The Color Purple - Alice Walker [13]
She drink her coffee, puff on her cigarette. I bite into a big juicy piece of home cured ham. You can smell this ham for a mile when you cooking it, it perfume up her little room with no trouble at all.
I lavish butter on a hot biscuit, sort of wave it about. I sop up ham gravey and splosh my eggs in with my grits.
She blow more and more smoke. Look down in her coffee like maybe its something solid at the bottom.
Finally she say, Celie, I believe I could drink a glass of water. And this here by the bed ain’t fresh.
She hold out her glass.
I put my plate down on the card table by the bed. I go dip her up some water. I come back, pick up my plate. Look like a little mouse been nibbling the biscuit, a rat run off with the ham.
She act like nothing happen. Begin to complain bout being tired. Doze on off to sleep.
Mr. _____ ast me how I git her to eat.
I say, Nobody living can stand to smell home cured ham without tasting it. If they dead they got a chance. Maybe.
Mr. _____ laugh.
I notice something crazy in his eyes.
I been scared, he say. Scared. And he cover up his eyes with his hands.
DEAR GOD,
Shug Avery sit up in bed a little today. I wash and comb out her hair. She got the nottiest, shortest, kinkiest hair I ever saw, and I loves every strand of it. The hair that come out in my comb I kept. Maybe one day I’ll get a net, make me a rat to pomp up my own hair.
I work on her like she a doll or like she Olivia—or like she mama. I comb and pat, comb and pat. First she say, hurry up and git finish. Then she melt down a little and lean back gainst my knees. That feel just right, she say. That feel like mama used to do. Or maybe not mama. Maybe grandma. She reach for another cigarette. Start hum a little tune.
What that song? I ast. Sound low down dirty to me. Like what the preacher tell you its sin to hear. Not to mention sing.
She hum a little more. Something come to me, she say. Something I made up. Something you help scratch out my head.
DEAR GOD,
Mr. _____ daddy show up this evening. He a little short shrunk up man with a bald head and gold spectacles. He clear his throat a lot, like everything he say need announcement. Talk with his head leant to the side.
He come right to the point.
Just couldn’t rest till you got her in your house, could you? he say, coming up the step.
Mr. _____ don’t say nothing. Look out cross the railing at the trees, over the top of the well. Eyes rest on the top of Harpo and Sofia house.
Won’t you have a seat? I ast, pushing him up a chair. How bout a cool drink of water?
Through the window I hear Shug humming and humming, practicing her little song. I sneak back to her room and shet the window.
Old Mr. _____ say to Mr. ____, Just what is it bout this Shug Avery anyway, he say. She black as tar, she nappy headed. She got legs like baseball bats.
Mr. _____ don’t say nothing. I drop little spit in Old Mr. _____ water.
Why, say Old Mr. ____, she ain’t even clean. I hear she got the nasty woman disease.
I twirl the spit round with my finger. I think bout ground glass, wonder how you grind it. But I don’t feel mad at all. Just interest.
Mr. _____ turn his head slow, watch his daddy drink.
Then say, real sad, You ain’t got it in you to understand, he say. I love Shug Avery. Always have, always will. I should have married her when I had the chance.
Yeah, say Old Mr. ____. And throwed your life away.
(Mr. _____ grunt right there.) And a right smart of my money with it. Old Mr. _____ clear his throat. Nobody even sure exactly who her daddy is.
I never care who her daddy is, say Mr. _____.
And her mammy take in white people dirty clothes to this day. Plus all her children got different daddys. It all just too trifling and confuse.
Well, say Mr. _____ and turn full face on his daddy, All Shug Avery children