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k。 He saw an old…fashioned gas pump and a fence made out of wagon wheels。 On the other side of the street； Momma spied a group of teenagers in beads and ripped denim。 One of them； a boy； flipped back long luxuriant hair。 The kids paused on the sidewalk for a moment before entering the record store； and Momma pointed them out to Daddy。 〃There must be some kind of a scene here。 This might be a good place to stop。〃
Daddy scowled。 〃This is Buttfuckville。 I hate these little Southern towns…you move in； and three days later everybody knows where you came from and how you make a living and who you're sleeping with。〃 He caressed the steering wheel； then his fingers tightened convulsively around it。 〃I think we can make it through to New York。〃
〃Bobby； no！〃 Momma reached over； put a hand on his shoulder。 Her silver rings caught the sunlight。 〃You know the car can't do it。 Let's not get stranded on the highway somewhere。 I don't want to hitch with the kids。〃
〃No？ You'd rather be stranded here？〃 Now Daddy looked away from the road to glare at Momma through the black sunglasses that hid his pale blue eyes； so like Trevor's eyes。 Didi had eyes like Momma's； huge and nearly black。 〃What would we do here； Rosena？ Huh？ What would I do？〃
〃The same thing you do anywhere。 You'd draw。〃 Momma wasn't looking at Daddy； her hand still rested on his shoulder； but her head was turned toward the window； looking out at Missing Mile。 〃We'd find a place to rent and I'd get a job somewhere。 And you'd stay at home with the kids； and there'd be nowhere to get drunk； and you'd start doing ics again。〃
At one time Trev would have chimed in his support for Momma； perhaps even tried to enlist Didi's help。 He wanted to stay here。 Just looking at the place made him feel relaxed inside； not cramped up and hurting the way New Orleans and sometimes Texas had made him feel。 He could tell it made Momma happy too； at least as happy as she ever felt anymore。
But he knew better than to interrupt his parents while they were 〃discussing。〃 Instead he stared out the window and hoped as hard as he could that they would stop。 If only Momma needed cigarettes； or Didi had to go pee； or something。 His brother was toying with the frayed cuff of his shorts； dreaming； not even seeing the town。 Trev poked his arm。 〃Didi；〃 he whispered out of the corner of his mouth； 〃you need to pee again？〃
〃Uh…uh；〃 said Didi solemnly； too loudly。 〃I peed last time。〃
Daddy slammed his hands against the wheel。 〃Goddammit； Trevor； don't encourage his weak bladder！ You know what it means if I have to stop the car every hour？ It means I have to start it again too。 And you know what starting the car does？ It uses extra gas。 And that gas costs money。 So you take your pick； Trev…do you want to stop and take a piss； or do you want to eat tonight？〃
〃Eat tonight；〃 Trevor said。 He felt tears trying to start in his eyes。 But he knew that if he cried； Daddy would keep picking on him。 He hadn't always been like that； but he was now。 If Trev stood up to Daddy and answered back… even if the answer was giving in…Daddy might be ashamed and leave him alone。
〃Okay； then； leave Didi alone。〃 Daddy made the car go faster。 Trevor could tell Daddy hated the little town as much as he and Momma liked it。 Didi； as usual； was lost in space。
Daddy wouldn't stop on purpose now； not for any reason。 Trevor knew the car was going to break down soon； at least； Momma said so。 If that was true； he wished it would go ahead and break down here。 He thought a place like this might be good for Daddy if he would only give it a chance。
〃GodDAMM〃 Daddy was wrestling with the shift stick； slamming it with the heel of his hand。 Something in the guts of the car banged and shuddered horribly； then greasy black smoke came streaming around the edges of the hood。 The car coasted to a stop on the grassy shoulder of the road。
Trevor felt like crying again。 What if Daddy knew he had been wishing for the car to break down right that very second？ What would Daddy do？ Trevor looked down at his lap； noticed how tightly his fists were clenched against the knees of his jeans。 Cautiously he opened one hand； then the other。 His fingernails had made stinging red halfmoons in the soft flesh of his palms。
Daddy kicked the Rambler's door open and flung himself out。 They had already passed through downtown； and now the road was flanked by farmland； green and wet…smelling。 Trevor saw a few patches of writhing vine dotted with tiny purple flowers that smelled like grape soda。 They had been seeing this plant for miles。 Momma called it kudzu； and said it only flowered once every seven years。 Daddy snorted and said it was a goddamn crop…killing pest that wouldn't even die if you burned it with gasoline。
Daddy walked away from the car toward a cluster of trees not far from the road。 He stopped and stood with his back to the Rambler； his hands clenched at his sides。 Even from a distance Trevor could tell Daddy was shaking。 Momma said Daddy was a bundle of nerves； wouldn't even fix him coffee anymore because it just made him nervous。 But sometimes Daddy was worse than nervous。 When he got like this； Trevor could feel a blind red rage pulsing from him； hotter than the car's engine； a rage that did not know words like wife and sons。
It was because Daddy couldn't draw anymore。 But why was that？ How could a thing you'd had all your life； the thing you loved to do most； suddenly just be gone？
Momma's door swung open。 When Trevor glanced up； her long blue…jeaned legs were already out of the car； and she was looking at him over the back of the seat。 〃Please watch Didi for a few minutes；〃 she said。 〃Do some reading with him if you're up to it。〃 The door slammed and she was striding across the green verge toward the taut trembling figure of Daddy。
Trevor watched them e together； watched Momma's arms go around Daddy from behind。 He knew her gentle； cool hands would be stroking Daddy's chest； she would be whispering meaningless soothing words in her soft Southern voice； the way she did for Trevor or Didi when they woke from nightmares。 His mind framed a still shot of his parents standing together under the trees； a picture he would remember for a long time： his father； Robert Fredric McGee； a smallish； sharp…featured man with black wraparound sunglasses and a wispy shock of ginger hair that stood straight up on top； the lines of his body tight as a violin string； his mother； Rosena Parks McGee； a slender woman dressed as beingly as the fashions of the day would allow in faded； embroidered jeans and a loose green Indian shirt with tiny mirrors at the collar and sleeves； her long wavy hair twisted into a braid that hung halfway down her back； a thick cable shot through with wheat and corn silk and autumn gold。
Trevor's hair was the same color as his father's。 Didi's was still the palest silk…spun blond； the color of the lightest hairs on Momma's head； but Momma said Trey's hair had been that color too and Didi's would likely darken to ginger by the time he was Trevor's age。
Trevor wondered if Momma was out there soothing Daddy； convincing him that it didn't matter if the car was broken； that this