The Last Biscuit

1935

Farmland in the Southern State of Little Rock Arkansas

It was hot that day; so hot that the heat felt like a thick wet blanket wrappin’ around your body reminiscent of a snake slidin’ around its prey. It felt as though it was ready to squeeze every ounce of breath from my strugglin’ lungs.

Only those from the South could understand that kinda heat and we did our best to make peace with it, but on days like today, it could be extremely difficult.

Even a whisper of air that was free from the stiflin' humidity would be welcome, but when it sizzled like this - there was no acceptance of any type of cool hospitality.

A quick swim in the nearby creek would help, but it was angry with the sun today, and the argument caused the water to simmer indignantly under the fiery rays.

“Iggy!” My momma called. She called me by my special name she had for me, even though my real name is Ezekiel.

“Come on in now, it’s time for supper. Your brothers are already washin’. Your pa will be back soon and you know how he hates waitin’.”

“Ok, Momma, I’m comin’.” I finished closing the gate to the pig pen. All of my chores were complete and she was right, you didn’t want to keep Pa waitin’.

I walked towards the house catching a glimpse of my momma’s soft cotton dress with her apron tied firmly around her waist as she went back inside.

I could smell her cookin’ glidin’ on the resistant air as it pulled me towards the house.

Momma was a great cook. We didn’t have much, but what she could do with a little bit of flour and fresh churned butter was amazin’. Her soft buttery biscuits, meltin’ in your mouth were well known to all who had the pleasure of tastin’ them.

I stopped by the water pump and began washin’ the dirt of the day away. The water was just slightly cool or maybe it was my imagination, but it felt good against my sticky skin. I smiled thinkin’ bout last week when momma made her famous biscuits for dinner. I had four siblins’, two older brothers and two sisters. I was the last one, but momma always called me her little wise man. I was only seven, but she said I had the wisdom of an elder.

My brothers always ate quickly whenever we sat down to eat, each one hopin' to get that last biscuit before anyone else. That day, it was my turn to beat them at their own game and it looked like I was gonna succeed.

I was dunkin’ the last bite of my biscuit into my rich flavorful gravy, eyes pointing in the direction of the last buttery confection on the platter, when I heard my mom talking to a traveler who was passin’ by our door. I was so focused on the that last biscuit I hadn’t even noticed that everyone had stopped eatin’.

They all was looking at the tired woman standin’ in our doorway with a small bundle of clothes tied in a cloth. Our door was open as we hoped for a breeze to pass through. Momma always left it open while we ate for that very possibility. Today, instead of the breeze we were hopin’ for, we got this stranger I didn’t want, standin’ in the doorway lookin' tired and hot, and worst of all hungry.

My stomach plummeted as a drop of gravy plopped into my plate signaling the end of my master plan. I suddenly knew what my momma was going to do before I heard the words.

“Come on in, have glass a water and some gravy and biscuits. You came just in time. There is only one left.”

My brothers looked angry, I looked heartbroken.

My beautiful biscuit, why did momma have to be so nice? Let the lady make her own biscuits! These were ours or more importantly, the one the woman was sinkin’ her hungry teeth into was mine!

But momma had given it to her, and all I could do was mourn the loss of its heavenly flavor…

***

The next day I was still confused as to why she gave our biscuit away to a stranger. She didn’t even know the woman. The woman could’ve been a murderer or maybe she had money for food and only took ours because it was there! It didn’t make sense to me!

I was helping momma feed the chickens that morning and ended up asking the question before I realized I was doing it.

“Momma, why did you give that strange lady our last biscuit at dinner?"

I wanted that biscuit! I was doing my best to beat my brothers from getting it. Why did you give it away?”

She had been gently hummin’ as she scattered the feed to the chickens. She turned and looked at me with the sweetest smile.

“I did it for you.”

For me, did I hear her right? She couldn’t have done it for me. Lettin’ me eat it would have been for me!

She must have guessed my feelings by the look on my face because she continued.

“Yes, for you and for your brothers and your sisters. The lady was alone, and traveling by herself. She had lost everything and she had no way of eatin’ or even gettin’ something to drink.”

I pouted slightly. It still didn’t make much sense to me.

She bent down so she could look me in the eyes.

“I know what that feels like, and the kindness of strangers when you are in a situation like that can feel like the very angels of heaven are smilin’ down on you. It means so much, because you know that they could turn you away when you are at your lowest point. But something divine moves them to have mercy, to open their hearts and help you when you feel helpless. I have felt help like that in my life, and I pay it forward. I have you and your brothers and sisters. We never know what circumstances can change and any one of you could be out in the world, alone and feelin’ desolate. I give our last biscuit with an open heart - hopin’ that if any one of my children ever needed help from a stranger that the same kindness I gave in love, would be there for any of them. Either way my sweet boy, you lose nothin’. Helpin’ your neighbor makes you lose nothin’, it only makes your spirit richer because we are all connected.”

She’d kissed my forehead.

“Now let’s finish feedin’ this bunch,” she said, gesturing to the chickens, "so you can go see after your piglets.”

***

I dumped the water I was washin’ with into the grass and shook my arms and hands dry walking towards the house. My momma was always doin’ somethin’ kind. She believed in people in a way that most wouldn’t bother tryin’. She hoped for the best for everyone, and taught us to do the same.

She believed in Pa too. I only wished he would see how sweet she was and try to believe in her as well.

***

The second he walked through the door that night, I knew that this would be one of those days to prove he didn’t want to believe in her. If the heat of our summer days was mean, my pa’s mood swings could give it a run for its money.

Momma had just set the dinner on the table. Me and my siblins’ had been seated at the dinner table waitin’ for his very return. He chose today to come with an extra dinner guest. For reasons only known to him, he had the barn cat, Bessie with him.

Momma had a bad experience with a feral cat when she was young. The cat attacked her in a room and she couldn’t get away from its sharp claws until her family was finally able to help. By that time, it had already scratched her to ribbons. She had been afraid of cats ever since.

But Pa knew that…

Pa was a hard working man, and protected us and provided for our home as best he could, but when he was in a mood because somethin’ didn’t go his way, momma seemed to be his favorite way to lash out.

It is funny how you can simultaneously love a person, hate em’, understand em’, not understand em’, and feel a storm brewing in em’ even as you hope that they will change and become as peaceful and lovin’ as a gentle summer day.

Pa didn’t want peace tonight. He wanted to rage in the storm.

He indulged in the calm first…

He set the cat on the floor declaring that she would be stayin’ inside tonight. Momma tensed instantly.

Bessie, not realizin’ she was brought in like a bomb with a timer set for destruction, sniffed and investigated everyone sittin’ at the table. She purred and curled her tail around every recipient she visited unaware the timer was countin’ down.

When she got to Momma, I could see she was very uncomfortable. Bessie brushed up against Momma’s legs and her instant reaction was to swat her away. Bessie jumped back and Pa calmly told her to leave the cat alone.

“Carl, you know I’m afraid of cats.” She looked at him pleadingly praying for him to understand for once.

“It’s time you got over your childish fear Emily.” The cat’s stayin’. Now let’s eat.” He reached across the table casually placing items on his plate.

Momma didn’t move as Bessie came around again curlin' around her legs. She jumped again reflexively pushin’ the cat away.

“If you do that one more time. You are going to be sorry Emily. I told you the cat is not going to harm you.”

“I can take her in another room and eat with her there Pa since Momma’s afraid.” I tried to intercept.

His eyes sternly set on me.

“No, the cat is fine where it is.”

Momma jerked away from Bessie again as she nipped her legs. In a panic, she pushed away from the table.

“Get away!” she yelled at the cat.

I knew the bomb had finally gone off when I saw my Pa jump up from his chair and slap Momma out of hers.

“I told you to leave the cat alone! He yelled cruelly.

“Since you want to scream at something I will give you something to scream about!”

Pa’s belt slide from his pants like a snake prepared to strike and lashed out at Momma where she still sat on the floor holding her face where he’d slapped her.

My sisters, started to cry, pleading for Pa to stop.

He began lashing out at Momma. Each time she tried to stand up, he would push her back down.

“Stay on the floor where you belong!” He yelled hitting her repeatedly with his belt.

My brothers, just a couple of years older than me, joined me in tryin’ to make him stop. He just pushed us all away knocking us down like dominoes - drop, drop, drop, we hit the floor.

Everything felt like it was in slow motion- but happenin' all at once.

He was a big man and we couldn’t get him to stop. My mother’s pleas couldn’t either.

My brothers and I moved in unison as though we simultaneously realized that we needed more help. We told our sisters to go wait in the barn and we took off runnin’ to the next farm where our neighbors lived. It was quite a distance to cover by foot, but we ran at a speed we were sure we had never run before.

Even after we were quite a distance away from our wooden cabin, we could still hear Momma’s cries. Our neighbors heard us before they saw us and came running, asking what was wrong.

We told them all at the same time which probably sounded like incoherent noise from a crowd. After getting us to take a few calming breaths they managed to understand what we were saying and took us back home in their buggy as fast as they could.

It took two of our neighbors, John and Bob Ethridge, A father and son, to restrain my Pa while Mrs. Ethridge looked after Momma and my sisters.

***

Momma took us to stay with our neighbors for awhile as she healed, but we eventually went back. I could never understand why she would go back. For everything that was good in Pa, the bad side of him ate into that good side and made it hard to remember anything salvageable ever existed.

She felt that she had made a vow and she would not talk badly about my Pa to me or anyone else. They had married very young which was normal back in their time. Young or not, his mood swings and treatment of her were somethin’ I could never forgive. She was not responsible for what was broken in him.

Momma was such a gentle woman and opened her heart to so many in need. She was honest and kind and cared for all of us. Why would he treat her so badly? Why would she stay? She taught me so many things about life and how to be kind and treat people properly, the way I would like to be treated. She taught me how to be a lovin' husband to the woman I choose to marry. She taught me that my wife should be like a melody, soft and soothin’, but also strong and everlastin’. My momma deserved to be cherished; but somehow my Pa covered her with the mud of his pain and dissatisfaction. He refused to wash the dirt away, to reveal the diamonds, sapphires, and rubies of her soul. She was a treasure he never bothered to find.

Even at seven years old I could see that. What good was it for me to see however, when Pa was going to be Pa no matter what.

**********************************************************************

1941

I stumbled along the side of the road and eventually sat in a soft patch of grass. I pulled my well-worn cap down over my eyes. It did nothing to shield me from the rays of the sun. I swallowed slowly willin’ some sense of moisture to mercifully coat my cracked, dried up throat. I felt only dry air.

My water ran out late last night. The small rations of food were gone two days ago.

At the age of 13, I decided to leave home. It didn’t matter if I didn’t have any money and very little food. I could not witness my mother’s pain any longer. It was never as bad as that terrible night at dinner, but it was never good either. How do you measure a bad situation anyway? Bad, not as bad, bad enough; the keyword is bad in all of those descriptions.

How could I help her, if there was nothing for her to go to?

So I decided to leave and head north. If everyone stays, what was being done to let Pa know that he had to stop? At least if I found work and got a place for her to start over, maybe she would find the courage to realize she cannot save the unsalvageable.

My stomach rumbled and felt ill at the same time. I tried swallowin’ again, but my throat closed up as if rebellin’ against the feelin’ of the dry thirst.

I tried to stand up so I could keep goin’. Hopefully I could find someone that needed some work done where I could earn something to eat and drink.

I mentally prepared myself to make the move to stand up and continue on my journey, but my body didn’t follow any commands. I saw myself standin’, gradually movin’ forward, but I felt the grass still beneath me. I hadn’t moved at all.

I faintly heard a truck comin’ steadily down the road before my vision blacked out and I felt the freedom of rest as I drifted into darkness…

My eyes felt weighted as they fluttered open like the wings of a bird and then down with the force of a door slammin’ shut. I was movin’, but I wasn’t walkin’. I could hear voices, but the language was different from my own. Whatever I was ridin’ in, I felt a bump, low laughter, and then a cool towel placed on my head. I thought I must have died and gone to see the Almighty.

“Está Bien.” I heard these words as I started to black out again. Though I didn’t know what it meant, I felt like I was gonna to be ok.

When I woke again my head was restin’ on my bundle of clothes. I smelled firewood and the delicious smells of food. I never thought I would smell food again. The trees of a forest loomed above me and I could see a group of men talkin’ in that language I had never heard before. They were cookin’ and laughin’ with each other.

I tried to rise up, feelin’ a little dizzy. One man walked over to me smilin’. He held out a canteen of water to me and I grabbed it hurriedly feelin’ like he was handing me my life back. I held it up to my mouth and drank greedily. I would have been embarrassed, but I was so thirsty.

“Despacio.” He was saying to me.

I guess I looked confused because he said, “Slow, slow.”

I tried to slow down, but the water felt like cool silk running down my dry cracked throat.

Another man walked over handin’ me food. I wasn’t sure what is was, but it smelled delicious and I tasted rice and beans and some type of flat bread. To me it tasted like my mom’s home cookin’ I was so hungry and grateful.

“Thank you!” I did my best to say between bites.

“Gracias.” He said back to me.

“Gracias.” I repeated and he smiled going back over to the other men.

I was handed another dish of food because I ate the first one so quickly.

I finished it in no time.

After takin’ my last few bites, I drank some more of the cool delicious water.

I could hear my momma’s words runnin’ through my mind as though she were sittin’ right here next to me.

“We never know what circumstances can change and any one of you could be out in the world, alone and feelin’ desolate. I give our last biscuit with an open heart - hopin’ that if any one of my children ever needed help from a stranger that the same kindness I gave in love, would be there for any of them.”

I felt the truth of her words deep in my soul as I sat there feelin’ full and well fed. My throat felt like it had a new life. I knew then more than I ever had, what my momma meant when she said those words. I didn’t know where life was going to take me, but I knew that I was going to do my best to do the right thing and take care of my loved ones.

I didn’t know if my momma was ever going to leave Pa, or if he would leave her, but I would be there for her. I would do my best to learn from what I lived through and give each person I love a chance to figure out which way their own life experiences were going to take them. That is all we can do anyway: try to make the best decisions, learn from our mistakes, find forgiveness even if we can't forget, recognize that we all have moments where we need support, and no one can help us until we try.

These men did not have to pick me up from the side of the road and feed me, but they did. Just like my momma didn’t have to feed that stranger years ago, but she did. She chose to lend a hand even, when she didn’t have much to give. I was so into what I needed at that time, I didn’t recognize the beautiful meaning behind letting go of the biscuit. It is an act of faith. It is an act of trust. Maybe my rescuers didn’t have much either, but it meant a lot to me that they were willin’ to give out of their own need. When you learn to share in food or support, no one has to go hungry.

There is somethin’ divine about that.

This is a work of Fiction. However, abuse can come in many forms and can affect anyone. If you or a loved one are in an abusive relationship please reach out for help. The National Domestic Violence Hotline is : 1-800-799-SAFE.

Always remember, you are worthy of Love. Thank you for your time.