The Chair Falls At Night

by Chris Vaughn

  "Come back later? I want to see Buddy, he told me I could stay and help in the fields." Frank Little had a slight slur in his speech. It may have been ten in the morning, but time was of no importance for Frank Little when it came to drinking.

  "Well, you know where the fields are, we have the same ones. You can go find him, I've got a lot of chores to do here today." Mary turned to walk back to the kitchen. The spring in her step was quick enough to tell anyone she didn't want to deal with Frank Little.

  "Well, I'll go find him. He told me I could sleep in the tack room in the barn, I'm here to help him work the fields this summer."

  Those words made Mary stop and turn around slowly. Frank had stayed with the family before, and she had experienced the joys of having a Little spend a few nights to months in her home. "Well, Frank that might work. There isn't any room in the house for you to stay. This house is smaller and we don't have any extra bedrooms for anyone. If Buddy said you can stay in the tack room in the barn, you can. That's between you and him. If you don't have bedding, I don't have any since the fire." Mary turned around whispered to herself, "I hope that makes you not want to stay unless you sober up." Her nose turned up at the slight smell of alcohol that drifted from Frank.

  Frank Little had been a longtime friend of Buddy Hand. His people had known Buddy's people as they grew up and they had depended upon each other when times were hard, and especially before Buddy was married. Mary and Joy had known Frank to drop in like this from time to time over the years. In the early days of their marriage, Mary looked forward to visits from Frank. Frank was a handsome man, with the personality of a movie star but that was before a bottle had become his better friend and that friend had taken a toll. Even now, when he was sober for a few days, the old Frank Little made an appearance and could wow the women, and inspire the men but unfortunately, he didn't appear often.

  After years of drink, he still had some traces of good looks. Dark hair that had greyed at the side, blue eyes, and strong features. Drinking though always aged a person more than time could. His skin was now more leathery but that could have been from the years of sun and farming. His complexion always had a reddish tint to it that drinkers have, along with an eternal five o'clock shadow during the day and night. When you sleep all morning and don't shave until late to go out, it's the only look you can have.

  Everyone would eventually hope that Frank would sober up while he was visiting, especially Buddy. Buddy didn't let anyone drink around Mary or Joy. Mr. Hand would bend some rules to provide for his family, but he wouldn't let Mary and Joy be bent in the process. Even though Frank wasn't family, Joy had always known him as family, and he carried the title of someone in the family.

  "Uncle Frank," Joy blurted out from inside the barn.

  In the morning sun, Frank couldn't see inside the barn and didn't know where the voice had come from. He dizzily looked around and tried to determine who spoke. As he paused, he took his old hat off to block the sun out and looked around. Barely inside the barn, he could see the faint outline of a young girl and blond hair.

  "Who's there? Who's that?" Frank said.

  "Uncle Frank, it's Joy. We are in the barn."

  "Who are we?" He slowly walked to the door of the barn and he was greeted with the familiar smell of the manure, cows, and hay.

  "Well, I hope that isn't you smellin' up this barn now, Joy! Come here and give your Uncle Frank a hug."

  Joy ran over to Uncle Frank, and reached out to wrap her arms around Frank's mid-section, when he scooped her up to hug her. The effects of his liquid breakfast were still working on him and he lost his balance and fell back, his butt landed in a small pile of cow manure.

  "That was fun, Uncle Frank." Joy said, not knowing the state Uncle Frank’s rear-end was in, or the state he would become. Joy laughed out loud as Jackie laughed out at the man that stumbled and her friend

  "Hush now. Look what you've done here causing me to fall in this pile of crap."

  "I'm sorry, Uncle Frank, I wanted a hug." The sound of Joy's voice was saddened as she thought her actions had caused him to fall.

  Jackie spoke up, "Mr. Frank, you told Joy to come here, and if you hadn't picked her up, you might not have fell." There was still a giggle in her voice, and the sound of her giggle slipped over to Joy as she giggled again. Joy stood up and stepped back to give Uncle Frank some space to stand.

  Frank took a moment to gather himself and stand as he dusted himself off. He looked around as if lost, "I want a rag to wipe this crap off of me and I don't want no black child tellin' me what." Frank spun around as if to hit at Jackie, but he missed and stumbled on the ground again. Some men became happy when they drank and some became mean, Frank became both. He was happy to be mean. Getting on all fours to work his way back up, he stood and closed the barn doors.

  "I think I'll take my belt off and teach you a lesson and learn you some manners. You should know your place, girl, now come here." Frank was old South, and wouldn't have a child disrespect him especially not a little black girl. His disdain for disrespect was only overshadowed by his prejudice. Frank reached out to grab Jackie, and would have except Joy jumped in between him and Jackie; his slap hit Joy on the face to both his and her surprise. Frank pulled back not knowing what to do or what Buddy Hand would do if he knew he had hit his daughter, even if by accident.

  A tear rolled down Joy’s face, and her lips began to quiver. She somehow didn't cry though, but said to Jackie as she stared at Uncle Frank, "Jackie, you go home, and run out the back of the barn. Uncle Frank won't hurt you. I...."

  Jackie didn't leave, not because she couldn't but because she wouldn't leave; she reached forward and grabbed Joy's hand, "No. I won't leave you." She took her place beside Joy.

  Frank's embarrassment from hitting Joy was clouded by his anger towards the little black girl, "Joy, move away. Come here, you." And Frank reached forward and tried to reach around Joy to get at Jackie. Just as he did, Jackie pulled Joy back several steps. Frank's reach and intoxication caused Frank to stumble down again. Both Jackie and Joy ran to the corner of the barn instead of running out the back door. Two little girls in the corner of the barn and their only other living companion was the family cow that was in the stall near them.

  Uncle Frank stood up happy to be mean, "Come here, you. Joy, you ain't sayin' none of this to your daddy or mama." He towered over them as he walked towards the edge of the stall.

  Joy and Jackie still held hands and scooted as quickly as they could and squatted under the belly of the old milk cow. Joy knew that Uncle Frank could still eventually get to them, but she hoped she could stop him from hitting Jackie. "Go away, Uncle Frank." Joy shouted at him. "I'm tellin' my daddy, you need to calm down, Uncle Frank."

  There was a rustle in the barn, like a small breeze, but from where Joy couldn't tell since both of the doors of the barn were closed. The hay on the floor rustled around as Uncle Frank stumbled into the stall and over to the side of the cow. He staggered to gain his balance and placed his hand on her hind quarters as he reached under to grab at Jackie.

  Joy again scooted herself in front of Jackie as she made herself a human shield, although a small one. Frank never realized what he grabbed, but felt a piece of cloth and pulled a child out from under the milk cow, it was Joy. Old animals can act tired, but today this milk cow wasn't. She jumped and reacted to the strange wind, as it blew again, startled her and caused her to bolt.

  At the same time he grabbed Joy's coveralls, the cow stepped to the side and pinned Uncle Frank to the side of the stall’s wall. The force of a fifteen-hundred pound cow is no match for a drunken two-hundred pound man. The air was squeezed out of his lungs and Frank let go of Joy, and tried to yell, but couldn't muster the air he needed. The cow settled in her place as she pinned the man against the stall and wasn't in a hurry to move again.

  Joy realized she had been turned loose and she and Jackie scooted back out and started to run for the front door. Frank pushed, and hit the cow to
move it off of him. After several hits and grunts, the cow moved away and Frank headed after the girls. They moved as fast as they could and Frank went as fast as his bruised body could take him.

  Joy and Jackie busted through the doors and into the sunlight. The brightness of it overpowered their eyes and they couldn't see around them. Neither girl knew what they ran into.

  "Joy, what's wrong?" Mary Hand could see a red mark on Joy’s face and the fear in their eyes. She still held her flour pin in her hand but reached down to check out Joy and saw what had caused the redness. The outline of a palm print and four fingers could be seen on her left cheek.

  "Mama. Mama...." Joy started to blurt out but couldn't get the words out. Jackie ran around and hid behind Mary as she tried to put something in between her and Frank Little. Joy tried to continue, "Uncle Frank... he...."

  Mary took her left hand and pulled Joy behind her just as Frank walked out of the barn.

  "Joy, where are you?" He said. His eyes overpowered by the sun, he stopped and covered his eyes. His eyes blinded by the sun, his mind clouded by drink, and his head was cracked with a flour pin. Mary Hand hit his head so hard he never said another word that day, but laid in the Georgia clay knocked out from the anger of a mother, and the power of a flour pin.

  "Mama," Joy sighed with surprise. In all her life, she had never been spanked by her mother, and had never seen her mother lose her temper. Mary Hand had lost her temper now it seemed.

  "Come on, girls, let’s go in and get y’all cleaned up. Uncle Frank has had too much to drink, and that's why we don't drink. Don't want you or anyone acting like trashy white people. Joy, did he hurt you?"

  "Not really, Mama. He fell in some cow poop and got mad."

  "Well, he can clean it off later."

  "Aren't we going to help him?"

  "No, child. He fell in manure, he can clean it off when he gets his mind right."

  Joy looked up at her mama, but her mama had turned to stare at Frank Little as he lay in the dirt, knocked out, and close to an anthill. "We gonna leave him there? Those ants might get him."

  "Yes, he always says he doesn't want to be a bother. So, girls, let's not bother about it. Let's go inside," Mary said with a smile that flashed across her face. Joy's mama placed her flour pin under her arm, and took both girls by the hand and they walked into the house. She turned and locked the screened door behind her, and kept the flour pin nearby until Buddy came home.

  About lunch time, Buddy Hand got home and saw Frank Little laying in the dirt in front of the barn. Ants all on his backside eating at cow manure and biting the skin off of his backside. Buddy tried to wake him up, but the smell of the whiskey was still strong on him.

  "Same old Frank. Drunk at noon. I'll put you in the tack shed and let you sleep it off." Buddy Hand took care of his friend as Mary Hand watched from the window and Joy and Jackie ate their lunch. Mary never told Buddy about that day, nor did Joy or Jackie although she had told the girls to never let themselves be alone with Frank Little again. They were to run to her if they saw him coming. Frank Little never said anything about it either, but drunks never do, as they may not even remember the actions of their inebriation. Drunks’ memories are short and cloudy, but at dinner that night he kept asking how he got so many ant bites, and asked for some aspirin for his headache.

  "Frank, we don't have any aspirin in the house. You'll need to walk to town to get some tomorrow." Mary said as she laid the flour pin on the kitchen table beside her.

  Chapter 7

  Joy and Jackie had made camp at Jackie's house for the last several days. The girls didn't mind where they were at, they just celebrated two facts everyday: schools were out and they could play together day in and day out.

  Mary had used the excuse of her needing more time to set the house up as an excuse, but she really wanted to create a buffer between the girls and the farm hands that came and went with the tobacco crops, and especially the coming and goings of Frank Little.

  Clementine never minded the girls at her house even with the extra cooking. She herself preferred the girls at her house and not in the Old Snyder house. Superstitions and tales covered the house, and the history didn't help alleviate Clementine's apprehension.

  The girl's last several days had been full of dolls, playing house, and outdoor activities. Each day started as early as they woke up, ate breakfast and went to play. Lunch for them was an unwanted interruption of their plans, conversations, and imagination. Little girls in the South lived with the traditions handed down from generation to generation, mother to daughter. Those traditions were the fabric of the Old South that brought families together and tied the bonds of a family into a strong force. Fathers were the disciplinarians mothers would say, but the truth was a mother's switch was more painful than a father's belt.

  Clementine Fryar had threatened the girls off and on for the last couple of days when they had pushed her patience and limits to the extreme. Twice she had even made the girls separate, one in the front yard, and one in the back to each find their own switch with which to 'tear their up backside'. Each time she sent the girls out to find another one as she complained that the first switch they brought wasn't good enough for the job.

  "I'll break that switch on the first swat, go get me another," Clementine said as she never let her eyes meet theirs.

  Mother's know their daughters and Clementine knew hers and Joy. Each girl needed to be reminded that their happiness could end at any moment and Joy could be sent home. Not so much for wrongful play or bad actions, but the nerves of a mother in harsh tobacco lands was a very precious and sensitive fabric. Clementine's last couple of days of watching the girls play, had worn on her as she was distracted from her chores and had the responsibility of keeping the girls occupied. Each night was a welcome respite of solitude for the parents, but even more so for the girls who tried to share each moment of each day, and even the moments before bedtime in the bed.

  Joy and Jackie snuggled in the bed. Clementine and Rudy had already threatened them several times that they didn't want to have to come into the room. Each yell to the back of the house from Jackie's parents caused the quick hush of giggles that were soon followed by new giggles to drift down the hall.

  "Girls! If I have to come in there, I'm going to beat yall within an inch of yall's life!" Jackie's dad yelled.

  The sound of shuffling steps and movement caused the girls to lay as if in a coma, with one eye open and one eye closed.

  "Shhh. My daddy ain't foolin', Joy," Jackie said in a low whisper. She pulled the covers over their heads to block out their whispers. "Now tell me again, Joy, about your uncle."

  "He ain't my uncle, Jackie. He's a friend of Daddy's from way back, when he was younger."

  "He scares me, Joy."

  "He can scare me too, especially when Mama says he is drinking. Mama and Daddy don't think I know about that, but I do. He's been around before when he drinks. He's usually fun and plays tricks for me, but he can get upset too." Joy and Jackie had settled down into a good rhythm of whispers that were serious and without giggles.

  "I don't want to be around him again if he's like that much. He ain't fun to me."

  "Once he and Daddy get to workin in the fields, we won't see him. They stay busy. But I still like having Daddy close. Guess what?"

  "What?"

  "Uncle Frank told me something no one else has before I came over here the night before last?" Joy whispered with wide eyes.

  "What?"

  "I know the story of the chair...." Joy let her voice trail off as she hung that last syllable out and it fell on Jackie's ears.

  "He told you!?" Jackie's whisper got louder than she meant for it to, and she covered her mouth with her hands.

  "Shhh... Let's don't get in trouble. I was eatin' breakfast by myself and he got to telling stories. Mama said Uncle Frank didn't know what he was talking about, but he kept winking at me. Then Mama picked up her rolling pin and Uncle Frank finished eatin' quick and ra
n out to work." When Joy said this, she and Jackie both giggled out loud and tried to cover the sound with their hands.

  From down the hall a voice came that boomed and bellowed, "I said Goodnight, girls!"

  "Goodnight, Daddy," Jackie said.

  "Goodnight Mr. Fryar," Joy said at almost the same time as Jackie.

  Jackie leaned in and whispered, "What did he say? Do you believe him?"

  "I think so, but I'm not sure. Uncle Frank is a kidder Mama said, but I think it’s true."

  Joy and Jackie whispered for a while more. Joy told the story that Uncle Frank had told her.

  Clevon Littlefield was the name of the young man who died in the house, in the upstairs loft bedroom, which was Joy's particular room, and he had used that particular chair. He had been the eldest son of the previous sharecropper. Stronger and bigger than average physically, but slightly slower than average mentally. Clevon had always been a sweet boy who had grown into a silent young man. Young boys who were picked on in school for not being as quick as the smart-alecks tended to withdraw. Clevon had withdrawn years before he went to school.

  Uncle Frank wasn't too clear with Joy about what had happened, but Joy continued the story as best as she could remember for Jackie. "There was this young worker girl who was attacked on the farm. Uncle Frank said everyone knew it was Clevon because he had some of the girl’s clothes in his hand when they found him. His daddy found him in the barn, in that shed room Uncle Frank sleeps in. He was knocked out, but had the clothes in his hands."

  Jackie's eyes stayed wide open and her breaths were quick and shallow. She held onto Joy's hand as she waited for the rest of the story.

  "Clevon's daddy found him later that day, hiding and he whooped him, and sent him inside to his room."