AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 1
Gretel slams the door shut, her back pressed against the landing wall, desperately sucking in the air.
"Gretel, don't be dramatic. Don't take it like this," Pol whispers as he opens the door again.
"Don't take it like this," she mutters, the son of a bitch. Four years of fighting tooth and nail. Lately, things haven't been rosy, but she's tried every damn day not to throw it all away. And now, after a day's work, he drops the bomb – he wants a divorce, claims he's fallen for someone else.
"Come on, come in, let's talk," he pleads, looking stressed.
"There's nothing to talk about. You've already decided for both of us," she replies, a couple of tears escaping, pride preventing a full-on breakdown.
"The last thing I wanted was to hurt you, Gretel. You have to believe me."
"Don't talk to me," she says, raising a hand.
She approaches him, shoving him back into the house as he stares, dumbfounded. Pol, misinterpreting her intentions, wonders if she's angling for one last nostalgic romp. But all Gretel wants now is to get him out of her sight. Once he's inside, she grabs her bag and slams the door even harder than before.
Checking the time, she sighs, trying to focus. Gretel is certain her coordination is off – her soon-to-be ex-husband's bombshell caught her so off guard she can't process the information.
Certainly, the weekend won't unfold as planned. In her ideal weekend, Pol arrives on this Friday evening after a week-long business trip. She would have a sumptuous dinner ready while he showers. After catching up on his trip, they'd retreat to the bedroom. She'd debut a new lingerie set, the kind that drives him wild – the very set she's wearing now. They'd make love until exhaustion.
Pol arrives on time, they have dinner after his much-needed shower, according to Gretel, who finds him smelling like a goat. Instead of discussing his trip, he drops the divorce bomb. Out of the blue, no anesthesia. Initially, she thinks he's pulling her leg, but the panic in his eyes tells her that her nearly perfect world has just crumbled.
It's half-past nine in the evening. The logical move would be to go inside, grab some clothes, and crash at her brother's place for a few days – process the chaos that's just erupted and figure out the wreckage of her life. That would be the norm. But right now, all she craves is to drown in one of those historic benders. Thirty-six years of playing by the rules, and where has it landed her? Four years of marriage, another four of dating, and in less than a minute, she's back to square one.
She starts descending the stairs, but after two steps, she realizes her legs are still shaking from the shock and bewilderment of the unexpected bombshell. So, instead of risking a fatal fall on the day she's been dumped, she turns around and hits the elevator.
While descending, she pulls out her phone and searches for her best friend Sonia's number. About to hit the call button, she pauses, releasing a frustrated snort. What she really wants is to hit a bar, spill her guts to Sonia, and drink until her brain shuts down. But Sonia has a little one, and she's not about to ditch motherhood for a night out with her freshly dumped friend. Another pang of desolation hits her – all her friends have their lives figured out, and she's utterly alone.
Screw it, nobody's ruining her plan, she decides. She steps onto the street and starts walking toward downtown. She's not a regular at bars, unsure of the best spot, but considering her day and life have turned into a mess, any dive will do.
After half an hour lost in her thoughts, she nears the commercial area and spots a place that grabs her attention. A couple of groups of people are outside, smoking, holding beer bottles, laughing, and whispering. She glances inside; it seems pretty packed, perfect for blending in. Plus, there's a pool table and a dartboard. Maybe, after a few drinks, she'll muster the courage to challenge a stranger and wipe the floor with them in both games.
Determined, Gretel strides in, feeling the weight of curious gazes. This seems like the typical neighborhood bar where everyone more or less knows each other, and she's the odd one out – the novelty of the night. She settles onto an empty stool at the bar and orders a beer.
"Draft or bottle?" asks a tall, sickly-looking bartender.
"Bottle."
As the bottle lands before her, she takes a long swig and scans the crowd. The music hums at an acceptable volume, not too low to be ignored nor too high to make her want to flee.
Turning back to the bar, discomfort hits as she realizes she's not only the sole woman flying solo but also the lone soul without company. The place isn't packed, but for a Friday night just kicking off, it's surprisingly lively. The beer finishes, and she contemplates leaving.
"Another?" startles the bartender, and Gretel hesitates.
"Yes, please," she says finally, unsure why.
She savors the second beer a bit more. The alcohol begins to numb her, offering a modicum of relief. She thinks of Pol and repeats like a mantra that she'll be better off without him, that she doesn't need him. She never quite liked the apartment they shared, but Pol insisted on buying it because it was close to his work, despite her having to transfer twice to reach hers.
"Selfish bastard," she mutters under her breath before taking another sip, leaving the bottle halfway empty.
She's made up her mind; they'll sell the apartment, and with her share, she'll rent another. Maybe she'll move to a new city and finally open the churro stand she's always dreamed of.
The sharp thud of a briefcase hitting the bar startles her, making her bounce on the stool. Gretel turns and sees a woman around forty settling next to her. A picture-perfect powerful executive, clad in a form-fitting suit that suits her perfectly. Her hair, initially a pristine bun, now sports playful, tousled strands, giving her a mischievous and carefree charm that captivates Gretel.
"Give me a shot of tequila," the woman says after checking her phone, pocketing it with a huff, as if the device is to blame for her crappy day.
The executive turns momentarily, giving Gretel a chance to study her near-perfect features. The woman's stern and furrowed face glances at her for a split second, and Gretel feels like, in that brief moment, she's been thoroughly analyzed and a profile has been crafted.
