Toni Morrison - Sula

Sula would come by of an afternoon, walking along with her fluid stride, wearing a plain yellow dress the same way her mother, Hannah, had worn those too-big house dresses—with a distance, an absence of a relationship to clothes which emphasized everything the fabric covered. When she scratched the screen door, as in the old days, and stepped inside, the dishes piled in the sink looked as though they belonged there; the dust on the lamps sparkled; the hair brush lying on the “good” sofa in the living room did not have to be apologetically retrieved, and Nel’s grimy intractable children looked like three wild things happily insouciant in the May shine.

“Hey, girl.” The rose mark over Sula’s eye gave her glance a suggestion of startled pleasure. It was darker than Nel remembered.

“Hey yourself. Come on in here.”

“How you doin’?” Sula moved a pile of ironed diapers from a chair and sat down.

“Oh, I ain’t strangled nobody yet so I guess I’m all right.”

“Well, if you change your mind call me.”

“Somebody need killin’?”

“Half this town need it.”

“And the other half?”

“A drawn-out disease.”

“Oh, come on. Is Medallion that bad?”

“Didn’t nobody tell you?”

“You been gone too long, Sula.”

“Not too long, but maybe too far.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nel dipped her fingers into the bowl of water and sprinkled a diaper.

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Want some cool tea?”

“Mmmm. Lots of ice, I’m burnin’ up.”

“Iceman don’t come yet, but it’s good and cold.”

“That’s fine.”

“Hope I didn’t speak too soon. Kids run in and out of here so much.” Nel bent to open the icebox.

“You puttin’ it on, Nel. Jude must be wore out.”

“ Jude must be wore out? You don’t care nothin’ ’bout my back, do you?”

“Is that where it’s at, in your back?”

“Hah! Jude thinks it’s everywhere.”

“He’s right, it is everywhere. Just be glad he found it, wherever it is. Remember John L.?”

“When Shirley said he got her down by the well and tried to stick it in her hip?” Nel giggled at the remembrance of that teen-time tale. “She should have been grateful. Have you seen her since you been back?”

“Mmm. Like a ox.”

“That was one dumb nigger, John L.”

“Maybe. Maybe he was just sanitary.”

“Sanitary?”

“Well. Think about it. Suppose Shirley was all splayed out in front of you? Wouldn’t you go for the hipbone instead?”

Nel lowered her head onto crossed arms while tears of laughter dripped into the warm diapers. Laughter that weakened her knees and pressed her bladder into action. Her rapid soprano and Sula’s dark sleepy chuckle made a duet that frightened the cat and made the children run in from the back yard, puzzled at first by the wild free sounds, then delighted to see their mother stumbling merrily toward the bathroom, holding on to her stomach, fairly singing through the laughter: “Aw. Aw. Lord. Sula. Stop.” And the other one, the one with the scary black thing over her eye, laughing softly and egging their mother on: “Neatness counts. You know what cleanliness is next to…”

“Hush.” Nel’s plea was clipped off by the slam of the bathroom door.

“What y’all laughing at?”

“Old time-y stuff. Long gone, old time-y stuff.”

“Tell us.”

“Tell you? ” The black mark leaped.

“Uh huh. Tell us.”

“What tickles us wouldn’t tickle you.”

“Uh huh, it would.”

“Well, we was talking about some people we used to know when we was little.”

“Was my mamma little?”

“Of course.”

“What happened?”

“Well, some old boy we knew name John L. and a girl name…”

Damp-faced, Nel stepped back into the kitchen. She felt new, soft and new. It had been the longest time since she had had a rib-scraping laugh. She had forgotten how deep and down it could be. So different from the miscellaneous giggles and smiles she had learned to be content with these past few years.

“O Lord, Sula. You haven’t changed none.” She wiped her eyes. “What was all that about, anyway? All that scramblin’ we did trying to do it and not do it at the same time?”

“Beats me. Such a simple thing.”

“But we sure made a lot out of it, and the boys were dumber than we were.”

“Couldn’t nobody be dumber than I was.”

“Stop lying. All of ’em liked you best.”

“Yeah? Where are they?”

“They still here. You the one went off.”

“Didn’t I, though?”

“Tell me about it. The big city.”

“Big is all it is. A big Medallion.”

“No. I mean the life. The nightclubs, and parties…”

“I was in college, Nellie. No nightclubs on campus.”

“Campus? That what they call it? Well. You wasn’t in no college for—what—ten years now? And you didn’t write to nobody. How come you never wrote?”

“You never did either.”

“Where was I going to write to? All I knew was that you was in Nashville. I asked Miss Peace about you once or twice.”

“What did she say?”

“I couldn’t make much sense out of her. You know she been gettin’ stranger and stranger after she come out the hospital. How is she anyway?”

“Same, I guess. Not so hot.”

“No? Laura, I know, was doing her cooking and things. Is she still?”

“No. I put her out.”

“Put her out? What for?”

“She made me nervous.”

“But she was doing it for nothing, Sula.”

“That’s what you think. She was stealing right and left.”

“Since when did you get froggy about folks’ stealing?”

Sula smiled. “OK. I lied. You wanted a reason.”

“Well, give me the real one.”

“I don’t know the real one. She just didn’t belong in that house. Digging around in the cupboards, picking up pots and ice picks…”

“You sure have changed. That house was always full of people digging in cupboards and carrying on.”

“That’s the reason, then.”

“Sula. Come on, now.”

“You’ve changed too. I didn’t used to have to explain everything to you.”

Nel blushed. “Who’s feeding the deweys and Tar Baby? You?”

“Sure me. Anyway Tar Baby don’t eat and the deweys still crazy.”

“I heard one of ’em’s mamma came to take him back but didn’t know which was hern.”

“Don’t nobody know.”

“And Eva? You doing the work for her too?”

“Well, since you haven’t heard it, let me tell you. Eva’s real sick. I had her put where she could be watched and taken care of.”

“Where would that be?”

“Out by Beechnut.”

“You mean that home the white church run? Sula! That ain’t no place for Eva. All them women is dirt poor with no people at all. Mrs. Wilkens and them. They got dropsy and can’t hold their water—crazy as loons. Eva’s odd, but she got sense. I don’t think that’s right, Sula.”

“I’m scared of her, Nellie. That’s why…”

“Scared? Of Eva?”

“You don’t know her. Did you know she burnt Plum?”

“Oh, I heard that years ago. But nobody put no stock in it.”

“They should have. It’s true. I saw it. And when I got back here she was planning to do it to me too.”

“Eva? I can’t hardly believe that. She almost died trying to get to your mother.”

Sula leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “You ever known me to lie to you?”

“No. But you could be mistaken. Why would Eva…”

“All I know is I’m scared. And there’s no place else for me to go. We all that’s left, Eva and me. I guess I should have stayed gone. I didn’t know what else to do. Maybe I should have talked to you about it first. You always had better sense than me. Whenever I was scared before, you knew just what to do.”