Flygirl (19 page)

I'm flying under the hood for real this time, a canopy pulled over my cockpit like a glove, blocking out the sky to simulate night flying. The trick, I've discovered, is concentration, just like sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool. I've got to climb into the cockpit and picture the sky outside around me. It's better than the Link, where there is no wind tugging against the wings. No, when you're under the hood in a real airplane, you can't see the sky, but you can feel it. I feel safe. My breathing is steady. I even smile sometimes, though no one can see it.

Jenkins sends me up for my first solo instrument flight. This is the last hurdle between intermediate and a long-distance senior solo flight, then graduation. Lily comes with me as my navigator. There'll be no instructors to save our skins on this trip. She sits behind me, reading the maps strapped to the leg of her zoot suit with a small flashlight. I keep both hands on the throttle and both eyes on the control panel in front of me. It is dimly lit, like starlight, but with practice, I can read it plain as day.

We're flying in broad daylight. It's eleven o'clock in the morning, civilian time. Two days before Christmas. But so far as we can tell, it's midnight outside.

“Having fun yet?” Lily asks me.

“Boy, and how,” I reply. I still sweat a little when the hood first closes, but once we take off, once we're in the air, I settle back into the routine.

“We make a good team,” Lily says, and feeds me the coordinates for our next maneuver. Jenkins has us flying around in a big zigzag. Other WASP are stationed here and there throughout the area with binoculars. Once they spot us, they radio back in. We radio when we think we're over them, and then Jenkins gives us the green light for the next leg of the trip.

“We do,” I agree. “What are you going to sign up for after commencement?” I ask. It no longer feels like a jinx to talk about graduating. We've made it this far, we'll make it all the way.

Lily laughs through the speaking tube. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Hmm. Target towing sounds kind of dull,” I confess. “I was hoping to sign up for ferrying detail. That way, I'd get to fly every type of plane we have.”

“That's what I was thinking. Patsy says she wants to test pilot. I was sort of hoping we'd all end up at the same place.”

The thought of our little trio breaking up gives me a moment's pause. “I guess I hadn't really thought that far ahead.”

“Yeah.”

We fly silently for a while. For the first time since leaving New Orleans, I think about life after Avenger Field. I gave up Jolene to be here. And a lot of the girls I've met at Avenger have washed out or gone home of their own accord. Melanie Michaels was not the last. Deatie Deaton was right—more than half of our original class is gone. I don't want to give up Patsy and Lily, too.

Lily announces we've reached our second target area. I radio in our location and circle while Jenkins signals back the okay. Lily directs me to the next target.

“It'd be a shame to break up a team like ours,” I say finally.

“Then don't. I propose a pact. These two musketeers, at the very least, will serve through this war together. And maybe we can get Patsy to join us.”

“I accept.” My smile is back. “Besides, give Patsy a few days of flying old patched-up planes and she'll want back in the race with us.”

“That's right,” Lily says. “Test piloting isn't as experimental and exotic as she thinks it is. At least, not all the time. Right?”

“Right.” I frown. “I think.”

“We're here. Radio in.”

I reach for the radio. Patsy will have to wait until we land.

 

Half an hour later we are on the ground.

“Good work, ladies,” Instructor Jenkins tells us. “Right on the mark every time.” He puts that infamously warm hand on my shoulder. “See, Jones, you've come a long way.”

I can't help but respond whenever he compliments me. In spite of my better judgment, Walt Jenkins makes me feel happy inside. When I smile at him, my grin goes from ear to ear.

“You too, Lowenstein,” he tells Lily.

“Thank you, sir,” we both say.

Jenkins looks at his clipboard. “Oh, and one more thing.”

We hesitate. His face is so serious, my stomach starts to sink.

“Ladies?” he calls out.

From out of nowhere, the rest of Flight One comes running, Patsy at the forefront, grinning like a maniac. They hoist us up onto their shoulders and bodily carry us to the wishing well in front of the ready room.

“Congrats, ladies. You've made it!”

They toss us unceremoniously into the water. It's the happiest moment of my life. Although the water's barely knee deep, we cause enough of a splash to make me grateful for my tightly braided pigtails and all of my time in the pool. Without hesitation, I reach down to the bottom and scoop up a few lucky coins to give to Instructor Jenkins. Even after the other girls pull us out, I can't stop laughing.

 

Christmas dawns cold and clear at Avenger Field. We have the day off. The cafeteria is decorated in red and green garlands that remind me of decorations in an elementary school. I've sent the awl off to Grandy, along with the chain and a new lock. Abel's got two new pairs of wool socks for the winter. For Mama, well, I know she's been praying over me and Thomas both, so I bought her a new hat for church. And for Thomas. Well, the last we heard, he was in someplace called Manila in the Philippines, south of China somewhere. I guess signing up for the WASP is the best present I can give Thomas. Anything to help him come home sooner.

Instead of joining the other girls for breakfast, I drag a chair outside to the Beach to be alone. In the soft silence between the barracks, my eyes lose focus as I try to picture my family's usual early, messy Christmas mornings, with Mama frying ham in the kitchen, me making biscuits, and Abel hopping around in a pile of wrapping paper. Thomas usually had some girl or other he'd beg Mama to let him go see that afternoon. Mama would say, “Christmas is for family,” but by three o'clock, she'd be glad to have him out of the house. The house was so full of noise and people on Christmas.

But today, it's quiet as a grave out here between the bunk-houses. Too cold for the sunbathers to make an appearance. And at home, I know it's just the three of them now, with our usual pile of presents dwindled down by the war effort. There will be no new silk stockings for Jolene or bicycle tires for Abel, and no candy canes.

“Boy, you look long in the face,” Patsy says. “You've been staring at the clouds all day.” It's true. I've been hiding out here. Bundled up in a coat and hat, I'm not exactly worried about getting too much sun today.

“With the planes grounded for the day, it was the only place I could think of to get some peace and fresh air.”

“That doesn't explain the sad face,” Patsy says.

I shrug. “Been thinking about my family, I guess.”

Patsy drags another chair behind her. She plunks it next to mine, sits on it backward, and joins me. “Oh, I gave that up a long time ago. But I do think about Mrs. Harper. And the boys at the air show. That was a great time for a while there. A really fun run.” Patsy holds up the scarf around her neck. It's a nubby mix of purple and lilac.

“Mrs. Harper made this for me during the last cold snap in Florida. She was everybody's mother at the boardinghouse. You meet all kinds of people on the road, Ida Mae.”

I nod, caught up in my own memories. It takes a moment for me to register her words. “Patsy Kake, that's the first time you've ever called me by my Christian name.”

Patsy smiles at me and shrugs. “It's Christmas. When else am I gonna do it if not today? So, are you gonna sit out here all day, or tell me what's on your mind, or neither? In which case we should go inside. There's cocoa and coffee in the mess.”

I laugh. “Hmm. Well, I guess I should make some sort of decision here.” I shake my head, at a loss for the right words. “Well. It's just, we've been here for months now and it looks like we're making it, Patsy.”

My smile is wistful. She shares it with me.

“And I haven't said it until now, because being a WASP means everything to me.” I hesitate. “Almost everything.”

Patsy's face gets very serious, and I feel sad inside. “I miss my family,” I say.

Patsy stares at me for a long time.

“Oh, honey,” she says at last. “You really are green. It only hurts on major holidays. Besides, we're your family now. Let's find Lily and open presents. That always helps.”

I can't help but laugh at my own moodiness. “All right. As long as I can have marshmallows, too.”

We get up and drag the chairs back to the door. “Marshmallows?” Patsy says in feigned surprise. “There's a war going on, missy. We need those marshmallows to make bombs and fight the war!”

The tension in my shoulders eases as the day carries on. There are Christmas carols in the rec room and a few games. Patsy gives me a handkerchief with the name Jonesy embroidered at the edge in the WASP uniform color, Santiago blue.

“Something to remember us by,” she says. “Wipe the tears away at graduation in style.”

Lily gives me a small bottle of perfume. “My mother swears by it,” she assures me.

As for me, I give Patsy a new red lipstick “for after the war.”

“Or just after finals,” she says with a wink.

And to Lily, I give a set of hairpins to help tame her curls.

“Oh, thank you, Ida. I'd be lost without at least seven bobby pins on either side. You'd think those turbans we wear eat them up, I lose so many of them.”

All in all, the evening is homey and wonderful. After a big meal of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, we wander back to our bunks, singing “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” with some of the lyrics confused.

No sooner do I sit at the foot of my bed than one of the beginning trainees comes to the door.

“Is there an Ida Mae Jones here?”

“That's me.” I stand up, wondering what it could be. I hope it's not something at the administration building. Post-holiday meal, my khakis are wrinkled and my clothes are simply too casual to have to take into Mrs. Deaton's office.

“There's someone at the gate for you.”

“Who is it?” I don't know anyone in Sweetwater that doesn't live on base.

The girl shrugs, brown curls bouncing with the motion. “Don't know. A nigger woman. Maybe your housekeeper?”

She turns and leaves without another word. I do nothing but stare after her. Just nod and say nothing.

“Well?” Patsy says. “You gonna go see who it is, or do I have to?”

Her words shock me out of my thoughts. “No, no. I'll go. See you soon.”

“I hope everything's all right,” Lily calls after me. “If our maid, Dorcas, showed up at base, I'd think it was the end of the world,” she whispers to Patsy. Her voice carries in my ears as I go out the door. End of the world. What would be the end of the world . . . ?

In a rush, I realize who is at the gate and what it might mean. I break into a run, trying not to worry, not to think, just to get there.

The MP points to the side of the guardhouse. I slow down, take a breath, and turn the corner.

Mama is sitting there, on the little block of concrete that serves as a bench. She stands up when she sees me, and we stand there, looking at each other like each of us has never seen another human being before.

I'd forgotten how beautiful she is. Her warm coffee-colored skin seems so dark to me after so many months away from home. I reach out and touch her arm.

“Mama,” I whisper.

Something, whatever it is that's been building inside me all day, breaks in a great wave. I throw my arms around her, but she stops me. Her eyes dart over my shoulder, and I understand. The guard is watching us. I force myself to laugh and pat her on the back.

“Mama Stella, how are you?”

“Fine, fine, Miss Ida Mae,” Mama says in a voice so meek, so . . . Southern, it makes me feel sick to hear it.

“What brings you to Sweetwater?” I ask, as lightly as I can. “Is my family all right?”

“Fine, fine,” Mama says in a high, wavering voice. “Your granddaddy sends his best and your baby brother, too.”

Aware of the guard at our backs, we fall into the pattern of mistress and maid. Watching my mother play the role of servant, I feel a sour taste in my throat. I never meant for my own role-playing to bring her such humiliation.

I don't know this guard. He gives us a suspicious once-over, the look of someone trying to earn his status. “It's all right,” I tell him. “She's our housekeeper.” The word burns my throat, but we can't afford his wariness. “We won't be long.”

Mama and I both smile at him. At last, he nods and disappears into the booth.

“How's Thomas?” I ask quickly.

“Oh, Ida Mae,” Mama says, her voice strong and warm once again. Her eyes fill with tears. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a letter.

“This came last week. From the army. They say that Thomas has gone missing. And you know, they don't go back looking for colored boys.”

My heart drops to my feet. “No.” I clutch Mama's hand, still holding the letter. “No.” It's like Daddy dying all over again. The world shrinks and it's just me and Mama and fear and an agony of sadness. My heart stops beating. I can't breathe.

Mama shakes my hand, brings me back to her. “Ida, listen to me. They don't go looking for colored boys just because their mothers ask . . . but they might do it for you. You're a white woman now, and you work for the army. If that means something, if that means anything, then use it to help Thomas.”