as sethe walked to work, late for the first time in sixteen years and wrapped in a timeless present,stamp paid fought fatigue and the habit of a lifetime. baby suggs refused to go to the clearingbecause she believed they had won; he refused to acknowledge any such victory. baby had noback door; so he braved the cold and a wall of talk to knock on the one she did have. he clutchedthe red ribbon in his pocket for strength. softly at first, then harder. at the last he bangedfuriously-disbelieving it could happen. that the door of a house with coloredpeople in it did not flyopen in his presence. he went to the window and wanted to cry. sure enough, there they were, nota one of them heading for the door. worrying his scrap of ribbon to shreds, the old man turned andwent down the steps. now curiosity joined his shame and his debt. two backs curled away fromhim as he looked in the window. one had a head he recognized; the other troubled him. he didn'tknow her and didn't know anybody it could be. nobody, but nobody visited that house.
after a disagreeable breakfast he went to see ella and john to find out what they knew. perhapsthere he could find out if, after all these years of clarity, he had misnamed himself and there wasyet another debt he owed. born joshua, he renamed himself when he handed over his wife to hismaster's son. handed her over in the sense that he did not kill anybody, thereby himself, becausehis wife demanded he stay alive. otherwise, she reasoned, where and to whom could she returnwhen the boy was through? with that gift, he decided that he didn't owe anybody anything.
whatever his obligations were, that act paid them off. he thought it would make himrambunctious, renegade — a drunkard even, the debtlessness, and in a way it did. but there wasnothing to do with it. work well; work poorly. work a little; work not at all. make sense; makenone. sleep, wake up; like somebody, dislike others. it didn't seem much of a way to live and itbrought him no satisfaction. so he extended this debtlessness to other people by helping them payout and off whatever they owed in misery. beaten runaways? he ferried them and rendered thempaid for; gave them their own bill of sale, so to speak. "you paid it; now life owes you." and thereceipt, as it were, was a welcome door that he never had to knock on, like john and ella's in frontof which he stood and said, "who in there?" only once and she was pulling on the hinge.
"where you been keeping yourself? i told john must be cold if stamp stay inside.""oh, i been out." he took off his cap and massaged his scalp. "out where? not by here." ella hungtwo suits of underwear on a line behind the stove.
"was over to baby suggs' this morning.""what you want in there?" asked ella. "somebody invite you in?""that's baby's kin. i don't need no invite to look after her people.""sth." ella was unmoved. she had been baby suggs' friend and sethe's too till the rough time.
except for a nod at the carnival, she hadn't given sethe the time of day.
"somebody new in there. a woman. thought you might know who is she.""ain't no new negroes in this town i don't know about," she said. "what she look like? you surethat wasn't denver?""i know denver. this girl's narrow.""you sure?""i know what i see.""might see anything at all at 124.""true.""better ask paul d," she said.
"can't locate him," said stamp, which was the truth although his efforts to find paul d had beenfeeble. he wasn't ready to confront the man whose life he had altered with his graveyardinformation.
"he's sleeping in the church," said ella.
"the church!" stamp was shocked and very hurt.
"yeah. asked reverend pike if he could stay in the cellar.""it's cold as charity in there!""i expect he knows that.""what he do that for?""hes a touch proud, seem like.""he don't have to do that! any number'll take him in."ella turned around to look at stamp paid. "can't nobody read minds long distance. all he have todo is ask somebody.""why? why he have to ask? can't nobody offer? what's going on? since when a blackman cometo town have to sleep in a cellar like a dog?""unrile yourself, stamp.""not me. i'm going to stay riled till somebody gets some sense and leastway act like a christian.""it's only a few days he been there.""shouldn't be no days! you know all about it and don't give him a hand? that don't sound like you,ella. me and you been pulling coloredfolk out the water more'n twenty years. now you tell me youcan't offer a man a bed? a working man, too! a man what can pay his own way.""he ask, i give him anything.""why's that necessary all of a sudden?""i don't know him all that well.""you know he's colored!""stamp, don't tear me up this morning. i don't feel like it." "it's her, ain't it?""her who?""sethe. he took up with her and stayed in there and you don't want nothing to — ""hold on. don't jump if you can't see bottom.""girl, give it up. we been friends too long to act like this.""well, who can tell what all went on in there? look here, i don't know who sethe is or none of herpeople.""what?!""all i know is she married baby suggs' boy and i ain't sure i know that. where is he, huh? babynever laid eyes on her till john carried her to the door with a baby i strapped on her chest.""i strapped that baby! and you way off the track with that wagon. her children know who she waseven if you don't.""so what? i ain't saying she wasn't their ma'ammy, but who's to say they was baby suggs'
grandchildren? how she get on board and her husband didn't? and tell me this, how she have thatbaby in the woods by herself? said a whitewoman come out the trees and helped her. shoot. youbelieve that? a whitewoman? well, i know what kind of white that was.""aw, no, ella.""anything white floating around in the woods — -if it ain't got a shotgun, it's something i don'twant no part of!""you all was friends.""yeah, till she showed herself.""ella.""i ain't got no friends take a handsaw to their own children.""you in deep water, girl.""uh uh. i'm on dry land and i'm going to stay there. you the one wet.""what's any of what you talking got to do with paul d?""what run him off? tell me that.""i run him off.""you?""i told him about — i showed him the newspaper, about the — what sethe did. read it to him. heleft that very day.""you didn't tell me that. i thought he knew.""he didn't know nothing. except her, from when they was at that place baby suggs was at.""he knew baby suggs?""sure he knew her. her boy halle too.""and left when he found out what sethe did?""look like he might have a place to stay after all.""what you say casts a different light. i thought — "but stamp paid knew what she thought.
"you didn't come here asking about him," ela said. "you came about some new girl.""that's so.""well, paul d must know who she is. or what she is.""your mind is loaded with spirits. everywhere you look you see one.""you know as well as i do that people who die bad don't stay in the ground."he couldn't deny it. jesus christ himself didn't, so stamp ate a piece of ella's head cheese to showthere were no bad feelings and set out to find paul d. he found him on the steps of holyredeemer, holding his wrists between his knees and looking red-eyed. sawyer shouted at her whenshe entered the kitchen, but she just turned her back and reached for her apron. there was no entrynow. no crack or crevice available. she had taken pains to keep them out, but knew full well thatat any moment they could rock her, rip her from her moorings, send the birds twittering back intoher hair. drain her mother's milk, they had already done. divided her back into plant life — thattoo. driven her fat-bellied into the woods — they had done that. all news of them was rot. theybuttered halle's face; gave paul d iron to eat; crisped sixo; hanged her own mother. she didn'twant any more news about whitefolks; didn't want to know what ella knew and john and stamppaid, about the world done up the way whitefolks loved it. all news of them should have stopped with the birds in her hair.
