sethe looked at beloved's face and smiled.
quietly, carefully she stepped around her to wake the fire. first a bit of paper, then a little kindlin— not too much — just a taste until it was strong enough for more. she fed its dance until it waswild and fast. when she went outside to collect more wood from the shed, she did not notice theman's frozen footprints. she crunched around to the back, to the cord piled high with snow. afterscraping it clean, she filled her arms with as much dry wood as she could. she even looked straightat the shed, smiling, smiling at the things she would not have to remember now. thinking, "sheain't even mad with me. not a bit."obviously the hand-holding shadows she had seen on the road were not paul d, denver andherself, but "us three." the three holding on to each other skating the night before; the threesipping flavored milk. and since that was so — if her daughter could come back home from thetimeless place — certainly her sons could, and would, come back from wherever they had gone to.
sethe covered her front teeth with her tongue against the cold. hunched forward by the burden inher arms, she walked back around the house to the porch — not once noticing the frozen tracks she stepped in.
inside, the girls were still sleeping, although they had changed positions while she was gone, bothdrawn to the fire. dumping the armload into the woodbox made them stir but not wake. sethestarted the cooking stove as quietly as she could, reluctant to wake the sisters, happy to have themasleep at her feet while she made breakfast. too bad she would be late for work — -too, too bad.
once in sixteen years? that's just too bad.
she had beaten two eggs into yesterday's hominy, formed it into patties and fried them with someham pieces before denver woke completely and groaned.
"back stiff?""ooh yeah.""sleeping on the floor's supposed to be good for you.""hurts like the devil," said denver.
"could be that fall you took."denver smiled. "that was fun." she turned to look down at beloved snoring lightly. "should iwake her?""no, let her rest.""she likes to see you off in the morning."i'll make sure she does," said sethe, and thought, be nice to think first, before i talk to her, let herknow i know. think about all i ain't got to remember no more. do like baby said: think on it thenlay it down — for good. paul d convinced me there was a world out there and that i could live init. should have known better. did know better. whatever is going on outside my door ain't for me.
the world is in this room. this here's all there is and all there needs to be.
they ate like men, ravenous and intent. saying little, content with the company of the other andthe opportunity to look in her eyes. when sethe wrapped her head and bundled up to go to town, itwas already midmorning. and when she left the house she neither saw the prints nor heard thevoices that ringed 124 like a noose. trudging in the ruts left earlier by wheels, sethe was excited togiddiness by the things she no longer had to remember.
i don't have to remember nothing. i don't even have to explain. she understands it all. i can forgethow baby suggs' heart collapsed; how we agreed it was consumption without a sign of it in theworld. her eyes when she brought my food, i can forget that, and how she told me that howardand buglar were all right but wouldn't let go each other's hands. played that way: stayed that way especially in their sleep. she handed me the food from a basket; things wrapped small enough toget through the bars, whispering news: mr. bodwin going to see the judge — in chambers, shekept on saying, in chambers, like i knew what it meant or she did. the colored ladies ofdelaware, ohio, had drawn up a petition to keep me from being hanged. that two white preachershad come round and wanted to talk to me, pray for me. that a newspaperman came too. she toldme the news and i told her i needed something for the rats. she wanted denver out and slapped herpalms when i wouldn't let her go. "where your earrings?" she said. i'll hold em for you." i told herthe jailer took them, to protect me from myself. he thought i could do some harm with the wire.
baby suggs covered her mouth with her hand. "schoolteacher left town," she said. "filed a claimand rode on off. they going to let you out for the burial," she said, "not the funeral, just the burial,"and they did. the sheriff came with me and looked away when i fed denver in the wagon. neitherhoward nor buglar would let me near them, not even to touch their hair. i believe a lot of folkswere there, but i just saw the box. reverend pike spoke in a real loud voice, but i didn't catch aword — -except the first two, and three months later when denver was ready for solid food andthey let me out for good, i went and got you a gravestone, but i didn't have money enough for thecarving so i exchanged (bartered, you might say) what i did have and i'm sorry to this day i neverthought to ask him for the whole thing: all i heard of what reverend pike said. dearly beloved,which is what you are to me and i don't have to be sorry about getting only one word, and i don'thave to remember the slaughterhouse and the saturday girls who worked its yard. i can forget thatwhat i did changed baby suggs' life. no clearing, no company. just laundry and shoes. i canforget it all now because as soon as i got the gravestone in place you made your presence known inthe house and worried us all to distraction. i didn't understand it then. i thought you were mad withme. and now i know that if you was, you ain't now because you came back here to me and i wasright all along: there is no world outside my door. i only need to know one thing. how bad is thescar?
