The Buick: Section 3

He awoke to his grandma's shrill complaint,

"If I hear 'Let It Snow' once more, I'll scream."

His mother fiddled the radio,

And when there wasn't static all he'd hear

Were the mysterious codes transmitted:

WCOL, or WKHC, or

WING, making him wonder if

The DJ had battled the Red Baron.

The driver (he couldn't see him as more)

Whispered softly to his mother up front,

Using the radio for cover when

Suddenly the Century stopped abrupt

At the Pennyroyal Opera House,

An unlikely stop among the gaudy

Roadside buildings slowly emerging on this

Journey into the heart of America.

"We're stopping for a few here in Fairview,"

The driver informed his backseat baggage.

"Babette and I shall be coming right back."

The boy and his grandmother exchanged looks, 

"I suppose we should stretch our legs," she said.

Johnny couldn't jump out quickly enough,

Shielding his eyes from the glare of the light.

"Where do you think we will stop for the night?"

The grandmother shrugged, pulling her white shawl 

Tighter around her bony pale shoulders. 

"Can't know with Fred? Depends how long they're there,"

Pointing at the esteemed Opera House,

Muttering "before they throw them both out."

Johnny inhaled the fresh, if frigid air,

Hoping to clear out his congested lungs,

And wondered what his dad was doing then.

He felt no sadness, but also no fear,

Just guilt and shame he could have never earned.

It was only a few minutes later

When the absent hurried back to the car,

Mom holding her pillbox hat to her head.

They hustled to get back in the Buick,

Fred pulling out fast, Babette stifling tears.

"Don't worry, sweet baby cakes," Fred whispered,

"These countrified hicks don't have a damn clue."

With a silence more awkward than it'd been,

Johnny decided he must push his luck,

"Where and when will we stop driving tonight?"

"Good question, boy," shouted Fred, too loudly,

Desired to shift the tension in the car.

"How 'bout close to the Indiana line?

Everyone look for some place we can stay."

"Meaning some place where we can all lay low,"

His grandmother hissed only to herself.

"What was that, Constance? I couldn't hear you."

"Nothing, Fred. Keep your eyes on the road and,"

Watching him rub his hand on Babette's thigh,

"Your damn hands on the wheel."

                                                 But it remained.

They found a set of cabins near Richmond.

"Isn't it adorable?" Fred proclaimed,

Although neither female showed delight,

Elation or begrudged admiration.

Rustic and functional, it gave them beds.

As the boy turned from his grandma's body,

He fell asleep convinced that Jack followed.

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