On the way to this meeting, Robert had a feeling that something unusual was waiting for him.
The hunch was not wrong; when he saw Martha at the rink, he felt a strong excitement in his chest. A thought similar to a ringing arrow pierced him with a sharp tip and passed clean through—Destiny! Here it is! My destiny is Martha. Simple and clear as day, this beautiful September day.
He recognized Martha at once, though he never saw her until now. Holding her hands at the waist, she glided across the ice of the artificial open rink in Bryant Park. She was dressed in a light sports jacket and black, tight leggings around her slender legs, which appeared even longer with the skates.
God, how she skates! Swoosh! The blades, having scratched the ice at the bend, caused a splatter of small needles. It was not a woman–but an amphora on skates! The legs are strong, tight. And the ass—forgive me, oh Lord!—although covered by tights and a jacket, oh how it dances and how it sings!
Martha was focused on herself. As if she had no business with other skaters or observers standing at the sides. It seems she was trying to relax—to take a deep breath, and then to exhale from her chest all the bitterness set in by her husband’s illness, which chopped down their family tree. However, maybe that family tree was not that strong. Who knows?
Swoosh! She almost tumbled on the side of the rink next to Robert, who, as they agreed, was holding Forbes magazine in his raised hand.
“Mr. Fabio? Is it you? Good afternoon!”She blessed Robert with a charming smile. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you right away. I did not think you would come so early.”