Into Thin Air Read Online Free PDF Page A

just waiting by the curb. But with every step the front door seemed to recede instead of get closer, and for a moment she began to panic. She forced herself to go faster, she lunged forward and gripped the front door and spun through, and as soon as she was outside the hospital, she wanted to lie right down on the tarry sidewalk and sleep. Instead she braced her hand against the railing and then lifted her hand to hail a cab.
    It was the middle of the day, and everything hurt. She slid into the cab, letting her head fall back against the back seat, which was taped up with blue vinyl. “Train station,” she said, resting both hands on her stomach.
    The driver was hunched around the steering wheel. When she glanced up at the rearview mirror she caught his eyes slanting with fury at her. He drove like a crazy person, toppling orange road barriers as he swerved past, dipping and slicing in. She pulled the cap down over her hair; she put on a pair of sunglasses. She watched as the road disappeared behind her. She rummaged in her purse to get the money ready for the fare so she wouldn’t waste a second, and when the cab finally pulled into the train station, she stuffed bills into his hand and pushed herself out into the light and noise.
    She went to the first ticket window she saw. What did it matter where she went as long as it was miles away? “What’s leaving right now?” she asked the ticket clerk, ignoring the way he raised one brow at her. “Come on, what?” she said hoarsely. “Richmond,” he told her, taking his time, “five minutes, track two,” She fished out her money, grabbed for the ticket, and then she was pushing her way as best she could through the crowd that seemed to shove around her, barring her path. Track two.
    There was a throng of people already climbing down the stairs toward the train, kissing good-byes, calling and waving, and Lee blended herself among them. If she cried now, no one would think anything was funny. No one would think anything other than that she was already homesick for someone or something she was leaving behind. She stepped aboard the Richmond train, moving to the very back, by the window, sinking low on her seat, her cap pulled low. “Don’t sit beside me, pass by, pass by,” Lee murmured to the people threading past and the seat beside her remained empty.
    She didn’t start to relax until the train pulled out of the station, and then, slowly, slowly, Jim and the baby began to recede, their clamoring, blaming voices growing faint. She tugged off her wedding band and held it up to the light. When she was in high school, they had forced all the girls to take home economics. “This is the most important course you will ever take,” her teacher had told the class. “Don’t talk to me about science or math. Forget history. You really think it matters who won the War of 1812? Do you know? I’m not one bit ashamed to admit I don’t. You think anyone really cares? This class gets you on your way to the only degree there is—the one you girls are born for.” She paused dramatically and then scrawled it across the length of the blackboard. “Your M-R-S,” she said, underlining each letter triumphantly. Mrs. Haynes, her teacher’s name was, and she told them she had gotten her “degree” with her very first boyfriend, which just went to show you how much she knew her stuff. She was only in her twenties and already had three kids and helmet-shaped hair that was dyed a matte black. She used to lecture the class on beauty tips guaranteed to land and keep a husband. Cold cream in white gloves worn to bed every night. Lemon juice rinsed through your hair. “It’s good to be a little secretive,” she had told the class, “keep up a little mystery.” Lee flipped the ring in her hand. She bet she could get some money for it.
    She slept all the way to Richmond, deep and