Give Me Wings

by Joy Redmond

Mama shopped carefully, buying the cheapest items at the Red Front Grocery. Their menu was the same every day; oatmeal, soda crackers, and frankfurters.

  Once a month, Uncle Clayton, Teddy’s youngest brother, made the trip to their house in his old Model A, took them to town so they could visit Mammaw and Pappaw, and check with Western Union.

  By mid-November, snow began falling. The children had no coats, no galoshes, and the coalhouse was almost empty. Carnikko awoke on her birthday wondering if Daddy would come see her.

  She ambled into the kitchen, sat at the table, and Mama handed her a bowl of oatmeal. She slowly stirred it around in the bowl. There was no milk to pour over it, and it was thick, bland, and hard to force down. She didn’t want to eat it, but she knew her stomach would rumble if she didn’t fill it. Finally, she swallowed the last bite, got up, and stood by Mama.

  Mama was looking out the window above the washstand as if she were hoping and praying she would see Daddy’s car parked in the gravel by the side of the house.

  “Mama, do ya think Daddy will come since it’s my birthday? I’m seven years old, a big girl,” Carnikko said hopefully.

  “I don’t know, honey,” Mama said with a doubtful voice.

  By dark, Carnikko gave up hope. Mama put her to bed and whispered, “Happy birthday, Punkin.” She kissed her on the forehead. “That’s from Daddy.”

  When Mama went to bed, Carnikko turned on her stomach, buried her head in the pillow, and pictured the scenes as Daddy told the story about the morning she was born. As the scenes unfolded, she could feel Daddy holding her in his arms—the arms that always made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

  Carnikko heard a car door slam. She leaped from bed, ran, and flung open the front door. Daddy was driving away, the car disappearing down the steep hill. She ran to the edge of the porch, raised her arm and waved, hoping Daddy would see her in the rearview mirror.

  Then her arm fell off, rolled down the steps, burst open, and orange strings and seeds spilled out.

  “No! No!” Carnikko screamed.

  Mama hurried to Carnikko’s bedside and cradled the child in her arms. “Carnikko, honey, wake up. You’re having a nightmare,” she softly said.

  Carnikko flung her arms around Mama’s neck. “Mama, my arm fell off, and it busted like a big punkin,” she said, her heart racing.

  “Come get in bed with me, honey. You can sleep with me since Daddy is gone, then when you have a nightmare, I’ll be right there beside you,” Mama said, taking Carnikko’s hand, leading her across the cold floor, and boosting her into the bed.

  December brought more snow and sub-zero degrees, and the old shotgun house was like living inside an icebox. The walls had many cracks, letting in the cold, and sometimes snow blew through and sprinkled the floors. Mama and the children stuffed the cracks with sacks, papers, and rags, and it worked until the paper and rags became soaked.

  Early one morning, Mama burned the last lump of coal. She put her four children in her bed, and covered them with quilts and blankets. “Your body heat will keep you from freezing to death,” she said as she pulled the covers around them. Then she whispered, “Pray, children.”

  Mama wrapped a heavy quilt around herself, nestled in the wingback chair, and closed her eyes in prayer. “Dear God, please don’t let my children freeze. Take me Lord, but save my babies. Amen,” she said, wiping her tears.

  Carnikko wanted to close her eyes, chant, sprout wings, and fly to her special place where there was plenty of sunshine to keep her warm, and plenty of candy on the trees to fill her belly. But she knew when she came back, she’d be cold and hungry again. So she closed her eyes and prayed, “Dear God, please send us some coal and some food. Amen.”

  Don prayed, “Dear God, please keep us warm and make our stomachs stop hurtin' because we’re so hungry. And God, I’m tryin' not to hate Daddy because Mama said you don’t want us to hate, but he’s no-good and I don’t like him. Please help Mama stop cryin'. I can’t stand it no more. Amen.”

  As the last amen echoed around the room, they heard the loud roar of an engine. Holding the quilt around her, Mama walked to the window by the front door. The children leaped from bed and were on her heels, all of them trying to look through the windowpane at the same time.

  “Well, what on earth?” Mama said as they watched a Russell-Wilson coal truck pull alongside the house and went on to the back. Mama looked at the children, and said, “Get back in bed, kids. I’ve got to go out and stop him before he dumps the coal. I don’t have any money to pay for it.”

  They crawled into bed, shivered, and pulled the covers around them.

  “I hope Mama don’t catch the coal man in time,” Carnikko said.

  Don poked her with his elbow. “We ain’t got no money, stupid. If the man dumps it in the coalhouse and Mama can’t pay for it, she’ll go to jail,” he said, closing his eyes and squeezing the hem of the blanket. “Please don’t let Mama go to jail, God.”

  “Yeah, God,” Carnikko whispered as panic set in at the prospect of losing her daddy and mama.

  Mama slammed the back door and ran into the front room. The children sat up in bed, their eyes wide, and in unison they asked, “Did you stop him in time?”

  Mama hurried to the bed. “Scoot over kids, I’m freezing,” she said as she snuggled under the covers and stuck her cold hands on Don’s belly, laughing as Don flinched and pushed her cold hands away.

  Carnikko cocked her head from side to side, wondering why Mama was laughing, wondering if she had gone crazy, wondering if Mama would have to go to the Crazy House. She’d heard grownups talk about that place all her life.

  “Mama, are ya goin' to jail because ya can’t pay for the coal?” Lee asked, and his voice quivered.

  “No, honey, the driver said somebody paid for the coal, and he said for me to get back in the house, and he’ll fill the coal buckets on the back porch, then he’ll bring some in and start a fire for us,” Mama said, and she reached across Don and patted Lee. “See, God does answer prayers. He works miracles!”

  “Wow! He sure does,” Carnikko answered. Daddy was sure wrong about God and prayers being horse-shit, she thought.

  A few minutes later, a heavy-set black man came through the house carrying a bucket of coal in both hands. “Here’s two buckets full. Boss man sent extra buckets for ya,” he said with a big smile, and nodded toward Mama. He emptied one bucket into the stove, squirted coal oil over the slack, struck a match to a brown bag and dropped it into the stove, and a high flame leaped. “I be gettin' the other buckets and I’ll put ꞌem on the back porch fer ya, ma’am.”

  “Thank you. Who did you say paid for the load?” Mama asked in an innocent voice, her eyes holding a coy look.

  “Nah, ya ain’t gonna get me to fall for that, Missy. Boss say I ain’t supposed to tell, and I ain’t gonna.” He smiled broadly, showing a row of pearly whites. His eyes danced as he tipped his cap. “Good day, ma’am. God bless ya.”

  “And God bless you. And God bless the person who paid for it,” Mama said as she wiped her eyes.

  When the heat penetrated the room, Mama scurried into the kitchen, picked up a box of soda crackers, stabbed the frozen layer of ice in the water bucket with an ice pick, and filled four glasses with water.

  Although it wasn’t much, the children eagerly wolfed down the meager meal.

  Mama finished her cracker and said, “Children, we have to bow our heads and thank God for the load of coal.”

  They bowed their heads, and four little voices sang out, “Thank ya, God.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mama and Carnikko made their way down the hill to the mailbox. Mama pulled down the rusty flap and saw a white envelope, quickly grabbed it, turned it sideways and eyed the postmark. “Indianapolis,” she read, which made Carnikko’s heart race. It had to be from Daddy, but she was sure it was bad news and that meant Mama was going to cry.

  They walked back to the house and as Carnikko stood by the stove, trying to wa
rm up, Mama walked over to the dresser and ripped open the letter. To Carnikko’s surprise, Mama smiled as she read, then folded the letter and gently set it on the dresser.

  “Children, I have something wonderful to tell you. Daddy wrote and said that he’ll be coming home for Christmas. Isn’t that great?” she said, holding her arms stretched wide in full-hug mode.

  All the children ran to her and four sets of arms tried to hug her at the same time.

  Then Carnikko took a step back and said, “I already knew Daddy would come because I prayed for him to.” She took a slight bow, as if she had been the reason for the good news.

  It was mid-morning and they had already filled their stomachs with water, but the hunger pangs were starting to come back, and there wasn’t a morsel of food in the house. Mama sat in the wingback chair and gathered the children around her, as if having them close could somehow lessen their hunger.

  “I want you all to bow your heads, children, and pray for food.” Just as they were lowering their heads in prayer, they heard the slamming of car doors outside. Mama went to the front window and looked out. “It looks like we’ve got company, kids. It’s Mrs. Scott, Mrs. Palmer, and Mrs. Dickerson from church,” she announced.

  Carnikko opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch, then watched as the women began pulling boxes from the car. The women smiled as they hoisted their loads and walked toward the house.

  Mama pulled Carnikko out of the way and held the screen door open for the women. Once inside, they set the boxes on the floor.

  Mrs. Scott said, “It’s Christmastime, Rachel, and we’re playing Santa this year.” Her smile broadened as she looked down at the children, her eyes invited them to take a better look.

  The children hurried over and ripped open the boxes while Mama’s eyes filled with tears.

  Don whistled, much like Daddy did when a pretty woman walked by him, then Don yelled, “Food, Mama! Food!”

  Carnikko’s mouth salivated and her stomach rumbled louder. “My stomach is gnawin' on my backbone like Mammaw said Daddy’s did when he swiped Mr. Gilmore’s apples,” she mumbled.

  Mama’s voice broke as she looked at the women and said, “You have no idea what this means to us.”

  As Mrs. Palmer hugged Rachel, she said, “The Wise Men brought gifts to baby Jesus, and we’re happy to be able to give to God’s people in celebration of Jesus’ birth.”

  Mrs. Dickerson added, “We’ll see you all in church tomorrow.”

  The women then patted each of the children on the head, said goodbye, and left. After they had gone, the children helped Mama drag the boxes into the kitchen.

  The children sat around the table, swinging their legs—waiting—waiting.

  Mama made each of them a bologna sandwich with mayonnaise on light bread. Then she poured them a tall glass of milk and handed them each a small bag of potato chips.

  Carnikko said happily, “Man, oh, man! I’m eatin' like a rich girl,” as she sank her teeth into the sandwich, and mayonnaise oozed from the corners of her mouth.

  To a poor child, there were few things more exotic than store-bought bread, milk and potato chips.

  Wiping tears of joy, Mama sat and joined her children in their surprise feast.

  The next morning, Mama readied them all for church. They had no winter coats, but Mama found some old sweaters and bundled everyone up, saying, “We’ve got to brave the cold and walk to church because God wants us in His house to give thanks for the miracles He’s sent us the past two days.”

  “We done thanked God already, Mama. Ain’t that enough?” Carnikko said, balking like a mule as Mama dragged her out the front door.

  The three-mile walk to Canoe Cove seemed like thirty, and by the time they got to the church, Carnikko could no longer feel her feet. It didn’t make sense to freeze half to death just to thank God for something they’d already thanked Him for, but it was too late to worry about that.

  After a few minutes in the church, her feet started to thaw. Then they tingled as if someone was sticking needles into them. She wondered if her toes had frozen off. It didn’t help when she thought about how they were going to have to go through the whole ordeal again on the way home. She wanted to cuss as she squirmed in the pew, but she knew she couldn’t do it aloud, so she said all of daddy’s cuss words she could remember inside her head. She smiled at how wonderful it was to be able to talk inside her head and nobody could read her thoughts.

  When church was over, Carnikko was overjoyed when Miss Sally Foster offered them a ride in her new Dodge. They all piled happily into the car, and soon the heater was pumping out warm air.

  When they arrived home, Mama thanked Miss Sally repeatedly as the children hurried toward the house.

  Once inside, Carnikko pulled off her shoes. She was thankful to see her toes were still attached to her feet.

  As they sat around the kitchen table, Mama told bible stories while making boiled potatoes, green beans, and carrots for dinner. She also opened the icebox and took out a bowl of cherry Jell-O she’d made that morning. Carnikko loved Jell-O almost as much as Mammaw’s banana pudding. The kids ate, then scampered off to cut out pictures of toys, clothes, and shoes from the Penney’s catalog—things they dreamed of owning someday.

  Later that afternoon, a knock sounded at the door. Carnikko ran to answer it, wondering who it could be, since they never had company. Mama pulled Carnikko out of the way and opened the door to find Miss Sally Foster and her sister, Miss Maggie, standing on the porch with large sacks in their arms.

  “We brought the children a few things, if that’s okay,” Miss Sally said.

  Mama smiled and said, “Sure. Please, come on in.”

  Miss Sally set a sack on the bed and then pulled out two coats. She handed one to Don and one to Lee. As the boys slipped on the coats, they rubbed their hands up and down the front to feel the warm wool material. Miss Maggie handed Carnikko a coat while her sister gave one to Evan, which Mama helped him put on.

  As the children chattered excitedly, Miss Maggie reached into the bag and handed each of the children a pair of shoes. Don put his on and helped Lee tie the laces on his.

  As Carnikko watched the scene unfold, she was both happy and sad at the same time. The tweed coat she’d been given was at least two sizes too big, making her feel like a scarecrow stuffed into a farmer’s old clothes—and the pair of Buster Brown shoes she was holding were boy’s shoes! Even so, she held her tongue because she knew how happy everyone else was.

  It was only after Miss Sally and Miss Maggie left that Carnikko finally let her feelings go, sitting in the middle of the floor, burying her face in her hands, and wailing, “Oh, Mama, I can’t wear them ugly boy shoes, and this big coat will fit you!” She threw the coat and shoes across the room and added, “Galldangit!”

  Mama ignored the nasty word as if she knew the child couldn’t control her hurt and anger. She wrapped her arms around her daughter and said, “I know, honey, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to wear them, because they’re all you’ve got until—I don’t know when.”

  The next day Carnikko left for school wearing a too-large coat and boy shoes. She was determined that no one would dare make fun of her. Daddy had told her that she didn’t have to take shit from anybody.

  She entered the classroom and heard a few snickers —but when she turned, faced the students, crossed her arms over her chest, and gave them all a dirty look, the snickering stopped.

  Carnikko was glad when the day was finally over, but she knew better than to tell Mama what an embarrassing day it had been. Mama would only tell her that she was being ungrateful and that God wouldn’t be happy with her. Well, she wasn’t exactly happy with God, either.

  The next day, Carnikko woke up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, stumbled into the kitchen, and waited for a bowl of rice, along with some store-bought milk and sugar. She watched her brothers scoop rice into their mouths, slurping like hogs eating slop. She knew that Grandma Winsto
n would have slapped them away from the table because she wouldn’t abide bad table manners, but Mama didn’t say anything about it.

  “Mama, ain’t it almost Christmas?” Carnikko said between bites.

  “Yes, dear. Only two more days. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” Mama said as she lifted Evan from the floor, took a seat, and placed him on her lap. “I know you want to know when Daddy will be coming, but I don’t know myself. His letter just said he’d be home for Christmas.”

  At that moment, the back door flew open and a deep voice boomed, “Hey, everybody!”

  “Uncle Clayton!” the children squealed as they ran to him and hugged his legs.

  Mama’s face glowed as she said, “I didn’t hear a car coming. What brings you out here?”

  Uncle Clayton bent down and tousled Lee’s hair. “I’m gonna take the kids out to the woods so we can chop us a cedar, and I brought some popcorn so we can string it on the tree.” He took a bag of popping corn from his coat pocket and tossed it on the table. Then he reached inside his coat, slid his hand around the belt to the back, and pulled out a small hatchet. “This should do the job, huh?” He placed the hatchet on the table beside the popping corn.

  He stooped down, picked Carnikko up, and hoisted her high into the air before nestling her in the bend of his arm. “Cousin Alice sent some shoes for you,” he said as he took a shoe from each coat pocket.

  They were girl’s shoes, but they had obviously been worn and the soles were lopsided.

  “I don’t want no more ugly shoes,” Carnikko complained. “I’m tired of wore-out ugly old shoes. The kids at school already make fun of me. I want some patent leather shoes like the girls in my Sunday school class wear.”

  Uncle Clayton smiled and set her back on the floor. “Well, at least they’re better than what you had before,” he said. “Now go get your coat. We’re goin' to get a Christmas tree.”

  Mama said she would stay in the house with Evan, and Carnikko decided to stay with them. She wasn’t interested in chopping down a tree. Mama set the popcorn popper on the potbelly stove, dropped a large chunk of lard into it, and when it melted, she filled the popper with corn. When the kernels began to pop, Evan clapped his little hands, something he always did when he was happy. His angelic smile and sky-blue eyes seemed to light up the room.