s clothing, traded hot, wet kisses, Jack barely keeping control of the vehicle.
Four years without this man! As soon as Ennis had seen Jack again, that beloved face, looked into those blue eyes, taken in the first whiffs of that sweet, smoky scent, tasted those willing lips, felt the heaving of the other man’s muscular chest, pressed against Jack’s uncontrollable arousal, he promptly dismissed Alma and the girls to relative obscurity.
No sooner had they pulled away from Ennis’s apartment than he had ripped Jack’s shirt open, tongued the closest nipple, loving the musky, salty tang of his skin. Worked his fingers through the fine layer of dark chest hair. Jack playfully walked his fingers up Ennis’s leg from knee to thigh. A little further and he found his holy grail, Ennis’s erect penis.
They were half undressed by the time they got to the motel. Ennis had to button up his jeans, tuck the boner back in that Jack had been stroking when he didn’t have the truck’s gear shift in his hand. Ennis still sported a bulge and his shirt was unbuttoned, but what the hell. This was a motel that had hourly rates, after all.
So goddamn, off to the Siesta again! Ennis thought. It was surreal.
Bobby got into his late-model pickup. Yeah, it was a damned small world. He shook his head in wonder and smiled.
Unlike Bobby, Ennis began to have second thoughts. The Siesta Motel? A Mexican name … not a good omen, was it?
Where was he headed? What the hell was he thinking? He was going to have sex with Jack’s son there! He was pretty sure he was going to do that, anyway. Jack … junior. Well, sort of. Well, no, not sort of. Everything about this kid reminded Ennis of Jack.
What the hell did all this mean? What did it mean that he wanted to fuck another man? But he was a very special man, wasn’t he? Like with Jack, so very special, it was going to be just us … just us. Nobody’s business but ours. Nothing wrong with that, was there?
He climbed into his beat-up old truck, the one that could never make it to Texas. Revved up the rattling engine, shifted the gears and took off after Bobby. He was heading down the road to a familiar motel … but into the unknown. He was a few decades too late, he realized with some regret. But this was no time to dwell on that, was it?On the contrary, he felt damned pleased with himself, breaking through a lifetime’s worth of boundaries, pursuing someone he wanted so badly. And it was all right that it was a man he was chasing.
Could it be that Bobby was an angel, after all? A part of Jack, not to be worshipped, but sent to draw out the love that Ennis had kept bound so tightly, frozen as ice, in his heart since Jack’s death? A man who could share with Ennis the intimacy that the latter had only ever known with Jack?
Ennis smiled, increased his speed, knowing there was only one way to find out.
*
Bobby wheeled into the Siesta Motel parking lot. Parked in front of his room, just off the road.
Ennis pulled in shortly after. Bobby wondered what the hell was up when Ennis hopped out of his truck and went into the office instead of heading toward him.
Bobby lounged against his own truck, room key in hand. Well, this guy had a surprise a minute, so who knows? he thought.
Ennis emerged minutes later jangling his own key. He motioned for Bobby to get in the old truck, which he did. Ennis drove around back to another row of rooms that could not be seen from the road.
Bobby went along, understanding Ennis’s concerns about being discreet. But he didn’t know the whole story. They were headed toward the very room where Jack and Ennis had reunited after being apart for four years. Ennis had remembered the room number well, along with many other details.
What was he hoping would happen in this room? He wanted to repeat the magic—that first time with Jack after four years had been magical, hadn’t it? Maybe he could overcome some demons at the same time. He wasn’t sure.
When Ennis was in the office, he thought fleetingly that taking Bobby to this room would be disrespectful to Jack’s memory. Then he determined that it would be blasphemous to take the kid anywhere else. This was the room where all would be made whole.
Ennis felt lightheaded as they entered the room, was almost surprised when Jack’s ghost didn’t meet them at the door.
Once inside, however, he saw that in the past couple of decades the place had been renovated. He was relieved in a way, but also sad, because there were no traces of his and Jack’s tryst so long ago. The room smelled odd, with a vaguely sickening sweetness from an unidentifiable air freshener. There were no telltale stains on the bedspread or carpet, not a one.
That reunion had been so passionate, so out of control, Ennis thought there should still be some sign of the sex. Some sign of them. But there wasn’t. What had sex with Jack smelled like? He tried to recall. But it had been too long ago. He hoped, however, that he would find a hint of that scent on Bobby.
This was the room where Jack and Ennis had stripped each other like excited schoolboys showing each other their dicks. Had blindly pinned one another to the wall with their forceful, passionate kisses. Had flung themselves onto the bed, heedless of the sags and groans of the bedsprings and mattress.
Ennis ended up on his back, and Jack had ridden his cock something fierce. Shot his load beyond Ennis’s face and plastered the headboard. Afterward as they shared a cigarette Jack had said, “Christ, it got a be all that time a yours ahorseback makes it so goddamn good.” Even though it was Jack who had been doing all the riding. But it was true that in the saddle Ennis had developed a great galloping, up-and-down rhythm. They had laughed heartily at that, both knowing that the sex had better be damned good after four years!
But that was also the first time Jack had brought up their … Ennis guessed “relationship” would be the best word. What had Jack said, something about they had to talk serious about it all? And Ennis had just looked at him, like what the fuck? True, he had thought often about Jack, masturbated frequently to his fantasy of grabbing onto Jack, holding him as close as he could and pumping his ass. Yeah, those were the orgasms he cherished. Didn’t ever get quite that good with … well, it wasn’t her fault, was it?
What Ennis tried to forget: that was the first time Jack had lied to him. About seeing other men. And Ennis had known it, deep down. But what had made Jack lie in the first place? More important, who had made him lie? Was it some vestige of Brokeback Mountain? Had Ennis’s punching Jack in the face made the other man fearful of his retribution, his physical rage?
Ennis was ashamed to know that his response would have been fearsome. Violence had always been his innate response to anything threatening. Much like that first time when Jack had tried to kiss him, and Ennis had turned the episode into a violent fucking. Again, there was his jealous rage when they finally had gotten it all out in the open on their last trip together so many years later. It was he who had made Jack lie. But wasn’t that part of loving someone so special, someone who was the only person Ennis ever did love? Someone who wasn’t meant to be shared?
Regardless, he had continued to love Jack so deeply, through all of it, still, and had long ago forgiven him. Had never forgiven himself, though, for doing to Jack what he had done. Or not done. Sins of omission for Ennis, always goddamned sins of omission. Jack, dear Jack the wandering rodeo dreamer, had needed Ennis to anchor him, and the latter would not do it. It had been Ennis’s choice not to do it. He would feel responsible for Jack’s death until his own last breath.
Could he ever relieve himself of any of this guilt? Relieve himself of this immense pain?
He didn’t have it figured out at all, but he felt strongly that Bobby would have the answer. That Bobby would lead him out of the darkness into … into what? He didn’t know. But it had to be better than where he was now, a decade into his self-imposed, drunken solitude.
Things were falling into place. Sure, even though this young man was so much like Jack, some of the details would be different than it had been. But it was like learning to drive—once you did it, you didn’t forget how. And hell, that first time with Jack in the tent? Ennis had had no idea that he could ride another man to orgasm, that one man would willingly let another man enter him, period.
“Bobby,” Ennis said. “Let me getcha undressed, okay?”
The kid cocked an eyebrow. So Ennis knew a few things, did he? Hmmm. “No problem,” he replied. “No problem, t’all.”
Ennis wanted to undress Bobby from behind. It would be a sexual version of a hug he remembered from long ago, very long ago indeed. It would be his own quiet, sensual invention based on what Jack had taught him about being romantic. About touching, gently using his hands despite their roughness.
Bobby leaned his head back onto Ennis’s chest. For Ennis, it was like that time … oh, just like that time when he was going to say goodbye to Jack before jumping on his horse and heading off to the sheep. He had found Jack standing quietly to the side of the campfire, trying to keep warm. Ennis had crept up behind his lover, careful not to crunch the dry pine needles, had been about to give Jack a playful jab in the back and a tickle.
When he had gotten closer, he realized that Jack was darned near asleep on his feet. Like a horse, Ennis had thought with a smile. Just like a goddamned horse. For a moment he realized just how vulnerable Jack was right then, hell, always would be probably. A romantic stranded in a world of realities, of harsh realities. But Ennis loved him for it … so much the opposite of himself….
That hug had meant so much to Ennis … so much. He never could have explained to Jack why that was, because it was a feeling, and lord knows sharing feelings, describing feelings, was not one of Ennis’s strengths. It remained his secret, and a source of strength when Jack was not around.
Ennis hoped to relive the warmth of that moment with Bobby.
For his part, Jack had never told Ennis that the very same hug was just as important for him, indeed had come to sum up their relationship. That first night in the tent, subsequent games, fucks, kisses, trips … those had all been benchmarks of a sort, but with that hug the two men had stood there as one, with no further motive than to just be together. As one … just like Jack had dreamed. Why couldn’t they always be one?
Ennis stood behind Bobby, pressed his groin against Bobby’s firm, round butt in his Levi’s. Bobby figured Ennis needed help, too, his erection darned near splitting through the threadbare crotch of his jeans. But it was Ennis’s turn, so the young man let him go at it.
The kid was gorgeous. Innocent, Ennis told himself. Well-muscled, clear skin, the right amount of body hair, with a light, musky fragrance—just like Jack at nineteen. Did he really remember that? Could he? He didn’t know, but he reveled all the same in the boyish masculinity that so reminded him of how he and Jack had been when they first met.
Ennis trembled as he restrained himself from attacking the kid, from pulling Bobby’s pants down right there and just fucking his ass. He was so desperate for this physical contact that he had to remind himself that he was only doing this because it was Jack’s son. That was true, wasn’t it? It wasn’t just any man.
The hug with Jack had ended because Ennis had to go tend to the sheep. But here with Bobby there was no such obligation. Ennis could be relaxed, try not to move too quickly into unfamiliar territory.
He unbuttoned Bobby’s shirt from behind, then lifted his undershirt over his head. Pressed into the young man’s back as he reached around and felt the skin, the light swirls of hair on Bobby’s muscular chest.
The scent on the kid’s neck, hair—it was Jack—that was it, the long-lost scent! Ennis slid his hands down Bobby’s torso, and it was dear Jack’s torso, trying to be gentle, trying to remember what that had been like, trying to be careful with his big, rough hands.
He nestled his head on Bobby’s bare shoulder, kissed the boy’s neck. Bobby shivered with delight. Ennis undid Bobby’s belt—no rodeo buckle here—and pressed his fingers against the taut skin right above the belt line. Bobby squirmed a bit … ticklish just like his father had been, wasn’t he? Sometimes Ennis had tickled Jack mercilessly to gain the upper hand as they wrestled on the ground.
But this time he wasn’t wrestling.
Without unfastening the kid’s jeans, Ennis wedged his hands down into the slender youth’s pants, then down past the elastic band of his briefs. Ennis’s fingers gently massaged Bobby’s groin through the pubic hair, one hand working its way past the warm, sturdy erection down to the kid’s smooth balls.
Yes, this had been his fantasy at the bar, and it was all right, wasn’t it, that he was experiencing it? It was just the two of them, and it was all right.
“Oh, Bobby,” he whispered in the kid’s ear. “Oh Bobby.” The beginning throes of the rekindled passion that had died with Jack meant so much to Ennis that he needed to say no more.
His hands felt the boy’s hotness. Bobby’s penis was near erect, but in the underwear it was pointing downward, waiting to be freed.
Ennis’s fingers found the head of the kid’s cock. He was circumcised, like his father had been. It would have been so important to Jack—like father, like son. After Jack’s harrowing experience with his own father, there was no way he would have left Bobby uncut like his grandfather.
The tip was already glazed with precum, and Bobby moaned as Ennis ripped his jeans open with one hand while massaging the kid’s throbbing erection with the other. Bobby didn’t recall ever being this hard, ever wanting it so much.
Ennis shoved the kid’s pants down, through denim pressed his own erect cock into Bobby’s ass crack.
“Jesus, Ennis, ah need ya ta fuck me, need it bad man!”
“Ya know, just like ya did mah daddy. Ah want it just like ya gave him!” He hoped what Ennis gave him would be whatever his dad had driven a thousand miles for. Bobby knew he was taking a risk mentioning Jack, but that was what he wanted. The kid’s natural urges drove his physical lust, yet he so badly wanted to sample the love that Ennis must have shown his father.
But it had been a two-way street, hadn’t it? Bobby’s dad had made all those trips, but apparently Ennis had waited for him. For what, maybe two, three vacations a year? A few fucks a year?
What had Ennis been waiting for? Bobby was a confident sort, but would he be as good as his dad had been? Could he? Would he live up to Ennis’s expectations? Bobby knew he could bring pleasure to any man’s cock, but as a lover? Would he make it as a lover, even for just one night? He hoped that it all would work out, that Ennis wouldn’t regret the sex, feel afterward that it had cheapened his and Jack’s special relationship.
Well, what could he do but play it like he usually did? Just use his tried-and-true routine and see what happened?
Bobby bent over to remove his boots and step out of his pants.
He turned and stood naked before Ennis.
Ennis swallowed hard, struggled to restrain himself at his first sight of another man’s arousal in ten years. It was a beautiful cock in its nest of dark hair, the moist head swollen with desire. Jack’s dick must have looked like that, Ennis thought. Sons do look like their fathers, don’t they?
Ennis wondered if Bobby’s dick would taste just like Jack’s, as though he would remember that. He yearned to taste the boy’s cum and wondered if it would have the same fragrance as Jack’s. Would it be thick and creamy like Jack’s? Would it be as sweet? He hoped the kid would be a real shooter like his dad had been … that Ennis remembered for sure, smiling to himself.
Bobby knelt before Ennis, who stood there unbuttoning his shirt. Ennis gasped as the young man nuzzled his erection through his jeans. This kid was going to drive him wild, wasn’t he? Bobby eagerly opened Ennis’s worn belt and zipper, started to work the snug, faded jeans down past the man’s narrow hips.
Ennis flung his shirt on the closest chair, lifted his undershirt up over his head. He raised one foot at a time to let Bobby pull his boots off, and the kid had him down to his boxers, which did little to hide Ennis’s raging erection. Bobby was delighted to find that Ennis was as well muscled under all that denim as he had hoped. How he admired a body built through honest labor!
“Ya got a surprise in there for me, hmmmm?” he asked Ennis teasingly.
Ennis’s cock was pointing up, and the dripping tip emerged from its sheath right at the elastic band of the shorts, like it was peeking over to see what kind of action awaited.
Bobby yanked the underwear down, exposing the erect penis. Ennis gasped, was so excited, he was sure that Bobby could measure his heart rate in his pulsing hard-on. He felt so exposed … yet there was something else. Already he felt as though a burden of some sort had been lifted. Since Jack’s death, Ennis had increasingly come to loathe his own body and its natural inclinations. He buried himself deep in his sorrow and booze, tried not to think about the fact that every time he masturbated, it was Jack who was there with him. It wasn’t that blonde waitress or any other attractive woman he had ever met. No, it was always his little darlin’ Jack. Yet Ennis surely would have finished his days hating that his life revolved around Jack—had ever since Brokeback Mountain, always would—had this wonderful meeting with Bobby not taken place.
It was like a revelation. Here he was standing naked—fully aroused, foreskin completely retracted—before another man! And it felt great. Jack had been the only man ever to witness Ennis in this state. Did it matter that it was Bobby now? Could it have been another? Ennis thought not, believed that no one but this young man could draw out his hidden desires.
Ennis darned near jumped out of his skin when Bobby put his lips to his cock, licked the sensitive length normally protected by that extra skin, swirled his tongue lightly around the exposed head, lapping up a generous amount of precum.
“Oh, fuck!” Ennis groaned. “Oh, fuck!”
Now that he had primed Ennis, Bobby pulled away and sat on the bed.
He lifted his legs in the air, rolled back exposing his ass. All set for a face-to-face fucking. Ennis moved toward the bed. Jack had taught him about face-to-face sex, how sensuous it was to kiss deeply, tongue nipples, lick the vulnerable Adam’s apple and the like while enjoying the ins and outs of the most intimate ass fucking. Driving the penis deep, deeper, all the while looking into the other man’s eyes … searching there for pain, and making sure it turned to pleasure.
Ennis was desperate to rediscover that affection, the physical release that he would enjoy once again. To look directly into another man’s eyes and see love, not hatred or fear. Even if just for this one time. How lucky he was, to be with this beautiful young man! This … no, not Jack … but Bobby. This was Bobby. He leaned over the boy.
“Oh, daddy, I’m ready,” the kid told Ennis.
“What?” Ennis hadn’t heard right, had he?
Bobby lay there with his legs held high, waiting for Ennis to take control.
“I said I’m ready, daddy. Why ya makin’ me wait like this?”
Ennis stood up, stumbled backward, shocked, confused, his erection wilting. What … what on earth was going on here? Whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn’t what he had in mind. Why would the kid say such a ridiculous thing? Ennis was really lost, his face clouded by confusion.
Bobby was hot, eager for what he hoped would be his best fuck ever. “Daddy, goddamnit, what the fuck?”
Ennis swallowed hard at the verbal assault, choked back tears. His first time out in ten years, his first man ever besides Jack, the only man he would ever know this way besides Jack, and it was a disaster! This game had rules he knew nothing about. Ennis had exposed himself in body and soul, his expectations so high, and surely Bobby knew this. Yet for some reason this kid had decided to humiliate him! Ennis was crushed, felt totally betrayed, his self-hatred flooding back to replace the first stirrings of freedom he had felt in ten years.
“Jesus Christ, Ennis! What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Bobby was pissed off. Driven by a young man’s hormones, he wanted it, and he wanted it now! He wanted what Ennis had given his father! A great fucking, a powerful, manly fucking. And the love. Yes, the love, too. This man was beautiful … so sexy … and now, goddamn it, Bobby was going to miss out on what he had to offer. The boy lowered his legs. Shit, he hadn’t spent an entire evening with this guy just to have him break down like this! Should have left the motherfucker crying at the bar.
Ennis felt a surge of defensive aggression much like that on that first night with Jack in the tent. When Jack had tried to kiss him. And that had been wrong, so wrong. His animal instincts took over, and he pulled Bobby from the bed. Threw the kid face first into the wall. Used every ounce of sinewy strength that Bobby had fantasized about to pin the young man to the wall, hands splayed out on the paneling above his head.
Oh fuck, Bobby thought, oh holy fuck! Now he’d done it. Driven Ennis into a rage that was going to go way beyond the “daddy” game.
Some of his “daddies” had played a little rough, but Bobby had never been raped before. Goddamnit—he had really played his cards wrong with this guy. Ennis really was a psycho! Bobby’s mind raced as he told himself how to get through this: he would pretend it was his first time getting it up the ass. That had been fucking painful, had hurt like hell, hadn’t it? He couldn’t sit down for a week. He thought he could survive that one more time. And then what? He didn’t know, and for the first time with Ennis, he was afraid. He was very afraid.
Bobby’s chest heaved, sweating against the cheap paneling, his arms stretched above his head. Ennis was behind him, and Bobby expected to be penetrated at any moment. He tried to breathe deeply, and braced himself against the wall. He felt warmth … but it was warmth above his waistline. He was feeling … no, it couldn’t be … tears? Ennis’s tears were falling on his broad, young back.
For chrissake! Bobby didn’t know if he could take another surprise this evening.
Naked, Ennis staggered over to an armchair. Sat down and buried his head in his hands. Cried. Sobbed, shoulders heaving. Could have been twenty years’ worth of tears, but he didn’t care anymore, just fucking didn’t care.
Bobby pulled away from the paneling damp with his sweat, turned to face the other man. “Oh fuck, Ennis, oh God, I’m so sorry!” Bobby was thoroughly alarmed, decided he’d better be careful. He hadn’t done anything unusual, had he? But Ennis had become unhinged. This guy had some sort of mental problem, didn’t he? Shit, here Bobby was in the middle of goddamn Wyoming with a weirdo who was going to … well, do what? It didn’t seem like Ennis was going to attack him now, did it? The bastard.
Bobby sighed loudly. A waste, what a waste … and Ennis had seemed so nice, so strong, such a man. He was special, seemed to have so much more to offer than anyone Bobby had met before, even aside from his relationship to Bobby’s father.
“Jack, oh my god, Jack. My dear, dear Jack,” Ennis sobbed.
The kid’s eyes grew wide. “Goddamnit, Ennis, you’re really freakin’ me out! Man, I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on, but I’m outta here, mah friend!” He’d sprint across the parking lot and lock himself in his own motel room. He’d do it naked if he had to.
Bobby moved toward his clothes draped over the other armchair, but Ennis pleaded in a hoarse whisper, “No … don’t go, Bobby, please don’t go.” Somehow he had to make this work, had to salvage his chance at redemption. For Jack. He had to make this work for Jack.
*
Bobby was agitated, didn’t know what to do. Was this part of an elaborate sex game? Ennis didn’t play the “daddy” routine but did this instead? Fantasized about dead lovers? Oh man, too intense, he thought.
But the older man was so serious, so obviously distraught, it just couldn’t be a game, could it? Bobby forgot about his clothes and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Ennis, ahm … ahm real sorry,” he stammered. “Ah mean, it was just a game. Ya know, just ‘cause you’re older an’ stronger ‘n me an’ all. Ya know, as old as … well, not thinkin’ you’re my … my real father or nothin’.” As soon as he said it, he felt stupid for not realizing what effect his flippant use of “daddy” could have on a man who was still so in love with the man who had indeed been Bobby’s father.
Ennis looked up at him with tears still streaming down his cheeks. Very embarrassing. A naked cowboy crying. An awkward silence, but for Ennis’s heavy breathing.
Shit, Bobby thought, he was going to end up playing psychologist for this dude. Well, that’s probably what Ennis really needed, wasn’t it? He sure as hell wasn’t going to score anywhere else tonight, Bobby realized. Everyone would be too drunk to even get it up by now.
But damn it, he hadn’t stopped in godforsaken Riverton for chitchat!
Then again, if he left now, what would Ennis do? He was a fucking emotional wreck, this guy. Was he the type who would hurt himself? A lonely motel room … at least one shotgun in his truck. Hurt others? Or what?
Bobby cleared his throat, spoke gently. “Look, Ennis mah friend, you said … um … you said ‘Jack’? Ennis, you’re talkin’ ‘bout my dad, ain’t ya? Like he’s part a some fantasy? Oh, Ennis, look man ….”Was there hope of anything happening tonight? “Well, look, maybe ya wanna talk ‘bout him before we … um … before other things? Ya know, kinda work through it together?”
Bobby noticed the tears had stopped. Yes, maybe there was hope.
He continued, “Look … um, let’s forget all ‘bout my lil’ sex game, okay? It ain’t never meant what it means here, Ennis, an’ I just wasn’t thinkin’. Was kind a excited, ya know. Ahm real sorry if ah hurt your feelings, friend.”
That word friend again! Why did he have to keep saying that? Why did he have to keep saying it just like Jack had said it? Still choked up, Ennis tried to speak. “Jack … oh, Bobby, Jack, Bobby, Jack … oh goddamn it all, Bobby!”
Bobby was shocked to hear his own name spoken with his father’s name. Last time he had heard that was on that August night when his mother had told him and his dad that dinner was ready. “Oh, Bobby, Jack!” she had called in her twangy singsong voice. It had been summer fare … T-bone steaks on the grill, potato salad, slaw. Had been real hot, he remembered. At the time he had no idea it would become the most memorable meal of his life. What with the accident the very next day and all.
Ten years and counting!
Bobby didn’t know exactly what had gone on between Ennis and his dad, but there was a whole lot more than he could imagine, wasn’t there? And he had a damn good imagination. Well, sure, there was twenty years of history or whatever.
He could tell he needed to even out the playing field if anything was going to happen here tonight. There was just too much he didn’t know. He had to help Ennis talk through some things.
It might take a little time, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to take off now. He smiled ruefully. If he understood his father a little more after all this, then all the better. Hell, if he understood Ennis a little more, then all the better.
Could he draw Ennis out without another burst of tears? He doubted it, but he’d give it a try.
“Ennis. Friend. Let’s talk about … um … this situation, okay?”
Ennis nodded, willing to let Bobby keep talking. But he did say softly, “Please don’t call me ‘friend,’ Bobby. Please.”
Jesus Christ! the kid thought. This man is a walking textbook of hangups.
“No problem, Ennis. Now, I gotta say you freaked me out when ya said ‘Jack,’ ‘cause … well, ya know my dad’s been gone ten years now. Sure, it’s a common name, but that’s who you’re talkin’ ‘bout, ain’t it? Mah daddy? Or is it another … friend?” He knew damn well it wasn’t, was just giving Ennis the benefit of a doubt. Ennis sighed with a shrug to acknowledge that they both knew whom he was calling.
“Ennis, look here … if you’re gonna be callin’ me ‘Jack’ while we’re doin’ this, well … for chrissake, Ennis, ain’t nothin’ gonna happen if ahm thinkin’ ‘bout my goddamn dad!”
Bobby hoped they could still make this work out after all, something, anything that could be called sex. But he did have limits. Filling in for his dead father wasn’t his idea of a good time, even if he was getting his ass fucked all the while.
How to finesse Ennis back into bed? A challenge indeed, Bobby reckoned. They had Jack in common yet seemed to be finding very little common ground … at least in terms of their own fantasies. This was proving to be one hell of a mind-fucking encounter, but even so, Bobby did not want to go back to his own room to spend a lonely night with his hand. Ennis had the goods he had come to town for, damn it! And really much more, he felt. It had been so close to happening….
Ennis took a few deep breaths, wiped his wet face with a shirt that had fallen to the floor near the chair. How the hell was he supposed to talk about Jack without crying? Well, there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there? He too wanted something to happen, and soon. Something that would end in a great physical release. He felt that he was about to explode.
“Bobby.” A slow but measured start. “I know ya ain’t your dad, an’ I don’t wanna call ya … Jack.” Was he sure? Didn’t know, but that’s how it had to be. Here he’d gone and put them smack dab in the middle of all his memories. But he’d have to give Jack up for the night, best as he could. Just for now, anyway.
“Okay, Ennis, then what do ya … ?”
“Ya see, when we was nineteen …,” Ennis trailed off. “Jesus, thirty years ago!” Lost in his own thoughts for a minute. “Wrangled some sheep a top Brokeback Mountain with your daddy.”
Brokeback Mountain … now that wasn’t going to help him forget Jack, was it?
“Not too far from here.” The fond, distant memory of their discovery of love … of their love … on Brokeback Mountain. He and Jack had reminisced so many, many times about that idyllic summer, and it was familiar, comforting territory. Talking about it calmed Ennis, helped him regain his composure.
Brokeback Mountain? Where had Bobby heard that name? Must have been from his father. No, wait … that was something Bobby’s mother had said, sarcastically, sort of spitting it out now and then during her and Jack’s increasingly frequent fights. It seemed to have something to do with his dad’s drinking, a “whiskey river” or whatever. Something that sort of stewed under the surface in their household when his father was still alive.
So here it turned out to be just an old mountain after all! A mountain, not a bar like his mama had thought.
Had the name Ennis ever come up? Bobby didn’t recall. Had the subject of sheep ever come up? He didn’t think so.He said, “Brokeback Mountain. Mah daddy. Sheep. Ah mean, shit, whatever turns ya on …”
Ennis looked wounded.
“No, Ennis, ahm not sayin’ ya was fuckin’ sheep or nothin’! Ah mean ‘bout my daddy, ‘bout your time together. On that mountain or whatever. Sheep herdin’ an’ whatnot. Maybe ya gotta work through somethin’, pretend somethin’ else is goin’ on? Well that’s all right by me. Just don’t say nothin’ ‘bout it, okay?”
Bobby sure as hell didn’t want Ennis to call out his dad’s name when he was about to fuck him!
Ennis continued. “Look, Bobby. I knew your daddy really, really well, like I said, twenty years, an’ boy, ya look a lot like him. That’s a compliment, believe me.”
Bobby blushed.
“Bobby, back there at the bar I didn’t know who ya were, ya know. But ya reminded me so much of Jack. Then when ya said ya was from Childress … well I sure knew where your daddy lived.”
“Damned small world, ain’t it, Ennis?” Bobby said for the second time that evening with some amazement. Bobby was becoming aroused again, only this time there was no clothing to hide it.
Bobby sat on the edge of the bed, his cock again pointing up toward his stomach, as Ennis pulled himself out of the chair. He sat down next to the kid, who turned toward him, reached to pull Ennis’s face in for a kiss. Ennis could see Jack’s face that second night in the tent just before their first kiss … Jack reaching for Ennis, gentle, his face so loving and radiant even though the light from the campfire was waning.
The beginning of Ennis’s education in the finer points of romance. No, no, Ennis thought, got to keep Jack and Bobby separate! Different men, different times, different experiences. It was okay, he had to remind himself. It was okay that he was with another … man. His nipples had gotten hard, and he had become fully erect again, telltale drops of excitement shining on the head of his penis.
His eyes glistened with nascent tears, but they were tears of relief. Relief that some of his pain might be eased at last.
His lips met Bobby’s, softly at first, and he wrapped his arms around the young man. At twenty-six, Bobby was just goddamned horny and energetic, and Ennis was simply ravenous—so finally they were finding common ground.
Ennis could have jumped the kid, but his sense that this was a sacred moment held him in check. He knew that Jack’s spirit lived on in his son, and as long as Bobby didn’t try to play another stupid game, Ennis was going to get closer to Jack than he ever would have dreamed possible, wasn’t he? Closer than he really had any right to expect, he thought.
Here it had been ten years since anything! Ten long, lonely years since he had made love, really since he had touched anyone. All he had to go on was his memory of Jack’s body, his face, his manner of talking, his … touch.
He pulled Bobby ever closer, tenderly stroking the boy’s back as their chests met … skin against skin, heartbeat against heartbeat. Their kisses grew deeper, mouths opening wider, pressure increasing, moist tongues darting as they finally explored each other for the first time. Ah, the taste of another man’s mouth! So long, so long he had gone without that. Ennis nearly swooned.
Bobby, who barely minutes ago had thought Ennis was going to rape him, was thoroughly enjoying this sensuous foreplay. Well, this man certainly knows what he is doing once he gets going, he mused. Such a gentle, loving touch … and from those big, rough hands. Bobby didn’t know that Ennis had learned his art from Jack, that he was returning a favor that really could never be repaid.
“Ennis,” the kid whispered as Ennis gently kissed his face and neck. “Let’s do this the right way, okay? Ah know it’s been a long time for ya. Ten years? That’s like forever, man! Myself, ahm versatile. Ya know, those of us … well, if ya ever done it with more ‘n one guy … well, I know ya ain’t … but sometimes ya have ta do different things than what you’re used ta.”
Bobby sensed how uncertain Ennis was about all this. Jeez, this guy was a real puzzle, wasn’t he? As unsure as a first-timer, but with twenty years of experience lurking somewhere in that strong, muscular body. Bobby hoped that his father and Ennis had tried a few different things over the years. He thought his dad would have, for sure, what with his love of adventure, his romantic nature that embraced possibilities. But maybe not.
“Ennis, look,” he said soothingly. “Let’s us do whatever feels right, okay? Slow, fast, don’t matter. If the both of us thinks it feels good, let’s give it a try. An’ ya don’t have ta say nothin’. I don’t need ta say nothin’ neither.”
Ennis thought of all those times on Brokeback Mountain when he and Jack had made love. Every day it had been. So often more than once a day, here, there, everywhere! Energetic boys they had been, not even twenty, without a care in the world up there on that mountain. They had spoken little during those escapades, relying a lot on grunts, groans, moans, laughs, sighs to share their pleasure as they played, fought, fucked, kissed. Of course he could do this without saying anything, without giving himself away even if he was thinking about Jack. And yes, he would be thinking about Jack, wouldn’t he?
For Ennis, who was hoping to somehow connect with his dear Jack of twenty-five years ago, what seemed appropriate in this room was the “ride ‘em cowboy” position, as he and Jack had fondly called it. The guy on top could move around a lot more, and Ennis actually liked the feeling of being conquered for a moment, being pinned down, feeling his lover rolling around on his cock and up and down too. Jack would be on top in control, finally spurting his hot cum like a geyser all over Ennis’s chest … or further, depending on his aim. Comforting it was, the moans and groans, sweaty thrusting, sticky cum all over the place. And then they would collapse together, snuggled in a heated embrace until the inevitable repeat at dawn.
Bobby thought this sounded just fine. He felt like an excited kid about to play with a very special toy for the first time.
Ennis lay back on the bed … a firmer mattress this time would make the sex a little easier than with Jack, although back then they had grown fond of the squeaky springs.
He reached for Bobby’s hips, but the kid twisted around, reaching for his jeans. He rifled through his wallet and pulled out a condom.
Ennis didn’t like them, and he had never used one with Alma. Had told her there were other ways of doing it so she wouldn’t have any more of his kids. And of course with Jack … well, Jack had been a man! What was Bobby up to?
“Bobby,” Ennis declared, “what the fuck ya doin? Ya ain’t gonna get pregnant! An’ I ain’t done nothin’ long as I can remember ‘sides runnin’ it through the wringer myself. Ya ain’t gonna catch nothin’ if that’s what you’re thinkin’. Ain’t like I been ta some whorehouse!”
Bobby was amused. “Ennis, you’re such a sweetheart, ya really are. But look … um … it’s me been ‘round the block! I mean, ain’t nothin’ wrong with me neither, but I get my ass ‘round, an’ ya gotta … ya gotta be careful these days.” He didn’t want even to bring up the notion of HIV, had a feeling it was something that never crossed Ennis’s mind. Well, especially since the guy wasn’t really gay anyway. Or active. Or whatever.
Ennis felt funny, getting ready to fuck a man who “had been ‘round the block.” He had really convinced himself that Bobby was “innocent,” whatever that meant. He knew the kid wasn’t a virgin … but still. He needed a rubber?
Well, shit, Ennis thought, it didn’t matter: tonight was going to make up for the trip that never happened that November after Jack’s death. He had planned to screw Jack’s brains out then … even knowing that his lover “had been to Mexico” and beyond, who knows where else. Ennis loved Jack more than anything in the world, and Jack loved him, no two ways about it, and when it came down to it, all those incidents didn’t matter. And it wouldn’t matter here.
Even so, Ennis was skeptical about the condom, especially since Bobby didn’t really need it. “Truth is, Bobby, those things kind a take the heat off, if ya know what I mean. I don’t want things here ta get screwed up again!”
“Watch this, Ennis,” Bobby said with a gleam in his eye. Before Ennis could protest, Bobby reached for a tube he had thrown onto the bed earlier. He rubbed a bit of lube on the already glistening head of Ennis’s cock.
Bobby put the condom in his mouth, quickly lowered his head to Ennis’s eager erection. Placed the rubber on the tip of the other man’s penis with his mouth, left ample room at the end for what he hoped would be a serious load. Deftly rolled the condom down Ennis’s shaft with his lips. Continued to use his tongue to toy with Ennis’s swollen cock, lapping and licking up and down and around the turgid member. Worked his way down to Ennis’s balls. He’d forget all about that condom now, wouldn’t he? Bobby thought slyly. He swirled his tongue first around one ball and then around the other, with a few light licks to the scrotum for good measure.
He enjoyed Ennis’s musky, earthy aroma, the taste of salt and nature on his skin. A man who had some flavor to him, not all scrubbed and scentless like some of Bobby’s partners.
Ennis just about bucked right up off the bed. “Shit,” he said. “Fuck, kid, where’d ya … well, I … ya … well, okay then! Goddamn!”
Bobby smiled at Ennis’s swearing. This man of few words was finally enjoying himself, wasn’t he? Hallelujah! They were going to have a good time after all!
“So let’s go for a ride, Ennis, what say?”
“You bet!” Ennis replied. He had worried that the rubber would kill his hard-on, but after the oral action, his cock was perkier than ever. Jack had licked his balls, too, and it had driven him crazy. Ennis had once shot a coyote whose balls were “big as apples,” but Jack had assured Ennis that his balls were a mouthful enough, thank you. Even though it was obvious that Jack could hardly keep his hands off him, Ennis never really thought of himself as being attractive sexually. He had been flattered by Jack’s remark, was pleased to know that the source of his virility was appreciated. With Bobby’s talented tongue here, Ennis couldn’t help thinking with more than a little amusement and pleasure, like father, like son!
His cock was throbbing, oozing, ready for action. Ennis almost came without further stimulation just by watching this naked young man about to straddle him. The thought of filling this boy with his semen … oh, jesus, Ennis thought. Had his cock ever been this stiff? Ennis didn’t think so. Oh, wait … that first night in the tent with Jack … no, he needn’t compare that with what was going on here. This was … well, a new start, wasn’t it?
Bobby lubed up his hole with an index finger. Sized up Ennis and decided on two fingers.
He wiggled around, guiding Ennis’s dick to its target. Bobby thrilled to the thought and feel of Ennis’s erection entering him, as the surging cock head pushed past the achingly tight ring of muscle.
This was the same cock that he figured had penetrated his father so many times, and he felt like his dad was sharing some sort of very special secret with him. Passing a tribal tradition from generation to generation. The young man closed his eyes and threw his head back, experiencing for the first time in his life an incredible, pulsing warmth that ran deep, very deep. He felt an urgent need to bring the two lovers together as best as he could.
When had his horniness turned into this longing? Probably as soon as he had realized how in love the two men had been, how desolate Ennis was without Jack, how his own father had been cheated out of this love by his untimely death. How maybe, just maybe he himself could bring Ennis back to life by bringing his father back to life for a few moments. As soon as he had felt that his presence in Riverton was not coincidence but had a greater purpose.
Ennis slowly but surely thrust his cock upward, and Bobby leaned so the other man’s erection met his prostate with maximum impact. The shaft gliding back and forth, up and down with just enough force to put repeated pressure on the boy’s joy spot.
Ennis had not forgotten how to pleasure a man with penetration. “Ennis, oh god … oh you got it right there, oh!” Bobby exclaimed, as he rode Ennis and began stroking his own dick. Goddamn, dad did okay with this guy, I can tell already, he thought. No wonder he was always smilin’ after seein’ ol’ Ennis here! It took only a couple of minutes, however, for his father to fade from his thoughts. Yes, he knew he was doing this for Jack and Ennis … but he needed to be in the present as well as the past.
Ennis did not fight the fact that he could not be fully in the here and now with Bobby. His thoughts drifted back to that long-ago reunion with Jack in this very room. Jack, Ennis thought. Jack, oh, Jack, this feels so good! Jack, it’s been four years, how did we do it? Four fucking years! Jack why did you make me wait four years but Jack it doesn’t matter my dear Jack because jesus christ this feels so goddamned good so damned fucking good Jack and things are working out after all and shit this feels great!
What he said was, “Bobby, oh fuck yeah, Bobby … that feels so goddamned good!”
Ennis, sex-starved as he was, increased his speed rapidly, much to Bobby’s surprised delight. Bucked like a goddamned bronco, darned near sent the boy flying off his dick. Ennis hadn’t fucked like this since … jesus, since … the lump in his throat was only fleeting. He hadn’t forgotten Jack, no sir, one fuck or even a few wasn’t going to make him forget Jack, but he concentrated so he would be in the moment here with this wild young man sliding up and down on his cock. This wonderful young man who wasn’t Jack … but who was.
Bobby felt like he was on a rollercoaster—up, down, slow, fast. Repeat. All of it a thrill. All the while, he stroked his erection faster and faster, took his balls in his other hand and squeezed them hard. Pain before pleasure, pain before pleasure. He had learned that from his dad, hadn’t he? Didn’t know what that meant at the time, sure didn’t realize what he was doing right now was exactly what his father had been talking about.
Ennis had rediscovered that galloping rhythm, his years on horseback again about to pay off, so many years after Jack had first complimented him on his amazing technique. Placing his hands firmly on Bobby’s slender hips, Ennis thrust deliberately into the beautiful young man who was riding his cock. It felt wonderful. “Jack … this one’s for you, little darlin’,” he thought with a smile.
*
Yes, indeed. This one’s for you, Jack! His “little darlin’.” How long ago had Ennis said that? At their first reunion, he thought. Yes, that would have been it. Otherwise neither of the men used endearments with each other, not of such a domestic nature anyway.
But that first time he saw Jack again—his defenses were down. There were no reins on that one … it was the first thing that had come to mind. Before that kiss. The one where he had slammed Jack into the wall, pounded his mouth with his own, pressed his body tight against Jack’s as though they could become one person right then and there.
Otherwise their pet names for each other ranged from “sonofabitch” to “bastard,” sometimes even “motherfucker” or “cocksucker,” giving little thought if any to the connotation of that last term.
As Ennis lay on Jack's chest many hours later at the motel, Jack had admitted to redlining it back to him to reignite their affair, had asked Ennis how he had felt about their impending reunion.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ennis had half-mumbled noncommitally, a sheepish half-smile flickering across his typically impassive face. But lord how he had known, had known how empty the rest of his life was going to be without Jack. He had known, and he had prepared to spend the rest of his life that way, busying himself with obligations—the family, the horses, ranch work with long hours—and an increasing reliance on booze. And as Jack's strong arms enveloped him, he felt there was a chance. At what, he didn't know. But a chance nonetheless.
But he didn’t say what he was really thinking, didn't take the chance, went ahead and fucked everything up, didn’t he? Jack, Alma, the girls … Jack. Jack. Always Jack.
Yes, Ennis went ahead and set the harsh terms for their love affair: backwoods meetings, mountaintop trysts ... and none too often, as it happened. "If ya can't fix it, ya gotta stand it, Jack!" Indeed.
"For how long?" Jack had asked.
"As long as we can ride it," Ennis had replied. By the time that big fight rolled around years later, Ennis's ride was over. Jack's ride had long been over, but it was the stalwart Ennis who had snapped. His own rules had finally caught up to him.
With Bobby, Ennis was making up for the November that never came. That was to have been his and Jack’s first time together after the devastating fight and that passionate, cathartic hug. It was to have been a new beginning, Jack understanding for the first time the depths of Ennis’s inner hell, that Ennis even had an inner hell, and Ennis realizing at last how important he was to Jack’s vision of paradise. Going to Mexico had never been Jack’s idea of a good time, let alone paradise.
So here Ennis was with Jack … Bobby … to continue that story. The story that had to have an ending somewhere that was not the one that Ennis had endured for the past ten years. The story that had closed with a lonely, bitter man tearfully addressing a couple of bloody shirts and a postcard: “Jack, I swear….”
Bobby was a living part of Jack, but Ennis needed him as a loving part of Jack, too. Someone who could offer and receive love on Jack’s behalf.
Although Ennis was a loving part of Jack, Bobby needed him as a living part of Jack, too. Someone whose painfully intense devotion all but brought Bobby’s father back to life.
Ennis thrust his cock, his years of pain, forcefully, ever so deliberately, into Bobby, into this young man who would lead him out of the wilderness.
In response to Ennis’s increasingly powerful fucking, Bobby’s hand worked his own dick faster and faster. Jesus christ, this was amazing, this rhythm that Ennis had, and Bobby was so close! He pulled his hand away, pressed a finger just below the underside of his cock head to contain the imminent explosion. As impatient as he could sometimes be, he knew that for both him and Ennis this was going to be a very special orgasm.
He knew that whether he wanted it or not, he was just a vessel for his father, knew that Ennis was feeling Jack through his son’s body. But the kid had never been fucked like this. It was sex, but it was also symbolic, almost religious.
Ennis raised one of his hands to help Bobby with that energetic ball pulling, the other reaching up to twist an erect nipple as the kid headed into the home stretch. Those balls … so special, only source of the Twist family seed now that Jack was gone. Ennis pulled harder, twisted harder, powerful fingers manipulating flesh for maximum impact. The pain … the power … the pain … the power surged toward the inevitable as Bobby’s hand stroked his shaft faster, faster, faster.
Ennis felt Bobby’s spasms and watched in awe as the boy’s cock jettisoned a creamy load of cum that streamed past him to splatter on the headboard. Jack fuckin’ junior indeed—the kid was a shooter just like his dad had been!
As Bobby released his load, his sphincter tightened intensely on Ennis’s erection. Ennis arched up from the bed, driving his cock ferociously into the kid. Driving toward that ultimate connection with … Jack. It had been four years … four years, imagine that, how had he lived without Jack? That’s what Ennis had wondered back then as he had shot load after load of hot cum into the lover he thought he had lost, the man he never expected to see again.
Ennis never could admit his need for Jack, and he had let Jack slip away for good, hadn’t he? But here he was again, here again was the young Jack, the Jack of Brokeback Mountain working Ennis’s cock mightily with his ass. Jack … he grasped onto Bobby tighter and tighter. Jack … god, god … Jack. Jack … oh christ, Jack, “I love you!”
The semen surged in his cock, exploding with fury inside Bobby. Inside Jack. It was an excruciating orgasm with a near unbearable burning. “Oh my god, oh fuck!” Ennis groaned, as spent as he’d ever been.
But he had said it. I love you! His relief went way beyond the physical this time, as all those years of not telling Jack … all those years … were resolved in one phrase. In one fucking phrase. How could he not have said those three words when Jack was still alive?
Once again he and Jack had the experience of becoming one. But what a rare coupling it was, because this time Ennis had said it. He had told Jack, “I love you!” Perhaps he had bought Jack’s forgiveness?
Bobby was rapturous, despite his bruised balls had a look of utter joy on his face, and his skin tingled, as he took in every bit of seed Ennis had to offer.
Bobby had never had another man tell him, “I love you.” He knew Ennis hadn’t meant it for him, or had he? Yet … such a simple thing, the fantasies he could build on those three words!
He didn’t know if Ennis and his dad had ever said that to each other as easily as Ennis had just said it to him, but he hoped so. He truly hoped so.
He squeezed out Ennis’s still turgid cock, looked down at a man who—there was no doubt—knew how to make love to another man. A man who knew how to love, and it seemed that so few of them did. It had been a bizarre evening indeed, with its ups and downs, fears and tears. But yes, Bobby thought, this was worth traveling a thousand miles for!
He was so happy that his father had fallen in love with this man, had gotten many years of the most a man ever could hope to get from another man. But he also knew that he himself would miss Ennis, would miss this kind of loving that was so different for him. He knew he might never hear the words “I love you” again.
Ennis smiled beatifically up at his angel, his dark-haired, blue-eyed angel. He knew it was Bobby, but Bobby had given him Jack, the only person on earth who could have given him Jack, even if only for a short time. And Jack had brought forth Ennis the lover, the long-lost lover.
“Thank you, God,” Ennis thought. “Thank you!”
Finally appreciating the near absurd intensity of what had just happened, the joyful mess their exertions had made, Ennis and Bobby laughed. Bobby laughed just like his dad had. Ennis was sure of it!
Ennis reached for Bobby’s shoulders, and Bobby dropped down beside him. They resumed their kissing, slow, gentle, deep. Settled into a snuggling position, fell asleep like that, bodies curved together until morning, when one of them might awaken to start all over. Just like Jack and Ennis had done. Just like that.
*
Tendrils of smoke swirled up around Bobby Twist’s face as he watched Ennis Del Mar sleeping like a baby, a half smile on his face. Sweet dreams, Bobby supposed. Ennis’s first time in ten years. Yeah, sweet dreams indeed! Bobby ashed his cigarette in the motel’s overflowing ceramic ashtray.
There were only a couple of beer bottles. They had approached their sacred coupling with a certain sobriety they thought was appropriate.
After all, it could be the last time that Jack would receive his love, Ennis knew. It could be ….
But this time Ennis had told Jack how much he loved him. How he had loved that man, how he still loved him thirty years later! He’d love Jack always, and he knew it. They had both known it since that first summer on Brokeback Mountain, hadn’t they?
And Bobby had shared his father’s love with Ennis. For the first time. It could be the last time. He knew it could be ….
Ah, Ennis Del Mar—what an enigma! Bobby thought.
From the moment the kid had first cruised the other man in the bar’s restroom, he knew there was something special about Ennis. And he had gone for it. But he had had no idea how Ennis already fit into his life, into his dad’s life, anyway.
Had he only known! Ennis, the critical piece to a puzzle that the kid didn’t even know existed. And so much information to process, finding out that Ennis and his dad had been lovers … for twenty years! At one level, Bobby envied their relationship, yet he had wanted so badly to help Ennis make the connection that he so desperately needed with his long-dead lover. Bobby was pretty sure he had helped Ennis achieve just that.
He believed his actions had served well his father’s memory, too, in essence bringing his dad back to life for the man who loved him the most.
That warmth he had felt while riding Ennis’s cock. The kid had been fucked many times before and had never felt anything like that. The special sharing that justified calling the activity making love, so much more than just having sex.
Bobby almost felt like he had ridden Ennis to one hell of a victory, shooting his load onto the headboard and all. That was one fuckin’ orgasm. Had he ever shot that far before? Not that he could remember.
As incredible as the physical release had been, it had been so much more. Bobby had plenty of reason to be vain, but he knew damn well that Ennis had been thinking about his father. And the kid found that exciting, that he could magically bridge two worlds, that he really could be his father for a man who was unable to move beyond his first and only love.
Bobby thought about why he himself had been drawn to Ennis. Ennis exuded masculinity from every pore, didn’t he? Sure, maybe his dad and Ennis had been all alone there on that mountain, a nice setup for an affair, but Ennis … well, he understood why his father had fallen in love with the man. He could understand if his dad had gone for Ennis on that mountain without even being gay, bi, or whatever.
His dad had been his own man sure enough, but … well, damn it, he had been kind of pretty! Like himself. Dark curly hair, blue eyes, dimpled smile. Plenty of testosterone, lord knows … but in a pretty frame.
He had no problem at all understanding why his father had become the love of Ennis’s life so many years ago. His dad had been such a beautiful man, in more ways than one.Bobby wished he could have known them as a couple. So complementary: his dad, unpredictable but confident, romantic, fun-loving, full of exciting tales about his rodeo days. Always looking to the future, hopeful, heart on his sleeve, they called it—a trait Bobby was happy to have inherited.
And Ennis, possibly the most reticent person he had ever met. Seemed to have been dealt a lot of low cards in his life, but never gave up. Terribly strong but shy, patient, devoted. So many pent-up emotions. That faded denim jacket hiding a big heart that he did not know how to share.
Ennis stirred, finally awakening to the sight of Bobby, cigarette in one hand, sitting naked in one of the armchairs and watching him.
Ennis rubbed his eyes. So it hadn’t been a dream! Even though last night had blended seamlessly into his dreams, it had all been real.
It was an odd thing to say upon waking up, but Ennis said simply, “Thank you, Bobby. Thank you, my little angel.”
Bobby was amused, flattered, smiled at him. “Ennis, ya know, ya weren’t too bad yourself!”
Indeed, it had been an awesome experience for both, more powerful than they ever could have hoped for. But the fact that they shared that was enough. They did not need to put any of it into words.
Ennis seemed lost in thought for a minute and then looked at Bobby with much interest.
“Bobby, I … well, I just wanted to say … well, this must have been, um, a little weird for you?” It was done, had been a success, they both knew, but Ennis was a little concerned about the kid.
“Ennis,” Bobby began. “Bein’ with you is wonderful, but ya know … with all that stuff last night about mah dad … ah think … well, Ennis, ah think about how much ah miss mah daddy. Ah miss him somethin’ terrible.”
“Ya know, ah never got ta say goodbye ta him. Ah was sixteen, darned near an adult, and they wouldn’t let me … kiss him goodbye.” He choked up at the memory.
Why hadn’t they let Bobby view his father? Did he need to know why? Ennis wasn’t sure, but so many truths had come out since he had met Bobby … well, the kid was an adult and could handle it.
Ennis was looking at a kid who loved his father so much, who was so completely his father’s son, more than each of them ever could have known as long as Jack was alive. Only after Jack’s death could Bobby experience these truths with Ennis, these truths that could only make the two survivors stronger, more compassionate.
Ennis sat on the edge of the bed, motioned for Bobby to come sit next to him. Took a hit off of Bobby’s cigarette.
He put his arm around the kid’s shoulders.
“Bobby,” Ennis began gently. He himself could hardly bear the vision he had of Jack’s final moments, tire iron after tire iron.
“Bobby, there wasn’t no tire exploded on that back road like your mama told me on the phone.”
Bobby looked perplexed.
“What I mean is, goddamn, this is tough, kid,” Ennis said in a quivering voice as his eyes teared up.
Not again, Bobby thought. “Oh, Ennis, jesus christ, what … what’s wrong?”
Ten years of guilt were coming to the fore for Ennis. Ten years, and that was a lot of guilt for a man of his nature. A man who was on his own, who took his responsibilities so seriously, who had all that time to reflect about his past, every little mistake he had made.
“Your daddy … oh, Jack, my god, Jack … he, uh … they killed him ‘cause of me, Bobby!” Ennis obviously was in pain.
What the fuck was Ennis talking about now? Bobby wondered. As much as the kid had come to like Ennis in the short time they had known one another, sometimes he seemed downright delusional.
“Bobby, your daddy always wanted to go live somewhere together, a ranch or somethin’, ya know, nothin’ fancy … and I wouldn’t do it.” He said through his tears, “I fuckin’ wouldn’t do it!”
Jack’s last accusation echoed in his head: “You wouldn’t do it, Ennis!” You wouldn’t do it! You wouldn’t do it ….
“Oh, Ennis, man, come on, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Bobby leaned closer to him, tried to comfort him.
“Ya keep comin’ up with these things … ah don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. What does a ranch … what do you have to do with mah daddy’s accident?”
“Goddamn it,” Ennis said, anger now supplanting his guilty sorrow. He got it out in one breath: “Those motherfuckers found out about your dad and killed him!”
Bobby blinked a couple of times, just stared at Ennis with those blue eyes. This just wasn’t possible. The accident … it was an accident. No one was going to tell him differently.
The previous evening with its lifetime’s worth of surprises finally caught up with Bobby.
“Ennis! Ennis! Quit tellin’ me shit, man, quit fuckin’ with me!” He pulled away from Ennis, but stayed on the bed.
Bobby himself began to cry, more out of confusion and frustration than anything else.
Ennis pulled the boy close, hugged him tightly.
“Oh, Bobby, Bobby. It’s all right, it’s all right.”
Bobby looked at him, and it broke Ennis’s heart to see tears in those beautiful eyes. It reminded him of his last time with Jack, when they both had ended up crying in each other’s arms. He did not pursue his version of Jack’s death.
Bobby held on to Ennis, his source of consternation, yet at that moment also his source of strength. He didn’t know what to think about Ennis’s latest story, but even if it were true, he didn’t want to think about tragedies anymore. He simply wanted to be with Ennis, just wanted to be in the moment there.
He rested his head against Ennis’s neck, closed his eyes, and Ennis tenderly stroked his hair.
“Ennis … just wanted ta tell ya that … well, ah don’t know exactly how ta say this … but ain’t nobody ever made love ta me before.”
Ennis kept on stroking Bobby’s hair, reddened a bit, with embarrassed pride maybe. Is he sayin’ I’m good in bed? Thoughtful kid, ain’t he … nice thing ta hear after all these years. “Bobby, don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout. Ya said yourself ya done it lots a times. Been all ‘round the block makin’ love an’ all, ya know. Needin’ that rubber …”
Bobby looked up at Ennis, and tears softly rolled down his cheeks. But they were the tears of a grateful young man, not of a bereaved son. “No, Ennis. Ah don’t mean like that. Ah mean, makin’ love … ain’t like just screwin’ or fuckin’ or havin’ sex or whatever. Ya know, it’s somethin’ special. Somethin’ real special, ‘cause I ain’t never felt it before. I think ya know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, don’t ya?” Bobby was pretty sure Ennis and Jack had known about making love, because he had just experienced it, and Ennis was no novice.
The kid’s words stirred Ennis, who swallowed deeply with emotion. He hadn’t realized how important it would be for him to have this young man remind him that he had made love to Jack once again. His darlin’ Jack. The physical act had meant as much to Bobby … to Jack … as it had to Ennis. But as with Jack, there had been so much more—a union of spirits. Ennis had felt that, but he wasn’t sure if the younger man had felt quite so strongly about that union.
“Bobby,” Ennis said. “Your daddy … oh, Bobby, shit, Jack an’ me … well … jesus, Bobby, ain’t no one ever said nothin’ like that ta me!”
Bobby looked startled. What were those twenty years about, then?
“What I mean, Bobby, is that … ya know, Jack an’ me … was just the two a us, an’ we sort a knew what we was feelin’. Know what I mean? Didn’t never think we had ta … I don’t know … give a name ta what we was doin’. Sometimes I wish I’d a told your dad what my feelin’s were, how I thought ‘bout him all the time … still do, ya know … but I just ain’t that kind a guy. Ain’t never been able ta say most a what I’m thinkin’.” Ennis hugged Bobby tighter. Yes, this was how it always had gone, Ennis thought. Hugs, kisses, physical intimacies, even tears on rare occasions—through those he had told Jack much of what he needed to say.
“But it was like what we did, Ennis, wasn’t it? Like … like we was really, really connected, ya know, like I was sittin’ on your dick an’ all that, an’ that felt so good, but somethin’ more … didn’t ya feel that we was kind a like … this sounds kind a dumb maybe … kind a like one person?” Bobby asked with concern.
Ennis sighed. “Aw, Bobby, don’t need ta worry yourself none. If that’s what ya call it, then we sure was makin’ love all right. An’ yeah … that’s what your daddy an’ me did when we was … um, with each other like this. Ever’ since the beginnin’ with Jack. Jesus, he was so special, an’ … an’ god damn me for not knowin’ what ta do ‘bout it.”
“But can’t say I didn’t try when we was together. It was this funny thing, Bobby, guess ya haven’t had it yet, but I hope ya do … your daddy an’ me was just made ta be together, all there was to it. Wasn’t no way ta help it. We was in … love, is what it was. We was fuckin’ in love, just couldn’t say it quite like that. Interestin’ thing was, it changed … our love did … ya know, over all that time.” Ennis’s eyes watered … all that time.
“But underneath, it stayed the same, like … like we couldn’t be apart … not forever anyways.” He swallowed hard as the truth hit him again that he and Jack were apart. Forever? Who knew?
“Look, Bobby, your daddy sure as hell didn’t believe in heaven, an’ I ain’t sure that I do neither. Tell ya what, though, I can’t stand the thought that Jack might really be gone … forever. There got ta be somethin’ else. That man is waitin’ for me somewhere. Love, Bobby, well, seems love is just when ya can’t say goodbye … like for real.”
Bobby reached for Ennis’ hand, just held it. Men could fuck all they wanted, he thought, but hand holding hand … that was intimacy, wasn’t it? He squeezed and closed his eyes.
After a few minutes, Bobby opened his eyes and looked up at Ennis, and they did what came naturally. They kissed. At first just their lips barely touching, then mouths open, opening wider, tongues stroking one another. The kissing turned passionate, deeper, their embrace ever more heated.
“Oh, Bobby,” Ennis whispered. “My poor little Bobby.”
He knew that sounded oddly paternal, but that was how he felt about the kid. That his life had been tough enough, but then the boy had to negotiate his way through the bizarre night with Ennis. Ennis realized how overwhelmed the young man must be.
He could tell that Bobby was pleased to have played such an important role in his father and Ennis’s relationship, although so many years after the fact. But still he thought, poor Bobby.
Bobby, however, was not feeling beholden to anyone this time around. He had done what he could for his father and Ennis, and now it was time for him to just be … Bobby. Wasn’t it possible that Ennis could feel at least a bit of love just for him? A bit of love just for the young man who had wandered up to him at the bar, disarming Ennis completely even though he had no idea who Bobby really was?
Bobby needed to find out. He was more resilient than Ennis gave him credit for, really. Very resilient. His handsome cock bounded back into action, becoming more erect the more intensely they kissed.
As the two men became more entwined, Bobby crawled onto Ennis, licking his neck, kissing his chest, and Ennis too became hard.
Ennis lay on his back, and their groins touched. The heat of erect penis rubbing against erect penis brought forth slick precum. The two men became more vocal, emitting low moans and groans amidst their kisses.
Bobby shimmied his way up Ennis’s torso until his cock rested on Ennis’s chest.
Ennis grabbed the boy’s ass and pulled him up to his face. He nuzzled the kid’s smooth balls, reveled in the fragrant muskiness there. Perhaps it recalled for Ennis the smell of sex with Jack, but this time it was Bobby’s body he was enjoying, not Jack’s.
Bobby reached beyond Ennis’s head and grabbed on to the headboard. Ennis was ready, and the kid thrust his cock into the other man’s mouth. Tasting the sweet meatiness of Bobby’s penis, Ennis realized how much he missed that sort of activity. How good it had felt to suck Jack off, always with a healthy dose of ball licking. And how good it had felt to have his own dick pass Jack’s sensuous lips and be tended to by his very talented tongue.
Bobby knew his time with Ennis was limited, and he wanted to share as much of himself as he possibly could, and he thrust harder. Wanted to trade his love for Ennis’ love.
He pulled himself closer to the headboard, so his penis penetrated Ennis’s mouth deeper and deeper. Ennis took it all the way to the kid’s balls, which had ridden higher and higher as he lifted his ass into the air. The boy’s normally loose scrotum contracted as his excitement built. As though he wanted to gain as much pleasure for his balls as his cock was receiving, fucking Ennis’s willing mouth. Ennis’s nose nestled in Bobby’s pubic hair. He had his hand on his own raging cock, the member so engorged it looked like the veins would pop.
Bobby rocked back and forth over Ennis’s face, in and out, in and out as he built up another explosion. “Oh, Ennis, the way you’re doin’ that, the way you’re suckin’ it! Oh yeah, that feels so good, so goddamn good!” Bobby exclaimed.
Ennis continued to masturbate, keeping one hand on Bobby’s butt. He felt the muscles there tighten as Bobby shoved his cock faster and faster into his mouth. Ennis’s tongue played up and down the underside of the kid’s shaft, sampling every vein, every ridge.
Bobby’s entire body stiffened and he gasped as he shot load after load of his hot semen to the back of Ennis’s throat, thrusting until the other man had drained every drop. Ennis hadn’t done this for at least ten years, and he was pleased to discover he still had his nuanced sense of what another man was experiencing and how close he was to coming.
The excitement of Bobby’s intense ejaculation, of finally tasting this boy, eating his cum, had Ennis frantically stroking his own cock, by now throbbing and swollen. He worked his balls, massaging them as Bobby nipped at his neck, licked his nipples.
Ennis had never known that nipples could be sensitive until Jack had shown him one night. He had been surprised and delighted, and had begged for the tongue action whenever he was masturbating for Jack. Ennis hadn’t said anything to Bobby, and he was tickled that the kid intuitively knew how to please him, just as Ennis knew how to please Bobby.
As Ennis writhed under the young man, Bobby began biting his nipples lightly, then more intensely when he sensed that Ennis was about to come. Without the impending pleasure, it would have been painful indeed.
Ennis worked his balls harder and harder, pulling, twisting, and he felt the cum just a few strokes away. “Harder, Bobby, harder,” he told the boy, knowing the vigorous nipple action would greatly enhance his orgasm. Bobby complied.
Ennis aimed his erection straight up, the final thrust releasing a healthy fountain of cum that landed mostly in the pubic hair above his cock.
“Jesus fuckin’ christ!” was all Ennis could say. “Jesus christ!”
Bobby moved in for a follow-up kiss. He lay on top of Ennis, and the latter man’s cum formed a warm, sticky bond between them.
Ennis closed his eyes, enjoying the post-coital kiss, enjoying the fact that he had just made love to Bobby. And it was okay that he had just eaten the cum of another man who was not Jack. Still, it was Bobby, and he was a very special man. So in his own in-between world, a world that seemed to have more gray in it than black and white when it came to sexuality, Ennis took comfort in the fact that he himself still wasn’t queer. He wouldn’t be traveling to Mexico anytime soon.
Once again, Ennis wrapped his arms tightly around Bobby. Unlike the previous night, Ennis didn’t say “I love you” to Bobby, because … well, he didn’t. He loved the fact that Bobby existed, he loved who Bobby was, what Bobby had done for him—and for Jack. But for Ennis, saying “I love you” was terribly serious business. After all, it had taken him thirty years to say it to Jack, ten years after the poor man’s death! Absurd, but that was life. And that was love between men sometimes, so difficult to say the simplest things, it seemed.
The two men snuggled for quite some time, both with contented smiles on their faces. In the motel room it didn’t seem to matter much whether it was day or night. Ennis was just vaguely aware that it was still the weekend, and he didn’t have to work.
As he held Bobby close, feeling the kid’s heartbeat, he was grateful for the second chance he had been given. Deep down Ennis knew that he had experienced pleasure and plenty of it … with Jack … but he never could understand it or appreciate it for its own sake at the time. Never could believe that it should be happening to him.
And it had all slipped away.
But this second chance with Bobby … yes, Ennis was so grateful.
Would there be another chance? He didn’t know, but he thought he had learned a lot from being with Bobby, had discovered a lot about himself, had tried to make good with Jack through his son. And then had let Bobby’s own humanity, his own desires, play out, too. Ennis had finally shared his sorrow, leaving less to weigh on his already heavy heart.
Last night when he was making love to Bobby, when he was making love to Jack, he didn’t want to let Jack go. How painful would it be this time? Ennis had wondered.
And now Bobby. How would he feel once Bobby had left? How would Bobby feel about all this, now or some day in the future? Would they ever see each other again?
Bobby rested comfortably, quietly on Ennis’s chest, and he too wondered about the same things.
They fell asleep once again, snuggled together just like Jack and Ennis had always done. But this time it was just Bobby and Ennis, no more, no less. And it was wonderful. It wouldn’t last forever, but it was wonderful, in this room at the Siesta Motel where Jack and Ennis had furiously made love after their four-year separation.
It had been magical then, and it had been magical this time.
When they awoke together later, it was time for Bobby to continue on to the grandmother he had never met, drive up to the ranch in Lightning Flat that his dad had grown up on.
They got dressed, moved toward the door.
Ennis looked once more … maybe for the last time? … into those bright blue eyes that had so attracted him upon first meeting Bobby. He kissed the boy gently, and they stepped outside.
Bobby went to bring his truck around from in front of the room he had first taken on his own.
He got out of the truck and came to Ennis for one last hug. He felt that he had known this man forever, that he shouldn’t be leaving like this. But he was only twenty-six. He had a lifetime in front of him, and this was not the place to make a future. He knew that. Ennis knew that too.
They hugged once more, and then they kissed, deeply, meaningfully, one last time, and right there in the parking lot!
Bobby got in his truck again.
A tear came to Ennis’ eye as he waved goodbye to Bobby from the motel room door. “So long, cowboy,” he said simply, as Jack’s son drove off into a wild, orange sunset.
But it wasn’t so easy for Bobby. He thought he might be in love. And just what was he supposed to do about that? Could he fix that?
No, he reckoned he was just going to have to stand it … because Ennis Del Mar was always and forever going to be a one-man man—Jack Twist’s man.
THE END
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