BrokenBack Mountain
The day was hot and clear in the morning, but by noon the clouds
had pushed up out of the west rolling a little sultry air before them.
Ennis, wearing his best shirt, white with wide black stripes, didn't
know what time Jack would get there and so had taken the day off, paced
back and forth, looking down into a street pale with dust. Alma was
saying something about taking his friend to the Knife & Fork for supper
instead of cooking it was so hot, if they could get a baby-sitter, but
Ennis said more likely he'd just go out with Jack and get drunk. Jack
was not a restaurant type, he said, thinking of the dirty spoons sticking
out of the cans of cold beans balanced on the log.
Late in the afternoon, thunder growling, that same old green pickup
rolled in and he saw Jack get out of the truck, beat-up Resistol tilted
back. A hot jolt scalded Ennis and he was out on the landing pulling
the door closed behind him. Jack took the stairs two and two. They seized
each other by the shoulders, hugged mightily, squeezing the breath out
of each other, saying, son of a *****, son of a *****, then, and easily
as the right key turns the lock tumblers, their mouths came together,
and hard, Jack's big teeth bringing blood, his hat falling to the floor,
stubble rasping, wet saliva welling, and the door opening and Alma looking
out for a few seconds at Ennis's straining shoulders and shutting the
door again and still they clinched, pressing chest and groin and thigh
and leg together, treading on each other's toes until they pulled apart
to breathe and Ennis, not big on endearments, said what he said to his
horses and daughters, little darlin.
The door opened again a few inches and Alma stood in the narrow light.
What could he say? "Alma, this is Jack Twist, Jack, my wife Alma."
His chest was heaving. He could smell Jack -- the intensely familiar
odor of cigarettes, musky sweat and a faint sweetness like grass, and
with it the rushing cold of the mountain. "Alma," he said, "Jack and
me ain't seen each other in four years." As if it were a reason. He
was glad the light was dim on the landing but did not turn away from
her.
"Sure enough," said Alma in a low voice. She had seen what she had
seen. Behind her in the room lightning lit the window like a white sheet
waving and the baby cried.
"You got a kid?" said Jack. His shaking hand grazed Ennis's hand,
electrical current snapped between them.
"Two little girls," Ennis said. "Alma Jr. and Francine. Love them
to pieces."
Alma's mouth twitched.
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18 嶄猟井