Move. Walk. Run. Hide. Steal and move on. Only once had it been possible for him to stay in onespot — with a woman, or a family — for longer than a few months. That once was almost twoyears with a weaver lady in Delaware, the meanest place for Negroes he had ever seen outsidePulaski County, Kentucky, and of course the prison camp in Georgia.
From all those Negroes, Beloved was different. Her shining, her new shoes. It bothered him. Maybe it was just the fact that he didn't bother her. Or it could be timing. She had appeared andbeen taken in on the very day Sethe and he had patched up their quarrel, gone out in public and hada right good time — like a family. Denver had come around, so to speak; Sethe was laughing; hehad a promise of steady work, 124 was cleared up from spirits. It had begun to look like a life. Anddamn! a water-drinking woman fell sick, got took in, healed, and hadn't moved a peg since.
He wanted her out, but Sethe had let her in and he couldn't put her out of a house that wasn't his. Itwas one thing to beat up a ghost, quite another to throw a helpless coloredgirl out in territoryinfected by the Klan. Desperately thirsty for black blood, without which it could not live, thedragon swam the Ohio at will.
Sitting at table, chewing on his after-supper broom straw, Paul D decided to place her. Consultwith the Negroes in town and find her her own place.
No sooner did he have the thought than Beloved strangled on one of the raisins she had picked outof the bread pudding. She fell backward and off the chair and thrashed around holding her throat.
Sethe knocked her on the back while Denver pried her hands away from her neck. Beloved, on herhands and knees, vomited up her food and struggled for breath.
When she was quiet and Denver had wiped up the mess, she said, "Go to sleep now.""Come in my room," said Denver. "I can watch out for you up there."No moment could have been better. Denver had worried herself sick trying to think of a way to getBeloved to share her room. It was hard sleeping above her, wondering if she was going to be sickagain, fall asleep and not wake, or (God, please don't) get up and wander out of the yard just theway she wandered in. They could have their talks easier there: at night when Sethe and Paul Dwere asleep; or in the daytime before either came home. Sweet, crazy conversations full of halfsentences, daydreams and misunderstandings more thrilling than understanding could ever be.
When the girls left, Sethe began to clear the table. She stacked the plates near a basin of water.