One Look At You Read Online Free PDF

personality, but…”
    I sigh. “Your great personality. Don’t you mean your prickly personality?” I tease her.
    “True,” she readily admits. “But it’s men who’ve turned me into this impatient, crabby bitch.”
    “Oh, Mel. Don’t worry. We love you, warts and all,” Jen says.
    “Humph!” She breaks out into a smile. With Melanie that’s a rare moment, so we rush to the sofa to hug her. “Get off me, bitches. Your sunny dispositions are contagious,” she jokes.
    “Good! You just don’t know it, but you’re even lovelier when you’re not your grumpy self.” She bursts out laughing at my backhanded compliment.
    “You know what, screw it! Hand me those crackers.” We give her a few on a napkin and she starts to devour them. “Soda in the fridge?”
    Jen gets up to grab three cans. “Here, Melanie, ice-cold to match your icy exterior,” she says with a grin.
    “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. By the way, this hummus is terrific. If only you had pita bread,” she says wistfully.
    “Uh-oh, are you slowly transforming before our very eyes?” I ask with a hint of sarcasm.
    “I’m just too tired today, so I’m letting go. Now, tomorrow, I’ll probably be back to my normal ways,” she says.
    “One of these days, if you’re not careful, you may become human. Think of what fun that will be,” Jen continues the banter.
    Melanie throws one of the pillows at Jen and a playful pillow fight ensues. Melanie hits me hard with one of the firmer throw pillows and I momentarily lose my balance.
    “Oh my God, are you okay?” Jen immediately fusses over me.
    “It’s just a pillow!” Melanie says exasperatedly.
    “I know, but she had a blackout, and I was scared …” her voice peters off as she sees me motioning for her to stop talking.
    “What are you guys talking about?” Melanie looks utterly lost.
    Well, since Jen let the cat out of the bag, I have to fess up. “Remember last Saturday at the party?” Melanie nods, still looking baffled.
    “You ended up in bed with that hot guy, I know,” Melanie says.
    “Actually, you don’t, and neither do I,” I say to add to her confusion.
    “What the hell are you saying?”
    “I woke up the next day in bed with a stranger. I kind of remember now that he was at the bar, and then later on asked me to dance with him. But I don’t remember any of the details. I don’t remember actually dancing with him or even going up to his hotel room.”
    “You actually had a blackout?” she asks.
    “Yes, and before you start castigating me, I know it’s all my fault. I should have stopped drinking after one glass. I should have stuck close to you guys. I should have…”
    “Stop it!” she says, glaring at me. “I would never blame you. The drinking maybe, because we all know you hardly drink and you should have known better. But, blackouts are rare. Do you remember anything at all?” she asks, the corners of her mouth drawn down.
    I am touched, and frankly, taken aback by the solicitude she’s showing. I guess there haven’t been many times in the years I’ve known her when she’s had to sympathize with my plight. “Well, an image flashed before me when Jen was describing what she observed that night. But, other than that, not really. Every night I get a headache, trying so hard to recall what took place. I come up empty-handed.”
    “I think what you had was a kind of fragmentary blackout. It’s not like your entire memory was wiped out. Some of it may still be there, but you won’t remember it all at the same time,” Melanie seems to know a lot about the topic.
    “How do you know so much about this?” I’m half-afraid to ask.
    “I’ve never had it happen, but a co-worker of mine confided in me about a similar experience. I did further research because I wanted to know a little more. In her case, she was able to piece together at least fifty percent of what happened.”
    “How? Tell me,” I demand.
    “Apparently,