Page 4 of Implode

Sidling up next to her man, Deena leans into his ear. “Call the lawyer, Ethan. Enough is enough.” Her words aren’t even muffled, despite her putting her hand near her mouth to pretend to shield them from my ears.

“You are only serving as the butt plug to his asshole. But I guess you do belong together.” Not sure if she can stand any closer to him without falling over.

“Keep it up, Claire,” Ethan finally says with warning in his tone, “and I’ll sue you for harassment and for assault.”

My mouth opens and then quickly closes. He cannot be serious. Is that what Deena meant by telling him to lawyer up? “What did I ever see in you?”

“A huge bank account. Obviously,” Deena answers for him. She gives me a smug smirk and steps closer to her man for added emphasis that he is hers. She can have him. I don’t need that type of negativity in my life.

I have nothing else to say to them. I am done with this toxicity. I turn to my stylist. “Thank you so much. I love my new hair. Let’s go, Blake.” I pull Blake out of the salon and drag him down the street until we are out of sight. “I hate him so bad. Lying cheating bastard.”

“I am proud of you.”

“Me?”

“Yup. You walked out with dignity, and no one needed to call the cops. That is progress.”

“I wanted to mace his face,” I grumble. “Shave his head bald and tweeze out all of Deena’s eyelashes.”

“Ouch!” Blake winces. “You need to keep your eyes to the sun. I didn’t just stage an intervention and a makeover for you to undo all of the good we have done on your spirit today.”

I take a few cleansing breaths and close my eyes. I tilt my head toward the sun and allow the warmth to surround me.Look toward the sun, Claire. I imagine my vision board in my head of the goals I would like to accomplish for myself. I cannot get things done by sulking or sitting around and waiting for opportunities to land in my lap.

“I’m getting a tattoo.”

“Say what?” Blake asks, shaking my shoulders. “Are you being serious? Because I really need you to be serious right now.” He snaps his fingers a few times in front of my face. “Or is this just one of those figurative representations? Like the washable kind?”

“A real one.”

Blake holds his hands up for me to stop talking. “Let me relish this moment for a second.”

“Okay, how—”

“Quit rushing it!” He turns around so his back is to me and lets out a “squeeeeeee.”

I wait until he is facing me again, laughing over his reaction. I think he is more excited about this than I am, and I’m pretty dang excited. “I have always wanted to do it. So, why not today?”

Blake thinks about it for a second and then eagerly shakes his head. “You promise not to pass out?”

“No guarantees. I am terrified.”

“Over the pain?”

I shake my head. “No. I am scared the artist will mess up and it will turn out lame.”

Blake laughs. “Then, there’s only one place I suggest going…”

“Ink Coat?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, let’s do the damn thing before I change my mind.”

* * *

“There’s really only one last thing to do to commemorate this revenge body makeover and moving forward ritual,” Blake says, as we eat ice cream cones on the street of Portland from a local shop specializing in all-natural ingredients. We just finished up at Ink Coat and are on the celebration kick.

I’m surprised I went through with my tiny tattoo. I have wanted one for so long but kept putting it off. I’m tired of placing my desires last on the list. I am a one-woman show now. I’m done compromising my happiness for others.

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