The Catfish was in a hurry to leave the campground, of course. Gus and he were going into town to do some business, manly bidness, he said, like he was president of the United States or something. Last time the Catfish did some business, we ended up with a hundred hamster cages in the living room. Don’t ask. Catfish was a businessman, you know. He slipped behind the steering wheel, gunned the engine, and yowled, “Get in.”
Mother and I looked at each other.
Angie stood and leaned over the fire. “Go on, I will wash my coffeepot.”
“Why can’t we stay here?” I asked, because I wanted nothing to do with the Catfish’s business, whatever it was. Nothing good ever came from his big ideas.
“I’d be glad to have the company,” Angie offered. I looked at her yellow car and wondered if she might just drive us all the way back home. We’d wait for the Catfish to go to town with Gus Luna, then skedaddle.
But he was having none of that. The Catfish flailed around—“Oh shoot, just get in the car because I ain’t driving all the way back out here to get you. Gus has a friend I need to meet. When me and Gus finish our bidness we are leaving Arkansas and heading to Texaw. Get it? Get it?”
And as much as I liked wordplay I wasn’t about to give him the benefit of the laugh. It only made me dizzy that I was going to have to listen to Catfish say Texaw for however long it took to drive across the biggest state in the union, except for Alaska, which doesn’t count because it’s not connected—all ice, no roads, just oil rigs and polar bears. And who in their right mind would want to drive across Alaska anyway?
Mother did what he said. She got in the backseat.
I wanted, more than anything else on earth, for Mother to get out of that car and stay at the campsite with Angie. Then take me back home where we belonged. But she didn’t. Instead she patted the seat, asking me to get in and sit beside her. I did, reluctantly. As we drove away, Angie stood with the coffeepot in one hand and waved. The morning sun caught her blond curls and formed a halo around her head. If only she were an angel, she could … well, it was too late.
Mother held my hand, absentmindedly tickling my palm with her pinky. We sped out of the campground, which I did not like one little bit, because the campground was full of dogs and children and it would have been just like the reckless Catfish to run over some of them.
We had left so fast that I was still wearing my pajamas, so I had to change in the car. Mother held a blanket to shield me from the men while I undressed. I dug my jeans out of the tangled wad of clothes they stuffed in bags for me—all the while thinking the whole day, my whole life (except for my new cowboy accessories), was a mess, and I had no entire clue how to fix it.
I talked from behind the blanket. “What the heck are we supposed to do while you and Gus conduct your business?”
“Why, sightsee, of course,” Catfish said.
“Sightsee?” I said. I had never been sightseeing in my life. Never even thought about it. I wasn’t even sure what it was, except maybe looking at Niagara Falls or the Grand Canyon, things from picture books. “You mean like going to see the Statue of Liberty?”
“Ruby Clyde,” Catfish said, “sometimes I think you are as dumb as a box of rocks.”
Imagine somebody like the Catfish calling you dumb. I yanked on my new boots, trying not to like my cowboy outfit after his crack about my intelligence. I didn’t want to be beholden to the Catfish, but I couldn’t help myself; I just loved my boots and hat, lasso and gun. Once I had them all back on, Mother dropped the blanket.
I leaned over the seat between the men and listened to them do man-talk.
“Hot Springs is just hopping with sights to see,” Gus the Doughnut Cutter bragged, since he was the local expert. He went on about these Duck Trucks and the IQ Zoo, which was full of smart animals—something I definitely needed to see. Better than Niagara Falls, the Grand Canyon, and the Statue of Liberty all rolled into one.
I asked if there were any hot springs in Hot Springs.
“Oh lordy, yes,” Gus said. “Everywhere. That’s why they call it Hot Springs, silly.” He told us the hot springs water was supposed to heal the sick. I liked the sound of healing waters, what with my interest in nursing. He said the water trickles down to the center of the earth, gets boiling hot, and shoots back up. Takes about two thousand years to go down and only about a minute to come back up.
“Whoo-hoo mercy!” said Catfish. “Would you listen to Professor Gus, I’d a never taken you for a schooly man.”
“Shut your face, Carl,” Gus said.
“Who’s going to make me?” Catfish said.
Gus clenched a little fist and showed his teeth. Catfish made a fist too and they boxed at each other until a wheel caught the edge of the road and hit gravel. Gus cried, “Watch the darn road, why don’t you?”
“You watch it,” Catfish said.
“No, you,” Gus said. And that went on for a while. They really liked each other, that much was clear.
Catfish turned the steering wheel and said, “I got a friend in Hollywood. The one we’re going to see. He’s a real big shot to the stars.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Gus said. “It reminds me of my extra good friend in Austin. He’s a big shot to the music people. That’s the place to be. They just throw money at you in Austin.”
“Oh yeah?” Catfish said. “How good a friend?”
“Bosom buddies,” said Gus.
“I don’t believe you for a minute,” Catfish said.
“True,” said Gus, “go there and call him. Tell him Gus Luna sent you. He used to be a doughnut cutter with me, but now he’s rolling in the dough.”
The Catfish swerved the car off the side of the road just to make his new friend shut up.
* * *
Catfish let us out on the street corner none too soon, and he put a hundred-dollar bill in Mother’s hand. “Don’t ever say Carl doesn’t take care of his women,” he said, showing off for Gus the Doughnut Cutter. Mother put the money in her purse. You might think Catfish was rich because he had hundred-dollar bills and all, but he wasn’t. It was just that he was a construction worker on houses and offices and things and they paid him in cash. That’s what Mother told me. Maybe he stole it. Who knew?
Before he left, we agreed to meet back up at the big fountain at some certain time in the afternoon. “Exact o’clock!” Catfish said. “And don’t be late or I’ll ditch you.” He shouldn’t have said that—it frightened Mother. But I couldn’t have been happier with the thought of him leaving us. I could get Mother back home where we belonged, no trouble. Come to think of it, if he was going to leave us there in Hot Springs, Arkansas, he should have just left us at home to begin with.