Mr. Commitment Read Online Free PDF Page A

was in turn glowering at Charlie’s recently abandoned shoes.
    Charlie immediately picked up on the bad vibes that were issuing forth from his wife like a laser beam, tidied away his shoes and briefcase, walked over to the sofa and attempted to kiss Vernie hello. He failed. She glared at him, put her mug of tea down firmly on the coffee table that she never lets anyone put anything down on without a coaster, and in one smooth movement huffed her way out of the room slamming the door behind her.
    Charlie tutted quietly to himself and sat down.
    “What’ve you done?” I asked as Vernie banged her way loudly up the stairs. “Murdered someone? Forgotten her birthday? Started wearing her underwear again?”
    “Long story,” said Charlie, which was coded Charlie-speak for “Let’s talk about something else.” He took off his suit jacket and slumped onto the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table. “Just visiting, were you?”
    “No,” I said flatly. “Woman trouble.”
    “Oh” was Charlie’s disdainful reply. “You too. Which kind?”
    “The kind where Mel wants to get married.”
    “Oh.”
    “Oh indeed.” I stopped and mulled over a thought for a minute. Here I was sitting with a married man. Someone from my team who had made The Big Decision and lived to tell the tale. Surely he could give me some advice. “What was it that made you get married, Charlie?”
    He frowned and loosened his tie. “Hang on a sec.” He disappeared out of the room for a few moments and returned with a can of Coke. “Where were we?”
    “You were telling me why you got married.”
    “You want the truth?”
    “No,” I said. “I was after complete and utter lies but the truth will do.”
    He ignored my attempt at biting sarcasm and took a sip of his drink. “I knew she was the one,” he said matter-of-factly, as if love was an equation to which he’d worked out the solution. The scientific edge to his voice I’m sure was for my benefit. “Yes,” it said, “we are talking about emotions but in a logical non-soppy way, so it doesn’t count.” “She was the right one for me. Simple as that.” He drained the can in four huge gulps and set it on the table next to Vernie’s half-drunk tea.
    “Is that all it takes?”
    “That’s all it took for me. But you know. Different strokes and all that.”
    “Yeah, I suppose,” I said despondently. “Thing is . . .” I stopped and attempted to add Charlie’s logical tone to my voice. “Thing is I love Mel. I don’t want anyone else. So why is this marriage thing freaking me out so much?”
    Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “Only you know that, mate.” He picked up the TV remote control from the coffee table and started browsing through the channels systematically—thirty seconds and then he’d move on.
    “How did you ask Vernie to marry you?” I asked, as BBC2 was turning into ITV. “Did you do something special or did you just come out with it?”
    Charlie just raised his eyebrows warily as if his refusal to answer was down to the Official Secrets Act rather than embarrassment. “I forget now. It was a long time ago.”
    It was actually four years ago and Charlie hadn’t forgotten, he just didn’t want to tell me. Fortunately, I already knew and was just pulling his plonker for the sheer pleasure of it. The manner of his proposal was meant to be top secret, but I knew because Vernie had told Mel and Mel in turn had told me, saying, “It’s the most beautiful thing ever.” Apparently, Charlie had told Vernie he was taking her away for the weekend as a surprise. She was expecting somewhere like the Lake District at the very best, so she must have been ecstatic when they ended up in New York. On their first day in the Big Apple he took her to the top of the Empire State Building, and as she looked through the twenty-five-cents telescope on to Central Park he put a piece of paper at the end of it with the words “Will you marry me?” on it and she burst into