Ennis Delmar

There's somethin' about the air, or the noise, or something, and Ennis can't sleep. Or maybe it's all that coughing that's keeping him up. Damn shoulder's been acting up, shouldn't've pushed so hard on the damn stables. Jack may be young and nimble, but Ennis' as old as he ever was. Older, maybe, given his time spent here. Fucking Milliways. The bed creaks as he turns and picks up a cigarette from the bedside table and lights it.

Ain't like the air's so different here.

There's a bit more grass. Bit fewer mountains. But there's air and water and land just the same's Wyoming.



Why it don't feel none like Wyoming, then, Ennis couldn't rightly say, but it feels comfortable enough, standing out here with one of the horses, looking off to what, he don't rightly know.

He's used to the howling winds and the star strewn skies that greet him come time to sleep. He's used to the memories of rough ground and cold nights and scratchy canvas; of horse blankets and linens that never quite lost the smells of their wives.

So when he turns over and his rough small bed turns into a larger, softer one, he's resigned himself a night (one more night, one less night) without Jack.

It's nice on Shadow, quiet. Work's good, even if he ain't sleeping much.

But not sleeping's better'n what happens when he sleeps.



He don't need anything more'n what he's got there, but sometimes when he stares at the ceiling - or the night sky - he can't help but think about a thing or two left behind that maybe he don't want got rid of.


So it could be that it's late one night (on Shadow, anyway, who ever knows how times match up) Ennis sneaks into the bar, headed back towards his (their) room.

He's quick, and he's quiet, but could be you could catch him.

I have to block out thoughts of you so I don't lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I'm alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home
There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain
An ounce of peace is all I want for you. will you never call again?
And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face?
And will you never try to reach me? it is I that wanted space

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you
Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see whats good for you

I'm sober now for 3 whole months it's one accomplishment that you helped me with
The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won't touch again
In my sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night
While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight
You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate
You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take
So I'll drive so fucking far away that I never cross your mind
And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave
Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made
And like a baby boy I never was a man
Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand
And then I fell down yelling “make it go away!”
Just make a smile come back and shine just like it used to be
And then she whispered “how can you do this to me?”

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

Ain't nobody to ask Ennis why that nice girl from town ain't around no more.

Ain't nobody to ask why Ennis don't go out to drink anymore. Ain't nobody to watch him go home to his one-room trailer, take a piss in the sink and settle in with nothing but his beer and his memories.

Ain't nobody to ask him where that bruise came from, or what happened that he lost this job and has to find another man needs helping around the farm.

Ain't nobody around no more, nobody but them postcards.

Ennis ain't quite sure what hurts more, his inside or his outside, and he slumps down, sitting on a rock, his head resting on his hands.

Ennis ain't never been one for crowds. And even with such a small town small school small town everything, there're more'n enough people gathered for the graduation at the county high school to make him nervous. He can see over most of the heads; see over enough of 'em to make out that hair and that lanky body, so much like his, even covered by the cap and gown cost forty dollars and she'll never use again. See over the crowd to watch her get that slip of paper and over the crowd to see her run to hug her momma and her sister and Monroe. And the crowd's still mulling around giving hugs and roses and congratulations and if he leaves now, maybe John or Bob or whoever won't get pissed and dock his pay for coming back late. But he doesn't move, not yet, and when he looks across the crowd, all he sees is the smile.

What do you do when your b- the guy you l- the guy you're fucking your friend and you get into a fight? You get yourself good and fucking trashed. It's a long held tradition, and Ennis don't see no reason to change it now. That would be going against the natural fucking order of things, wouldn't it? So shit if Ennis don't just get himself a few bottles of whiskey and slowly - or not so slowly - and surely works his way through them. He almost made it all the way through, too, but that sixth time he got up to piss he couldn't stand too good and figured he ought to go back to the room before he passed out in the middle of the fucking bar. Room. Room bed. Bed soft room soft room good.

There's some loud cursing as Ennis fiddles with the lock, and a few bangs on the door before he manages to swing it open, a loud crash as it hits the wall on the other side, and another loud crash as Ennis trips over something - possibly the floor - and goes sprawling onto his knees. That ain't so bad, though, because that way he can move around without falling. The room's dark, and he can't find his own nose in this fucking place and if he could only find the bed, all would be well with the world.

The light was only just peeking over the horizon when Ennis came outside, a thermos of hot coffee in hand. He set it down and lit a cigarette with his hands, taking the time after to rub them together. Don't matter the time of year, it's damn cold outside at this hour of the morning. The cigarette's only half gone when he reaches the stables, but that don't bother him none, and he puts it out, pocketing it for later. It may be cold out, but it's warm in the stables, and he smiles a bit as he breathes in, warm air and hay and horses all around him. Half an hour gone by and he's sweating, his jacket and such left over by the door with the forgotten thermos of coffee.