These Boots Weren't Made for Walking Read Free

impeccably neat, just as he was and just the way he liked everything to be.
    “Now,” he said with a slight edge to his voice, “as in Tm downstairs.’ Right now, as in Tm standing on the street and ready to come up,’ Cassie.” He sounded seriously irritated, and I wondered just who was the one going through a difficult time right now. Who was the one in need of some handholding and compassion today?
    “Oh, well, come on up then.” I slammed down the phone and dashed directly to the bathroom, tripping over a yellow ducky slipper and painfully stubbing my toe on the doorframe as I went. There I stood before the mirror, staring at myself in horror as I took my pathetic inventory. No makeup; blotchy skin from too much crying; dark circles under bloodshot eyes—a combination of old mascara and sleepless nights; stringy, mousy brown hair that hadn't been washed in days. I still wore the same pink fleece bathrobe I'd put on…well, I wasn't sure how long ago. Two days maybe?
    I spotted some gray sweats on the bathroom floor, right where I'd dropped them before opting for the more comfy bathrobe. The sweats weren't exactly clean, but they probably smelled better thanthe skanky robe, so I jerked them on. It was about then that I heard Eric knocking loudly on my door and calling my narrie as if he'd been there for a long time. I grabbed my lip gloss and smeared some on, hoping that it was landing somewhere near my mouth as I scrambled for the door, kicking shoes and debris out of the way as I went. Amazing how a small apartment can get so totaled with just a few days of reckless living. Kind of like my life.
    “Eric,” I said, trying to appear calm and controlled as I opened the door for my impeccable boyfriend. As usual, every neatly cut blond hair was in its place, and his boyish face was more smoothly shaved than my legs. Somehow this picture-perfect image gave me a sense of comfort. Perhaps the universe hadn't recently spun out of control after all. Then again, there was something in his clear blue eyes that I couldn't quite read. Hopefully it was simply pity. I could've used a truckload about then.
    “Cassie?” His pale brows lifted in alarm as his eyes darted around, obviously taking in the chaos behind me.
    “As you can see, I really wasn't expecting you just now.” He frowned. “Sorry to catch you at a bad time.” I stepped back and opened the door wider, kicking a
People
magazine out of the way. It always bugged him that I “willingly wasted” my mind and money “on that kind of trash.” But he spared me the lecture. I grabbed a splayed newspaper off my futon, which doubles as a couch, only to reveal a dirty bra underneath. I quickly stuffed that into my sweatshirt pocket and pitched the rumpled newspaper under the coffee table as I nodded toward thenow-cleared futon. Clear except for the cat hair, which Eric wouldn't appreciate either. “Want to sit down?”
    “No. Let's just keep this brief, okay?”
    “Okay.” I tried again to read his face, although it was rather expressionless. Still, I could tell by the tone of his voice and something else—like a buzzing inside of me, an alarm—that all was not well. Somehow I knew this wasn't going to be good.
    “I thought about telling you this on the phone, but I've heard that's the loser way to handle it. So I decided to come and see you in person.” He cleared his throat. “The reason you haven't heard from me for the last few days is because, well, there's no easy way to put this. Cassie, I've decided we need to break up.”
    “We need to break up?” I echoed meekly. “You've decided?”
    “Yeah. I know this must seem pretty poor timing, I mean, especially after losing your job and everything, but the truth is, it's been coming for a while.”
    “For a while?” I sounded like a dimwitted parrot, but it was the best I could do. I was surprised that I was still standing since I was pretty sure the floor was swaying slightly.
    He nodded with a sad