Final Destination III Read Online Free PDF

love.”
    Tears filled my eyes. Mí amigo was right as usual. And then I dropped the bomb. “Catherine is his ex-wife.”
    Few things shocked Fernando; he almost fell off his bar stool. “Hay caramba!”
    The tsunami building behind my eyes broke loose. Tears raged down my cheeks. “Fernando, she threatened to fire me if I didn’t stop seeing him.”
    “Las sendeces!” said an incensed Fernando. “That’s harassment. You’ve got to talk to human resources. Pronto!”
    I finished my second margarita and ordered yet another. “I can’t. She’ll twist and turn things around, and I’ll end up losing my job. I won’t be able to pay for my mother’s treatments!”
    “What do you mean?” asked a wide-eyed Fernando.
    I sobbed. “Oh, Fernando, my mother’s insurance company is no longer willing to cover her medical expenses.”
    “Oh, pobrecita !” said Fernando, his voice full of compassion. He gave me a bear hug. It didn’t help me feel better.
    Recklessly, I ordered one more margarita, despite Fernando’s protest, and downed it. Nausea rose to my chest and the room began to spin. There wasn’t one Fernando in front of me—but two!
    I started to sway on my chair. “Mí amor , are you okay?” asked my concerned friend.
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Vámanos.”
    I could barely stand up. Letting me lean on him, Fernando led me out of the bar. The world around me was spinning out of control, the sounds of the crowd, a dull cacophony.
    Once outside, I spilled my guts. The waves of nausea kept coming and coming. Even when there was nothing left inside me, I kept vomiting. I had never been drunk in my entire life. Never. The loss of my Trainman had driven me to drink. Driven me to behavior that had no right being part of my being.
    Fernando held my clammy hand and hailed a cab. The next thing I knew it was morning. And I was stark naked in my bed.

3

    M Y FOUL-TASTING TONGUE WAS PASTED to my parched palate, and my headed pounded. I had no recollection of how I got to my apartment. The last thing I remembered was Fernando hailing a cab. And I think I threw up a lot. Oh God! My fucked-up life had turned me into a drunken fool. Thank goodness, Fernando was the kind of friend who was as forgiving as he was faithful. I was relieved, however, that I was taking the day off from work to visit my mother. I wouldn’t have to face him. And I wouldn’t have to face the wicked bitch. On Monday, I would go to human resources. No, I wasn’t going to file harassment charges—that was too risky—but I was going to put in a request for a transfer. It wouldn’t win me back the heart of my beloved Trainman, but at least, it would give my life a glimmer of sanity.
    Wrapping the sheet around me, I staggered out of bed into the kitchen. Jo-Jo was already on the counter, waiting to be fed. After opening a can of cat food and pouring him some milk, I made myself some much needed coffee and took a couple of Advils for my splitting headache.
    Even after the coffee, Advils, and a long, cold shower, I was still in slow-mo. Getting dressed was an effort. After lacing up my combat boots, I grabbed my messenger bag and trudged down the three flights of stairs to the street. On the way, I passed Mrs. Blumberg. She shook an index finger at me.
    “I saw you with another man last night. You’re gonna getch’ya self a trans-sexually transmitted disease.”
    I sighed. I was in no mood for conversation. Instead of responding to Mrs. Blumberg’s off-colorcomment, I told her I was off to see my mother.
    “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
    Mrs. Blumberg scuttled back to her apartment and returned with a large baggie full of cookies.
    “My famous rugelach . I baked them this morning. Tell her they’re from me and that I’ll be at shul tonight praying for her.”
    With a wistful smile that I couldn’t help, I took the bag of pastries and slipped it into my messenger bag. “Thanks, Mrs. Blumberg. She’ll appreciate these… and your