The Color Purple Collection

by Alice Walker

  What it made of? I ast.

  Mud, she say. But I wouldn’t mind concrete. I figure you could make the molds for each section, pour the concrete in, let it get hard, knock off the mold, glue the parts together somehow and you’d have your house.

  Well, I like this one you got, I say. That one look a little small.

  It ain’t bad, say Shug. But I just feel funny living in a square. If I was square, then I could take it better, she say.

  Us talk bout houses a lot. How they built, what kind of wood people use. Talk about how to make the outside around your house something you can use. I sit down on the bed and start to draw a kind of wood skirt around her concrete house. You can sit on this, I say, when you get tired of being in the house.

  Yeah, she say, and let’s put awning over it. She took the pencil and put the wood skirt in the shade.

  Flower boxes go here, she say, drawing some.

  And geraniums in them, I say, drawing some.

  And a few stone elephants right here, she say.

  And a turtle or two right here.

  And how us know you live here too? she ast.

  Ducks! I say.

  By the time us finish our house look like it can swim or fly.

  Nobody cook like Shug when she cook.

  She get up early in the morning and go to market. Buy only stuff that’s fresh. Then she come home and sit on the back step humming and shelling peas or cleaning collards or fish or whatever she bought. Then she git all her pots going at once and turn on the radio. By one o’clock everything ready and she call us to the table. Ham and greens and chicken and cornbread. Chitlins and blackeyed peas and souse. Pickled okra and watermelon rind. Caramel cake and blackberry pie.

  Us eat and eat, and drink a little sweet wine and beer too.

  Then Shug and me go fall out in her room to listen to music till all that food have a chance to settle. It cool and dark in her room. Her bed soft and nice. Us lay with our arms round each other. Sometimes Shug read the paper out loud. The news always sound crazy. People fussing and fighting and pointing fingers at other people, and never even looking for no peace.

  People insane, say Shug. Crazy as betsy bugs. Nothing built this crazy can last. Listen, she say. Here they building a dam so they can flood out a Indian tribe that been there since time. And look at this, they making a picture bout that man that kilt all them women. The same man that play the killer is playing the priest. And look at these shoes they making now, she say. Try to walk a mile in a pair of them, she say. You be limping all the way home. And you see what they trying to do with that man that beat the Chinese couple to death. Nothing whatsoever.

  Yeah, I say, but some things pleasant.

  Right, say Shug, turning the page. Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton Hufflemeyer are pleased to announce the wedding of their daughter June Sue. The Morrises of Endover Road are spearheading a social for the Episcopal church. Mrs. Herbert Edenfail was on a visit last week to the Adirondacks to see her ailing mother, the former Mrs. Geoffrey Hood.

  All these faces look happy enough, say Shug. Big and beefy. Eyes clear and innocent, like they don’t know them other crooks on the front page. But they the same folks, she say.

  But pretty soon, after cooking a big dinner and making a to-do about cleaning the house, Shug go back to work. That mean she never give a thought to what she eat. Never give a thought to where she sleep. She on the road somewhere for weeks at a time, come home with bleary eyes, rotten breath, overweight and sort of greasy. No place hardly to stop and really wash herself, especially her hair, on the road.

  Let me go with you, I say. I can press your clothes, do your hair. It would be like old times, when you was singing at Harpo’s.

  She say, Naw. She can act like she not bored in front of a audience of strangers, a lot of them white, but she wouldn’t have the nerve to try to act in front of me.

  Besides, she say. You not my maid. I didn’t bring you to Memphis to be that. I brought you here to love you and help you get on your feet.

  And now she off on the road for two weeks, and me and Grady and Squeak rattle round the house trying to get our stuff together. Squeak been going round to a lot of clubs and Grady been taking her. Plus he seem to be doing a little farming out back the house.

  I sit in the dining room making pants after pants. I got pants now in every color and size under the sun. Since us started making pants down home, I ain’t been able to stop. I change the cloth, I change the print, I change the waist, I change the pocket. I change the hem, I change the fullness of the leg. I make so many pants Shug tease me. I didn’t know what I was starting, she say, laughing. Pants all over her chairs, hanging all in front of the china closet. Newspaper patterns and cloth all over the table and the floor. She come home, kiss me, step over all the mess. Say, before she leave again, How much money you think you need this week?

  Then finally one day I made the perfect pair of pants. For my sugar, naturally. They soft dark blue jersey with teeny patches of red. But what make them so good is, they totally comfortable. Cause Shug eat a lot of junk on the road, and drink, her stomach bloat. So the pants can be let out without messing up the shape. Because she have to pack her stuff and fight wrinkles, these pants are soft, hardly wrinkle at all, and the little figures in the cloth always look perky and bright. And they full round the ankle so if she want to sing in ’em and wear ’em sort of like a long dress, she can. Plus, once Shug put them on, she knock your eyes out.

  Miss Celie, she say. You is a wonder to behold.

  I duck my head. She run round the house looking at herself in mirrors. No matter how she look, she look good.

  You know how it is when you don’t have nothing to do, I say, when she brag to Grady and Squeak bout her pants. I sit here thinking bout how to make a living and before I know it I’m off on another pair pants.

  By now Squeak see a pair she like. Oh, Miss Celie, she say. Can I try on those?

  She put on a pair the color of sunset. Orangish with a little grayish fleck. She come back out looking just fine. Grady look at her like he could eat her up.

  Shug finger the pieces of cloth I got hanging on everything. It all soft, flowing, rich and catch the light. This a far cry from that stiff army shit us started with, she say. You ought to make up a special pair to thank and show Jack.

  What she say that for. The next week I’m in and out of stores spending more of Shug’s money. I sit looking out cross the yard trying to see in my mind what a pair of pants for Jack would look like. Jack is tall and kind and don’t hardly say anything. Love children. Respect his wife, Odessa, and all Odessa amazon sisters. Anything she want to take on, he right there. Never talking much, though. That’s the main thing. And then I remember one time he touch me. And it felt like his fingers had eyes. Felt like he knew me all over, but he just touch my arm up near the shoulder.

  I start to make pants for Jack. They have to be camel. And soft and strong. And they have to have big pockets so he can keep a lot of children’s things. Marbles and string and pennies and rocks. And they have to be washable and they have to fit closer round the leg than Shug’s so he can run if he need to snatch a child out the way of something. And they have to be something he can lay back in when he hold Odessa in front of the fire. And...

  I dream and dream and dream over Jack’s pants. And cut and sew. And finish them. And send them off.

  Next thing I hear, Odessa want a pair.

  Then Shug want two more pair just like the first. Then everybody in her band want some. Then orders start to come in from everywhere Shug sing. Pretty soon I’m swamp.

  One day when Shug come home, I say, You know, I love doing this, but I got to git out and make a living pretty soon. Look like this just holding me back.

  She laugh. Let’s us put a few advertisements in the paper, she say. And let’s us raise your prices a hefty notch. And let’s us just go ahead and give you this diningroom for your factory and git you some more women in here to cut and sew, while you sit back and
design. You making your living, Celie, she say. Girl, you on your way.

  Nettie, I am making some pants for you to beat the heat in Africa. Soft, white, thin. Drawstring waist. You won’t ever have to feel too hot and overdress again. I plan to make them by hand. Every stitch I sew will be a kiss.

  Amen,

  Your Sister, Celie

  Folkspants, Unlimited.

  Sugar Avery Drive

  Memphis, Tennessee

  DEAR NETTIE,

  I am so happy. I got love, I got work, I got money, friends and time. And you alive and be home soon. With our children.

  Jerene and Darlene come help me with the business. They twins. Never married. Love to sew. Plus, Darlene trying to teach me how to talk. She say US not so hot. A dead country give-away. You say US where most folks say WE, she say, and peoples think you dumb. Colored peoples think you a hick and white folks be amuse.

  What I care? I ast. I’m happy.

  But she say I feel more happier talking like she talk. Can’t nothing make me happier than seeing you again, I think, but I don’t say nothing. Every time I say something the way I say it, she correct me until I say it some other way. Pretty soon it feel like I can’t think. My mind run up on a thought, git confuse, run back and sort of lay down.

  You sure this worth it? I ast.

  She say Yeah. Bring me a bunch of books. Whitefolks all over them, talking bout apples and dogs.

  What I care bout dogs? I think.

  Darlene keep trying. Think how much better Shug feel with you educated, she say. She won’t be shame to take you anywhere.

  Shug not shame no how, I say. But she don’t believe this the truth. Sugar, she say one day when Shug home, don’t you think it be nice if Celie could talk proper?

  Shug say, She can talk in sign language for all I care. She make herself a nice cup of herb tea and start talking bout hot oiling her hair.

  But I let Darlene worry on. Sometimes I think bout the apples and the dogs, sometimes I don’t. Look like to me only a fool would want you to talk in a way that feel peculiar to your mind. But she sweet and she sew good and us need something to haggle over while us work.

  I’m busy making pants for Sofia now. One leg be purple, one leg be red. I dream Sofia wearing these pants, one day she was jumping over the moon.

  Amen,

  Your Sister, Celie

  DEAR NETTIE,

  Walking down to Harpo and Sofia house it feel just like old times. Cept the house new, down below the juke-joint, and it a lot bigger than it was before. Then too I feels different. Look different. Got on some dark blue pants and a white silk shirt that look righteous. Little red flat-heel slippers, and a flower in my hair. I pass Mr. _____ house and him sitting up on the porch and he didn’t even know who I was.

  Just when I raise my hand to knock, I hear a crash. Sound like a chair falling over. Then I hear arguing.

  Harpo say, Whoever heard of women pallbearers. That all I’m trying to say.

  Well, say Sofia, you said it. Now you can hush.

  I know she your mother, say Harpo. But still.

  You gon help us or not? say Sofia.

  What it gon look like? say Harpo. Three big stout women pallbearers look like they ought to be home frying chicken.

  Three of our brothers be with us, on the other side, say Sofia. I guess they look like field hands.

  But peoples use to men doing this sort of thing. Women weaker, he say. People think they weaker, say they weaker, anyhow. Women spose to take it easy. Cry if you want to. Not try to take over.

  Try to take over, say Sofia. The woman dead. I can cry and take it easy and lift the coffin too. And whether you help us or not with the food and the chairs and the get-together afterward, that’s exactly what I plan to do.

  It git real quiet. After while Harpo say, real soft to Sofia, Why you like this, huh? Why you always think you have to do things your own way? I ast your mama bout it one time, while you was in jail.

  What she say? ast Sofia.

  She say you think your way as good as anybody else’s. Plus, it yours.

  Sofia laugh.

  I know my timing bad, but I knock anyhow.

  Oh, Miss Celie, say Sofia, flinging open the screen. How good you look. Don’t she look good, Harpo? Harpo stare at me like he never seen me before.

  Sofia give me a big hug and kiss me on the jaw. Where Miss Shug? she ast.

  She on the road, I say. But she was real sorry to hear your mama pass.

  Well, say Sofia, Mama fight the good fight. If there’s a glory anywhere she right in the middle of it.

  How you, Harpo? I ast. Still eating?

  He and Sofia laugh.

  I don’t reckon Mary Agnes could come back this time, say Sofia. She was just here bout a month ago. You just ought to see her and Suzie Q.

  Naw, I say. She finally working steady, singing at two or three clubs round town. Folks love her a lot.

  Suzie Q so proud of her, she say. Love her singing. Love her perfume. Love her dresses. Love to wear her hats and shoes.

  How she doing in school? I ast.

  Oh, she fine, say Sofia. Smart as a little whip. Once she got over being mad her mama left her and found out I was Henrietta’s real mama, she was all right. She dote on Henrietta.

  How Henrietta?

  Evil, say Sofia. Little face always look like stormy weather. But maybe she’ll grow out of it. It took her daddy forty years to learn to be pleasant. He used to be nasty to his own ma.

  Yall see much of him? I ast.

  Bout as much as us see of Mary Agnes, say Sofia.

  Mary Agnes not the same, say Harpo.

  What you mean? I ast.

  I don’t know, he say. Her mind wander. She talk like she drunk. And every time she turn round look like she want to see Grady.

  They both smoke a lot of reefer, I say.

  Reefer, say Harpo. What kind of a thing is that?

  Something make you feel good, I say. Something make you see visions. Something make your love come down. But if you smoke it too much it make you feebleminded. Confuse. Always need to clutch hold of somebody. Grady grow it in the backyard, I say.

  I never heard of such a thing, say Sofia. It grow in the ground?

  Like a weed, I say. Grady got half a acre if he got a row.

  How big it git? ast Harpo.

  Big, I say. Way up over my head. And bushy.

  And what part they smoke?

  The leaf, I say.

  And they smoke up all that? he ast.

  I laugh. Naw, he sell most of it.

  You ever taste it? he ast.

  Yeah, I say. He make it up in cigarettes, sell ’em for a dime. It rot your breath, I say, but yall want to try one?

  Not if it make us crazy, say Sofia. It hard enough to get by without being a fool.

  It just like whiskey, I say. You got to stay ahead of it. You know a little drink now and then never hurt nobody, but when you can’t git started without asking the bottle, you in trouble.

  You smoke it much, Miss Celie? Harpo ast.

  Do I look like a fool? I ast. I smoke when I want to talk to God. I smoke when I want to make love. Lately I feel like me and God make love just fine anyhow. Whether I smoke reefer or not.

  Miss Celie! say Sofia. Shock.

  Girl, I’m bless, I say to Sofia. God know what I mean.

  Us sit round the kitchen table and light up. I show ’em how to suck in they wind. Harpo git strangle. Sofia choke.

  Pretty soon Sofia say, That funny, I never heard that humming before.

  What humming? Harpo ast.

  Listen, she say.

  Us git real quiet and listen. Sure enough, us hear ummmmmmmm.

  What it coming from? ast Sofia. She git up and go look out the door. Nothing there. Sound git louder. Ummmmmmm.

  Harpo go look out the window. Nothing out there, he say. Humming say UMMMMMMM.

  I think I know what it is, I say.

  They say, What?

  I
say, Everything.

  Yeah, they say. That make a lots of sense.

  Well, say Harpo at the funeral, here come the amazons.

  Her brothers there too, I whisper back. What you call them?

  I don’t know, he say. Them three always stood by they crazy sisters. Nothing yet could get ’em to budge. I wonder what they wives have to put up with.

  They all march stoutly in, shaking the church, and place Sofia mother in front the pulpit.

  Folks crying and fanning and trying to keep a stray eye on they children, but they don’t stare at Sofia and her sisters. They act like this the way it always done. I love folks.

  Amen

  DEAR NETTIE,

  The first thing I notice bout Mr. _____ is how clean he is. His skin shine. His hair brush back.

  When he walk by the casket to review Sofia mother’s body he stop, whisper something to her. Pat her shoulder. On his way back to his seat he look over at me. I raise my fan and look off the other way.

  Us went back to Harpo’s after the funeral.

  I know you won’t believe this, Miss Celie, say Sofia, but Mr. _____ act like he trying to git religion.

  Big a devil as he is, I say, trying is bout all he can do.

  He don’t go to church or nothing, but he not so quick to judge. He work real hard too.

  What? I say. Mr. _____ work!

  He sure do. He out there in the field from sunup to sundown. And clean that house just like a woman.

  Even cook, say Harpo. And what more, wash the dishes when he finish.

  Naw, I say. Yall must still be dope.

  But he don’t talk much or be round people, Sofia say.

  Sound like craziness closing in to me, I say.

  Just then, Mr. _____ walk up.

  How you Celie, he say.

  Fine, I say. I look in his eyes and I see he feeling scared of me. Well, good, I think. Let him feel what I felt.

  Shug didn’t come with you this time? he say.

  Naw, I say. She have to work. Sorry bout Sofia mama though.

  Anybody be sorry, he say. The woman that brought Sofia in the world brought something.

  I don’t say nothing.

  They put her away nice, he say.