Susan's Violin Excerpt 997 words
I had just turned twenty-four when I arrived at my uncle's house in Savannah. I was met by his houseman, Edgar, whom we called Father Boss.
"Mr. Edward, better go right up and see him. Your uncle's bad, real bad. He don't have much time left."
"I didn't realize that or I would have flown down."
"Well, you here now." said Father Boss as he shut the front door. "Bad, really bad," he repeated as we started for the stairs.
I walked rapidly through the central hall to the staircase that went up ten steps then doubled back on itself. At the turn in the staircase was the portrait of Aunt Susan seated in a straight back chair and holding her violin. I stopped a minute to look at her. What a gorgeous woman she was. She died rather mysteriously about the age of 39. "I have not seen this picture of her in a long time.
"Your uncle always kept it in the bottom floor."
"I wonder why."
Father Boss and I climbed the remaining twelve steps to the next floor, which we called the bedroom floor. "He's in the east room," he said, pointing toward the front bedroom.
At the entrance to the bedroom, Father Boss slowly opened the door and peeked in. Then I heard a weak, but definitely sarcastic voice say, "Edgar, is that idiot of a nephew here yet?"
Father Boss slowly opened the door and eased himself into the room. I heard him say, in a quiet tone, "Yes, he be here."
As the door opened wider I could see my uncle trying to raise himself up in bed to greet me. "Boy, come here. Quickly now, I don't have much time."
I walked rapidly over to the side of his bed. "Yes, sir. Here I am."
He turned away from me a moment and addressed Father Boss. "Edgar, get it. Get it for Edward. Quickly, now. Quickly."
Then looking at me with the look that used to make me shudder, asked, "What the hell took you so long, boy?"
"I didn't realize there was any hurry, sir."
He raised his fist a bit, "Of course, there's a hurry. Do you think time sits still for you? I used to tell you that." He started to cough a few times, and with great effort he worked to clear his throat. Gradually he got enough breath to go on. "Edward, I made a promise to your Aunt Susan and I should have kept it long ago, but I didn't." He paused a moment to catch his breath as I stared at him, I was afraid he would not be able to breathe again and die right there and then.
"Stop staring at me, boy," he managed to say. Then looking toward the door said in angry gasping breaths, "Where is that no-good houseman of mine?"
"I'll go see, if you like," I said.
"No, stay here," he said, still coughing.
Just then Father Boss appeared carrying a violin case. "Give it here, slow poke," he said to Father Boss, and reached out his hands for the violin.
My uncle held on to the violin as he tried to sit up a bit more in bed. I watched him, waiting to see if I could help. He pushed my hands away, saying, "Not yet. Not yet."
I saw him raise one hand and point to a chair next to the wall. "Bring it closer," he said.
"Sit here?"
"Don't talk, boy. Listen. Listen to me; I've only got a few minutes." I nodded yes as I waited for him to continue.
"Edward, boy, I've done a terrible thing. Your Aunt Susan made me promise I'd give you her violin, but I didn't do it." He gave a short gasp and fell back against the pillow. I leaned over toward him and started to see if he were breathing.
"Get your hands off me, boy. I ain't dead yet. Soon, but not yet." I retreated. "Edward, I've got to give this to you. And the picture of Susan hanging in the stairway is yours too."
I started to answer him and thank him, but he went on, "Why she made me give it to you is none of your business, but I'll tell you that if I'd had my way, I would have destroyed the damn thing."
"I..."
He cut me off. "No questions. I did what I promised I'd do." He started to cough as he pushed the violin toward me. "Now take it and go. Don't want no one to see me die."
He started waving his hands at me, shooing me out the door. I turned to say goodbye and thanks, but he waved me away. I stood outside the door for a few minutes, leaving Father Boss inside with my uncle. In about five minutes Father Boss came out of the room. Quietly, he said to me, "He's gone."
"So soon?"
"Mr. Edward, he was just holding on until you got here."
"Just to give me the violin?"
"I heard him promise your Aunt Susan that he would give it to you."
"Well, he did."
"Yes, but she told him to give it to you right after she died, not years afterwards."
"That was a long time ago."
Father Boss took out his handkerchief, wiped his eyes, and continued. "But he couldn't stand that thing. He said it was cursed; made me put it in the storeroom with her portrait; made me take the strings off of it. He sometimes talked about burning it. But then he would almost cry a bit, saying, "I promised her, Edgar, what can I do?"
"Sounds like he was tortured by it."
"Yes, Mr. Edward, he was. Sometimes he said he could hear it playing. Sometimes he would make me go down into the storeroom and to certain no one was playing it. He said he could hear Miss Susan playing it."
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