words were coming out in a torrent. “I’m going to stop drinking and…”
“Cathy, it’s over. I want a divorce.”
The words hit her like a series of blows to the stomach. She stood there, clamping her
jaw tight so that she would not retch, trying to fight down the bile that rose in her throat.
“Larry,” she said, speaking slowly to keep her voice from trembling, “I don’t blame you
for the way you feel. A lot of it is my fault—maybe most of it—but it’s going to be
different. I’m going to change—I mean really change.” She held out her hand pleadingly.
“All I ask is a chance.”
Larry turned to face her and his dark eyes were cold and contemptuous. “I’m in love
with someone else. All I want from you is a divorce.”
Catherine stood there a long moment, then turned and walked back into the living
room and sat on the couch, looking at a Greek fashion magazine while he finished
packing. She heard Larry’s voice saying, “My attorney will be in touch with you” and then
the slam of a door. Catherine sat there carefully turning the pages of the magazine, and
when she had come to the end she set it down neatly in the center of the table, went into
the bathroom, opened the medicine chest, took out a razor blade and slashed her wrists.