Come Undone Read Online Free PDF

It was a time when responsibility was just another word in
the dictionary. Where had the time gone? Things were different now, there was
no doubt. But something in particular felt amiss. With the onset of the new
season, I had that ominous feeling of impending change, although I couldn’t
identify what or why that might be.
    The man from the theater’s presence was static cling on my skin. I
still could not recall the exact details of his face, or even the way he was
dressed. But those eyes, that warmth, that inexplicable feeling. They were the
things I couldn’t seem to shake. Had he felt it too? And what had he seen in my
eyes?
    “Dirty martini,” Gretchen’s voice cut into my thoughts.
           “And
for you?” the bartender asked. “Wait, let me guess . . . Pomegranate margarita,
on the rocks, no salt.”
           “What
makes you say that?” I asked with a small smile. Gretchen and I had encountered
a flirtatious bartender or two in our time.
           “Pretty
girls always want pomegranate.”
           Gretchen’s
huff did not go unnoticed by either of us. I leaned off the bar, suddenly
embarrassed by his forwardness. “I’ll have a Guinness.”
    He raised his eyebrows at me and
nodded.
    “And make mine extra dirty,” Gretchen hissed. I stifled a laugh
and went to find a table.
    “John has a new girlfriend,” Gretchen divulged once we had our
drinks. I rolled my eyes and pressed her for more information. “Don’t be
jealous,” she prefaced, referring to the playful crush her brother had harbored
for me since we were kids. “She’s the new receptionist at his office so it’s
totally under-wraps. John’s typical type: blonde, young and one crayon short of
a box.”
    “Why?” I laughed loudly. “John is so sweet and obviously a total
catch . . . . How come he gets hung up on these bimbos?”
    “I’m sure a short therapy session would reveal that it’s got a
little something to do with the divorce. When my mom left, he never really
forgave her for it. If your parents - ”
    “Cheers!” I cut her off, raising my glass. “It’s happy hour,
Gretch, not depressed wallowing hour.”
    “Oh,” she said, grabbing her drink. “Cheers!”
    I welcomed the bitter alcohol as it slid down my throat.
           “By
the way . . . Guinness?” she asked. “Never once, since we started drinking in
high school, have I seen you drink that.”
           I
shrugged. “I panicked. I was going to order pomegranate.”
           Between
laughs, she pointed at the table. “Your phone.”
     
    Apr 2, 2012 6:17 PM
    Where are you?
     
    The curtness of Bill’s text message wasn’t lost on me. I told him
Lucy had called a last minute happy hour.
     
    Apr
2, 2012 6:21 PM
    Didn’t
we just see them?
     
    Quickly, I tapped out a response.
     
    Apr
2, 2012 6:22 PM
    She
said it’s 911. Won’t be long.
     
    I looked up to find Gretchen also expertly navigating her
smartphone.
    “Where is that girl?” I asked. “She’s usually the early one.” As
if on cue, Lucy appeared through the doorway. She spotted us right away and
rushed over, almost breaking into a run. When she reached the high top, she
took a deep breath, sat down calmly and grabbed the plastic happy hour menu
from the table. Her face turned many shades of red as she sat unmoving, letting
us gawk at her.
    “What is it?” I pressed. Lucy held the menu up to her face,
wiggled her left hand and then peered at us with smiling eyes. My mouth dropped.
“Andrew proposed?” I asked, staring at the conspicuous ring.
    “Yes. Yes! Last night!” Lucy squealed.
    “What?” we exclaimed in unison.
    “You’ve withheld this all day?” Gretchen was indignant.
    “Well I wasn’t going to tell you over the phone!”
    “How did it happen?” Gretchen demanded.
    “So Sunday is our day, right? He was acting strange all afternoon,
and then he asked if I wanted to go see a movie. Normally we stay in on Sundays,
but he said he