ENOUGH TIME

Inspired by the premise of the movie Groundhog Day

This story was originally posted on LiveJournal in 2008 and is illustrated there with photographs by Richard Avedon from his book In the American West. To read that version, or just see the pictures, go to soulan dot livejournal dot com / 10820 dot html

It was nearly midnight when Ennis stumbled up the two steps to the porch of his brother's tiny house and reeled through the unlocked door. He shuffled across the dark living room, banged his leg on the couch and collapsed onto it. He shouldn't have gone to the bar before coming here, but where else do you go at the end of the worst day of your life?

He dropped his hat on the floor along with the potato sack containing his meager belongings and stretched out. As his eyelids drooped shut he heard a sound, a baby whimpering, and he remembered that KE's little girl had been born a month before Ennis gone up to herd sheep. He'd seen her only once, and until now had forgotten she existed. A light went on down the hall and a moment later Peggy appeared in the doorway wrapped in a bathrobe. He was glad he couldn't see her eyes because they made him squirm. Piercing they were, clear and blue... not the same blue as... they were nearly green. She yawned as she approached the couch.

"Ennis? Why're you here?" She stood over him. "Thought you were gonna be up there another month."

"Storm came up, had ta bring 'em down early," he mumbled. He just wanted to escape into sleep.

"You need a blanket?"

"Nah. Warm down here."

"G'night then. Talk to you in the morning." She smirked and added, "Feel free to take a shower."

When she'd gone, Ennis sat up and pulled off his boots but kept his jacket on. Maybe in the morning it would all seem like a dream and he would resume his normal life.

He awoke to snow. Heavy, wet flakes drifted onto his face and melted at once and for a few seconds, before he opened his eyes, he believed they were kisses planted by icy lips. He squinted into the gray light filtering through the canvas and listened to the fip fip of snow settling on the tent. A big, warm lump beside his knee squirmed when he nudged it – both of the dogs had abandoned their wooly charges to shelter with Ennis. He widened the gap between the tent flaps and stared at the veiled peaks and the dark firs outlined in white. Strange to have two consecutive days of snow in August.

It hit him like a brick: We left yesterday. He'd punched him, then fixed his truck and just walked away like... like he was simply a guy he worked with. That's what it must have seemed like to Jack. A trucker had given Ennis a lift to Riverton, where he'd gone and got drunk and afterwards fallen asleep on KE and Peggy's couch. Then why was he back here?

He heard a thump and a snort some distance away, just like yesterday: Cigar Butt pawing at the ground trying to find a mouthful of grass. The snow was wet and coated the ground like lather, the whiskery grass blades poking through it. Here and there, where the masses of clouds thinned and tore apart, blue sky peeked through and the snow began to let up. The sheep were a shifting mass of white and beige emitting the occasional bleat. He could hear another, more urgent mehhh coming from further away, sounding almost human in its distress. One of the dogs, the one who was more single-minded about her duties, suddenly sat up, immediately alert to the cry, and bounded out into the snow. Just like yesterday.

After a few minutes the snow stopped completely and he crawled out of the tent. The day before, the shock of the cold had sent him flailing around but now he just stood with the blanket wrapped around him, trying to make sense of the situation. The ewe's cries intensified; he bent to the opening and frowned at the other dog who was still curled up, fast asleep. "Well?" he snapped. She yawned and rose from her nest, stretched her hind legs languidly, then crept out into the snow. When she heard the ewe she trotted away. He spent several minutes brushing snow off the horse and the tack, then saddled up and rode toward the boulder where he'd found a sheep huddling the day before. It was the same one, along with her lamb. After the dogs had driven them back to the flock, the three of them patrolled the area looking for other strays, but like yesterday there were none. Now he was anxious to see if Jack was down there; if it was Friday again he should be heading down to the bridge soon. He fed the dogs and headed out, not bothering to roll up the tent. As he descended past the tree line, the sun came out and the temperature rose, sending rivulets of snowmelt rushing along the path. An hour later, as he drew near the camp, there were only patches of snow left in spots the sun hadn't reached.

At the sight of Jack standing near the tent with his back to him, looking down the trail, he drew a deep breath and felt gladness flood through him: he'd dreamt it all. But then Jack turned to the tent and began untying the stays, and when the canvas collapsed to the ground his heart dropped as well. When he drew near and dismounted, Jack turned toward him, a stricken look on his face.

"You just missed Aguirre. He said my uncle didn't die after all." He looked at the ground, his hands in his back pockets. "Said there's an even bigger storm comin. We gotta bring 'em down."

Ennis felt riveted to the earth while his mind and heart were churning with confusion. He couldn't believe he was going through this again.

"Is this still the middle of August?" he asked wonderingly, and Jack looked up in surprise. Ennis slowly turned and willed his legs to carry him to the chopping block and lowered himself onto it, just as he had done the previous day. He picked up a piece of kindling and examined it – the same piece! – then tossed it aside and leaned his elbows on his knees, unable to think past this moment that was replaying itself almost identically to the day before. But it was worse, because now he knew how he'd feel for the rest of the day and maybe for the rest of his life. Yet he couldn't see any way to change the outcome.

"Shit," he breathed out.

"Is it the money you're worried about?" Jack asked, with a certain tone that Ennis didn't recognize.

Ennis couldn't bear it any longer, the feeling of falling headlong from... He rose abruptly and strode away toward the meadow he'd retreated to before. The sky was clear now and the sun beat down, the brightness making the wildflowers sparkle in the grass. He followed the same path, and sat down in the same place. Instead of staring at the ground this time, he watched Jack pack up their household and load it onto the mule, his heart twisting. And then Jack was making his way over to him, carrying the coil of rope. But he didn't twirl the lariat, he simply walked up to Ennis and tapped the rope against his knee.

"We gotta go, friend."

Ennis wondered if he'd woken up to the same day but a different world that morning, one in which Jack's playful spirit had died or never come to life. All these weeks he had relied on Jack to make him laugh, and talk, and now he wasn't even bothering. Ennis held up his hand as if asking for help up, and when Jack took it Ennis yanked his arm, knocking him off balance. Jack toppled onto Ennis, laughing, but Ennis couldn't revel in the sound because of the intense pain flaring on his cheekbone. Jack's elbow had hit his face and as they rolled down the slope, the pain mixed with confusion combusted in him. He grappled with Jack and seized hold of his shirt in a rage, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking him to mask his own quaking despair. "Ennis! Ennis!" Jack gasped, but he tightened his grip and wrenched at the shirt until he heard the seams rip. He opened his eyes at the sound to find himself staring down at Jack's chest, pale skin showing through the rents in the blue cotton. He felt torn too, wanting to both hit Jack and press his face into his skin. Before he could do either, Jack shoved him away.

"Goddammit Ennis, you know I only got one shirt left!" Jack rolled away and scrambled to his feet. He stood over Ennis, glaring. His hat had come off and lay near Ennis' hand. Ennis picked it up and brushed bits of grass from it, stalling for time. His cheekbone hurt like hell and he knew there'd be a bruise, just like the one Jack had borne yesterday. What the hell was happening here? He looked up at Jack and handed him his hat.

"Shit. Sorry," he mumbled. "You can wear my spare."

"Alright." Ennis was about to hold up his hand as he'd done moments before but Jack turned away and stalked back to the horses.

After Jack changed into Ennis' shirt, they made their way up to the sheep, where they rounded them up and Ennis packed the pup tent. Then, like the day before, they rode in sullen silence. Halfway down, the sky clouded up again and rain began to fall; at least Ennis had known to switch the waterproof jackets to the top of the saddle bags. At the assembly point, Aguirre complained about the count and made his ranch stiffs crack, but Ennis felt too confused for it to make an impression.

Aguirre paid them off at the trailer. The nausea Ennis had felt the day before in the alley started coming on him as Jack tried to coax his truck's engine into life. Ennis didn't see any point in going through the previous routine; he immediately opened the hood and fiddled briefly with the carburator. Jack gave him a funny look, said he didn't know Ennis was such a good mechanic. But the engine started.

Now came the moment of truth that couldn't be put off. He hoped Jack wouldn't offer him a lift, because he didn't want to say yes but wouldn't be able to say no. And then it would just be delaying the inevitable. For a few moments they stayed frozen in place, Ennis standing next to the truck, Jack inside. Jack got out of the truck and shut the door.

"I'll probably do this again next year," he said, looking directly into Ennis' eyes.

Ennis looked at the ground and shifted against the hot metal, twisting the potato bag in his hands. "Well, me and Alma're gettin married in November so I'll have to look for somethin on a ranch." He held up the bag. "Got your shirt in here, you want it?"

"You keep it," Jack replied, his voice cracking. "Maybe she can mend it."

"Yeah, maybe." So he turned away; he had to, otherwise he'd collapse right there. He clutched the bag to his stomach as he staggered off, heard the truck door open and then slam shut. Jack's truck swerved around him, and the second it was out of sight he bolted into the little alley, dropped to his knees and retched, then sobbed as nothing came out. Was this the punishment for this summer, having to live the end of it twice?

"You alright, mister?" It was the same man from yesterday.

Ennis glanced at him briefly then back at the ground. "Just ate somethin bad is all," he muttered, wiping his face with his sleeve.

After a few minutes, he got up off the ground and trudged to the junction. The truck that had stopped for him previously came into view, but the driver had been a talker and he didn't want to put up with that again, so he turned away to take a leak. Ten minutes later a smaller vehicle appeared. As the black pickup got closer his heart started hammering and his mouth went dry. When he saw the black hat through the windshield his knees nearly buckled. Shit! If he went with Jack he was doomed. But he knew no power in the world could make him refuse the ride. The truck rattled up alongside him as his lips pulled back into a smile, joy and dismay warring in him, and he stepped up to the window.

It wasn't Jack. The brick he'd felt in his chest that morning dropped through his gut, scraping him all the way. The man was maybe twenty years older and solidly built, his soft features shadowed by the dark stubble on his jaw. His eyes were light-colored but not exactly blue; he looked closely at Ennis and didn't smile, though his face was not unkind.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"Riverton."

"I'm going near there." He had an accent Ennis didn't recognize. The door creaked when Ennis opened it, just like Jack's. The man pulled back onto the road and after a minute he spoke again.

"You look like you just lost your best friend."

Ennis clenched his hands on the potato sack and turned his head to look through the window at the prairie unfurling alongside the truck, feeling his anger rise. This was too much. "What would you know about it," he muttered.

"Enough for any man, is what I know," the man replied evenly after a moment. Ennis felt ashamed. Most people do have friends, he reminded himself, and sometimes they lose one. He had his brother, and in a few months he would have a wife. Why couldn't he have kept Jack as a friend? Ennis rolled the window most of the way up, leaned against it and closed his eyes. He drifted into a dreamless sleep and when he awoke, the truck was not moving. His head was tilted into his hat, which was pushed against the glass, and he could see in the side mirror that the driver was standing a few yards from the rear of the truck with his back to it and his hands hidden in front of his body, facing the setting sun. Ennis assumed he was taking a piss, but then he noticed that he was swaying back and forth, just slightly. The man turned around abruptly, swiping a finger over the corner of one eye. Ennis closed his own eyes and feigned sleep until the truck was rolling once again. He carefully shifted into a more comfortable position and fell back to sleep.

The next thing he knew the man was nudging his arm. It was nearly dark and the truck was stopped at a closed Esso station on the edge of a town.

"This is Riverton. You want me to drop you anywhere special?"

A meadow with flowers sparkling in the sun.

"This is fine."

He watched the truck make a U turn and fade into the muted tones of the prairie. Then he walked through the empty streets, clutching the bag with Jack's torn shirt, past the bar that had been his refuge twenty-four hours before, imagining himself and Jack going inside it to have a beer, talking about the summer, what they each would do next, exchanging addresses. What could be so hard about that? The things they did together on the mountain could stay up there. He would have Alma for that, and Jack could be his friend. When he got settled, he'd look up the number in Lightning Flat and call him. The coarse, heavy lump in his chest gradually crumbled away and he found he could breathe more easily. When he reached the other end of town where his brother lived, he saw lights shining from the windows so he knocked on the door.

"Hey Ennis, didn't expect you back so soon. What happened?" KE stood in the doorway holding his baby against his chest with one arm, upside down, her shins tucked into his neck. His brother stepped back to let Ennis come in. The baby's dark eyes gazed unblinking at Ennis from below her father's belt and she held her hands clasped in front of her.

"Was a storm comin in and we had to bring the sheep down early. Missed a whole month's pay." Ennis was trying to remember KE's baby's name. "Peggy here?"

"Yeah, she's havin a bath." KE walked to the couch and dangled the baby over the seat, holding her by the ankles. "Melissa, I guess you don't remember your uncle." He lowered her gently onto the the cushions, her head touching first, then her shoulders and back. She kicked her legs and laughed, showing her gums. KE sniffed the air. "Whoa, you need a shower, Ennis. I'll go tell Peg we got an emergency case here. Get you some clean clothes, too."

Ennis took off his jacket and hat and sat on the couch beside the baby, next to her head. She arched her neck and rolled her eyes back to stare at him and he ran his finger along her forehead. He'd have a kid someday, he guessed, maybe even a year or two from now, it occurred to him.

"She's just drying off." KE came in and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, tickling his daughter's legs. "That's a nasty bruise. How'd ya get it?"

"Uh, just wrestlin one them stupid sheep outta a tight spot."

"You want a beer?"

Ennis said sure, and while his brother was in the kitchen Peggy appeared in the doorway in her bathrobe, just the way he'd seen her the previous night. She smiled at him, then sat on the couch in turn and gathered her daughter into her arms. KE returned with two bottles of beer and sat down next to his wife, laying his arm across the back of the couch behind her. Ennis remembered an old framed photo from the top of his parents' dresser, of his mother and father sitting in that same position, holding his sister as a baby.

"You work with anybody up there?" KE asked.

Ennis felt the heaviness in his chest again and almost said no, but the idea of denying Jack's existence seemed like a second betrayal.

"Guy from a ranch up north near Sheridan, same age as me. Rides the bulls." Ennis smiled at the memory of Jack jumping around and yelling.

"You made a friend then," said Peggy, leaning against her husband while their baby squirmed in her lap.

"Yeah," he replied, jiggling his knee and smiling. "A good friend."