Chapter 6: Three’s Company

The first RV dealership entertained them for roughly five minutes when an ignorant, if not well-meaning sales manager asked them if their ‘parents’ would be coming along soon. Fortunately, there was a second dealership directly across the street. Peter made a point of asking the man if they were affiliated, and when he grudgingly denied it, the young man nodded and thanked him for his time. Kathy might have been a little exuberant leaving the parking lot, but who didn’t love the sound of a muscle car?

The second lot was smaller and featured only a few models. Fortunately, Peter was already well-read on many of them and was happy to find several Fleetwoods available. The office was a small prefab shed with power, a desk, and not much else. The sole salesperson was a younger man in his 30s with long blonde hair and a thin beard and mustache. He wore hippy bellbottom jeans and a loose pleated shirt with an open front. When they entered the office, he was on the phone having an animated conversation with someone about a service agreement.

“All he needs is a pair of rose-colored glasses and a peace choker,” Peter murmured into Kathy’s ear as they stood back and examined several flyers. She snorted and giggled back at him before singing,

“Night Fever ... Night Fe ... ver

We know how to do it!”

After a moment the man hung up. “Sorry about that, guys,” he said rising. “Good morning. I’m Paul. What can I help you with today?”

After introductions and handshakes, Peter pulled his wallet from his back pocket and produced the black AE card. He handed it to the curious salesman. “We are planning on buying a motorhome today,” he said succinctly, nodding toward the card. “Please go ahead and call the number on the back to satisfy yourself that we are serious buyers. In the meantime, we would like to go look at those 27-foot Montaras.”

Paul glanced at the card and then from Peter to Kathy, who peered at him with a smile, through her aviators. He shrugged and handed the card back. “Ain’t no worries here, man,” he said casually. “I trust you’re legit. Let me get you the...” he grumbled when his phone rang again. He looked at them apologetically as he answered it. Before another heated discussion commenced, he covered the receiver with his hand and pointed to a corkboard where dozens of keys were hanging, “Knock yourselves out ... I’ll catch up,” he whispered.

After spending nearly an hour perusing the available models, they agreed on a Fleetwood that had a single feature the others lacked — a CD player. Their only request was to upgrade the queen-sized mattress.

“Do you think we could just switch this one out with that really nice one in the other model?” Kathy asked innocently as she bounced her butt on the thinner mattress. The blonde man regarded her skeptically.

“Hey,” she replied, guessing by his expression, what he was thinking. “You don’t think we’re just gonna be sleeping on this thing, do you?”

The purchase of the RV was straightforward, while the insurance proved more difficult — and expensive. But by noon they happily made their way back home with Kathy leading the way in her Camaro. Peter was delighted that the Ford E350 was automatic.

They spent an entire week carefully packing it with what they felt were essential items, they wouldn’t be able to purchase on the road. They packed clothes for different climates, cameras, computers, and an assortment of cooking and dining utensils. It already came with a microwave, gas range and a television.

Kathy grumbled when Peter insisted that she limit herself to one instrument so she brought her acoustic guitar but snuck a recorder in with her shirts.

Arrangements were made for Cousin Eddy to stay in the home while they were gone and on Monday, July 8^th, 1991, they hit the road without a single destination in mind.

The roadside hole-in-the-wall they pulled up to was nondescript, to say the least. It appeared like a moderately sized Tavern — and the sign boasted family dining, but when they stepped inside it was far more bar than restaurant. The gravel parking lot completely circled the joint and to the left of the entrance was parking that was reserved for motorcycles only. They parked the Fleetwood away from the building and casually walked across the lot to the main entrance, holding hands. Inside they found an open floor plan with a full-length bar that stretched across the center, separating the customers from a large kitchen behind it. To the left was an open dance floor with tall tables lining the open square. A stage butted against the back wall with two pool tables and several video games to the side. To the right of the bar was a small area with four larger tables for family seating. Peter estimated that the place was only at about a third of its capacity.

They had been on the road for 2 weeks and had plotted a lazy southeast trajectory, following Interstate 84 down through Idaho, peeling off to check out attractions whenever the notion struck. They stayed overnight in KOA campgrounds and an occasional hotel when the need for a real shower struck, and to do their laundry. They had just finished checking out the infamous spot where Evel Knievel made his fateful attempt to jump the Snake River Canyon, before passing through Twin Falls. Bisbee’s Roadhouse and Diner, seemed like a pleasant diversion so they pulled in. In early July the temperature was hovering near triple digits so they both dressed down accordingly. Peter ignored all the stares when he stepped out wearing his board shorts and a tank top that stretched over his broad chest. Kathy wore a light blue cotton skirt with a faded Guns and Roses tank top and her typical flip-flops.

A four-member band was playing a lively version of Juice Newton’s ‘Playing with the Queen of Hearts’ and two couples were swinging on the hardwood in front of them. Kathy immediately began shaking her hips to the tune as they meandered over to a Hostess who busied herself wrapping silverware in napkins.

“Go ahead an seat yer’selves,” she said without looking up.

“Can we sit over by the band?” Kathy asked eagerly. “Or is it 21 and older?”

The hostess glanced up at the two of them before shrugging. Her name tag read, Betty. “Y’all can sit where ya like, just no alcohol.”

“Thank you, Betty,” she replied with a smile and took Peter’s hand to drag him across the dance floor, pausing in the middle to shake it with him briefly before continuing to a tall table right next to the stage. They had to shout to the waitress to order their drinks and get menus.

The band was made up of three men and a curious female who was uniquely short of stature but did not seem to share the common disfigurements associated with dwarfism. Her hair was jet black and styled with dreadlocks that fell nearly to her ankles, with glittery babbles, strings of beads, and various feathers woven in. The three men were decidedly unexceptional compared to her. The oldest man played electric guitar and switched often from Bass to Lead, while a younger exceptionally skinny fellow played a double-stack Yamaha keyboard. The drummer remained hidden behind his kit and what features they could see were blotted by the bright stage lights. Peter was admittedly impressed by their music and energy as a group — but from the moment they sat down they were both captivated by the woman.

Guessing her height at well under five feet, and her age indeterminate, he marveled at her vocal range and depth. Even though she sang with a microphone he was certain she could fill the room without it. Perhaps most striking of all was her diminutive size in contrast to the acoustic guitar she played. It appeared to be a standard-sized instrument but it might as well have been a cello to the tiny woman strumming it. It was almost comical to see how she stood up front in a long ivory-colored gown that fell to her bare feet, with her small arms wrapped around the instrument. It certainly didn’t hinder her ability to play and Kathy more than once applauded happily at her skill. Peter could also see that his girlfriend was as intrigued by the instrument itself as she was by the woman playing it. And for good reason; he had never seen a guitar as unique as the one she strummed.

“My God it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed more than once. “I wish I could just listen to it solo,” she added. She and Peter both ordered fish and chips and sat beside each other as they ate so they wouldn’t have to shout at each other.

“Maybe she will let you check it out when they take a break,” he replied.

Kathy regarded him like a complete imbecile and held up her hands, “With these greasy mitts?” she balked incredulously. “I’d cut my own hands off for even thinking of touching that beauty!”

Peter snorted and rolled his eyes. “You know it’s amazing the inventions they have come up with these days,” he retorted as he stuffed more fries in his mouth. He nodded towards the edge of the bar. “Why, I bet they even have soap and water in that bathroom right over there...”

She glared at him for a moment before glancing toward the restroom sign. She was undecided as to whether she should go do as he suggested or dump her pop over his head — when the band decided for her.

“Okay folks, we’re gonna do one more song before we take a break,” the diminutive lead singer announced. She gently strummed a few frets as she continued. “We want to thank you for having us here tonight, and uh, who knows? Maybe tomorrow as well. Anyway, my name is Skye, this is Dillion on Electric and Zoey on the keyboard. Behind us pounding out the beat is the one and only Ricky! And together we are Calypso!” She bowed to the applause and whistles, smiling brightly. “Thank you all so much for the love! Be sure to save some for your servers and bartenders!”

Kathy jumped to her feet and set her napkin over her basket signifying she was done with her food. “Be right back!” she said excitedly. She stepped behind Peter and reached down to bite his ear. “And if I wanted any lip from you mister, I’d hike up my skirt!” she growled before kissing the side of his face and dashing into the bathroom.

It was a short piece by Earth, Wind, and Fire and a small crowd of patrons approached the stage as the band members stretched and set their instruments on their stands. While Kathy patiently waited behind a few well-wishers, Peter walked over to the tip jar sitting on the edge of the keyboard and surreptitiously slipped two $50 bills into it.

When Skye turned to glance at Kathy she was taken by the girl’s warm and endearing smile. “Hi, I’m Kathy,” she said almost breathless with excitement. “I just wanted to say that ... You are really good! And I mean that.” She held out her hand which the other woman took delicately.

“Why thank you Kathy!” the short woman replied with a hint of a blush. “You are so pretty! God, I love your skin!” She tightened her grip for a brief instant for the taller girl to help her step down from the stage. “Thank you.”

“I have to say that that is the most beautiful guitar I have ever seen,” Kathy said reverently as she gazed at the instrument.

“Thank you, his name is Shima,” Skye replied softly.

“Shima,” Kathy tested the word curiously.

“It’s Hopi — their word for ‘love’.” She looked back at Kathy curiously. “What tribe are you, if I may ask?”

Kathy giggled. “I’m a Puyallup Indian, from northwest Washington.”

“I would’ve guessed Shoshone, seeing as we are right in the heart of their nation.”

Kathy nodded her head to the guitar. “May I see him?” she asked cautiously and held out her hands to be inspected. “I washed them three times!”

“Certainly,” the small woman nodded. “I could tell that you play by the callouses on your fingers. Be my guest.”

Kathy carefully reached across the stage floor and gently took the instrument by the neck. She held it reverently as she gazed upon its workmanship. Under the stage lights, she could tell that the wood had a deep burgundy and orange hue with a striated grain pattern that reflected depth in its immaculate finish. It was an arch-back design with the back of the body bowed out slightly like the back of a spoon. She gasped in wonder at the intricate and familiar dancing flute player that was inlaid into the neck with mother of pearl and turquoise. “Kokopelli,” she breathed in amazement as she ran her fingers over the tribal figure.

“Also, Hopi,” Skye smiled, nodding with approval.

Kathy gripped the guitar properly and strummed a few cords, her eyes widened with astonishment at the pure sound it produced. “Oh my God! Wherever did you get this amazing instrument?”

The shorter woman laughed delightedly and then bounced. “That, darling, is a story for another time. Right now, I desperately need to pee and have a cigarette.” She turned toward the bathroom. “Be careful with him,” she called back, “he is all I have.”

The bar had returned to a dull cacophony of mingled voices and the jukebox which had been playing background music since the band had stopped. It was much quieter than the live music however and Kathy tuned everything out as she adjusted the strap and slipped it over her head before sitting on the edge of the stage and concentrating solely on the amazing instrument in her hands. Peter watched her intently as he recognized her ‘zone’ appearance when she began composing or singing. He had heard her sing and play hundreds of times and never tired of her enchanting vocal range or incredible skill as a musician. He smiled benignly as several of the tall tables around them began filling with patrons while she plucked out random chords and riffs.

She looked up and gazed at her boyfriend incredulously. He sat two yards from her smiling happily at the joy in her face. “This guitar is so incredible, babe!” she said to him. “Everything just sounds so good on it...” she lifted her face to the ceiling and closed her eyes as John Denver’s epic ballad ‘Take Me Home, Country Road’ began filling the room. Her fingers effortlessly slipped across the frets as she strummed with a heavier hand. She played the song about halfway through before letting the last notes fade revealing that she had been humming the lyrics to herself. She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “Isn’t it crazy? Let me try this...”

She shifted her body slightly and began strumming in the all-too-familiar down-down-up-down sweeping pattern of ‘Horse with No Name’ by America. Peter grinned and glanced around the room to see everyone watching her intently. She fiddled with her variations of the two chords before letting it fade once more. “Doesn’t it sound amazing, babe?” she regarded him sheepishly.

He nodded. “I have never heard you sound so good before,” he admitted.

“I know right? It practically plays itself,” she replied before biting her lip. “I don’t know what to play...” she confessed.

“Can I make a request?” he asked her.

“For you baby — I’d stand on my head and eat black, crunchy bugs,” she quipped, drawing laughter from several patrons seated around them.

“How about that new song by Traci Chapman that you were practicing the other night at the KOA?”

Her eyes lit up and she uncrossed her legs, accidentally revealing a scandalous amount of leg. She tucked her chin and began plucking out the cords to ‘Fast Car’. After the intro rhythm, she lifted her head, closed her eyes, and began singing the lyrics,

“You got a fast car,

And I want a ticket to anywhere,”

She played the song through completely, never taking her eyes off Peter — on those rare occasions that she opened them. She was startled to hear loud applause surrounding her. And she blinked in confusion when she saw everyone watching her. Skye had returned and had taken her seat beside Peter. She stood up and whistled shrilly as she clapped her hands over her head.

“Whoo! Girl! You got it goin’ on!” she hollered, causing the rest of the crowd to echo her sentiments. “Come on, sing us another!” she cried causing another chorus of “yays.”

Kathy sat frozen and looked like she had been poleaxed. She darted her eyes to Peter and gave him a frantic expression that all but shouted, ‘Get me out of this!’

He simply smirked back at her and shook his head. “They love you, babe,” he mouthed to her.

After the crowd quieted Skye stood and walked over to her. “That is some of the best music I have ever heard come out of him,” she smiled. “Come on. Your fans are waiting, girl. Play us something else.”

The native girl glanced around the room at all the smiling expectant faces. The other band members were standing to the side nodding at her encouragingly. “Um,” she stammered softly. “I’m not really a performer ... Sorry,” she grimaced. “I was just pluckin’ around.”

Skye snorted derisively. “My foot!” she retorted. “If that was just pluckin’, I can’t wait to hear when you get serious.” The short woman strode over to the step and walked onto the stage where her microphone stood. Her voice filled the room suddenly, “I don’t know about y’all but I think we have a star among us!”

There was wild applause and cheering which caused Kathy to shut her eyes and blush with embarrassment.

“Maybe she just needs a little introduction, and some down-home encouragement.” There were more cheers, which did little to assuage her mortification.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to Kathy. She’s a little shy at the moment but I know that her nerves will melt away as soon as she starts singing again. What do you say?”

This time the crowd practically begged her to play again and she looked around at all the friendly faces guiltily.

“Um, I suppose...” she began only to be cut off by more clapping. “I just don’t know what to play.”

“Anything!” someone shouted to more cheers.

Skye knelt beside her and touched her shoulder. “This has to be you,” she said. “Don’t play what they want to hear — play what you want to express.”

Kathy chewed her lip with uncertainty. “But I don’t know what that would be.”

“It’s simple darling,” the other woman told her. “Just pick your favorite song at the moment and let us hear it.”

“But ... there are so many,” she replied as her mind became frantic.

Peter stood up. “I know what her favorite song is right now,” he declared and stepped over to her. She looked at him expectantly and he bent over to whisper in her ear.

Her eyes flew open wide as he kissed her cheek and stepped back. “Um ... I uh. That’s most definitely my favorite ... but um, it’s pretty emotional for me and I don’t think I can sing it without...”

“It sounds like a perfect choice, sweetheart,” Skye declared and stood up once more. “Let’s hear it for Kathy!” she shouted into the mike and the room erupted once more in applause.

Kathy sat transfixed at the sea of faces that seemed to grow in number every time she looked up. “Uh ... oh boy,” she sighed as they grew expectantly quiet. “Um ... if you insist. Here goes nothing...”

Before she could begin someone shouted, “Up on stage!”

“What?” she exclaimed in a panic.

“On the stage ... So, we can hear you!”

She turned to look back at the platform she was sitting on with all the light aimed at it. “Oh God!” she moaned. Everyone started calling for her to go up so she reluctantly stood and stepped up into the lights.

Skye clapped enthusiastically before hopping down and returning to her seat.

Kathy had to squint her eyes and hold a hand over her brow to see around her. The microphone stood beside her and picked up her feeble moans. “Oh God! I can’t believe I’m doing this. God these lights are so bright.”

One of the band members stepped over to a panel and dimmed them for her.

“Oh! Thank you so much, sir,” she whispered, forgetting that the microphone filled the room with her voice. She stood facing the crowd and unconsciously slipped off her flip-flops. “I’m sorry everyone, I’m so nervous my legs are shaking.” There were sympathetic murmurs around her and she saw Peter rise once more and carry his stool forward. He stepped up onto the stage and placed it before the mike, before helping her to sit on it demurely. He kissed her forehead and returned to the floor.

“Thanks, babe,” she said softly for everyone to hear. “By the way, that’s my man right there, ladies,” she simpered with a warning tone. There was laughter at her remark. “And in case you didn’t notice, he’s a cyborg. So don’t go getting any ideas, guys.” This time the laughter was louder and widespread and Peter bowed to everyone graciously.

All the noise died away when she strummed a few experimental chords. “I um ... I’ve never done this before, so forgive me for being scared out of my mind right now,” she said facing the microphone. “The song I am going to sing is a moving ballad from the immortal Don McLean and as far as I’m concerned it is the finest song ever written — about one of the greatest artists who ever lived. I hope you like it.”

She sat back and lifted her face once more, closing her eyes as she began strumming a powerful melody. She ran through the intro twice before she lowered her chin and began to sing,

“Starry starry night

Paint your pallet blue and gray

Look out on a summer’s day

With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.”

Glancing around at the faces she saw rapture and amazement in the crowd. She looked to her table and saw Peter smiling triumphantly back at her and nodding. Skye regarded her in stunned marvel as she held both of her hands to her mouth.

“Shadows on the hills

Sketch the trees and the daffodils

Catch the breeze and winter chills

In colors on the snowy, linen land.”

She closed her eyes again and felt her breath shudder as she began feeling the emotion of the lyrics.

“Now, I understand, what you tried to say to me

And how you suffered for your sanity

And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they did not know how

Perhaps they’ll listen now.

“Starry starry night

Flaming flowers that brightly blaze

Swirling clouds in violet haze

Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue.

“Colors changing hue

Morning fields of amber grain

Weathered faces lined with pain

Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hands.

“Now, I understand, what you tried to say to me

“For they could not love you

But still, your love was true

And when no hope was left inside

On that starry, starry night

“You took your life as lovers often do

But I could have told you, Vincent

This world was never meant for one

As beautiful as you.

“Starry, starry night

Portraits hung in empty halls

Frameless heads on nameless walls

With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget.

“Like the strangers that you’ve met

The ragged men in ragged clothes

The silver thorn of bloody rose

Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

“Now, I think I know what you tried to say to me