Empty Pockets Read Online Free

fluttering. She pulled open the door of the booth and went out, not hanging up the phone. She went back and hung it up. She walked over to a couch by the far wall and sat down.
    That son of a bitch, she thought, he’s not going to do this to me. He can’t. I won’t let him.
    She got up and walked over to the ladies’ room. Going inside she caught a glimpse of herself crying in the long mirror above the washbasins. She watched the door shut behind her, then bent over, washed her hands, then her face, taking off all the makeup. She looked at herself carefully, then took out a small plastic bottle of Murine and rinsed out her eyes. Her face waspuffy and red, and she ran the cold-water tap and splashed the water on her cheeks. Then she took a paper towel, soaked it, pressed it across her eyes. After a minute her stomach stopped jumping and she looked at herself. She took out mascara and did her eyes. She penciled on fresh eyebrows and put on a pale shade of lipstick.
    She looked good. Her face was still tan from living in Santa Barbara and her blue eyes looked bright within the shadowed lashes. Her cheeks had color because of the crying. She laughed and took out her hairbrush. Stroking her hair calmed her like it always did.
    She was sitting on a yellow couch by the big windows in the side lobby when Douglas came in. She was leafing through a magazine, and as he approached he noticed her hair was longer, fuller looking, and her face looked good, beautiful, happy.
    Confused, he gave her a kiss, sat down hard on the couch, said he had only a few minutes to stay.
    â€œWell,” she said, “I guess I certainly have made a mess of things, haven’t I?”
    â€œWe both have.”
    â€œIt’s not too late, is it? I mean, I really have changed. Back home I realized that I don’t want to live my parents’ life. I couldn’t stand it there. I suppose you have contempt for me.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI want to stay here. You were right. It is a lovely city. If things don’t work out I’m prepared to stay and get a job. I mean, you can see me whenever you want, but I’ll get a place of my own and stay out of your affairs.”
    â€œYou can stay if you want,” he said. “That’s your right, but I don’t think it would be fair to see you.”
    â€œDon’t you love me?”
    He sat for a moment.
    â€œYes,” he said finally, “but I don’t want to see you.”
    â€œThat doesn’t make sense.
    â€œThere’s someone else.”
    â€œNo,” he said, “there isn’t. It isn’t that simple.”
    She persisted for a moment, then stopped suddenly, thinking of all the mistakes she had made, the time she had slashed his paintings, her frigidity.
    He said he thought the best thing to do was put her on the train again and send her back home.
    â€œI’m sorry, Gwen, I am. I don’t want to be cruel, but I’m sorry. It just would be too difficult to have you here. Difficult for both of us.”
    They sat in silence and then she agreed, saying she had just enough money for train fare. He took out his wallet and gave her forty dollars.
    â€œI don’t need it,” she said.
    â€œTake it.”
    â€œI have enough money. I just wanted to see—”
    â€œTo see what?”
    â€œNothing,” she said, feeling tears just beginning to start up behind her voice. “Would you have someone go upstairs and get my suitcase? Nothing is unpacked. Both my coat and suitcase are lying on the bed.”
    â€œDon’t you want to stay one night, to rest up?”
    â€œNo. I’d like to leave now.”
    He stood up, asking what her room number was. She told him. He walked away toward the desk. She stood up, smoothed her skirt, then walked fast to the ladies’ room. She felt dizzy and once inside she pushed open a toilet door and threw up into the bowl. She wiped her mouth with some paper then