Mamma.”
“Well, don’t let your mouth start nothing that your ass can’t stand. When you gone to get married? You need to have some babies. It’ll settle you.”
“I don’t want to make somebody else. I want to make myself.”
“Selfish. Ain’t no woman got no business floatin’ around without no man.”
“You did.”
“Not by choice.”
“Mamma did.”
“Not by choice, I said. It ain’t right for you to want to stay off by yourself. You need…I’m a tell you what you need.”
Sula sat up. “I need you to shut your mouth.”
“Don’t nobody talk to me like that. Don’t nobody…”
“This body does. Just ’cause you was bad enough to cut off your own leg you think you got a right to kick everybody with the stump.”
“Who said I cut off my leg?”
“Well, you stuck it under a train to collect insurance.”
“Hold on, you lyin’ heifer!”
“I aim to.”
“Bible say honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long upon the land thy God giveth thee.”
“Mamma must have skipped that part. Her days wasn’t too long.”
“Pus mouth! God’s going to strike you!”
“Which God? The one watched you burn Plum?”
“Don’t talk to me about no burning. You watched your own mamma. You crazy roach! You the one should have been burnt!”
“But I ain’t. Got that? I ain’t. Any more fires in this house, I’m lighting them!”
“Hellfire don’t need lighting and it’s already burning in you…”
“Whatever’s burning in me is mine!”
“Amen!”
“And I’ll split this town in two and everything in it before I’ll let you put it out!”
“Pride goeth before a fall.”
“What the hell do I care about falling?”
“Amazing Grace.”
“You sold your life for twenty-three dollars a month.”
“You throwed yours away.”
“It’s mine to throw.”
“One day you gone need it.”
“But not you. I ain’t never going to need you. And you know what? Maybe one night when you dozing in that wagon flicking flies and swallowing spit, maybe I’ll just tip on up here with some kerosene and—who knows—you may make the brightest flame of them all.”
So Eva locked her door from then on. But it did no good. In April two men came with a stretcher and she didn’t even have time to comb her hair before they strapped her to a piece of canvas.
When Mr. Buckland Reed came by to pick up the number, his mouth sagged at the sight of Eva being carried out and Sula holding some papers against the wall, at the bottom of which, just above the word “guardian,” she very carefully wrote Miss Sula Mae Peace.
Nel alone noticed the peculiar quality of the May that followed the leaving of the birds. It had a sheen, a glimmering as of green, rain-soaked Saturday nights (lit by the excitement of newly installed street lights); of lemon-yellow afternoons bright with iced drinks and splashes of daffodils. It showed in the damp faces of her children and the river-smoothness of their voices. Even her own body was not immune to the magic. She would sit on the floor to sew as she had done as a girl, fold her legs up under her or do a little dance that fitted some tune in her head. There were easy sun-washed days and purple dusks in which Tar Baby sang “Abide With Me” at prayer meetings, his lashes darkened by tears, his silhouette limp with regret against the whitewashed walls of Greater Saint Matthew’s. Nel listened and was moved to smile. To smile at the sheer loveliness that pressed in from the windows and touched his grief, making it a pleasure to behold.
Although it was she alone who saw this magic, she did not wonder at it. She knew it was all due to Sula’s return to the Bottom. It was like getting the use of an eye back, having a cataract removed. Her old friend had come home. Sula. Who made her laugh, who made her see old things with new eyes, in whose presence she felt clever, gentle and a little raunchy. Sula, whose past she had lived through and
“Well, don’t let your mouth start nothing that your ass can’t stand. When you gone to get married? You need to have some babies. It’ll settle you.”
“I don’t want to make somebody else. I want to make myself.”
“Selfish. Ain’t no woman got no business floatin’ around without no man.”
“You did.”
“Not by choice.”
“Mamma did.”
“Not by choice, I said. It ain’t right for you to want to stay off by yourself. You need…I’m a tell you what you need.”
Sula sat up. “I need you to shut your mouth.”
“Don’t nobody talk to me like that. Don’t nobody…”
“This body does. Just ’cause you was bad enough to cut off your own leg you think you got a right to kick everybody with the stump.”
“Who said I cut off my leg?”
“Well, you stuck it under a train to collect insurance.”
“Hold on, you lyin’ heifer!”
“I aim to.”
“Bible say honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long upon the land thy God giveth thee.”
“Mamma must have skipped that part. Her days wasn’t too long.”
“Pus mouth! God’s going to strike you!”
“Which God? The one watched you burn Plum?”
“Don’t talk to me about no burning. You watched your own mamma. You crazy roach! You the one should have been burnt!”
“But I ain’t. Got that? I ain’t. Any more fires in this house, I’m lighting them!”
“Hellfire don’t need lighting and it’s already burning in you…”
“Whatever’s burning in me is mine!”
“Amen!”
“And I’ll split this town in two and everything in it before I’ll let you put it out!”
“Pride goeth before a fall.”
“What the hell do I care about falling?”
“Amazing Grace.”
“You sold your life for twenty-three dollars a month.”
“You throwed yours away.”
“It’s mine to throw.”
“One day you gone need it.”
“But not you. I ain’t never going to need you. And you know what? Maybe one night when you dozing in that wagon flicking flies and swallowing spit, maybe I’ll just tip on up here with some kerosene and—who knows—you may make the brightest flame of them all.”
So Eva locked her door from then on. But it did no good. In April two men came with a stretcher and she didn’t even have time to comb her hair before they strapped her to a piece of canvas.
When Mr. Buckland Reed came by to pick up the number, his mouth sagged at the sight of Eva being carried out and Sula holding some papers against the wall, at the bottom of which, just above the word “guardian,” she very carefully wrote Miss Sula Mae Peace.
Nel alone noticed the peculiar quality of the May that followed the leaving of the birds. It had a sheen, a glimmering as of green, rain-soaked Saturday nights (lit by the excitement of newly installed street lights); of lemon-yellow afternoons bright with iced drinks and splashes of daffodils. It showed in the damp faces of her children and the river-smoothness of their voices. Even her own body was not immune to the magic. She would sit on the floor to sew as she had done as a girl, fold her legs up under her or do a little dance that fitted some tune in her head. There were easy sun-washed days and purple dusks in which Tar Baby sang “Abide With Me” at prayer meetings, his lashes darkened by tears, his silhouette limp with regret against the whitewashed walls of Greater Saint Matthew’s. Nel listened and was moved to smile. To smile at the sheer loveliness that pressed in from the windows and touched his grief, making it a pleasure to behold.
Although it was she alone who saw this magic, she did not wonder at it. She knew it was all due to Sula’s return to the Bottom. It was like getting the use of an eye back, having a cataract removed. Her old friend had come home. Sula. Who made her laugh, who made her see old things with new eyes, in whose presence she felt clever, gentle and a little raunchy. Sula, whose past she had lived through and
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