"Zenna Henderson - Pilgrimage2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Henderson Zenna)

"Well, which one did you pick?" The woman leaned over.
"Well!" She drew an indignant breath. "That's my driver's license! I didn't
say snoop!" The billfold was snatched away! and the reading light snapped off.
There was a good deal of flouncing and muttering from the adjoining seat
before quiet descended.
The hum of the bus was hypnotic and Lea sank back into her apathy, except for
a tiny point of discomfort that kept jabbing her consciousness. The next stop
she'd have to do something. Her ticket went no farther. Then what? Another
decision to make. And all she wanted was nothing-nothing. And all she had was
nothing-nothing. Why did she have to do anything? Why couldn't she just not-?
She leaned her forehead against the glass, dissolving the nebulous reflection
of herself, and stared into the darkness. Helpless against habit, she began
to fit her aching thoughts hack into the old ruts, the old footprints leading
to complete futility-leading into the dark nothingness. She caught her breath
and fought against the horrifying-threatening . . .
All the lights in the bus flicked on and there was a sleepy stirring murmur.
The scattered lights of the outskirts of town slid past the slowing bus.
It was a small town. Lea couldn't even remember the name of it. She didn't
even know which way she turned when she went out the station door. She walked
away from the bus depot, her feet swift and silent on the cracked sidewalk,
her body appreciating the swinging rhythm of the walk after the long hours of
inactivity. Her mind was still circling blindly, unnoticing, uncaring,
unconcerned.
The business district died out thinly and Lea was walking up an incline. The
walk leveled and after a while she wavered into a railing. She clutched at it,
waiting for a faintness to go away. She looked out and down into darkness.
"'It's a bridge!" she thought. "Over a river." Gladness flared up in her.
"It's the answer," she exulted. "This is it. After this-nothing!" She leaned
her elbows on the railing, framing her chin and cheeks with her hands, her
eyes on the darkness below, a darkness so complete that not even a ripple
caught a glow from the bridge lights.
The familiar, so reasonable voice was speaking again. Pain like this should
be let go of. Just a momentary discomfort and it ends. No more breathing, no
more thinking, no aching, no blind longing for anything. Lea moved along the
walk, her hand brushing the railing. "I can stand it now," she thought, "Now
that I know there is an end. I can stand to live a minute or so longer-to say
good-by." Her shoulders shook and she felt the choke of laughter in her
throat. Good-by? To whom? Who'd even notice she was gone? One ripple stilled
in all a stormy sea. Let the quiet water take her breathing. Let its
impersonal kindness hide her-dissolve her-so no one would ever be able to sigh
and say, That was Lea. Oh, blessed water!
There was no reason not to. She found herself defending her action as though
someone had questioned it. "Look," she thought. "I've told you so many times.
There's no reason to go on. I could stand it when futility wrapped around me
occasionally, but don't you remember? Remember the morning I sat there
dressing, one shoe off and one shoe on, and couldn't think of one good valid
reason why I should put the other shoe on? Not one reason! To finish dressing?
Why? Because I had to work? Why? To earn a living? Why? To get something to
eat? Why? To keep from starving to death? Why? because you have to live! Why?
Why? Why!