TAKING FLIGHT

CW: Contains themes of teenage pregnancy, domestic abuse, and animal death

Vicki sat in bed nursing her three-month-old daughter. Each time her husband's gun exploded, her legs flinched. Wayne was in the clearing between the garden and the woods, and though Vicki could have seen him by just turning her head, she refused to do so. She knew the crow caller was in his mouth and the shotgun was in his hands. After summoning the birds with blasts from the caller, he'd wait for them to fly into view. When he fired, the birds fell around him like great shiny hailstones.

"That's not your Daddy," Vicki whispered to Jessica. "It’s just some man we're with temporarily." As horrible as the shots were, Vicki knew worse sounds would follow - the crazy barking of dogs and the hammering as Wayne nailed a dead crow to the shed. He'd done this every week since he'd planted the garden.

When Vicki first saw the black wings spread against the graying wood, a wave of nausea overcame her. Clutch­ing her stomach she made her way to the back steps. She sat with her head between her knees as salty saliva gushed from her mouth onto the stair planks.

Vicki carried Jessica to the changing table in the baby's room. She dressed her in a pale yellow gown before putting her in the red and white swing which stood in the corner near the crib. "You won't miss your things, Babe," Vicki said as the swing contin­ued to rock and the barking grew louder.

Even before the baby was born Vicki knew she'd made a mistake about Wayne. As her abdomen grew larger, her mind became clearer. She hadn't felt any of the ways the books on pregnancy predicted. Instead of "nesting", she'd thought of flight. Instead of seeing her body as a home for the developing baby, she'd seen it as the cause of her imprisonment and an obstacle to her escape.

At the start of the ninth month, Vicki had confided in her mother. She'd told Ma how Wayne pushed her against walls and how he sat sullenly in front of the television, drinking beer until two in the morning. She'd recounted the horrible way her husband had of patting her abdomen and of the look in his eyes when he said that he'd sure gotten her to settle down. But for all the words she'd thrown at Bella Sim's tired face, Vicki had not been able to say exactly what it was that made her so angry.

"Mother," she'd wanted to scream, "how could you let this happen to me?"

Bella's five other children were all settled in the county. She looked at her youngest with dismay. "Don't let your father hear you talking this way," she'd said. "You got a nice fellow and a nice house. Shape yourself up and count your blessings."

Bela’s words were a bucket of ice water in Vicki’s face. She followed her mother's movements around the kitchen but she was frozen in her chair. Aside from her eyes, she couldn’t move any other part of her body.

"It's Nancy and Bill who've got problems," Bella said. "They haven't got a regular job between them, and that tenant place they're living in isn't fit for animals."

When Vicki managed to get herself out of the chair and out of her mother’s house she spoke to herself. "When the baby comes," she said, "I'm leaving for sure." On the road home she'd passed the rusted trailers where two of her high school friends lived. She'd remembered how jealous the girls were when they'd learned that Vicki Sims had gotten pregnant with Wayne Holt's baby.

Wayne was handsome and broad shouldered. When he leaned into your car after pumping the gas, his brown eyes sparked with fun. He'd been in the Navy for six years so when he came back wearing tight jeans and an anchor tattoo on his left bicep the high school girls thought of the old was movies they'd seen on television. They drove their fathers' pickups down to Holt's service station to be looked after.

Wayne's grandparents had left him four acres and a clapboard house on the Rocky Point Road two miles out of Martinsville. When he wasn't running the gas station he was fixing the house and bringing girls home for private parties.

Vicki had been in fifth grade when Wayne left for the service, and she was going into her last year of high school when he got back. Because he'd been a classmate of Vicki's brother, Billy, she remembered him from the days when he'd walked through the house smoking cigarettes. She remembered how he'd lounged on the porch not saying anything but tapping his feet to a tune in his head.

At first, Wayne's return hadn't affected Vicki. She was going out with Randy Morris, who'd graduated from Martinsville High two years before, and was working in the produce department of the supermarket. And unlike most of her girl­friends, Vicki didn't want to get married after graduation.

"Molly Mops," she thought when she saw young women dragging batches of children through town on Saturdays. Their faces were full as melons and many wore rollers in their hair. The children were always dirty, their voices set in chronic whines.

Vicki planned on getting a job and taking night courses at the community college. She hoped one day to work for the Gazette, to be a reporter zipping around the county and writing snappy stories about people who had tailgate parties at the football games and who went on cruises. She'd always liked writing and she'd won every essay contest her high school offered.

When Vicki told her plans to her English teacher, she'd received encourage­ment. "You've got the talent and the spunk, Victoria,” Mrs. Hayes said. “I think you'd make a great reporter." When the teacher asked about Randy and if they planned on getting married, Vicki said that it wouldn't be any time soon.

Randy expected to become the produce manager at King's. "I wouldn't mind settling down," he'd said the night he gave Vicki a gold chain with a tiny heart pendant. "But I want you to take your time."

Three nights later Wayne arrived at the house. Though he knew Billy had moved out long ago, he stayed talking to Bella and staring at Vicki as she did her homework at the kitchen table.

"She's a real hard worker," he'd said to Bella while Vicki blushed and turned away.

The following afternoon Wayne waited at school for her. She climbed into his truck and without saying anything they shot along the road. When they arrived at Wayne's house he removed Randy’s chain before pulling her shirt over her head. He'd removed every article of her clothing. With an index finger circling the air he'd directed her to walk around the room."Well, well," he'd said, "Billy's little sister grew up real nice."

Vicki had never before been naked in front of anyone. She'd never allowed anyone to touch her as Wayne now did. But in some ways, she knew this wasn't really happening. She wasn't really in this room but on the ceiling looking down. While she could feel the pulse of the girl below - beating loud enough to drown out all other sounds - it wasn’t her. When the girl began to breathe again Vicki could sympathize as she struggled for oxygen. The air was controlled by the man. The girl was ghostlike in her whiteness; she was in a trance which permitted movement only at the man's direction. Vicki was frightened for the girl - her cheeks ran with tears.

The next weekend, Vicki told Randy she wouldn't be going out with him because she was seeing Wayne. She said it bluntly, without explanation, praying Randy wouldn't ask ques­tions. Randy took her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. "I'll always be your friend," he said. "Remember that."

*

Vicki took the sleeping baby from the swing and placed her in the crib. In a minute Wayne would be back demanding breakfast. Vicki dressed, then transferred the chain and pendant from the bureau drawer to the pocket of her shorts. She went downstairs to fry bacon. A minute later Wayne came into the kitchen.

"The eggs are greasy," he said. "Can't you ever learn?"

"Sorry." She watched the egg yolk drip onto his chin. He had a way of spreading his elbows on the table and lowering his face that reminded her of his greedy dogs. Rebel and Jaws were both part Labrador, and though the breed was known for gentleness, they were vicious. Wayne left them in the shed most of the day but the times he forgot Vicki was scared to leave the house.

"You put the dogs in?" she asked.

Wayne did not like Vicki to go into town or to visit anyone. She suspected he let the dogs run wild just so she wouldn't leave the house, but she'd never said this because if he hadn't thought of it, she didn’t want to give him the idea. Instead, she always linked the dogs to the garden.

"You know how they like to tear up the garden," she said now.

Minutes later Vicki watched Wayne leave from the window. He still had the energetic walk she'd once found so exciting. During those months after she’d first gone with him, her thoughts came in single words and never stayed long enough for her to form complete sentences.  "Oh," she'd think, over and over, "Oh, Oh, Oh."

"Lust," she said now.

She climbed the stairs and took out the list she'd written the night before. The white paper turned translucent where her moist hands touched it. "I have to save myself," Vicki whispered, giving herself courage. She remembered Mrs. Hayes' reaction when she'd told her she was marrying Wayne. Vicki's skirts were already tight around her waist and Mrs. Hayes had deliberately kept her eyes on Vicki's face. "I hope you'll be very happy, Victoria," she said.

The bus for Memphis picked up passengers in front of the hardware store on Main Street. Wayne's service station was only three blocks away so there was the chance he'd see her with the baby and the suitcase. Vicki had decided to take that chance. Her biggest worry when planning her escape was Wayne's anger. When he learned she was gone he'd be enraged. After calling her mother, he’d realize she was in Memphis. Everyone in town knew Randy had been transferred to the new King's store in Memphis and Wayne would know there was nowhere else Vicki could go. Still, Vicki believed Wayne’s anger would be overtaken by pride. Running after her would be humiliat­ing and she counted on his sullen pride to keep him here.

Vicki got the King's phone number from the long distance operator.

"Mr. Morris, please," she said before the piped music started.

During the last months of Vicki's pregnancy, Randy had called weekly to tell her what fruits and vegetables were a good buy that week. He always waited until Wayne was out of the house. When Vicki picked up the phone he'd say, "There's some nice looking apples here, some pretty little red potatoes, and we got a special on eggplant."

"Good morning, Kings," Randy said.

"Randy," Vicki said, before pouring out the words she'd stored away. "Afraid," "Hide," "Run" - the words disappeared into the telephone. "I don't expect to pick up where we left off," Vicki said, "but I need a friend."

"Have you got money for the bus?" Randy asked.

Vicki told him she'd been saving from the household money for three months. She told him when the bus would arrive.

"You want me to come up there to get you? You sound pretty shaky."

"Oh no, he better not see you." She imagined Wayne was creeping up the stairs, getting ready to jump on her, pin her arms down, and beat her with his head.

"I'll be here waiting then," Randy said.

Jessica woke while Vicki was packing. It seemed strange putting tiny flowered baby clothes into the large brown suitcase, but even with Jessica's things packed there was plenty of room. Vicki hid the suitcase under the bed and brought the baby downstairs and watched the pulse beat in her tiny ankle.

She wanted to call Mrs. Hayes but when she picked up the phone and saw her hand was shaking she put it back. She straightened the kitchen and put her ring on the table along with a short note. “I’m leaving for good.”

"For good is right," she whispered to the baby who was hungry again. Vicki's nervous­ness affected Jessica and the baby grew fretful after nursing. Vicki placed her on a quilt then made up some sandwiches for the bus ride. They'd roll into Memphis at four in the morning.

Vicki showered and washed her hair. At noon she changed Jessica, and put her in the car seat which had been a gift from Bella. She left her keys on the table along with the note and the ring. The dogs began barking from the shed. Vicki could hear them scratching against the wood, working each other into a frenzy of anger.

Beer cans littered the front seat. "We'll just brush them away," Vicki said to Jessica. “We'll just take our time and not get scared." Her voice sounded deep and on the verge of cracking. but she continued talking. She directed herself to put the key in the ignition, to hold the plastic rim of the car seat, to breathe.

"Don't look at the crow," she said, before turning so all she could see was the out-stretched corpse. A shudder ran through her body and her foot wobbled on the accelerator. "It's all right," she said to Jessica who had fallen asleep. A tiny stream of saliva ran from her slack mouth.

Vicki parked in an alley beside the hardware store and waited in the truck until the bus pulled in. She walked quickly to the bus, carrying the suitcase and after the driver put the suitcase in the storage spot under the bus Vicki returned to the truck for the baby.

There were five minutes of waiting while the driver stood by the cold drink machine sipping a Pepsi. Vicki, sitting in an aisle seat, felt her pulse beating in her throat. She refused to turn her head because, somehow, moving would break the quiet spell which had settled over the bus. The other passengers who'd boarded in Staunton were sprawled on the seats. There was no conversa­tion and the air was still with grogginess. Every once in awhile the middle-aged woman across from Vicki turned a page in the movie magazine she was reading.

"Hurry," Vicki thought. She pictured Wayne walking down the street. Sometimes he left the station to get a beer in the tavern beside the hardware store. The alley where the truck was parked was on the far side, and if Wayne returned to the service station after the beer he wouldn't see the pickup.

The driver let himself onto the bus and for some reason his weight shifted everyone out of their reveries. People began coughing, talking, standing up to stretch. The door shut with a hiss.

Vicki concentrated on the waffle pattern on the seatback in front of her. She tried to count the small diamond shapes without losing her place, but when the bus shifted into high gear on the outskirts of town her left eye began twitching and she gave up counting.

It wouldn't be dark until eight o'clock. Vicki had always loved riding in the dark. She especially loved highways at night. Then, with the air hitting her face and her hair floating all around her, it seemed as if the tires left the road and she was flying.