Read Online Shadow Traffic by Richard Burgin - Free Book Online

walking away from me now with my money in her hand.
    â€œOh, I guess you do need the money, after all,” I said, laughing a little now myself.
    â€œNo, I don’t want your money,” she said, turning and walking after me and soon giving me a different combination of coins of her own.
    â€œI’m sorry. I guess I didn’t hear you before. What did you want?”
    â€œI asked you if you knew where the Spiritual Church is?”
    â€œNo, I’m sorry, I’m not from around here,” I said, once more walking slowly away.
    â€œI probably gave you more money back than you gave me,” she noted.
    That stopped me in my tracks, made me turn and walk back to her again.
    â€œObviously neither of us works in a bank. Why don’t you let me buy you something to eat or at least a drink,” I said, surprised by my sudden invitation as I pointed to the pub across the street. “My name’s Gerry.”
    She uttered some pleasantry in return, but I could see she was nervous. She had one of those transparent faces that clearly revealed when she was thinking something over, as she was then, registering all the pros and cons of accepting my invitation.
    â€œI was trying to get to the church, but I’ve only been there once before and now I’ve lost my way and no one seems to know where it is. I suppose I’ll miss the service anyway by now. My name’s Paulette,” she said, extending her delicate white hand to shake.
    â€œIf I go to a pub with you, will you expect me to have an alcoholic drink?” she asked a moment later.
    â€œI won’t have any expectations one way or another. It’s just a place where we could talk,” I said, rather smoothly, I thought, again to my surprise. A car approached us then, which finally convinced her to get off the street, fortunately on the same sidewalk that I’d chosen.
    â€œIs this something you do quite often?” she said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œAsk women you’ve just met to go to pubs with you?”
    â€œNo, I don’t have a pattern. Why do women always assume that men have a pattern?”
    â€œThey do, you know, behave in patterns. It’s merely a question of when the woman is able to unearth it.”
    â€œYou make it sound like women are all archaeologists. Is there some kind of school where they get their training, I hope?”
    Finally she laughed.
    â€œOK, then, since you’ve made me laugh I suppose I can go to your pub with you.”
    â€œFine,” I said, wondering myself why her decision pleased me to the extent it did.
    Once in the pub my veneer of self-confidence didn’t last long. There are so many awkward things involved when you eat a meal with someone you’ve just met. I think Paulette felt the same thing. She became quiet most of the time, then laughed excessively at others. I quickly had two drinks, and before I was halfway through the first she changed her mind and had a beer herself.
    I’d been drinking almost every night since my father died and hoped I wouldn’t start in about him and end up losing it. But I needn’t have worried because Paulette soon began talking about the man who’d just left her.
    â€œIt wasn’t just the time I lost,” she said, her earnest dark eyes tearing up, “I’m young enough to have more of that. It was what he did to my trust that I’ll never get over, I don’t think, what he did to my heart.”
    That made me think of my father, for some reason, and I struggled to keep my own emotions under control. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” I said, hoping for a variety of reasons that she wouldn’t.
    â€œMen don’t like to hear those things.”
    True enough, I thought, thinking I was temporarily off thehook. Of course, I pretended to want to know, realizing I was already starting to like her.
    â€œHe betrayed me is what it amounts to. He left me for another