Coon Hill
Part Two
"The First Chair"
"The First Chair"
“The
difficulty with you...”
“But
that’s not the old chair.”
“It
is ‘the old chair’. You just don’t
know it.”
“But
my old chair; you know what it is.”
“Yes
and I have that too. But not for
you. It’s mine now. This chair... too... is mine and IS
‘the old chair’.”
“I
don’t see my chair. Where is it?”
“Oh...
never you mind.”
“Why
don’t you ever trust me.”
“Because
you lie and you steal. This house
would be empty if you could... simply be left alone. And... you WERE alone in here. Finally.
Weren’t you. But she kept
you off. Didn’t she? Even when she was dead.”
“I
came in and, well, she was dead there in the chair. I knew what that was.
Right there in the chair.
Dead.”
“She
made it to the chair.”
“No...
I think she was seated; been seating herself there. In it. For a
while. I just know that.”
“You
know that? ...Actually: You
probably are right about that; she prepared.”
“Yes...
and she’d moved the chair out this past year. Out into the room.
I saw it. I didn’t notice
at first. Then I understood. I never said anything.”
“So
you come in and she’s dead in the chair.”
“Yes. It had been a day. At least. Just in the chair... dead.”
“And
you... what?”
“That...
she was so small and frail... sitting there dead... I figured; that she’d be
found, would be when they come by at noon.”
“So
you left her.”
“Yes.”
“And
left; no stealing.”
“I...
didn’t feel right... didn’t do any of that. Just... I don’t know what I did but... I was right
here. Then I left.”
“Never
touched her or the chair?”
“No.”
“I’ve
moved the chair. It’s my chair
now. I moved it. And I sat in it.”
“You
sat in it?”
“Just
like you wish you could.”
“Sit
in it?”
“And
die.”
“I’m
not gonna die in that chair.”
“Then
why do you want it?”
“You
make me uncomfortable with that. I
never touched her or the chair.”
“But
you looked at her in that chair.
And you don’t know how long you did that for.”
“I
didn’t do that.”
“You
did too... and you cried.
Eventually, standing there, you cried.”
“How do you know that?”
“How do you know that?”
“Because
I know you... and how you lie and you steal. This was too much for you.”
“I
didn’t... I don’t remember.”
“Crying?”
“No...
that I do... but... it was her in that chair.”
“No. It was her dead... and that it was
over. There’s no point to your
stealing; no point to this at all anymore. And you want the chair. Why? So you can
die in it too?”
“I
don’t believe you.”
“It
doesn’t matter what you don’t believe.
I have the chair. I have it
all. I have this chair too. This chair. You don’t know about this chair. It’s always been here in the house. So you couldn’t steal it.”
“Maybe
I saw it. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“No
you don’t. Don’t touch it. It’s ‘spilled blood’.”
“Oh
don’t tell me that.”
“Then
what is this chair?
(Pause)
“You
don’t know do you.”
“I...”
“THAT
CHAIR is the FIRST CHAIR; her ‘first chair’. Her mother’s first chair. And that goes back to every one of her mother’s...
mother’s... mothers. ALL the way
back: ALL of them. This... is their FIRST CHAIR. The other chair; your chair... is their
DEATH chair. ALL of the
mother’s... death chair. She got
to it. And died in it. And you saw her there. Dead. And that’s all you saw. Because you cried.
Right here in this room you cried.
After all the lies; all the stealing. THIS CHAIR... I wanted THIS chair even more then the death
chair. But I got that chair. TOO. I have both of her chairs now. BOTH of them.
And the rest of it too... except what you carried off from her
barns. And hid in your barn. Stealing. But you never got anything in here. You were always too scared when you
came in here... to steal anything.”
“She
might see it.”
“Notice
it; that you’d been in here... stealing.”
“How
do you know... ABOUT... this chair.”
“She
told me. She had it to the
historical society one night too.
Told them the story. It’s a
‘first chair’. It’s ah... it’s old house spirit stuff.”
“House
spirit?”
“That
keeps you from stealing.”
“What?”
“This
chair... this chair they brought here when they came here. Massholes; moved up here. After the Revolution. Built the house. THIS CHAIR they brought with ‘em; the
mother’s... mother. That was with
‘em. When they came;
‘settled’. Her chair; she sat in
it. Maybe died in it. PROBABLY NOT. Probably DID die in the death chair but... ah... that chair
wasn’t FIXED UP yet. Anyway: This chair is their ‘first chair’. And they knew it... always.”
(Pause).
“Funny
chairs those; hard to sit in.”
“But
they did. Remember: They were smaller and thin then. Not big and fat. So: This was her ‘first chair’.”
“I
never heard her speak of it.”
“Course
not. THIS CHAIR... well... they
painted it white... probably at the Centennial (1876). And put the hooked seat on... on TOP of
the old splint seat. Make it more
comfortable for the old woman to sit on.”
“Sit
on?”
“At
the ceremony. Centennial. Celebration. Had to sit up front on the stage. Showed ‘em off; all the old settlers. Probably. Had to sit on the chair for several hours. So they put a hooked seat on it for her
butt. Not that she needed it. She was probably just as old and
frail... A wisp up there. Sitting. You know... she could have hooked the seat herself. You know; preparing. The chair for her butt. Women knew to do stuff like that. Back then: Prepare.
Anyway. I’ve waited along
time for that chair.”
“Is
it worth a lot?”
“NO! Nobody even knows. Except me. And no one cares.
What’s happening... is that RIGHT NOW that old chair starts to
drift. I mean... I can be it’s
guardian... you know; with my wife... for a few decades. Or I could go down to that historical
society and... what do I say... REMIND THEM of the chair. And look at them looking at me with a
blank look. Like...”
“I
don’t see why you’d do that with it. What did you call it? A ‘first chair’.”
“Trust
me; no one knows what I’m talking about.
The God damn first woman in the wilderness up here sat in that chair
and... every single woman descended from her sat in the chair until right now
with me showing that chair to you and then... walking out this door with
it. Go steal that.”
“I’m
not gonna steal that chair.
Where’s the other chair; my chair.”
“The
death chair. I already took it out
so you couldn’t steal it.”.
“Did
you sit in this chair?”
“Of
course I did. That’s my job.”
“Your
job? To sit in that old chair?
“Yes. Who else is gonna do it? You?”
“Well
I guess I could sit in it.”
“Get
away from that chair. Your not
gonna sit in that chair. That’s my
chair now. I’m the first person
touching that chair. I’m the first
person carrying this chair out that door.
First person... that isn’t from the family... to ever... do that. I’m gonna keep it that way too. Don’t you touch that chair.”
“You
make me WANT to touch it.”
“Course
I do. And you can’t.”
“I’m
just gonna reach over....”
“No
you ain’t. She’s gonna come back
from her grave and kill you if you do.”
“Kill
me?”
“And
she ain’t even bones yet.”
“How
do you know that?”
“I
know about these things. And you
don’t mess with ‘em.”
“Mess
with them?”
“You
don’t. She’s gonna kill you
anyway.”
“You’re
the one taking her old chairs.
She’s gonna kill YOU.”
“No
she ain’t.”
“Why
not?”
“Because
I know what I’m doing and she knows it.
I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for that. That includes me keeping you out.”
“Me
out?”
“She
knows I know to do that. And
will. Your out. I get the chairs.”
“NOW
how do you figure that?”
“I
get everything. Except what you
stole. I’ll get that... pretty
along.”
“My
barn? You not going in there.”
“I
don’t have to.”
“Why
not?”
“She
will. Why don’t you go down to her
grave and talk to her. You can’t
miss it. It’s the one with the
fresh dirt. There’s eleven
generations of hers buried right there.
She’s the last one. That’s
the end of it. Except for me
cleaning this place out.”
“Then
it’s over?”
“No.”
“When
is it over?”
“I
don’t know yet.”
“Why
not?”
“You’ve
still got a barn full of her stuff.”
No comments:
Post a Comment