The Buick: Section Seven

Fred, still feeling for the boy now tied to,

Dropped them at a diner for full breakfast,

A much-needed two-hour break from the seats

Of the ubiquitous Black Century.

When asked, the waitress gave him directions

To the city's closest Western Union,

Fred left with the car, promise to return

With better news and stopping point in sight.

Babette commanded the table as she

Was wont to do; all in that diner had

Attention drawn to the homeless trio

Through every tilt of her crimson head,

Every lilt of her girlish laughter,

Every flirtation with the owner.

Johnny ate little, tummy still unsure,

And thought about Alice, his last tutor,

If she worried about his grammar skills,

And if he would ever see her again.

His grandma took endless coffee refills,

Letting her daughter drone on through the meal.

When Fred returned, good news seemed absent,

He and Babette went to talk by the door,

Constance rolling her eyes with no more care

Whether Johnny noticed or understood.

"Here's good news, all. We're off to Montana,

I hear they name it the Big Sky country."

Johnny from the window of Dell's Diner,

Said, "The sky looks pretty big right here, Fred."

His mother's lover slapped him on the back,

Telling him, "you ain't seen nothing, yet, boy,

Now let's all hop back in the Century

And see how far this company can get."

Then he started humming a Broadway tune,

 A low "mmm mmm, mmm mmm,

                                                  mmm mmm mmm mmm," 

"He's a fool and don't I know it," the voice

Of his mother joining in, "but a fool

Can have his charms. I'm in love and don't I

Show it,"

             the black Buick speeding away.

"A dollar's yours if you know this, Johnny.

It's time we educate you on the Arts."

"Don't be bothered, dear," Constance intervened,

Handing him a crisp bill, "It's my dollar." 

However, the car was barely moving,

The snow was brutal and the progress slow,

Fred frequently getting out of the car

To brush his windshield or to find the road.

Constance did her best to keep spirits up,

Quizzing Johnny on state, world capitals,

Attempts to draw attention from the Plains,

Only for Babette to make them subject

Of her own innocent teaching method:

"Who would be the Indians of these parts?"

She'd ask her fair-haired son out of nowhere,

Not that she would know the correct response.

Signs for towns sparked a little interest,

Distractions from the slow crawl they were on,

Places like Boone, Vermillion, Armour.

As night descended and dinner beckoned, 

Fred chose the Chamberlain Country Cabins,

Bustled to the office, returning fast,

Saying, "Help, Constance, you need to come in,"

His grandmother struggled against the wind,

Five-foot frame dissolving into the snow.

From the car, Johnny could see the frozen

Banks of the Missouri River, wondered

How many more mighty rivers they'd cross

To create boundaries for his father.

Link to Section Eight

Back to Section One