OPEN HEART SURGERY

ANONYMOUS

“Niki!”

“Stop screaming my name!" Nicole fired back, and lifted her bowl of cereal from the kitchen table, spooning its contents into her mouth as she headed for the living room.

“Maybe I can't see right but I can see left and I don't see a ring on that finger." She continued, wagging her spoon at her friend Tasha.

Nicole and Tasha had met at a restaurant in Nicole's Second year at Oxford University and had been friends since Nicole had saved her from a public embarrassing situation, by giving Tasha her coat to cover up her skirt which was torn right at the butt.

“It's no calculus," Tasha replied. "And you don't need a calculator to figure out that I have a boyfriend, and that's a ring on its way." She said, wiggling the fingers of her left hand.

“That's called hope, Tasha, not a ring. The longer it takes to arrive the faster it changes your name to ‘Hopeless'.”

The friends argued constantly and were never able to come to an accord on anything besides their favorite flavor of ice cream, and even then, Nicole insisted dark chocolate was better. Mutual friend found their debates very entertaining and sometimes educative.

The television was still on, with the Grey-head anchorman droning in the background. "Tasha, you're almost forty, I'm surprised you still brag about your boyfriend," Nicole said, through a mouthful of cereal. "When does he plan to become a husband?”

“How old did you say?" Tasha replied, incredulously. "Anyway, I'm not surprised because you were never good at math. If I'm forty with a boyfriend, you're thirty-nine without one. You know I'm only a year older than you, right?”

Nicole struggled with the laughter that had welled up inside her. "Wrong!" She replied, unable to contain her laughter any longer, it broke and almost spilled her meal from the bowl and her mouth simultaneously.

"Camel!" Tasha fired, in an attempt to find the most hurtful word to throw at her friend. Nicole laughed even harder, displaying the most beautiful set of teeth. Her kiss inspiring lips tilted slightly to the left in response to her smile which dug the dimple on the left side of her cheek a little deeper than its sister on the right. Nicole's pretty blue eyes made her happiness contagious. When tears of sadness or gladness streamed from them, she was irresistibly beautiful and not guilty was the verdict on her face. "Nicole, how old did you say I am?" Tasha Prod.

Nicole gradually pumped the breaks to her laughter and brought it to a smile. "Now, that's how it feels every time you try to piss me off for no reason at all.”

“Niki, I want to hear it!" Tasha screamed.

“Okay fine, you're thirty-three with a boyfriend and you're the craziest friend I have.”

“I'm not," Tasha disagreed. "Dara is your craziest friend, please.”

"Dara is in Africa, not here. Until she happens, you remain the craziest.”

“In that case, I'm your only friend and that's why you should listen to me when I tell you to get a life, get a man.”

Nicole jumped out of her seat in protest." I have a life! I breath, I talk, I walk and I eat!" She waved the bowl at Tasha's face."I'm an independent woman because I have a direction, I know where I'm going and I don't need a man because I don't need extra baggage." She continued, and stomped back to the kitchen.

“That's not completely true." Tasha said, springing to her feet and after her.

“Stop following me around, if I need a cat I'll get one." Nicole said. She didn't hate pets, she just didn't have them. She preferred people, ironically she didn't have many friends but she believed she had a life. She was confident in the fact that she had her own and nobody had to tell her to play her role, which included teaching at the department of history, Irvine School of humanities California. But could that be all that defined a life?

She was only three and two, but how could anybody call thirty-two only? She was thirty-two years, not days. That's approximately 365 days multiplied by 32, a calculation Tasha often did for her friend to remind her that her clock was ticking, and to prove herself right that Nicole needed a man or less aggressively spoken, a relationship. "Just because ninety-nine didn't work doesn't mean we can't try one more time" Tasha said, pleadingly.

“Who exactly, is 'we'?" Nicole said, throwing Tasha a serious look. "My relationship should be mine because 'trisome' is not in my dictionary, and I'm not referring to the genetic meaning of the word.”

Tasha threw the remote forcefully at Nicole. "Can you imagine this girl's imagination? And yet they say, 'Tasha is the silly and Nicole the sane you'."

Nicole laughed. "Tasha, I win this debate every time and as defending champion, I chose not to debate today.”

“I was actually thinking we could bring this to an end today, a consensus." Tasha replied.

“Tasha, there's more bullshit in falling in love than there is, in a cow stall." Nicole said, bitterly, her mind replaying the one too many relationships she had been in and how they had all turned sour like lime in slightly excess water. "I'm too old for bullshit, Tasha.”

Her most hurtful relationship was six years ago and it had been breathtaking, heart cracking, soul rending and hymen tearing. Damn! She kept it till twenty-six? Maybe that was part of the reason she couldn't get them to stay, she didn't s*x them to stay.

“Niki, I still believe in possibilities.”

“Thank God, you didn't say impossibilities.”

“What makes finding a man impossible?”

“Not wanting to!" Nicole retorted.

After twenty-six, Nicole's cracked heart was fully broken and shattered to pieces a few more times by a few more men, after which she placed love on a surgery table, and logically dissected the four letter word that hue-mans desperately desire.

Nicole killed her patient, like Pilate and Jesus. She washed the blood off her hands and turned her back on love. "Niki you're being too hard on yourself, love might not always be colorful but it can still be beautiful," Tasha coaxed. "Give yourself another chance and you'll see.”

“Until then," Nicole said, without a smile. "Right now, I would like to change this subject.”

“Does that mean we have an accord?”

“No, we don't!" Nicole replied, flashing a serious and thunderous glance at Tasha. "If a man is not ready to love a woman on the same level as she loves him, let him go to hell!" She vented.

“What makes you think you can't find that man?”

“If he exists, what makes him think he can't find me?”

“I'm sure he will.”

“Now we're on the same page.”

“No, we're not! You have to make yourself findable," Tasha replied. "Your parents for instance, they met at the hospital because they made themselves available.”

“You don't know that." Nicole said, in a warning tone.

“The love in your mom's eyes-”

“You don't know anything about my parents!" Nicole yelled. Her blue eyes spat blue fire, throwing Tasha into uncertainty as the silence grew louder.

Tasha had not understood what she had said wrong but her friend was angry, an apology would be the most appropriate gift to offer. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…”

“It's okay." Nicole said, throwing a kitchen towel at the cabinet top and missing her Target. "I shouldn't have yelled at you either.”

“I don't know what to say." Tasha stammered. Nicole's parents, were Tasha's model parents, their relationship had a fine glitter to it. Why did she get so upset?

“Not everything that glitters is gold," Nicole left her gaze on Tasha. "And that's my problem with love, one party always has to play the fool to make love look good. Tasha, I don't want to end up like my mom, I want mine to be gold.”

Tasha stood speechless and watched Nicole bend down to pick up the towel, as her red short gown raised its self higher up her thighs. Tasha smiled and decided to reset the conversation. "You look breathtaking in that dress and you shouldn't waste all that sexy trying to run away from love." Tasha used the word 'sexy' in an unlicensed context, teasingly.

Nicole looked breathtaking in anything she wore, and this made Irvine College boys and her colleagues wonder how mermaid-ly she'd look without clothes on. But none of them would dare speak their thoughts, since Nicole's boundaries were drawn in red, on a white surface.

She wasn't the fashion kind of girl but style came naturally with her. Latvian girls would kill for Nicole's natural hair, short gowns and similar skirts were her favorite as they helped advertise her pretty legs which won her the Nickname 'Miss hot legs', back at Oxford. From head to toe, Nicole was beautiful and sexy.

“You're not sleeping in my house tonight. It's not too late to call yourself a cab. "Nicole said as she walked past a dumbfounded Tasha.

“What did I do?”

“It's not what you did but what you said.”

“What did I say?" Tasha pondered where she got it wrong. "That was a complement!”

Nicole spun around facing Tasha. "Telling me how sexy I look at this time of the night, was a complement? Are you trying to lesbian me or what? Call yourself a cab!" She scolded, and walked away.

Tasha couldn't help laughing out loud. "Who taught you to fix up words like that?" They both knew how to use words that required licensing.

"I'm sure I communicated?" Nicole said.

“Yes, you did. And I'm not trying to lesbian you." Tasha replied.

“Please don't, you know how much I hate it when girls touch me." Nicole frowned. Tasha wrapped her arms around Nicole's neck and she smiled. "I knew you'd do that." Nicole said, as both girls laughed and walked back to the living room.

“You hate girls touching you and you hate guys touching you, maybe it's because you enjoy touching yourself.”

“I don't!" Nicole protested. "Touch myself." She muttered.

“Shut up!" Tasha attacked.

Nicole gasped, with her mouth wide open and her hands in the air over her head to protest further, but reconsidered Tasha's attack. A smile crept to her face and melted her intended drama, causing her to rephrase her statement. "Fine, I seldom touch myself, and I never said I hated guys touching me. My point was simple. You could find a million guys to touch you but none to love you.”

Tasha smiled at her, in admiration. "I'm really going to miss you.”

“I'm going to miss you more.”

“Why are they sending you to the Sahara?" Tasha queried.

Nicole threw the remote gently at Tasha to set her right one more time. "They are not sending me to the Sahara.”

Tasha still protested. "You don't have to go.”

The ring on the door startled the girls. "Who are you expecting?" Tasha asked.

Nicole got to the door, opened, and found her neighbors house right where it was, adjacent hers. She looked around but saw no one except a couple in the quiet night street. She watched them as her thoughts followed their laughter and joy. The lady looked genuinely happy, something Nicole never felt in her relationships.

Nicole imagined she was the girl in love again but she had sworn never to trade her happiness for love, if she ever found a potential customer. Something inside her still believed that on her third day, the love she killed would resurrect to save and heal her eternally.

“Niki!"

Tasha's voice brought her back to the reality that no one was at the door or to the surprise that someone could be playing games. She caught sight of a colored envelope on the floor, picked it up, shut and locked the door.

“No one was there. I found this." She announced.

“Then open it!" Tasha said, and snatched the envelope from Nicole who had hesitated.

Tasha opened and pulled out a card. On the cover was an image of a doctor with a stethoscope which he placed its diaphragm right above his pretty patient's breast. Her dress designer probably had never heard of pneumonia because her chest was totally exposed. His eyes swam in hers and hers searched his heart through his, in fear. She looked frozen and breathless, maybe her heart had stopped beating as well, but she still looked very alive.

Tasha opened the card and read the words out. "Nicole, please let me be your heart surgeon. Anonymous.”

“What's the meaning of this?" Nicole said, suspiciously.

“It means, you can run but you can't hide," The back cover had an image of a stethoscope wrapped around a heart. "Love is already stalking you." Tasha continued, beaming from ear to ear.

“Did you tell anyone I was heartbroken and that I needed this kind of trash?" Nicole exploded.

Nicole's explosion erased Tasha's smile. "I don't know anything about this! I didn't say anything," She felt hurt and slightly angry this time. "Maybe I should call a cab." She dropped the card and searched her bag for her phone.

Nicole knew she had been rash again. "Okay, I'm sorry. It doesn't even matter because who ever this guy is, he lacks confidence and that makes him not my kind of guy.”

“Oh! So she's looking for a perfect guy?" Tasha said, searching her bag frantically, she pulled out a pencil and came to Nicole. "Take this! Draw yourself one, frame and hang it on your wall, that's the only way you can own a perfect guy.”

Nicole took the pencil from her. "I'm not looking for a perfect guy.”

Tasha knew her friend as much as Nicole's mother did, and would say, 'Baby, you don't have to be binary, 0 or 1, logical, true or false. Sometimes the answer might just be in the middle'.

"Niki, you're either boiling or freezing, you need to find a balance." Tasha said.

Nicole had never been the type to sit on the fence. She was an intense person, either in love or not at all. "You're asking me to be somebody else.”

“I'm asking you to be reasonable," Tasha said. "Love requires compromise.”

Nicole got worked up again. "Are you suggesting I hold my breath and wait for this mysterious heart surgeon, with a lousy strategy to come woo me off my feet? Nicole replied. "I wish love worked in reality like it did in Hollywood. For all we know, he could be a serial killer."

"For all we know, he could be a serious lover." Tasha gave a positive version to Nicole's.

Nicole sighed in resignation. "Whatever!"

That probably meant, whoever Nicole's secret admirer was, he had only two options. Show up before weekend or wait for another five months.