Frank's Dying Request (Chapter Six, Part of: "The Last Plantation")

Chapter Six

Frank’s Dying Request
(Part of: “The Last Plantation” Chapters)



Leaky SoulWithin a leaky Soul—destiny reeks like an eroded hosepumping out its poison…!But its way too late—lifehas pitted its outcome, for doom…there is no more room, for life!#2339 (2-27-2008)


(1962) Frank received a letter from a distinct cousin, called Whisky Charlie (born 1935, relative to Frank and Wally, lives in Ozark, Alabama), where Abbey Wallace is living most of the time when she goes to Ozark, Alabama. Matter-of-fact, she spends more time at this location than at the plantation in North Carolina. Charlie is from Gertrude Wallace’s side, her maiden name being Codden, a Jewish name, and Charlie’s mother was the sister to Gertrude, now dead, but Charlie and Cindy (Cindy born 1932), the two, brother and sister live together, and Abby gets along with them just fine, kind of likes Charlie. They have a place outside of Ozark, a little house, by an open cemetery, and a shanty town in back of the Cemetery, where the black folks live, and a few plantations thereabouts. They are not rich, and Abbey pays for the food often, and at times a few other items. She has often said, “Here I get love and comfort, attention, and I am most happy, and I feel needed.”

“Who’re you praying to?” asked Frank, standing at the open door to Burgundy’s bedroom, with his pajamas on.
Frank has now been ill since Wally passed on, weakened bones, aging faster than normal, mental state of depression most days, and hard to get out of bed, and drinking like a fish; funny he thought, when it comes, it comes like gangbusters, all at once. He locked himself in his room; Minnie Mae even had a hard time feeding him, bringing eggs and bread to him. The 1950-Chevy is now only a ugly reminder of what took place, of what tore his life apart, ripped his soul, made a leak in it. It is the great green monster to him now. But he will not, can not die before he finds out the truth, he has to know how his brother died, in detail, he has to make Burgundy talk, what would make her talk, is what is going through his mind now, day and night, and today is the day.
“Who you praying to,” he asked the second time. She was on her knees praying to some invisible person, and then she turned her head around, almost as if it was disconnected from her neck, “The unrequited Ghost of this here mansion!” she said with a low purring growl, “remember old man, I’m the she-nigger devil, isn’t that what you called me?”
Then like a lizard, she stuck her tongue out, to mock the old man, stuck it out and it seemed to reach from the top of her nose, and when it dropped, it dropped past her chin, then she sucked it into the empty space in her mouth, surprisingly it fit.


The Deal

Dr. Wright, the psychologist, had visited Frank this day, and behind closed doors told Minnie and Burgundy, his mind was melting away, and Dr. Ritt, the medical doctor, said physically he was alright, but extremely weak, and perhaps some of his body organs might stop their normal functions at any time, his immune system was breaking down quickly. In essence, he was slowly dying.
Frank asked for Burgundy, to come into his room, into the bedroom, alone, and she did, “I want to know the truth of what took place that night my brother died, the whole truth, what do you want for it?” He said in an on edged voice.
“Everything, I mean everything you own!”
“Ok,” he said, just like that, knowing his time was short on earth at best, “how shall we do it?”
She pulled out a paper from her purse, and told Frank he’d have to sign it in front of two witnesses, and at the moment, both doctors were outside of his bedroom, two good and upright citizens, and after he signed it, behind closed doors she would tell him.”
Well, the paper was signed, and the witnesses left the room thereafter, and Burgundy pulled up a chair next to his bed, “Listen up old man,” she said “I will not repeat myself—first of all, I opened up the window of the 1950-Chevy, I knew it was going to rain, it was forecasted two days ahead of time. And I poured your brother several shots of whisky, as he liked it, but it was of course to the brim. And then I sat by the window, feeling the baby inside, he saw that, he actually loved me being pregnant, and if it was a boy, made me promise to name it Otis, well I did, but I gave him the name of Pity also, for his father died in a state of pity, in a state of misfortune, his misfortune, and it suited the boy. I told him then, the window was opened he saw that it was, and he was barefoot, and he ran baldheaded out to the car, I had taken his shoes off so the warm fire from the health would sink into his foot bones, he liked that, but in the mud and slush and frost, he slipped, and slipped again, and knocked himself out. Some of this he did on his own, most of it was props for the show, and when he was on his back, he yelled like a scared little boy, for help. He looked in the window, I had closed my eyes, he thought I fell to sleep, and I did kind of, but I saw him nonetheless, right through my transparent eyelids. And he thought he might last until morning that was the false impression the whisky gave his body, his brain, but he died nonetheless. And now it is your turn.”
And correct she was, he died within the hour.