So Says Sleeky Sue

 

            The ice cream business went well enough. It was a lot of fun at first, but then it became just a job. We made ice cream. I tried to think up new flavors. We sold ice cream.
            Joe had become a rich man. His songs hit a relatable note. People flocked to his appearances all over the country, willing to pay for expensive tickets. In some ways he wasn’t the same Folkie Joe that we had known and loved on our long train trip to Branson. He wore sunglasses indoors and designer clothes. We missed him, Maurice and I.
            We became restless. The love of travel and roughing it was still in our bones. The road was calling pretty loudly.
            On top of it all, Maurice had a serious case of the blues. I wracked my brains for a way to get him out of his funk. It was a bad funk. He let the dishes stack up, he got behind on the laundry. He sat and looked at the wall for hours at a time. Something had to be done.
            I got ahold of Joe one day when he was around his apartment for a couple of days and said, “we have to do something about Maurice. He’s fading, Joe. He needs to get out of Branson, or something. I mean, look at him! It hurts to look!
            “How about we leave Kreshnik in charge? He can hire a couple more kids from the music school if he needs help. How about we take Maurice back to see that Ralph guy he likes so much? How about it, Joe?”
            Joe sat thinking about it for a few minutes. “Goodness knows I owe him, Sue. I have a break between shows in a couple of weeks. I could get away then. Is that soon enough?
            “I am wondering how we should get there. I don’t see us doing it hobo style this time. I’m not sure we’re up for that much roughing it anymore. At least we won’t have to play grocery store parking lots and scrounge for food and a place to wash our hands. What were you thinking?”
            I told Joe that I was seeing it as a train trip because that’s a lot more fun than just getting on a plane and landing at SeaTac. I thought we should ride the train, inside with tickets, ending in the Everett station. Then I thought a nice long hike to the forest where Ralph lived would be perfect. I thought that would perk Maurice up. It would be almost like the old days when we all bummed our way across the country.
            I hadn’t figured out how we would find ol’ Ralph and entourage, but I was pretty sure Maurice knew the way, once he was back in situ.
            Joe did a show in St Louis and another one Cincinnati. The people screamed and the radio played his newest album of lonesome travel songs, full of sweet blue notes. Then he came home to Branson.
            In the meantime, I talked to Maurice. I asked him if he would like to see Ralph again and the whole west coast scene. I talked it up pretty good every day so he would have something to look forward to and not forget that we were going to take off in a couple of weeks.
            His eyes brightened a little while I was talking to him, and he started doing his chores a little bit too. It was a good sign. He still looked like Maurice, just more groomed than the first time I saw him in that railroad car. He generally wore khakis and a hoodie, with high-top tennies.
            “Yeah, Sue. I like Ralph an awful lot….. I wonder if  he is still out there?” Maurice said during one of these pep talks. I sure hoped he was still out there, for Maurice’s sake, and also so we all didn’t waste our time finding out.
            We wouldn't look like extras from the Wizard of Oz this time. I would ride in one of those on-body pet carriers. Maurice would carry me. We were good friends, so I didn’t mind posing as his pet cat. I had to remember to not talk when we were around people.
            We wouldn't bring a lot of luggage. We had money this time. If we needed something, we could buy it.
            To catch the Amtrak to Everett, you must travel to Kansas City and meet it there at the station. The route goes north up to Minneapolis, curves off to the west a bit to North Dakota, then heads just about straight west dittoing Highway 2 for a lot of the distance.
            But before we left for Washington and environs, Joe and I sat down with Kreshnik the Albanian music student in the office in the back of the Ozark Howler Frozen Custard shop.
            “Kresh,” Joe said, “how would you like to be the chief cook and bottle washer, well manager, for a couple of weeks?”
            “Sure, of course, what’s up with you guys?” said Kreshnik.
            “We’re taking a little trip back where this whole story began. We need to freshen up our minds, and to tell the truth, Maurice is so bummed out he isn’t functioning. We’re hoping this helps wake him up,” said Joe.
            “OK, I can do it. No problem,” Kreshnik nodded.
            “We were thinking that you could hire a couple of students to help you. It’s up to you. Just if you need to, you have our permission,” I said. “Maybe a girl or two, girls are good for the frozen custard business. If the hours don’t work for students, non-students are fine too.”
            “Gotcha,” said Kreshnik. We felt confident that the shop would be taken care of in our absence. Kresh was a good kid and very dependable.
 
            The day we split Branson it was sunny and promising to be hot later in the afternoon. MO is always humid.
            Joe and Maurice each filled a backpack with some clothing and this and that. Being a cat, I didn’t need much in the way of luggage. I climbed into the pet carrier and Maurice put it on, then his backpack. He didn’t look quite like a human being, but not too far off with his beard grown out and his hood up, in spite of the heat and humidity. He looked animated. He was up on his toes. I caught him sniffing the breeze. Good!
            It felt strange to leave the apartment that had been home for year or so, but then it always seems like that when you’re leaving home, doesn’t it?
            Just as in days of old, we hiked together to the bus station and caught one to Kansas City.
            It was interesting to see more of MO. Maurice kept the top of the pet carrier unzipped so I could see out. We passed fields, little towns, rivers and hills. The sun rose in the sky and even with AC, the bus got stuffy.
            “Hey, Maurice,” I whispered, “how’s it going? Having fun?”
            “Yeah, Sneaky, I’m having fun,” he whispered back. Nobody seemed to notice.
            “Anybody hungry,” asked Folkie Joe, looking out of the bus window. He wasn’t used to being out amongst the people like this anymore, and it seemed to affect him a little.
            He always carried fancy jerky around. So we had some of that. Maurice tucked small pieces into my carrier so I could eat them easily.
            He and Maurice both carried water, so we didn’t dry up. And the ride continued on to Kansas City.