"there was this piece of goods mrs. garner gave me. calico.
stripes it had with little flowers in between. 'bout a yard — not enough for more 'n a head tie. buti been wanting to make a shift for my girl with it. had the prettiest colors. i don't even know whatyou call that color: a rose but with yellow in it. for the longest time i been meaning to make it forher and do you know like a fool i left it behind? no more than a yard, and i kept putting it offbecause i was tired or didn't have the time. so when i got here, even before they let me get out ofbed, i stitched her a little something from a piece of cloth baby suggs had. well, all i'm saying isthat's a selfish pleasure i never had before. i couldn't let all that go back to where it was, and icouldn't let her nor any of em live under schoolteacher. that was out."sethe knew that the circle she was making around the room, him, the subject, would remain one.
that she could never close in, pin it down for anybody who had to ask. if they didn't get it right off— she could never explain. because the truth was simple, not a long drawn-out record of floweredshifts, tree cages, selfishness, ankle ropes and wells. simple: she was squatting in the garden andwhen she saw them coming and recognized schoolteacher's hat, she heard wings. littlehummingbirds stuck their needle beaks right through her headcloth into her hair and beat theirwings. and if she thought anything, it was no. no. nono. nonono. simple. she just flew.
collected every bit of life she had made, all the parts of her that were precious and fine andbeautiful, and carried, pushed, dragged them through the veil, out, away, over there where no onecould hurt them. over there. outside this place, where they would be safe. and the hummingbirdwings beat on. sethe paused in her circle again and looked out the window. she remembered whenthe yard had a fence with a gate that somebody was always latching and unlatching in the. timewhen 124 was busy as a way station. she did not see the whiteboys who pulled it down, yanked upthe posts and smashed the gate leaving 124 desolate and exposed at the very hour when everybodystopped dropping by. the shoulder weeds of bluestone road were all that came toward the house.
when she got back from the jail house, she was glad the fence was gone. that's where they hadhitched their horses — where she saw, floating above the railing as she squatted in the garden,school-teacher's hat. by the time she faced him, looked him dead in the eye, she had something inher arms that stopped him in his tracks. he took a backward step with each jump of the baby heartuntil finally there were none.
"i stopped him," she said, staring at the place where the fence used to be. "i took and put my babieswhere they'd be safe." the roaring in paul d's head did not prevent him from hearing the pat shegave to the last word, and it occurred to him that what she wanted for her children was exactlywhat was missing in 124: safety. which was the very first message he got the day he walkedthrough the door. he thought he had made it safe, had gotten rid of the danger; beat the shit out ofit; run it off the place and showed it and everybody else the difference between a mule and a plow.
and because she had not done it before he got there her own self, he thought it was because she could not do it. that she lived with 124 in helpless, apologetic resignation because she had nochoice; that minus husband, sons, mother-in-law, she and her slow-witted daughter had to livethere all alone making do. the prickly, mean-eyed sweet home girl he knew as halle's girl wasobedient (like halle), shy (like halle), and work-crazy (like halle). he was wrong. this here sethewas new. the ghost in her house didn't bother her for the very same reason a room-and-boardwitch with new shoes was welcome. this here sethe talked about love like any other woman;talked about baby clothes like any other woman, but what she meant could cleave the bone. thishere sethe talked about safety with a handsaw. this here new sethe didn't know where the worldstopped and she began. suddenly he saw what stamp paid wanted him to see: more important thanwhat sethe had done was what she claimed. it scared him.
"your love is too thick," he said, thinking, that bitch is looking at me; she is right over my headlooking down through the floor at me.
"too thick?" she said, thinking of the clearing where baby suggs' commands knocked the podsoff horse chestnuts. "love is or it ain't. thin love ain't love at all.""yeah. it didn't work, did it? did it work?" he asked.
"it worked," she said.
"how? your boys gone you don't know where. one girl dead, the other won't leave the yard. howdid it work?""they ain't at sweet home. schoolteacher ain't got em.""maybe there's worse.""it ain't my job to know what's worse. it's my job to know what is and to keep them away fromwhat i know is terrible. i did that.""what you did was wrong, sethe.""i should have gone on back there? taken my babies back there?""there could have been a way. some other way.""what way?""you got two feet, sethe, not four," he said, and right then a forest sprang up between them;trackless and quiet.
later he would wonder what made him say it. the calves of his youth? or the conviction that hewas being observed through the ceiling? how fast he had moved from his shame to hers. from his cold-house secret straight to her too-thick love. meanwhile the forest was locking the distancebetween them, giving it shape and heft.
he did not put his hat on right away. first he fingered it, deciding how his going would be, how tomake it an exit not an escape. and it was very important not to leave without looking. he stood up,turned and looked up the white stairs. she was there all right. standing straight as a line with herback to him. he didn't rush to the door. he moved slowly and when he got there he opened itbefore asking sethe to put supper aside for him because he might be a little late getting back. onlythen did he put on his hat.
sweet, she thought. he must think i can't bear to hear him say it. that after all i have told him andafter telling me how many feet i have, "goodbye" would break me to pieces. ain't that sweet. "solong," she murmured from the far side of the trees.
“加纳太太给了我一块好东西———印花布，竖条中间夹着小碎花。大概有一码———只够做一条头巾的。可我一直想用它给我的女儿变个花样。颜色真漂亮。我简直不知道你应该管那色儿叫什么：玫瑰红里带点黄色。我花了好长时间准备给她做出来，可你不知道，我像个蠢货一样把它落在那儿了。连一码都不到，我一直放着它，因为我又累又没工夫。所以我到了这儿以后，在他们还不让我下床的时候，就用一块贝比·萨格斯的布料给她缝了件小东西。唉，我只是想说那是一种我从来没有过的自私自利的乐趣。我不能让那一切都回到从前，我也不能让她或者他们任何一个在‘学校老师’手底下活着。那已经一去不返了。
”
塞丝知道，她在房间、他和话题周围兜的圈子会延续下去。她永远不能围拢来，为了哪个刨根问底的人将它按住。如果他们没有马上明白———她也永远不会解释。因为事实很简单，不是一长串流水账，关于什么变花样、树上挂篮、自私自利、脚脖子上的绳子和水井。很简单：她蹲在菜园里，当她看见他们赶来，并且认出了“学校老师”的帽子时，她的耳边响起了鼓翼声。小蜂鸟将针喙一下子穿透她的头巾，扎进头发，扇动着翅膀。如果说她在想什么，那就是不。不。不不。不不不。很简单。她就飞了起来。收拾起她创造出的每一个生命，她所有宝贵、优秀和美丽的部分，拎着、推着、拽着他们穿过幔帐，出去，走开，到没人能伤害他们的地方去。到那里去。远离这个地方，去那个他们能获得安全的地方。蜂鸟的翅膀扇个不停。塞丝在转的圈子中又停顿了一下，向窗外望去。她记得，当时院子曾经有道带门的栅栏，总有人在开门闩关门闩，那个时期124号像个驿站一样门庭若市。她没有看见那些白人孩子把它拆毁，拽倒了柱子，砸碎了门，正好在所有人停止过访的时刻让124号变得荒凉而光秃。唯有蓝石路路肩的野草仍向这座房子爬来。
当她从牢里归来时，她很高兴栅栏不见了。那正是他们拴马的地方———她蹲在菜园里看见的，“学校老师”的帽子从栏杆上方飘来。等到她面对他，死死盯住他的眼睛的时候，她怀里抱着的什么东西止住了他的追踪。婴儿的心每跳一下，他就退后一步，直到最后，心跳彻底停息。
“我止住了他。
”她凝视着曾经有过栅栏的地方，说道，“我把我的宝贝们带到了安全的地方。
”
保罗·d脑袋里的咆哮没能阻止他听到她强调的最后一句话。他忽然发现，她为她的孩子们争取的东西偏偏是124号所缺乏的：安全。这正是那天他走进门时接收到的第一个信号。他以为他已经使124号获得了安全，驱逐了危险；把那个混账鬼魂打出家门；把它赶出门去，让它和其他人都看到一头骡子和一张犁的区别。因为在他之前她自己没有干这一切，他就以为是因为她干不了。她和124号生活在无助、愧疚的屈从中，是因为她别无选择；失去了丈夫、儿子、婆婆，她和她的迟钝的女儿只能孤单地住在那里挨日子。这个浑身是刺、眼睛冒火的“甜蜜之家”的姑娘，他认识的黑尔的姑娘，曾是那样顺从（像黑尔一样）、害羞（像黑尔一样）的一个工作狂（像黑尔一样）。他错了。眼前的这个塞丝是全新的。她房子里的鬼并没有让她烦恼，出于同样的原因，一个穿着新鞋、白吃白住的女巫也在家里受到欢迎。眼前的这个塞丝像所有其他女人一样谈起爱，像所有其他女人一样谈起婴儿的小衣服，可是她的本意却能够劈开骨头。眼前的这个塞丝谈起一把手锯带来的安全。眼前的这个全新的塞丝不知道世界在哪里停止，而她又从哪里开始。突然间他看到了斯坦普·沛德想让他看的东西：比塞丝的所作所为更重要的是她的动机。这把他吓坏了。
“你的爱太浓了。
”他说道，心想，那条母狗在看着我；她正在我的头顶上穿透屋顶俯视着我。
“太浓了？
”她回道，又想起了“林间空地”，贝比·萨格斯的号令在那里震落了七叶树的荚果。
“要么是爱，要么不是。淡的爱根本就不是爱。
”
“对。它不管用，对不对？它管用了吗？
”他问。
“它管用了。
”她说。
“怎么管用了？你的儿子们走了，可你不知道他们去了哪儿。一个女儿死了，另一个不肯迈出院子一步。它怎么管用了？
”
“他们不在‘甜蜜之家’。‘学校老师’没抓走他们。
”
“没准儿倒更糟呢。
”
“我才不管什么更糟呢。我只知道什么可怕，然后让他们躲得远远的。我做到了。
”
“你做错了，塞丝。
”
“我应该回到那儿去？把我的宝贝们带回到那儿去？
”
“可能有个办法。别的办法。
”
“什么办法？
”
“你长了两只脚，塞丝，不是四只。
”他说道。就在这时，一座森林骤然耸立在他们中间，无径可寻，而且一片死寂。
事后他会纳闷，是什么驱使他那么说的。是年轻时代的小母牛？还是因为他确信屋顶有人在盯着他？他从自己的耻辱跳到了她的耻辱，多快啊。从他的冷藏室秘密，直接跳到了她的过浓的爱。
同时，那片森林在锁定他们之间的距离，给它规定了形状和重量。
他没有立即戴上帽子。他先是用手指碰了碰它，盘算着他应该怎样离去，怎样才能算是退场，而不是逃脱。更要紧的是，不能不看上一眼就离开。他站起来，转过身看着白楼梯。她倒的确在那儿。背对着他，站得笔直。他没有向门口奔去。他慢慢地蹭到那里，打开门，然后告诉塞丝晚饭别等他了，因为他可能晚一点回来。直到这时他才戴上帽子。
真可爱，她想。他肯定以为我听他说出来会受不了。以为在我全告诉了他之后，在对我讲了我有几只脚之后，“再见”会把我打个粉碎。那不是挺可爱吗？
“别了。
”她在树林的远端嘟哝着。
