here is just a snippet of widower goodness:
Leaving the door open he went back into the kitchen, picked up the phone and dialed, wondered what he’d say if she answered but knew it would be him, he’d be up too and he was, picked up on the first ring.
“Hello?”
No words came, voice between cracks like he was thirteen again.
“Hello?” Jack said again and then he dropped to a whisper, “Ennis?” He managed a weak little, “yeah.” “You OK?” “Jack, I...” his jaw worked, the creek rising. He imagined him sitting in a dark kitchen in Texas and they listened to each other breathe till the fuse lit in the motel room out on the 26 finally burned to the powder and he got enough in his lungs for,
“Yes.”
And Jack’s breathing stopped. “Jack?”
“Yes, what?” barely audible.
“Yes I want....I want what you want, Jack.” He heard him exhale across two states. “You sure?”
“Yes I’m sure. I want a be with you, Jack.” Gathering steam, “damn you, Jack. Got me wrapped around your little finger, knew I couldn’t walk away twice. Know I said, two guys together, no way, but...just got a take the chance, can’t be no worse than...Jesus, Jack, it ain’t been a day yet and I can’t stand it no more, I’d rather be dead. Feels like I’m dead anyways, watchin you drive away, like you never were...I got a, got a be with you.”
“Ennis...” “What?” “I’m leavin now, Ennis. Ain’t unpacked yet anyways.” “What’ll you say a Lureen?” “She’s at her ma’s...we had a fight...I’ll tell you about it tomorrow afternoon, figger I’ll be there by then. I’m goin, OK?”
He heard the click, rested the receiver against his chest, things he still wanted to say, say them in person, tomorrow afternoon, better in person. Didn’t know how long she’d been standing there or what she’d heard. He stood up, still holding the phone, let the chips fall, all around them. Where they’d go, where they’d live, his wife, the mother of his children, his home, such as it was, his sacred vows. All he knew for certain, if it came to it, he’d live under a bridge with Jack Twist.
