Yes ma’am, I say. I’m slaving away cleaning that big post they got down at the bottom of the stair. They act real funny bout that post. No finger prints is sposed to be on it, ever.
Do you think you could teach me [to drive]? she says.
One of Sofia children break in, the oldest boy. He tall and handsome, all the time serious. And mad a lot.
He say, Don’t say slaving, Mama.
Sofia say, Why not? They got me in a little storeroom up under the house, hardly bigger than Odessa’s porch, and just about as warm in the winter time. I’m at they beck and call all night and all day. They won’t let me see my children. They won’t let me see no mens. Well, after five years they let me see you once a year. I’m a slave, she say. What would you call it?
A captive, he say.
Sofia go on with her story, only look at him like she glad he hers. (44.5-11)
Sofia describes her position at the mayor’s house as slavery, but her son refuses to let her think that—he’s got too much pride for that. We don't know about you, but it sounds like Sofia's got a pretty honest opinion of her situation. She's only allowed to see her kids once a year, for crying out loud.
Fine, she say. Fine. Well git in.
Well, say Sofia, I was so use to sitting up there next to her teaching her how to drive, that I just naturally clammed into the front seat.
She stood outside on her side the car clearing her throat.
Finally she say, Sofia, with a little laugh, This is the South.
Yes ma’am, I say.
She clear her throat, laugh some more. Look where you sitting, she say.
I’m sitting where I always sit, I say.
That’s the problem, she say. Have you ever seen a white person and a colored lady sitting side by side in a car, when one of 'em wasn’t showing the other one how to drive it or clean it? (44.20-27)
Sofia describes a moment of social awkwardness when the mayor’s wife insists upon typical social protocol. Even the external semblance of racial equality is not to be tolerated by the mayor’s wife.
I don’t like to go to bed with him no more, she [Sofia] say. Used to be when he touch me I’d go all out my head. Now when he touch me I just don’t want to be bothered. Once he git on top of me I think bout how that’s where he always want to be. She sip her lemonade. I use to love that part of it, she say. I use to chase him home from the field. Git all hot just watching him put the children to bed. But no more. Now I feel tired all the time. No interest.
Now, now, I say. Sleep on it some, maybe it come back. But I say this just to be saying something. I don’t know nothing bout it. Mr.__________ clam on top of me, do his business, in ten minutes us both sleep. Only time I feel something stirring down there is when I think bout Shug. And that like running to the end of the road and it turn back on itself.
You know the worst part? she say. The worst part is I don’t think he notice. He git up there and enjoy himself just the same. No matter what I’m thinking. No matter what I feel. It just him. Heartfeeling don’t even seem to enter into it. She snort. The fact he can do it like that make me want to kill him. (30.15-17)
Sofia has lost love for Harpo, and she doesn’t think he even notices. He enjoys sex whether the woman he’s with loves him or not. Sofia, on the other hand, doesn’t want to have a sexual relationship without love. She doesn’t want sex to just be something physical, but an action involving "heartfeeling."