Gift of Exile Part 1, Chapter 3

[talkstocoyotes]

Chapter 3

The photographer peered through the camera lens long enough that any of the wedding party might have thought he was meditating, or had fallen asleep on his feet.  “Jenny, we need you to get up on the steps,” he said.  And after another endless pause, “Mr. Del Mar, please move a bit to your right. There’s a glare on you from the window.”  Ennis complied, impressed by the patience of the women in the wedding party.  He and Curt, as well as the best man and the two ushers, had exchanged exasperated glances, convinced that the photographer had been hired specifically to be as annoying as possible.  “Wonder if he’d follow us into the crapper,” he’d heard Curt mutter.

Ennis wasn’t as impatient or irritated as might otherwise have been, however; partly because of his determination to go along with whatever Alma Jr. had decided to do today.  But even more, he was so shaken by Jack’s unexpected attendance that he was grateful for any free space in which he did not have to move, speak or even look directly at anyone.  There was time enough to figure out later what the hell had happened, and if it had been real or his overstressed imagination.

But for now, he passed the time with the obligatory wedding pictures recalling in detail how Jack’s invisible hand had felt in his, the inflections of every whisper; and puzzling over whether he had actually heard Jack’s voice or if it was a memory of it playing back in his head. On the short drive to the Elks’ reception hall, he’d tried whispering his own name at a lower and lower volume until he couldn’t tell whether he was hearing or thinking it, although that didn’t answer his questions. With his mysterious communion with Jack being not even an hour past, trying to make social conversation with strangers - the expected art of chattering easily while saying as little as possible, which he had no talent for - seemed a kind of profanation.

Driving down the town’s main street to the Elks hall, he glanced over at the laundromat, now a restaurant-supply business’ storage building. He and Alma had lived for most of their marriage in its second-floor apartment. Ennis tried not to look at the outdoor stairway and the recess that hid another stairway but he failed as usual when passing the place, remembering their tumultuous reunion after four years.  I remember to too, bud, he heard - or thought -- Jack whisper as he pulled into the Elks’ parking lot nearby.

The Elks’ reception hall was decorated with green and white bunting, balloons in the same color scheme and arrangements of dark green ferns, white roses and smaller, feathery white flowers on every table. Next to the wedding cake, the buffet Monroe had catered provided abundant and unpretentious food: platters of fruit and vegetables, dinner rolls fragrant with butter and yeast, sliced meats and cheeses, pastries. Ennis guessed that the two punch bowls would yield nothing alcoholic and he suddenly craved a beer, more than one.

The first person he saw was K.E. whom he had not seen since his own wedding two decades before. Like himself, K.E. had become more weathered: two tough plants that now had more fibrous stalks and fewer leaves; testimony to years of hard physical work and exposure to Wyoming’s unforgivingly windy climate. Their short conversation was mostly standard phrases rendered awkward by their predictability: congratulations, thanks, been a long time.  Talk between them had come easily years ago, but their exchanges had been centered around work, and once K.E. had married and Ennis was on his own at age 19, the family bond between them had become brittle and tenuous.

They’d never spoken of the morning that their father had taken them both, his hand clenched around Ennis’ neck, to see Earl’s wrecked and blood-spattered body. That would remain hidden away in a dark and unholy place that could be cleansed only with remorse and atonement from an unrepentant person long dead.

Alma and Monroe were making the rounds of the room, stopping for miniature conversations with Junior’s friends and new in-laws, some of whose names they’d have to remember and others who wouldn’t be seen until the next family rite of passage if then; and Ennis tried to brace himself to say what he’d resolved to say to Alma, before he lost his nerve and had to remember that later. The bitterness of the last year had been enough to make him aware of how much he’d regret taking the path of least resistance yet again; but that couldn’t make it something to look forward to. A determination to get it over with as early as possible was the best he could manage. Do it now, won’t be any easier in ten minutes.

"Monroe", he nodded to the pleasant-faced if somewhat bland-looking man, who as the manager of the grocery store had seen more of Alma than he had in the last few mostly silent years of their marriage. Both of them turned to look at him, somewhat wary if determinedly civil. "Wanted to thank ya for doing the caterin’. I know Junior appreciates it." "Glad to do it, Ennis", Monroe answered cautiously, clearly half-expecting some other shoe to drop. Ennis fixed his eyes on Alma’s face, trying to remember his resolve to look directly at her, but he felt already as if he were sitting in a dentist chair. "I know we’ve had some bad blood between us."  Especially that Thanksgiving, 'Jack Nasty', five more years after that.  "But I’m glad we’re both here for Junior. She deserves that."

That doesn’t cover half of it, but she wasn’t going to say that at her daughter’s wedding; instead, "thank you, Ennis." Alma’s face looked no friendlier, but he caught both their astonished expressions as he nodded to them again, grunted a noncommittal "well…" and walked away. Awkward as hell, it was just as uncomfortable as he’d expected but at least it was done. Unsure of what to do next, he stopped at the buffet and poured a cup of over sweetened punch he had no interest in drinking. Glancing toward the small platform that served as a bandstand at the hall’s social gatherings, he suddenly thought he saw Jack, back half turned to him, talking with a middle-aged woman that Ennis had not met.

This had become a familiar and troubling routine, one that had made him doubt his sanity more than once in the past months. He would see a man who was dark-haired with fair skin, or with a long, slender body, or with features that through some trickery of light, the time of day, the angle of the sun between clouds, looked achingly familiar. It didn’t take much. An odd feeling would seize him that he was getting a glimpse of Jack, and that Jack would disappear forever if he glanced away for a second. The only time he could recall anything similar was the weeks after his mother’s death when he’d kept expecting to see her by the stove or sitting on their battered sofa folding laundry, thinking through habit that she was just in the next room. But even that had not lasted for months.

On one occasion last winter he’d actually followed a dark-haired, blue-eyed man out through a parking lot, realizing what he was doing just as the man sensed someone following him and glanced around. He’d managed to look away in time, to make it to his truck while the other man walked on, unknowing. But he’d sat gripping the steering wheel for several long minutes, waiting for his fear-quickened heartbeat and breathing to get back to normal. Now, as the wedding guest glanced around at him, Ennis saw that this man was no double for Jack. The coloring and height were the same, but if Jack had a coltish body, this man’s was more like an agile man-sized bear’s. The eyes so much lighter in color than Jack’s met his, and Ennis was suddenly conscious of standing alone at his daughter’s wedding reception and staring at a guest he hadn’t met. He glanced around for an escape and saw an elderly woman sitting alone at one of the decorated tables.

Pouring a second cup, he sat down at the table next to her. "Some punch, ma’am?" Sitting with an older lady seemed a safe way to spend a few inconspicuous minutes and figure out how he was going to get through the next few hours. She was a small woman, slender though not particularly fragile looking. "Thank you," she gave him an immediate smile, "I’m Alexandria Harding, Curt is my great-nephew, and you’re Mr. Del Mar, aren’t you?"

Her voice was low and resonant, with a Southern accent redolent of enervating summers, sweet tea and wide front porches, the dominion of an earlier generation. It was not too soft, but pitched just low enough that most listeners had to lean toward her and give full attention to hear. "Yes, ma’am."

"Oh, your daughter is lovely, Curt is a lucky man. And the girl who sang….""

"Jenny."

"She’s your youngest, isn’t she?"

Ennis nodded. "Sings in the church choir a lot. And she was in the school musical last year."

"You must be very proud of both of them."

"Yes ma’am," he said, "but I’m afraid their mother has to take most of the credit for that."

They were standard, unremarkable phrases, not much more memorable than those he’d just shared with K.E. But the warmth and interest in both her smile and voice seemed genuine. She had a way of leaning forward and fixing her eyes on his face, voice loud enough to reach his ears but not much further, making him feel like they were alone in the room. "I didn’t know Curt had family in Georgia," he ventured.

"Oh yes, my sister married a man from Colorado, and later Curt’s parents moved to Laramie. I’m from Macon and have a daughter there, but I live with my other daughter in Augusta, she and my granddaughter are here with me. I haven’t seen Curt in so long, any of our family out West, so I wanted to make the trip for his wedding. My age, you see your family at holidays, weddings, you never know if it’s the last time you’ll see them. At least," she dropped her voice as if keeping her words from reaching nonexistent eavesdroppers, "that was a pretty good way to talk my daughter into bringing me."

Ennis smiled at her, without a conscious effort this time. "So we both have two daughters."

"Oh, I have a son, Kevin… He was killed during the Korean war." Her eyes looked over his face thoughtfully. "Many years ago, but of course I always remember him as a very young man. You understand." Ennis immediately thought of Jack, always pictured him now the way he had been that first summer, two decades away to Kevin’s three. "Yes, ma’am, I sure do."

They were suddenly joined by a blonde woman of about 30, dressed in a bright pink suit. She smiled briefly at Ennis, a smile that was a notable achievement of both practice and dentistry although he thought immediately of his horses’ teeth coated in white paint. The fruity aroma of the cologne she was wearing was neither too strong nor cloying but it seemed to fit her nevertheless: a piece of delectable fruit still sweet and juicy but a little soft here and there, recently overripe.

"Oh here you are, Gramma," sitting down on the other side of Alexandria, the younger woman didn’t appear to even notice Ennis. "Well, this has been an interestin' wedding, thank God I wasn’t one of the bridesmaids, what with those dresses, I mean, why in the world would she pick that shade of green? Made Luanne’s skin look like a piece of cheese somebody forgot in the refrigerator -"

"Charlene," Alexandria’s voice a little louder now, "I don’t believe you and Mr. Del Mar had met. The bride’s father, Mr. Del Mar, this is my granddaughter Charlene." Suddenly wanting to find yet another escape route, Ennis nodded to her. She looked searchingly at him and he was conscious of his older suit, his weathered skin, the age that he knew had crept closer in the last year. "Well, your daughter is just beautiful, Mr. Del Mar, I was tellin’ Curt just a few minutes ago." She gave him another carefully orchestrated smile to match her voice and apparently dismissing him, turned to Alexandria again. "Can you believe the climate here, all that wind? Just two days and my skin feels like old newspaper."

"I know, dear," Alexandria said evenly. "It was good of you and your Mama to come with me. I hadn’t seen Curt and Luanne in years, and I’m so glad David decided to come. I haven’t seen him since he moved North."

"Just as well he’s here, if you want to see him. I mean, we won’t be seeing David at his wedding anytime soon, not unless they change the laws and Nathan comes back to life."

"That’s none of your business, Charlene," Alexandria said in a low, warning voice but Ennis scarcely heard. He looked down at the table, his face feeling too warm and his stomach slightly queasy.

"Mama, I need you and Charlene to come with me," a brisk woman’s voice said. She looked like an older version of Charlene but had an aura of authority about her. Ennis would have been reminded of ladies he’d met at the few church events Alma had talked him into years ago, but all he could see was the man who was with her, the same man he’d half-mistaken for Jack a few minutes ago. "David was telling me the photographer is still here," the woman continued to Alexandria, "and he suggested we have our pictures taken with Curt and the bride. Three generations."

"Not unless Nathan comes back to life...." For a terrible moment, the old terror and nausea started to overcome him. One hand gripped the side of his chair hard enough that his fingers ached; the old slapdown voice, struggling to override his pledges to Jack, started to work its way up: he knows everybody knows get it away now you'll catch it, queer faggot it was just Jack, if this thing grabs hold of us...  Mechanically, he pushed himself up out of the chair, heard only a few words of the introduction, "my daughter Carol," a quick handshake and then there was no avoiding it, David with his hand politely extended. Ennis took it briefly and for a moment he could feel every cell of his own right hand, clasping a man’s hand that was so different from Jack’s, a little darker and with short, blunt fingers, oddly like a surgeon’s hands.

There were other differences, he saw now. Jack’s long narrow face and features seemed to have been carved by an expert sculptor, where David’s, with its squarish shape, broad cheekbones and slightly pointed chin, had been assembled with great care. His eyes were as arresting as Jack’s, though not because of intense blueness or long black eyelashes. They were light gray, deep set but contrasting so emphatically with heavy dark eyebrows and skin slightly darker than Jack’s as to look like pale eyes on a dark-colored cat.

"It’s been lovely talking with you, Mr. Del Mar." Alexandria’s soft voice again, as she collected her small ladylike pocketbook. "David, it was thoughtful of you to think of that." "Sure, Gramma Alex, be sure an’ send me a copy." Ennis realized that he was sitting again, watching them walk away. He glanced warily over at David next to him and was surprised to see amusement in the other man’s face.

"Well, I guess you owe me one. I saw you over here lookin’ like you were drownin’."

Ennis grunted noncommittally, and David went on as if Ennis had bombarded him with questions. "Actually, my grandmother, Gramma Alex we’ve always called her, she’s my favorite relative. And my aunt Carol, she’s okay, a bit bossy but every family needs somebody like that. I’m just glad she’s my aunt and not my mother. But my cousin Charlene - well, she looks older than the last time I saw her, but she never really changes. She was Miss Bibb County and got to the Miss Georgia finals when she was 19, and never quite got over it. I’ve wanted to ask Larry, that’s her husband, if she wears her tiara when they’re in bed together, but he’d probably whup me upside the head."

To his own surprise Ennis laughed, a very brief and rusty-sounding laugh that came out of him like a sudden unexpected sneeze. This man had at least one thing in common with Jack: conversation with him was easy, as he didn’t wait for Ennis to talk; just took the bit in his mouth and ran with it. There was nothing but friendly interest in either his face or voice, but remembering Charlene’s remark, Ennis reflexively glanced around to see if anyone was noticing anything about them sitting together, that brand on his forehead that he so often thought everyone could see. But oddly, in the next moment, he felt himself relaxing a little for the first time that day, feeling like he’d walked into a home that was familiar enough to sling his coat over the back of a chair or get his own beer from the refrigerator. "So, uh, you’re here with them?"

"Nope, I grew up in Georgia, in Macon, but I’ve lived in Minnesota for years now. Duluth. I’m one of those relatives you only see at weddings and funerals, never been to Wyoming before, though." David glanced around the room. "Boring as hell, isn’t it?"

"I don’t know…" Ennis managed to answer, but he did. "Yeah. Yeah it is. But my daughter - I got off work for it this week." "Sure, that’s how family is." David hesitated cautiously, feeling his way. "I saw you looking at me earlier, kinda like you wanted to ask me something. Can’t tell ya much about Curt, I’m afraid. I haven’t seen him since he was a kid."

Ennis looked away, old habit taking over, suddenly wondering how much he did give away every time he saw someone who reminded him of Jack. "No," he answered haltingly, "you just, uh -- you kinda looked like somebody. . . .But…"

"Dad!" Jenny’s sudden appearance rescued Ennis from having to go on. "The music’s startin’ up. You’ve gotta be the first to dance with the bride, Junior sent me to get you!" Grinning at Ennis sympathetically, David stood up at the same time Ennis did. "Your turn now, I guess."

The small band on the speaker’s platform at one end of the hall played "For All We Know", not exactly a foot-tapping dance tune. "I know you’re not much for dancin’ Daddy," Alma Jr. said as they walked to the middle of the space in front of the stand whose borders were defined by the circle of wedding guests. "Well, maybe today’s different, darlin’ ", but Ennis was a little relieved. He briefly recalled the afternoon Cassie had dragged him to the Wolf Ears’ dance floor: smartly gyrating across from him while he shuffled stiffly and self-consciously from side to side and Junior watched from a nearby table. Shoving that memory off to one side, he took one of Junior’s hands and held it as if it was made of thin crystal, and rested the other one on her waist. She had taken off the transforming veil, but her thick reddish-brown hair so like his mother’s had been gathered into some kind of confection on the back of her head with a few curls trailing before her ears.

Cautiously, he moved back and forth, forward and back in slow, random steps and Junior followed him effortlessly, her awareness of how uncomfortable he was second nature by now. Her father’s life always seemed to have been shot through with fear, longing and sadness. From her earliest memories, she had been aware of it though she’d also sensed that the cause was something outside their father-daughter bond. It had made her ever protective of her father, inclined to make small things easier for him whenever it was in her power.

"How are you doing, darlin’?" he asked. "Are you havin’ the wedding you wanted? It had seemed to him during her brief visits and phone calls of the past six weeks that some emergency or big decision came up every day, and he would have been amazed if anyone had told him this was a small semi-formal wedding. "It’s been great, Daddy." Junior smiled up at him. "You have, too."  For once I didn't disappoint her.

The rest of the reception was easier than he had expected. Jenny had taken his arm right after the song ended and Curt took his place with Junior for the next dance. "Walk around with me awhile, Daddy," she urged and Ennis didn’t notice the glance she and Junior exchanged: a cue successfully picked up. She took him from table to table, group to group, introducing him and making easy conversation so that he had only to look attentive most of the time. "Junior’s getting ready to leave, Daddy," she said finally.

The unmarried females gathered in front of Junior for the ritual bouquet toss, which got slightly off-kilter for a moment when Junior turned her back, tossed the fragile bundle over her head too high. It hit the ceiling and plummeted to the floor like a stone, with good-natured laughter around the room as Junior retrieved it and hastily tossed it to the waiting group. Luanne caught the prize, and Junior and Curt headed out the door. Curt’s car had a few coffee cans tied to the back with string and had been decorated by friends with JUST MARRIED and SHE GOT HIM TODAY, HE’LL GET HER TONIGHT, bawdy remnants of old fertility symbols and the tribe gathered at the bridal chamber making raucous noise to keep evil spirits away. Ennis stood staring after it as it rattled away, feeling the full weight of things long left undone.

"Had enough a this?" He’d not noticed the other guests filing back into the reception hall, or David standing beside him. "Don’t know about you but I want somethin’ more than ginger ale and fruit juice. Show me where the nearest bar is, I’ll stake you to a few beers."

Oddly, Ennis now found himself in no hurry to go home. The elation over his contact with Jack had faded a bit, and he now felt a nudging anxiety that it had just been his stressed and grief-colored imagination. Despite the echoing loneliness of most of his life, Ennis was still part of a civilization that had made the phrase there's a logical explanation for everything an article of faith; with degrees of heresy assigned to contrary impressions that were as precise as, though considerably more superstitious than, the principles of medieval alchemy. He could not quite escape a sudden fear of listening and waiting but hearing nothing but the inescapable wind outside the trailer, feeling nothing more ethereal than his own clothes against his own skin.

"Sure," he heard himself saying.  "My truck's right over there, just follow me.  It ain't far."