THE BURIAL OF FREDDY GENTRY
by
Margaret Marr

Badillia Gentry eased her thirty-five year old body down in a rocking chair out on the front porch of her two story farmhouse. A shotgun rested across her lap. Hands, wrinkled and brown from hours of working in the garden without gloves in the hot sun, waited to lift the gun and shoot at a moment's notice. Her gaze was intense as she watched the creek bed road for any sign of movement.
I'll blow them into the next county if they try and take my Freddy from me, she thought.
The rocking chair creaked as she leaned forward to see who the man was walking up the road. She leaned back with a sigh of relief. It was Tom Burton. She could handle him. He of all people would understand what she was doing.
Tom put his hand on the banister and one foot on the first step. He took several deep breaths to try and get his breathing back to normal after the steep half mile walk. "Dang, Badillia, when are you going to have that road fixed?" he asked and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief from his back pocket. "Can"t nobody get up here without a four wheel drive, and somebody else is always got the only one the department uses." He took another deep breath and cleared his throat. "I guess you know why I'm here," he said.
Oh, yes, she knew all right. Today he was Officer Tom Burton. Today he wasn't her lover or even her friend. "I can't do it, Tom," she said.
"It's time to stop this foolishness. Let them come up and get Freddy," he said with authority.
"You know better than that." Her grip tightened on the shotgun.
"For God's sake, he's been dead three days. He needs to be laid to rest!" he cried.
"I can't put him in the dark. He's afraid of the dark." She hoped that he of all people would understand, but it didn't look like he was going to.
Tom moved up to the next step.
"Stay right where you are." She raised the shotgun.
"Oh, come on. You're not going to shoot me."
"Don't bet on it. I won"t let you or anybody else put him in the ground." Her lower lip trembled. "I'm not crazy." She pointed a finger at him. "You should know that."
He knew she wasn't crazy, but the rest of Swain County didn't. He'd endured the snickering behind hands, the whispering behind his back and the jokes for ten long years. Though, it hadn't been so bad for the last two years, he still got funny looks. He wanted to spare Badillia that kind of pain. "I know you're hurting, and I don't want to hurt you anymore, but you've got to let him be buried," he said.
"No." She glared at him.
Tom sighed and threw his hands up in the air and started back the way he'd come. "I'll be back with help," he warned her. "I'm sorry it's come to this." And he was. He wanted to help her through this, but she'd shut him out just like he'd shut his friends out all those years ago.
Badillia relaxed back into her rocker. Let them come, she thought. She didn't want to shoot anybody, especially not Tom, but she'd do it if she had to.
After awhile, she got up and went inside to make herself a tomato sandwich. She reached into the bag and pulled out four pieces of light bread. Freddy loved tomato sandwiches. "What am I doing?" she asked herself and shoved the bread back into the bag, no longer hungry. Freddy wouldn't be hungry either. A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away with an angry hand. Tears were for the weak, and she needed to be strong for the battle ahead.
The key was buried in the dirt underneath the storage shed, and she dug it out with trembling fingers. She shoved the key into the rusty lock and jiggled it to get it open. Inside she pulled the shoestring attached to the dangling metal switch and light from a single light bulb, hanging from the ceiling, flooded the room. She eased the freezer lid open and looked at her son packed in ice.
His limbs were beginning to relax as the rigor mortis ended. The skin had a greenish discoloration to it. He wasn't looking so good. If she didn't think of something quick, she didn't know what she was going to do. Another tear slid down her cheek in spite of the effort not to cry. As long as he was here in the light, she felt that she hadn't completely lost him.
His death had been sudden and unexpected. He'd been swinging on an old tire swing out back, and the rope had somehow gotten wrapped around his neck. When he didn't come in for his afternoon snack, she'd went in search of him and found him hanging there. At first, she thought he was just being silly and yelled at him to get down from there, but the only movement was the wind gently swaying his body back and forth. She screamed, then went crazy trying to get his body down. She twisted the tire, but this only wound the rope tighter around his neck. She pulled and tugged and tried to reach above his head with a knife to cut him down, but she wasn't tall enough. Finally, she ended up beating the tire portion with her fists and screaming and crying like a mad woman. After exhausting herself she called Tom. He started talking about funeral arrangements and asking her where she wanted Freddy to be buried. She sent him away. Nobody was putting her son in a black hole.
"I'm sorry. I promise to think of something soon. I won't let them put you in the dark," she whispered and lowered the freezer lid, careful not to snap the electrical cord with the light bulb on the end of it. She let it dangle inside, providing adequate light for Freddy.
Out on the porch, again, she waited for Tom and his army. Please, Tom, don't make me hurt you, she thought.
It was getting late, and she shivered, as the chilly wind made goose bumps rise on her arms.
An officer arrived in the four-wheel drive pick-up, Tom had spoken of earlier. The siren blared, and the light on the dash threw out red splashes of color as it turned around and around. The officer sped around to the back of the house and a few seconds later came out on the other side. The truck slid sideways in front of the house, and Calvin, a young, skinny looking man, jumped out.
Was that all Tom could come up with to help him? she wondered and raised her shotgun. "Stay right where you are."
Calvin raised his hands, palms outward. "Now, Badillia, there's no need for that."
"Get out of here before you get hurt," she said.
"I have orders to take Freddy Gentry to the city morgue."
"No."
Calvin hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next. "I have orders ..."
"I heard what you said," she interrupted him. "Where's Tom?" she asked.
Calvin glanced over her head
Too late, she realized someone was behind her. Tom jerked the gun out of her hands before she could react. She'd forgotten he had a key to her back door.
"No!" she shrieked and tore into him with her fingernails and kicked at his legs with feet clad in steel toed work boots.
Tom hadn't expected such a huge response from such a small woman, and he stumbled backwards, banging the back of his head painfully on the side of the house. He twisted her arm up behind her back and made the mistake of putting his other arm across her chest. She sank her teeth into his forearm and landed a blow to his shin. He released her with a howl of pain.
"Get your butt up here and help me," he hollered at Calvin, who stood watching with his mouth gaped open.
Badillia grabbed a handful of Calvin's uniform and drew back her fist and punched him in the nose.
He fell back against the white banister with his hands cupped under his nose to catch the blood as it spewed over his lips and down his chin. "Dang! I think she broke my nose!"
"Never mind your nose. Help me hold her, so I can get these cuffs on her." Tom jerked her back by the hair of her head before she could reach the steps. She cried out, and he winced at the pain he knew he had caused her.
"Let me go! You're not taking him!" she screamed. They had to drag her to the truck, because she wouldn't walk. Tom had, had enough. He seized her by the shoulders and gave her a rough shake. "Stop it!" he demanded.
She dropped to her knees, and her shoulders shook as she cried. "Please, don't do this to me, Tom. He can't be put in the dark. Please!" She looked up at him with tear stained cheeks, and it tore his heart out to see her broken like that.
They let her stay that way awhile, until they could catch their breath. Both were reluctant to cause her more pain. Tom handed Calvin a handkerchief, and he took it and cleaned the blood off of his face and hands as best he could.
Tom dropped down beside Badillia, and she let him hold her. "I know it hurts," he whispered.
"Please don't do this," she said again.
"I have to." He wished with all his heart that he didn't. He remembered the night the power went off. It was a black night and the screaming had been horrible. Oh, God, the screaming. He squeezed her tighter and shivered. "If I promise not to let them put him in the dark, will you let them come get him?" he asked.
She shook her head no. She didn't trust them. They'd do it anyway, no matter if Tom ordered them not too.
He didn't know how to help her. If only, he could bear this pain for her. After awhile he said, "I need the key to the shed."
The answer was a quick shake of the head.
"You might as well tell me, because I can get in with or without a key," he said.
She continued to look at the ground as if something was of great interest in the dirt. "People are going to think you're crazy," he said with a trace of irritation in his voice. "Look, I don't want to have to arrest you. The judge won't be as sympathetic as I've been especially when he finds out you assaulted an officer." He looked up at Calvin, and then back down at her. "Please, Badillia, don't make this any harder than it is," he pleaded.
Please, God, don't let them turn the light out, she prayed and rocked her body back and forth, doing her best to tune Tom out.
"Do you want to be put away?" He stood up and leaned against the dust covered truck. He wanted to slam his fist into the door. It would start again, the whispering, the laughing, the jokes. Only it wouldn't be about him this time.
She looked up at him. "He used to beg me that if he died, not to leave him alone in the dark. I tried to tell him that he wasn't going to die, but I think he knew something I didn't." Her throat ached with the effort to speak. "I saw the terror in his little eyes, and I promised him!" She strained against the cuffs. "I promised him!" she said again.
"I've something to show you." Tom unlocked the cuffs and helped her to her feet.
Calvin took a step backwards, giving her a leery look. "You two go on, I'll stay here till you get back." he wiped more blood from his swollen nose.
She held out her hand, and it was swallowed up in Tom's big, warm one.
The drive to Wesser Creek Cemetery was done in silence. The road looped around into a circle. He parked the truck at the top of the loop and clutched the steering wheel as if this was the last place on earth he wanted to be, and someone was going to have to pry his fingers loose from the wheel before they could get him to set foot in that graveyard.
She stared at him, puzzled as to why he'd brought her here. Wasn't this where they'd forced him to bury his son all those years ago?
He opened his door and got out and came around to open her door. He led her by the hand toward a mausoleum way down in the corner of the graveyard. He dropped the keys twice before he got the door unlocked.
When it swung open, Badillia caught her breath. The room was lit up by lights on the ceiling, on the wall and across the floor. There was so much light it hurt her eyes to look into the room. She swung around and searched his face. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" she asked.
"I was afraid of what you might think of me." He looked at the ground and shuffled his feet. "I thought maybe you'd want to leave Freddy here, that's if he doesn't mind sharing." He gestured toward the coffin. He thought long and hard about bringing her here, but in the end he knew he had to, because he loved her.
She flew at him and wound her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his chest. "Thank you." Her voice trembled. "The keys are buried under the storage shed."
After a few minutes, she pushed away from him and started back toward the truck. She stopped when he didn't follow.
"I'll be there in a minute," he said.
She nodded and unlaced her fingers from his.
He walked over to the coffin and stared down at the preserved face that showed through the glass at the top. "Up for some company, champ?" he asked and smiled at the peaceful look on his son's face.

Back To Main Page.