The last game

THE
LAST GAME

Fernando Trujillo

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

The
last game

Copyright © 2010 Fernando Trujillo

http://www.facebook.com/fernando.trujillosanz

[email protected]

http://eldesvandeteddytodd.blogspost.com

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publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the
author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author
acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
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without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not
authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark
owners.

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* * * * *

* * * * *

The small
electric saw stopped rotating when the sternum
snapped. The saw´s teeth, painted red, kept spinning for a few
seconds longer, before slowing down gradually until it came to a
complete stop.

Alvaro put the saw down and separated the
ribs. The red mass came into view, palpitating at a constant
rhythm.

“It´s a very big heart.” The nurse said

“
You’re not wrong there. But it has to come
out.” Alvaro said in a bored voice.

He´d already done several heart
transplants and this one didn´t feel anything remotely like a
challenge. It was nothing more than routine procedure. The patient
would get a new heart and would spend the rest of his time trying
to prolong his life as much as he could. He would meekly comply
with an endless amount of rules, that would require him to give up
a great quantity of vices and activities that the vast majority of
people consider pleasant, and would fight to cling to this awful
world as long as possible.

Alvaro envied him.

“
Ok, let´s do it.” He said to the team
around him. “I don´t want a single . . .”

The door opened suddenly, cutting the
conversation abruptly. Alvaro stared at the intruder and thought
about taking his mask off to speak. He wanted to make sure that
this person heard all the insults that he was about to throw his
way. Nobody walked into an operating theatre during an
operation.

The intruder wasn
´t even wearing a surgical gown. He was wearing
street clothes and had walked in here as if it were nothing more
than a shop on the blocks outside the hospital.

Alvaro put the saw down on the table and
approached the newcomer. His companion and the two nurses were so
surprised that they hadn´t had time to react. The stranger offered
Alvaro a black envelope with white edges that the surgeon grabbed
out of his hand. He had a fair idea what its contents were. The
messenger didn´t wait to watch Alvaro read it; he just turned and
left the room without saying a word.

Without any doubt it was a court order.
Somebody wanted the operation stopped. Alvaro hadn´t paid
sufficient attention to the details of his patient’s personal
history. He vaguely remembered that there had been two women
fighting over what the right course of action should be. One had
been in favor of the transplant, his wife, if his memory didn´t
fail him, and the other, possibly the patient´s sister, was against
it. But maybe he was confusing who was who.

In any case the medical report
didn´t seem to have carried
sufficient weight to guarantee that the poor individual, who wasn´t
in any condition to decide his own fate, would receive a healthy,
new heart. Part of the blame for that lay with Alvaro; he hadn’t
offered his professional medical opinion. He’d checked the physical
condition of the patient, and recommended the transplant and then
forgotten about it while the two hags tore themselves apart in
their fight to show who loved the patient more, and who therefore
had more right to decide the outcome.

He was sure that the loser had resorted to
legal means to get her way.
Some foolish judge somewhere, someone who didn´t understand
anything about medicine had decided to stop the operation in its
tracks. The doctors would have to attend a hearing and explain the
need for the operation over and over again until the judge
understood what it was all about. There was no doubt that this was
what the letter was all about.

Alvaro knew about a similar case a few
years before.
It had
been an operation to amputate a leg, but the court order had
arrived late and the leg was no longer attached to the body. On
this occasion the patient only had his chest completely open.
Things were looking up.

“
What is it?” His companion
asked.

Alvaro sighed
dispiritedly.

“
I can imagine.” He said while he scratched
the envelope with his blood stained gloves. “It’s a pity it didn´t
arrive a couple of hours before. We wouldn´t have had to open the
patient up. He´s going to have a beautiful scar and all for
nothing. That happens when . . . “

Alvaro fell silent and swallowed the rest
of the sentence. The letter inside the envelope wasn´t a court
order. It wasn´t even an official letter. The paper was folded
twice. He opened it quickly, and was immediately surprised by what
he saw. He´d never seen anything like it. It was very elegantly
handwritten, in stylized words with long flourishes that gave it a
certain antiquated air. A little overdone perhaps. It was written
in red ink and appeared heavier on some lines than others. Alvaro
couldn´t imagine a fountain pen or biro capable of doing that and
no computer or typewriter had been used either. No, it was
handwritten, but by whom and how remained unknown.

He
was hooked before he started reading, and surprised that
his latex gloves hadn´t left blood stains on the letter paper as
they had on the envelope that contained it.

The wor
ds formed in his mind with surprising ease, flowing
smoothly, compelling him to read on. For a second, he forgot where
he was and what he had been doing only a few minutes
before.

When he finished reading, Alvaro
understood everything perfectly.

He threw the letter on the ground and
walked to the door, taking his face mask and gloves off as he
went.

“
Where are you going?”
The nurse asked.

“
Eh! We´ve got a man with his chest opened
up here on the operating table!” The other surgeon shouted at him,
amazed by what was happening.

Alvaro didn´t pay any attention to either
of them. He took his surgical gown off just before he got to the
door, letting it drop to the floor as he left the room without
saying a word. Nobody there knew what to say or do. The two nurses
and the surgeon stared at each other dumbfounded.

“
It must have been bad news.
“ One of the nurses said
bending down to pick up the letter. “Maybe a close relative had an
accident?”

The doctor did
n´t believe that. Alvaro had run out of the room
without giving any explanation whatsoever. That wasn´t like him, he
was methodical and even in the event of a serious accident he would
have said something to explain his leaving. No, it wasn´t
that.

“
He should have given us a good excuse to
leave us in the lurch like this. Damn him! Fool!” The surgeon
shouted after him before turning back to the others. “Well, what
does the letter say then?”

The
nurse said nothing. But her trembling hands told the doctor
that something was wrong .He lost his patience and snatched the
sheet of paper from her and looked for the explanation
himself.

But t
here was none to find. The page was blank.

* * *

Judith was depressed when she got
home.
She hung her coat
up but didn’t see the angelic face that everybody said she had in
her reflection in the hall mirror. Instead, she imagined herself as
a twenty year old despite the fact that she was now thirty, and a
sad looking thirty year old at that. If she´d seen her true self
she would’ve given herself a slap to snap her out of her bad
mood.

On the kitchen table she found a pile of
letters that her helper had left there after collecting the
mail.
Judith went
through them quickly. Just junk mail. But she stopped flicking
through them when she came to a black envelope with white edges
that looked different from the rest. There was nothing written on
it so she concluded that it wasn´t important. She tossed it into
the fireplace with the others, put two logs on top and started a
fire.

The smell of burning wood relaxed her, and
as the fire built she became lost in thought, the concept of time
receding.

She stayed like that for a while until the
sound of her favorite song,
John Lennon’s Imagine, vibrated out of her mobile
phone.

“
Yes?” She said picking the phone up off
the table.

“
Took your time!”
Nestor said, on the other end of the line. “I just
want to talk.”

Judith cursed
herself for having taken the call without checking
to see who was calling.

“
Not now, Nestor. I don´t feel very
well.”

“
Then, when? I deserve an explanation.” He
said without trying to cover his anger up. “You asked for time and
I think I´ve been more than reasonable. I’ve been waiting four
months!”

“
I know and I thank you for that. But
nothing´s going to happen if you wait a while longer.”

“
This has finished.” Nestor yelled. “I can
do anything for you but at least give me a reason. I haven´t
swallowed the excuse you gave for leaving. You were happy with me,
Judith. I could tell.”

She knew it as well and
relaxed for a moment as an avalanche of
happy memories invaded her mind. She could see herself with Nestor
six months before, lying in bed under the sheets after they´d just
made love.

Judith shook her head
.It was a mistake to go back over all of
that again. She had to concentrate on where she was now.

“
I can´t tell you again, Nestor.” She said
with a lump forming in her throat. “I need a little more
time.”

Nestor took a while to
answer
. “I can´t go on
like this, Judith. I´m sorry. I´ve been waiting too long, going
round in circles, without any explanation from you. I´m going
crazy. You have to make your mind up. Or tell me what´s going on.
If not, this has to come to an end now.”

“
Don´t put any pressure on me, Nestor. I
only need a little more time. I´m doing it for you. Don´t force me
to choose now.”

“I can´t take anymore.” He said his voice
breaking. “Let me back into your life or you´ll lose me
forever.”

“
Very
well then.”

Judith hung up and threw the telephone
against the wall, smashing it to pieces. She stayed where she was
sitting on the chair staring at the flames dancing in the fireplace
for a long time until her anger slowly subsided.

She began to feel tired
, the tension leaving her body. She lay
down on the sofa and covered herself with a blanket and the world
and its problems disappeared as she began to sleep.