Cutting through Columbus Park on the east side of downtown Boston, she slowed her pace to a leisurely stroll to ensure she blended in with the many other patrons sauntering this way and that. She instantly noticed the fog from her breath thrusting into the nighttime sky.
An obvious sign of exertion. And, she admitted to herself, the result of a fulfilling exhilaration she hadn’t experienced in years. She stuck her hands into her pockets of her North Face jacket and focused on reducing the cadence of her air intake.
Taking in the scene, she spotted treetops speckled with remnants of a few flurries that had begun to fall. It might be seventy degrees in Coronado, California, or even eighty in Basra, Iraq, but winter treated Boston like its bitch. It was merciless and unforgiving.
Just like her.
The biting wind hurled invisible spears off the Atlantic. She turned her face in that direction, and her eyes rolled shut as she emptied her lungs. In a near-hypnotic state, a quick playback of what she’d just accomplished flashed through her mind, jolting her back to the present. She couldn’t help but feel a tingle permeate her core.
It was almost orgasmic.
She quivered, parting her lips for a brief moment. Damn, this feels good.
A scream sliced the frigid air, and she spun on her heels while slapping at her front pocket.
With her adrenaline spigot fully open, her body fell into its natural position, prepared to take on any aggressive action. Her hand fingered the girth of the instrument through the Velcro pocket.
“Oh my God, Paul. What have you done?” A squirming fashionista jumped up and down, her curled locks bouncing off her shoulders, a look of shock and awe covering her face.
The woman instantly relaxed her muscles and took a casual stance.
Thankfully, no one had noticed her assertive response. As she glanced around, a few park dwellers had stopped to take in the scene.
A man, presumably Paul, had dropped to one knee. He held a tiny box in his hands. He lifted his Hollywood chin as if he were ready for someone to start filming.
Fuckin’ A. That’s exactly what happened. Four, five, maybe six phones came out and started recording this marriage proposal. A special moment not to be forgotten.
It made her want to vomit in her own mouth.
Well, Paul would soon develop temporary amnesia about the proposal the next time a piece of ass floated by. That was how the male brain behaved. The woman in the North Face jacket knew this all too well. She had firsthand knowledge.
And her hands-on experience in this department is what got this party started, right? As she ticked off names and incidents, it was difficult to really nail down what had initiated this unrelenting urge to leave her mark, to right a wrong. Over and over again.
“Karma, you’re my best friend, my confidante, my biggest supporter, and the greatest lover any man could ever wish for.”
What kind of name is Karma?
The twenty-something bobblehead, wearing a red beret and matching Berber coat, whinnied like a horse.
“Paul…I…what’s in that box?” Giggling uncontrollably, the Barbie doll couldn’t help but paw at the box. He playfully gave her a stiff-arm and moved the box to his chest.
“Hold on. There’s more.”
“There can’t be more. I don’t need more,” she said in a breathy tone while giggling at the same time.
“But I can’t help what you’ve done to my life. You truly are the wind that holds up my wings.”
A smattering of oohs and ahhs from the crowd. The woman literally tasted bile in the back of her throat.
“Karma Elizabeth Macy, will you make me the happiest guy in this solar system and be my partner in crime for the rest of our lives?”
He bowed his head as if he were standing before royalty or the Virgin Mary. And the woman knew this bimbo was neither.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
He peeled open the box, and her amber eyes nearly exploded. The moment he slipped the stone on her finger, she jumped his bones, wrapping her legs around Paul’s waist until her boots clapped together. The pair smooched, and the crowd applauded and whistled.
The North Face woman’s mouth was suddenly parched, and she could feel a burning sensation pulsating in her chest. Turning away from the frivolity, she barreled through a horde of gawkers, many of whom were still cheering the young couple.
Once free, she moved toward the darkened sea and sucked in the salty air, only a few twinkles of white and red lights illuminating the harbor.
By the time she reached the end of the park, her breathing had calmed and her mind regained its focus. She approached a food truck that was selling fresh lobster, where she heard one man berating another.
“You piece of shit, this is my truck, and this is my business. You’re nothing more than a throw-away tissue.” The taller man with a widow’s peak bumped his chest against the shorter guy, who turned his cap around.
“Fuck you, Marv. I came up with the idea.” His face was blue and red at the same time.
“Take your idea and get the hell out of my truck.”
“Gladly.” The smaller guy ripped off his apron and tossed it out of the truck, landing it at the woman’s feet. Then he stomped out the side of the truck, leaving a trail of expletives.
“You want something?” The man who could have doubled as Dracula was shouting at her.
She almost laughed.
“Me? I’ve got everything I need.”
“Good, ’cause I’m closing up shop. Fuckin’ prick,” he said to himself, shuffling out of the truck.
She walked over the apron on the ground and kept moving, her gaze returning to the water.
Witnessing the young couple’s proposal was meant to be, as pathetic as it was to watch. It reminded her how the seed of torment had sprouted and devoured her soul. But, she acknowledged, she was a modern woman. One who continued to develop, even as society devolved around her. And that had only brought more clarity. A victim no longer, she could finally envision her path to ultimate fulfillment.
Her own laughter filled the air, then disappeared into the flurried sky. Her checklist had just grown tenfold, and she couldn’t wait to let the world see her from the inside out.
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