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The Evening and the Morning and the Night
Author(s): Octavia E. Butler
Source: Callaloo, Vol. 24, No. 2, The Best of Callalo Prose: A Special 25th Anniversary Issue
(Spring, 2001), pp. 401-418
Published by: The Johns Hopkins University Press
Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/3300516
Accessed: 22/04/2010 03:24
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from Vol. 14, No. 2 (Spring 1991)
THE EVENING AND THE MORNING AND THE NIGHT
by Octavia E. Butler
When I was fifteen and trying to show my independence by getting careless with
my diet, my parents took me to a Duryea-Gode disease ward. They wanted me to see,
they said, where I was headed if I wasn't careful. In fact, it was where I was headed
no matter what. It was only a matter of when: now or later. My parents were putting
in their vote for later.
I won't describe the ward. It's enough to say that when they brought me home, I
cut my wrists. I did a thorough job of it, old Roman style in a bathtub of warm water.
Almost made it. My father dislocated his shoulder breaking down the bathroom door.
He and I never forgave each other for that day.
The disease got him almost three years later-just before I went off to college. It was
sudden. It doesn't happen that way often. Most people notice themselves beginning
to drift-or their relatives notice-and they make arrangements with their chosen
institution. People who are noticed and who resist going in can be locked up for a
week's observation. I don't doubt that that observation period breaks up a few
families. Sending someone away for what turns out to be a false alarm.... Well, it isn't
the sort of thing the victim is likely to forgive or forget. On the other hand, not sending
someone away in time-missing the signs or having a person go off suddenly without
signs-is inevitably dangerous for the victim. I've never heard of it going as badly,
though, as it did in my family. People normally injure only themselves when their
time comes-unless someone is stupid enough to try to handle them without the
necessary drugs or restraints.
My father . . . killed my mother, then killed himself. I wasn't home when it
happened. I