The Color Purple - Alice Walker [15]
Sofia look like something on her mind, she just not sure what. She bend over the frame, sew a little while, then rear back in her chair and look out cross the yard. Finally she rest her needle, say, Why do people eat, Miss Celie, tell me that.
To stay alive, I say. What else? Course some folks eat cause food taste good to ’em. Then some is gluttons. They love to feel they mouth work.
Them the only reasons you can think of? she ast.
Well, sometime it might be a case of being undernourish, I say.
She muse. He not undernourish, she say.
Who ain’t? I ast.
Harpo. She say.
Harpo?
He eating more and more every day.
Maybe he got a tape worm?
She frown. Naw, she say. I don’t think it a tape worm. Tape worm make you hungry. Harpo eat when he ain’t even hungry.
What, force it down? This hard to believe, but sometime you hear new things everyday. Not me, you understand, but some folk do say that.
Last night for supper he ate a whole pan of biscuits by himself.
Naw. I say.
He sure did. And had two big glasses of butter milk along with it. This was after supper was over, too. I was giving the children they baths, getting ’em ready for bed. He sposed to be washing the dishes. Stead of washing plates, he cleaning ’em with his mouth.
Well maybe he was extra hungry. Yall is been working hard.
Not that hard, she say. And this morning, for breakfast, darn if he didn’t have six eggs. After all that food he look too sick to walk. When us got to the field I thought he was going to faint.
If Sofia say DARN something wrong. Maybe he don’t want to wash dishes, I say. His daddy never wash a dish in his life.
You reckon? she say. He seem so much to love it. To tell the truth, he love that part of housekeeping a heap more ‘en me. I rather be out in the fields or fooling with the animals. Even chopping wood. But he love cooking and cleaning and doing little things round the house.
He sure is a good cook, I say. Big surprise to me that he knew anything about it. He never cooked so much as a egg when he lived at home.
I bet he wanted to, she said. It seem so natural to him. But Mr. ____. You know how he is.
Oh, he all right, I say.
You feeling yourself, Miss Celie? Sofia ast.
I mean, he all right in some things, not in others.
Oh, she say. Anyway, next time he come here, notice if he eat anything.
I notice what he eat all right. First thing, coming up the steps, I give him a close look. He still skinny, bout half Sofia size, but I see a little pot beginning under his overalls.
What you got to eat, Miss Celie? he say, going straight to the warmer and a piece of fried chicken, then on to the safe for a slice of blackberry pie. He stand by the table and munch, munch. You got any sweet milk? he ast.
Got clabber, I say.
He say, Well, I love clabber. And dip him out some.
Sofia must not be feeding you, I say.
Why you say that? he ast with his mouth full.
Well, it not that long after dinner and here you is hungry again.
He don’t say nothing. Eat.
Course, I say, suppertime not too far off either. Bout three four hours.
He rummage through the drawer for a spoon to eat the clabber with. He see a slice of cornbread on the shelf back of the stove, he grab it and crumble it into the glass.
Us go back out on the porch and he put his foots up on the railing. Eat his clabber and cornbread with the glass near bout to his nose. Remind me of a hog at the troth.
Food tasting like food to you these days huh, I say, listening to him chew.
He don’t say nothing. Eat.
I look out cross the yard. I see Sofia dragging a ladder and then lean it up gainst the house. She wearing a old pair of Harpo pants. Got her head tied up in a headrag. She clam up the ladder to the roof, begin to hammer in nails. Sound echo cross the yard like shots.
Harpo eat, watch her.
Then he belch. Say, Scuse me, Miss Celie. Take the glass and spoon back