at there are people in the world for whom ‘ing along’ is a perpetual process； people whoare destined never to arrive。 For ten years he came along； but when he left her he was the sameman she had married。 He had not changed at all。
He had never made enough money to buy the home she wanted； or anything else she reallywanted； and this had been part of the trouble between them。 It was not that he could not makemoney； but that he would not save it。 He would take half a week’s wages and go out and buysomething he wanted； or something he thought she wanted。 He would e home on Saturdayafternoons； already half drunk； with some useless objects； such a vase； which； it had occurred tohim； she would like to fill with flowers—she who never noticed flowers and who would certainlynever have bought any。 Or a hat； always too expensive or too vulgar； or a ring that looked asthough it had been designed for a whore。 Sometimes it occurred to him to do the Saturday shopping on his way home； so that she would not have to do it； in which case he would buy aturkey； the biggest and most expensive he could find； and several pounds of coffee； it being hisbelief that there was never enough in the house； and enough breakfast cereal to feed an army for amonth。 Such foresight always filled him with such a sense of his own virtue that； as a kind ofreward； he would also buy himself a bottle of whisky； and—lest she should think that he wasdrinking too much—invite some ruffian home to share it with him。 Then they would sit allafternoon in her parlor； playing cards and telling indecent jokes； and making the air foul withwhisky and smoke。 She would sit in the kitchen； cold with rage and staring at the turkey； which；since Frank always bought them unplucked and with the head on； would cost her hours ofexasperating； bloody labor。 Then she would wonder what on earth had possessed her to undergosuch hard trial and travel so far from home； if all she had found was a two…room apartment in a cityshe did not like； and a man yet more childish than any she had known when she was youngSometimes from the parlor where he and his visitor sat he would call her：
‘Hey； Flo！’
And she would not answer。 She hated to be called ‘Flo；’ but he never remembered。 Hemight call her again； and when she did not answer he would e into the kitchen。
‘What’s the matter with you； girl？ Don’t you hear me a…calling you？’
And once when she still made no answer； but sat perfectly still； watching him with bittereyes； he was forced to make verbal recognition that there was something wrong。
‘What’s the matter； old lady？ You mad at me？’
And when in genuine bewilderment he stared at her； head to one side； the faintest of smileson his face； something began to yield in her； something she fought； standing up and snarling at himin a lowered voice so that the visitor might not hear：
‘I wish you’d tell me just how you think we’s going to live all week on a turkey and fivepounds of coffee？’
‘Honey； I ain’t bought nothing we didn’t need！’
She sighed in helpless fury； and felt tears springing to her eyes。
‘I done told you time and again to give me the money when you get paid； and let me do theshopping—’cause you ain’t got the sense that you was born with。’
‘Baby； I wasn’t doing a thing in the world but trying to help you out。 I thought maybe youwanted to go somewhere to…night and you didn’t want to be bothered with no shopping。’
‘Next time you want to do me a favor； you tell me first； you hear？ And how you expect meto go to a show when you done brought this bird home for me to clean？’
‘Honey； I’ll clean it。 It don’t take no time at all。’
He moved to the table where the turkey lay and looked at it critically； as though he wereseeing it for the first time。 Then he looked at her and ginned。 ‘That ain’t nothing to get mad about。’
She began to cry。 ‘I declare I don’t know what gets into you。 Every week the Lord sendsyou go out and do some foolishness。 How do you expect us to get enough money to get away fromhere if you all the time going to be spending your money on foolishness？’
When she cried； he tried to fort her； putting his great hand on her shoulder and kissingher where the tears fell。
‘Baby； I’m sorry。 I thought it’d be a nice surprise。’
‘The only surprise I want from you is to learn some sense！ That’d be a surprise！ You thinkI want to stay around here the rest of my life with these dirty niggers you al the time bring home？’
‘Where you expect us to live； honey； where we ain’t going to be with niggers？’
Then she turned away； looking out of the kitchen window。 It faced an elevated train thatpassed so close she always felt that she might spit in the faces of the flying； staring people。
‘I just don’t like all that ragtag … looks like you think so much of。’
Then there was silence。 Although she had turned her back to him； she felt that he was nolonger smiling and that his eyes； watching her； had darkened。
‘And what kind of man you think you married？’
‘I thought I married a man with some get up and go to him； who didn’t just want to stay onthe bottom all his life！’
‘And what you want me to me to do； Florence？ You want me to turn white？’
This question always filled her with an ecstasy of hatred。 She turned and faced him； and；forgetting that there was someone sitting in the parlor； shouted：
‘You ain’t got to be white to have some self…respect！ You reckon I slave in this house like Ido so you and them mon niggers can sit here every afternoon throwing ashes all over thefloor？’
‘And who’s mon now； Florence？’ he asked； quietly； in the immediate and awful silencein which she recognized her error。 ‘Who’s acting like a mon nigger now？ What you reckon myfriend is sitting there a…thinking？ I declare； I wouldn’t be surprise none if he wasn’t a…thinking：
“Poor Frank； he sure found him a mon wife。” Anyway； he ain’t putting his ashes on the floor—he putting them in the ashtray； just like he knew what a ashtray was。’ She knew that she had hurthim； and that he was angry； by the habit he had at such a moment of running his tongue quicklyand incessantly over his lower lip。 ‘But we’s a…going now； so you can sweep up the parlor and sitthere； if you want to； till the judgment day。’
And he left the kitchen。 She heard murmurs in the parlor； and then the slamming of thedoor。 She remembered； too late； that he had all his money with him。 When he came back； longafter nightfall； and she put him to bed and went through his pockets； she found nothing； or almostnothing； and she sank helplessly to the parlor floor and cried。
When he came back at times like this he would be petulant and penitent。 She would notcreep into bed until she thought that he was sleeping。 But he would not be sleeping。 He would turn as she stretched her legs beneath the blankets； and his arm would reach out； and his breath wouldbe hot and sour…sweet in her face。
‘Sugar…plum； what you want to be so evil with your baby for？ Don’t you know you donemade me go out and get drunk； and I wasn’t a…fixing to do that？ I wanted to take you outsomewhere to…night。’ And； while he spoke； his hand was on her breast； and his moving lipsbrushed her neck。 And this caused such a war in her as could scarcely be endured。 She felt thateverything in existence between them was part of a mighty plan for her humiliation。 She did notwant his touch； and yet she did： she burned with longing and froze with rage。 And she felt that heknew this and inwardly smile to see how easily； on this part of the battlefield； his victory could beassured。 But at the same time she felt that his tenderness； his passion； and his love were real。
‘Let me alone； Frank。 I want to go to sleep。’
‘No you don’t。 You don’t want to go to sleep so soon。 You want me to talk to you a little。
You know how your baby loves to talk。 Listen。’ And he brushed her neck lightly with his tongue。
‘You hear that？’
He waited。 She was silent。
‘Ain’t you got nothing more to say than that？ I better tell you something else。’ And then hecovered her face with kisses； her face； neck； arms； and breasts。
‘You stink of whisky。 Let me alone。’
‘Ah。 I ain’t the only one got a tongue。 What you got to say to this？ And his hand strokedthe inside of her thigh。
‘Stop。’
‘I ain’t going to stop。 This is sweet talk； baby。’
Ten years。 Their battle never ended； they never bought a home。 He died in France。 To…night sheremembered details of those years which she thought she had forgotten； and at last she felt thestony ground of her heart break up； and tears； as difficult and slow as blood； began to tricklethrough her fingers。 This the old woman above her somehow divined； and she cried： ‘Yes； honey。
You just let go； honey。 Let Him bring you low so He can raise you up。’ And was this the way sheshould have gone？ Had she been wrong to fight so hard？ Now she was an old woman； and allalone； and she was going to die。 And she had nothing for all her battles。 It had all e to this： shewas on her face before the altar； crying to God for mercy。 Behind her she heard Gabriel cry： ‘Blessyour name； Jesus！’ and； thinking of him and the high road of holiness he had traveled； her mindswung like a needle； and she thought of Deborah。
Deborah had written her； not many times； but in a rhythm that seemed to remark each crisisin her life with Gabriel； and once； during the time she and Frank were still together； she hadreceived from Deborah a letter that she had still： it was locked to…night in her handbag； which layon the altar。 She had always meant to show this letter to Gabriel one day； but she never had。 Shehad talked with Frank about it late one night while he lay in bed whistling some ragtag tune and she sat before the mirror and rubbed bleaching cream into her skin。 The letter lay open before herand she sighed loudly； to attract Frank’s attention。
He stopped whistling in the middle of a phrase； mentally； she finished it。 ‘What you gotthere； sugar？’ he asked； lazily。
‘It’s a letter from my brother’s wife。’ She stared at her face in the mirror； thinking angrilythat