||[Aug. 18th, 2006|12:39 pm]
|||||home sweet home||]|
|||||Dixie Chicks Taking the Long Way, courtesy of Ed's daughter||]|
Ed and Hank
Part 5: Sunday Afternoon
Summary: A little song,
but not a dance,
a little syrup down their pants.*
(*If you know what this is a take-off on you’re probably as old as I am and from the U.S. Hint: MTM)
Pairing: Ed & Hank
Rating: PG-13 – R(?)
Length: ~2,300 words (Ed jus’ wouldn’ shut up.)
Disclaimer: I know somewhere out there is a guy named Ed and a guy named Hank who at some point in their lives met the amazing Ms. Proulx and told them their story. Well, at least Hank did. Jack and Ennis belong entirely to Ms. Proulx. Technically, so do Ed and Hank. Still making millions off this. Just bought a 2nd home in Jackson Hole.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Part 1: Friday Night is here: http://myeyesaintblue.livejournal.com/456.html
Part 2: Saturday Morning is here: http://myeyesaintblue.livejournal.com/698.html
Part 3: Saturday Night is here: http://myeyesaintblue.livejournal.com/897.html
Part 4: Sunday Morning is here: http://myeyesaintblue.livejournal.com/1101.html
Links to all other parts and assorted interludes, postcards, etc, are here:
"Why ya knockin’ Ed? S’your room too. Don’ need ta knock."
“Saw ya sittin’ a’ the computer. ‘Fraid a sneakin’ up on one a them ‘throbbin’ dicks’ again.”
“Well then ya better not come any further ‘cause ‘m writin’ ‘bout this mornin’.” Hank laughed, “Tho’ it’s not like you ta be ‘fraid a throbbin’ dicks.”
“Not really ‘fraid.” Ed grinned, “Jus’ still worn out from this mornin’”
“I lied anyway. Ain’t much in the way a throbbin dicks here. Don’ understan’ it. Love ta do it.” Hank shot a grin towards Ed, “’N love ta read ‘bout Jack ‘n Ennis doin’ it. But fer some reason cain’t write ‘bout us ‘n tha’ kind a detail. Makes me feel bad tha’ so many a them writers can capture our sex life better ‘n I e’er could.” Guess it’s partly ma age ‘n partly tha’ it’s writin’ ’bout us. Or maybe I jus’ ain’t tha’ good a writer.”
“Or could be ‘cause two ol’ guys like us don’t make fer a very pretty picture ta describe.” Ed grinned back at Hank, then crossed the room and warily started reading over Hank’s shoulder. “But think it’s prob’ly tha’ last one ya mentioned.”
“Ain’t tha wha’ yer havin’ problems writin’ ‘bout?”
Ed almost made it out the door before Hank caught him and threw him down on the bed, landing on top of him, laughing.
Ed yawned, “Jus’ where I wanted ta be Rodeo, came up fer a nap. Didn’ get much sleep las’ nigh’.” Ed rolled over, holding on to Hank as he turned. “Wanna take a nap with me?”
“Sounds good ta me.”
“Wha’s tha’ yer listenin’ to?"
"Tha’ new Dixie Chicks cd Iris sent us."
Ed smiled, “Iris is always tryin’ ta expan’ my horizons. Sure am glad tha’ girl got her ass outta here at an early age. Place is in ma blood, but she weren’t cut out fer the kinda drudge life mos’ women lead here.”
Ed stopped to listen, “Thought they were twangier. Not twangy ‘nough fer me.”
“Could be worse. She could ‘a sent us a Cher cd.”
“Hey Ed, ya wanna dance?”
“Dance? Thought ya wanted ta take a nap with me. Where the hell d’ ya get the notion ta dance? Never mind. Think I got some idea.” Ed glared at the computer and shook his head resignedly.
Hank smiled to himself, he could tell Ed was thinking Hank would have him dancing sooner or later. Probably sooner, Hank thought and grinned.
Ed changed the subject, “Music’s real nice. Maybe I don’ need it so twangy all the time. Tha’ woman’s got some voice.”
“Their other cds are ‘twangier’. Like this one a lot though. Like this song too.”
…Life began when I saw your face
And I hear your laugh like a serenade
How long do you want to be loved?
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved?
Is forever enough cause I’m never never
Giving you up….
“Gotta admit. Them women got more guts than I do. Stood by wha’ tha’ one said e’en tho it hurt their career real bad. Iris tol’ me tha’ woman’s life was e’en threatened. Jus’ fer speakin’ her mind. Poor woman ain’t even queer ‘n they wanna go after her with the tire irons.”
“Startin’ ta turn in ta an activist on me, Cowboy? I’m usually the one rantin’ ‘n ravin’ ‘bout this kind a stuff.”
“Don’ know. Maybe. All them so-called “Christians” hatin’ on e’erybody in the name a God. Had ma fill a them a long time ago. Been gettin’ worse again fer a long time. Whole country seems ta ha’ gone mad-dog crazy ‘n more ways than one.”
“Well how ‘bout we change the world tomorrow? Since ya won’t dance with me, I’m all fer tha’ nap righ’ now.”
“C’mere then.” Ed waited while Hank turned over, then pulled him close, kissing the back of his neck before they both drifted off to sleep.
Ya ‘wake Ed?
“Can I ask ya somethin’?”
“Doubt I could stop ya.”
Would ya…. Uh… if we could…. make it legal-like… ya know... get hitched 'n all... would ya?
“Shit, Hank. Ya ain’t pregnant, are ya? Already got m’self corralled once tha’ way.
Ed’s words were like a knife slicing into Hank’s heart. In an instant he was re-living that moment from forty-some years ago. Watching that piece of paper float from Ed’s hands to the ground as if in slow motion. Watching Ed. Ed’s shoulders slumped, his head hung down, knees buckling, reaching out for the tree next to him for support. Looked like someone gut-shot him, but he was refusing to fall. Finally raising his head, he looked right through Hank as if he were already gone, then he slowly turned, got on his horse and headed up the mountain.
Hank re-lived the dread he felt as he slowly walked over and picked up that piece of paper. As he read he knew that their summer and their love, no, not their love, never their love, but their summer and the rest of their lives, had been shattered with one word.
He re-lived the pain. Was actual physical pain, pounding in his head, then crushing his heart, before settling as a lead weight in the pit of his stomach, dragging him down as he sank to his knees then collapsed on the ground. That lead weight was in him from then on, never getting any smaller, never getting any lighter…That is, until their first kiss after so long apart finally melted it down and washed it away.
Ed turned towards Hank and wrapped his arms around him pulling him close, kissing his forehead, his tightly closed eyes, his cheeks, his lips, “Sorry Rodeo, ’m an asshole. Didn’ think ‘fore I spoke. Worst day a ma life. Only thing good came out a all tha’ was Iris.”
Hank tried to keep his voice steady, “If tha’ hadn’ happened, if Nora hadn’ gotten pregnant from tha’ one time, would ya have stayed with me? Gone with me ta work on my folk’s place? Like I asked ya?"
Ed sighed, “Dunno, Hank. Fell head o’er heels fer ya tha’ summer. Couldn’ see straight fer wantin’ ya all the time. But… was more ’n the sex. N’er knew it could feel so good… be so fun… jus’ ta be alive. But I still thought it were wrong. Thought God would strike me down... So don’ know fer sure tha’ I would ha’ gone with ya. We had a whole week left, so's I were tryin’ not ta think ‘bout it."
“But…” Ed seemed to be searching for the right words, “When I found tha’ letter from Nora in with our supplies…. Tha’ was the day I knew I couldn’ live withou’ ya ‘cause tha’ was the day I knew I had ta." Ed was quiet for a moment then raised his eyes to look at Hank, "Tha’ was the day I knew I loved you.”
Ed lowered his eyes and sighed again, “Was like readin’ ma own death sentence. Knew I had ta marry her. Back then, tha’s wha’ ya did. Couldn’ jus’ walk away.”
Hank kissed Ed reassuringly, “Know ya couldn’.” Kissed him gently, “Jus’ wish things had been differen’.” Kissed him thoroughly, “So much lost time.”
“Tell ya somethin’ Hank. Sometimes wonder wha’ would a happened if we had gone off together righ’ off. We were young, real young, ‘n things would ‘a been awful hard. Was hard 'nough later. When I start ta feel bad ‘bout them years we lost, I tell m’ self maybe we wouldna had these years if we hadn’ a lost those. 'N there been a whole lot more a these than those.”
Ya migh’ have yer self a point there, Cowboy. Ne’er thought ‘bout it tha’ way. Hank smiled then, “And ta answer yer question, no, I ain’t pregnant. So how ‘bout it, would ya wanna make it legal-like, ya know, if'n we could?”
Ed hesitated, “Not sure I know how ta answer tha’, Hank….”
Hank felt a knot forming in his gut, kicking himself for pressing the issue, afraid of what Ed’s answer might be, but unable to stop himself, trying to keep his voice neutral but failing miserably, “S’okay. Don’ matter none. If ya wouldn’ wanna get hitched, ya should jus’ say so.”
“Not tha’ I wouldn’, dumbass. Would. Jus’ don’ see….”
“Yeah, could jus’ see the vows ya’d write, ‘I, Ed, take tha’ dumbass over there as my lawfully…”
“Vows? Now I gotta write vows? Shit. All this ‘cause a them stories? Think I take it back when said I owed them writers a ‘thank you’.”
Ed seemed to know he’d gone too far again, nothing to do now but get it over with, like ripping a band-aid off a wound, “Hank, c’mon, will ya jus’ listen ta me fer a minute? Only reason I’d wanna make it legal-like is ‘cause I think we got jus’ as much righ’ ta get hitched as anybody else. 'N nobody should be able ta tell us tha’ we don’t. Otherwise, jus’ don’t see no need for it.”
Ed saw the hurt look in Hank’s eyes, but forged ahead anyway. “Havin’ trouble xplainin’ ma self here. Thought of us as hitched e’er since we been together permanen’ like, ain’t you? Maybe not thinkin’ tha’ exact word, but feelin’s the same. Don’ need no ceremony to tell us tha’, do we?
Ed didn’t wait for Hank to answer, “We stuck it out thru all them bad years. E’erythin’ I own is yers, n’ vice versa. Ya couldn’ pick out yer stuff from mine if ya tried. ‘N if we lost e’erythin’ it wouldn’ matter none. Long as we still had each other. We spend most e’ery day a our lives together. ‘N at night, well, sometimes ya still make me feel like ‘m nineteen agin. Tha’ ain’t no mean feat neither. Can talk to you like I cain’t talk to nobody else. Hell, can e’en be downrigh’ silly with ya when I got a mind to.
Ed took a breath and went on, “Never get tired a bein’ with ya. Well, almos’ never. ‘N when we do fight never think a leavin’ ya ‘n don’ worry tha’ you’ll leave me. I laugh at yer stupid jokes ‘n you at mine. Half the time ya know wha’ ‘m gonna say 'fore I say it, ‘n vice versa. If'n I get sick I know you’ll take care a me. If'n you get sick ya know I’ll take care a you. ‘Less a course yer pukin’. Oh hell, even then. And, dammit Hank, at the end of it all, when I die, I jus’ wan’ it ta be with yer arms ‘round me. Jus' don’ want it ta be today if possible.”
Ed paused, afraid to look at Hank and find that hurt still in his eyes, “In ma book, tha’s a lot more married ‘n mos’ married folks e’er get. ‘N, like I said, don’ need no ceremony ta tell me tha’, but would still do it if'n we could. 'Cause we got every right ta them same rights.”
The hurt was definitely gone from Hank’s eyes, “Think ya jus’ wrote yer vows, dumbass.”
“Gonna write down e’ery word ya jus’ said ‘cause if'n we e’er can make it legal-like you can use them words… If'n ya wanna.”
Ed breathed a sigh of relief, then leaned over to kiss Hank, “Then guess tha’ makes it yer turn, dumbass.”
“E’erythin’ you said plus wha’ tha’ song said. ‘Cept don’ think forever’s gonna be nearly enou' fer me.”
“Not fer me neither. But guess it’ll ha’ ta do.” Ed bent to kiss Hank again and then stopped, “Hey, wai’ jus’ a minute here. Tha’s it? Ya make me do all tha’ talkin’ ‘n tha’s all ‘m gonna get from ya?”
“Yep. Don’ think I could do no better ‘n wha’ ya jus’ said” Hank grinned, “Hey, ya think if they e’er make it legal we could maybe go get it done in Las Vegas?”
“Know ya don’ care much fer all tha’ church stuff, even if'n they’d e’er let us get hitched in one.”
“Tha’s puttin’ it real polite-like.”
“Thought city hall migh’ be kinda borin’. So maybe we could go ta Las Vegas. Maybe we could e’en get an Elvis impersonator ta do it.”
“Shit…” Ed started to say something then changed his mind, “Young Elvis or old Elvis?”
“Leave tha’ one up ta you.”
“Young Elvis, definitely, young Elvis.” Ed grinned back at Hank, “ Or better yet, d’ya suppose they migh’ ha’ a Jake what’s-his-name impersonator marryin’ folks down there? Think I’d really kind a like tha’”
“Hey, tha’ reminds me. Was thinkin’ maybe I could help ya with tha’ writin’ problem.”
“What the hell ya talkin’ ‘bout?”
“Jus’ thought maybe I could narrate fer ya again, but this time make it sexier. Like this…. Ed flipped Hank over on ta his back like he was a… uh… a… pancake.” Ed flipped Hank over onto his back, then continued narrating, “Ed bent down and kissed Hank, using his tongue like a spatula ta gently pry Hank’s lips apart, ’xploring every inch of his mouth ‘til Hank moaned…. Hank ya ain’t moaning. Yer ’sposed ta moan. Think tha’s more like laughin’. ‘Cain’t kiss ya proper if yer laughin’. C’mon Hank, ya know I love ta hear them moans.”
Hank tried to stop laughing and moan for Ed. “Tha’s a little better. Guess it’ll ha’ ta do. Okay. Hank moaned as Ed slowly unbuttoned his shirt, runnin’ his tongue o’er him like he were spreadin’ butter on tha’ big ol’ pancake…. Y’know Hank we ain’t ne’er gonna make it ta the syrup ‘n the sausage links if ya keep laughin’ like tha’.”
“Hey Hank? Ya ‘wake?”
“Thought ya migh’ be.” Hank laughed, “I could make pancakes.”
“Sounds good ta me. Do ya think we got 'nough syrup left?”