The backlash from the smashed fence brought about a new friendship that was as warm as the clean morning air that flowed over them, driving down Central Avenue. The tourists were out in full force like an army of fire ants attacking a rotten peach that had been lying in the Sun. Viola sat on the passenger side of her car, the car that had once belonged to her husband, Billy Dugan. An old Chrysler Newport. Gold on gold, Billy often referred to her. Gold exterior paint, which had faded to a light tan and gold leather seats which the sun had faded and cracked but not yet ripped. The car hadn't been driven in over a year and a half, but here they were. Shelby, nothing but a dot behind the huge steering wheel, was trying to get used to the size of the Newport compared to her little Sentra. A fair amount of play in the steering wheel didn't help much, though still, she loved driving this old dinosaur.
Past the old hotels, bars, bathhouses, and eateries along the four-lane street that was not only the heart of Hot Springs but the heart of its tourism also. Viola sat oblivious through it all. She had been a part of it for the last 80-something years. The only difference to her was the cut of the clothes, the lines on the cars, and the price of the merchandise.
Sounds of music escaped the bars like lifeboats full of people from the sands of Cuba. She'd always seen the beauty of Hot Springs but never the attraction. She never understood the attraction to get in a vehicle and drive hours to get here, then walk shoulder to shoulder up and down quaint little storefront shops just to buy merchandise labeled "Hot Springs, Arkansas, a fun place to visit," or be a walking advertisement for Magic Mountain Amusement park on the outskirts of the small town.
Travis sat in his car seat, looking out at the tops of people and the midsection of buildings with a glimpse of blue sky and puffy white cotton candy clouds. He sat content. Content just to be riding and content to be in the company of his current two favorite people. Happy just to be between them on the front seat that was big enough to be a king-size bed. He loved it. He loved open spaces. Because open spaces meant that when he fell from his unsteady steps, nothing that had sharp edges or hard surfaces. Open spaces meant less tears, more independence, and less high pitched shrills to the two mothers on either side of him.
He sat, strapped tightly in the seat, watching the two that were as different as night and day but yet the same as one. It amazed his young mind how the two had taken to one another. His mother had taken to Miss V like a duck to water. Miss V was almost like a lifeline to Shelby on the rough seas, or a beacon from a lighthouse guiding her into the harbor during a storm, though Miss V didn't even know it.
Travis knew Shelby didn't realize how she had become dependent on Miss V, and Miss V to her. They were two peas in a pod cut from the same cloth. They didn't see it but they felt it. Just as the ocean feels the pull of the moon. They felt it as they traveled down Central Avenue in this huge tank of a car, one dressed like a flower child From the '60s and the other dressed like she was fixing to go outside and garden. Travis picked up his bottle of juice between his legs, putting the nipple in his mouth. He was trying to get the juice out of the bottle so quickly that his face looked like a fish struggling for air, the cold juice vacuuming from the nipple, and draining down his throat like water in the Grand Canyon. All Travis needed was a stale piece of bread and it would be an almost religious experience. He focused on his bottle, balancing it on his tiny hands. Much like his mother silencing the old car between lines. Much like Miss V silencing her last remaining days. Much like life balancing the seasons of not only their fate but ours also.
Travis's young mind could not be expressed by his words. His tongue was much too young to pronounce the syllables, but he thought them all the same, expressing himself with facial expressions and one-syllable nouns. He sat, strapped like a convict, balancing the bottle of grape juice. He wondered where it all would lead, wondering where they would wander and wandering what roads they would wander down.
"We're here! And I can't believe you're here with me," Shelby announced to them both, pulling the old tank into a spot parking space at The Stables, as close as she could so Viola wouldn't have to wait so long while she went and got a golf cart. "Wait here, I'll be back in a second," she added, escaping the bowels of the driven beast. Viola sat, staring into the distance at things that caught her eyes. A John Deere tractor rolled across the parking lot with a box blade on the back. A six-horse trailer was backing up with the help of a large pickup, a small dark-skinned man slowly making his way to The Stables. His driver overheard that he'd rather be anywhere but here, probably a thousand miles away on a mountain island beach in the Atlantic. "Can't blame him," she muttered, just to hear herself talk. Travis agreed from the back seat, throwing his empty bottle to the floorboard for emphasis. "That's a bad thing to learn early in life," she told him. "Don't start now or you'll be that way for the rest of your life," she added, turning her body towards the steering wheel so she could view him in the backseat. He shot back, arguing that he was still strapped into his baby seat and couldn't crawl around the huge backseat floorboards. "It's been a while since out here," she told him. She opened her car door, reading the child's mind, and having sympathy for his needs. He shot her a giggling grin, trying to be as cute as possible, urging her to push her old body out of the car door.
Travis did his best to keep Viola talking as she lifted her body from the seat. He loved the sound of her old voice, soothing him and telling him his world, the one around him, was okay and that the forces were at peace with one another. The voices going back and forth between them made him feel the same way and they made Miss V feel. It was like this morning when the two of them sat on the front porch before the sun escaped from the innards of the mountains. They sat in the gray pool of light, silently enjoying one another's company on a full stomach. The morning dew was heavy on the bright colored flowers that were milled in dark green grass. The sound of a lawnmower being cranked for the first time echoed across the wooden of Viola's tired home. Spring, off in the far distance, buzzing like a mosquito two feet away.
.
Travis came back to reality when the buckle on his car seat was finally released by Viola. He looked up, smiling at her and thanking her not only for his instant freedom but for the early morning porch time when his mother still slept. "Beauty-sleep," Viola called it. "Us time," Travis called it. "Come on," Viola told him, lifting the y-belt above his head. Travis pushed on his arms towards Viola, crawling over the child seat into the warm morning sun.