Ursula K. Le Guin: A Child Bride
DID HE TAKE me away from her or did she make me leave him? I don’t know if what came first was the light. I don’t know where my home was. I remember the dark car. Long, and large, and so fast that the road broke like a wave.
There was the smell of the car and the smell of the sod, a cleft, an opening. The road went down, I know. What flowers smell like sometimes I remember. In the
name of the hyacinth I find the colors purple, pink, red, and the color of pomegranate. But there is a forbidden color.
If I say its name the punishment will come upon me, the breaking, the terrible calling, if I say the name of milk the earth will ache. The earth will ache and reach for me again, brown arms, long arms groping and grasping, seeking, choking.
If I was there, under his roof, was it wrong that I was there? Was I not wanted there? I was chosen, I was queen. The arms reached out but they couldn’t catch me. I
didn’t look up as we drove by the black rivers. The car went so fast by the rivers! But we would stop for me to name the rivers:
Memory that carries remembering away, and Anger that runs so gently smoothing the pebbles round, and Terror that we swam in fearlessly. And then the waterfalls! I gave them no names. They are still falling down and down from deep to deeper dark till the last glimmering is lost and only the long voice of water comes back from below saying what we cannot say. Sound is a slower traveler than light, and so more sure. It was the calling that came to me from the high places, never the light.
How could the light come here within? This is no place for light. It’s too heavy here. But in the calling came the hyacinth, the colors that come before the light. 0 Mother! Mother! Mother! Who called? Who called her? me?
He’s rich, Mother. He lives there in the basement of the old house with old things, dried things, roots and coins and chests and shadows and closets. He lives down in the cellar, but he’s rich. He could buy anything.
No, he didn’t hurt me only once. When I was frightened when he came when I was there alone. He took me away then he made me go down inside. We went inside where I have never been and I was there then. Yes, when my mother’s working I always stay alone. I stay in the house and garden, where else is there to go?
No, I don’t know my daddy. Yes, no, I don’t know. I don’t know what it means. He made me come with him in the car. I went with him. Yes he touched me there. Yes he did that. Yes he did that. Yes we did that. Yes I said no I didn’t say. He said I was his wife.
He said everything he had was mine. Can I see my mother now? Yes he gave me jewelry. I took it yes. I wore it yes.
It was beautiful, the stones, amethyst, rose amethyst, ruby. He gave me the crown of hyacinth, of pomegranate stone.
He gave me the ring of gold I wear. We never left the basement no. He said it was dangerous outside. He said there was a war. He \Said there were enemies. He never hurt me only at the start. He needed me.
We did that yes I am his wife. With him I rule that place. With him I judge you all. To whom do you think you come?
She came to me and came back to me, the musician’s wife, my friend. I knew she would come back. She came back crying. I knew she would. I was waiting for her by the road, and cried with her when she came back alone, but not for long.
Here tears dry way. Here in the dark no mourning is. A few tears, like pomegranate seeds, five or six little half-transparent seeds that look like uncut rubies, that’s enough, enough to eat, enough.
N0 Mother don’t cry, I was only playing hide and seek! I only hid! I was joking, Mother, I didn’t mean to stay so long. I didn’t know it was so late. I didn’t notice it was dark.
We were playing kings and queens and hide and seek and I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I didn’t know. Do I live there? Is this my home? This is outside the earth and I have lived inside.
This is inside the earth and I have lived outside. This is dark and I come from the light, from the dark into this light. He loves me well. He waits for me. Why is your love winter, Mother? Why are his hands so cold?
What does my mother do? She keeps the house. There is no river long enough to wear her anger down. She will never forget and will always be afraid. You have made an enemy
indeed, my lord.
Mother, be comforted. Don’t cry and make me cry. Come winter I’ll come back and spring is my return. I’ll bring the hyacinths. You depend on me, you know, I’m not a child now. But if I am your daughter how can I be his wife? How can I be your wife when I am her daughter? What do you want of me, who sleep in my arms?
These are her arms around me rocking me, rocking me. I wear the ring of gold he gave me as I walk in the garden she grew for me, the red flowers, the purple flowers, the pomegranate trees with roots of white and brown that reach down deep.
To be sought forever, but shall I be found and never seek myself and never find? To be one body root and flower, to break the sod, to drive the dark car home, to turn, return, where is my home? Shall I bear no daughter? Ursula K. Le Guin: A Child Bride, Page 163-165
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