Operation

Operation

In every friend group, there is at least one gamer, and ours was Jimmy Newman, the self-proclaimed Arcade Wizard. Every Friday afternoon, Jimmy Newman, Leonard Hamilton, Sally Parker, and I would go to the Willows Arcade and try our luck on the different games, but every day inevitably led to marveling at Jimmy Newman’s unique ability to win. We had taken to calling him Lucky Jim, as Leonard, Sally, and I couldn’t think of a single hardship that Jimmy Newman faced his entire life. He lived in comfortable wealth with two loving parents and a sister who never gave him a hard time. His teachers loved him, he was the smartest child at Witchcraft Heights Elementary, and no school bullies gave him a hard time, which is something that Leonard Four-Eyes Hamilton, Sally the Stupid, or I, Gary Googly-Eyes Gravesend, could say. 

And he loved biology. Which was why we found ourselves huddled around Jimmy as he played Operation at the Willows Arcade at two o’clock on a Friday in July. 

“Go for that one,” Leonard said, pressing his rectangular glasses against the game machine. He pointed to the piece labeled, “Butterflies in Your Stomach”. “That one looks easy.”

Jimmy gave us a confident grin, cocking his head as he picked up the tweezers. Leonard stared at Jimmy, his mouth hung wide open, and Sally looked at him like he might be a mildly interesting fly. I looked at Sally. I was eleven, the age when girls start to become more interesting than game machines for some boys. Sally looked at Jimmy, and Jimmy looked at Operation, deftly picking up “Butterflies in Your Stomach”. 

“Done,” said Jimmy, setting the piece to the side. “Which one next?”

Sally spoke up this time. “How about, ‘Writer’s Cramp’?” A piece located in the left elbow. Jimmy nodded, and when he finished, Sally smiled in the way that only a boy' s first crush can, a way that makes him feel an equal combination of warmth and cold when it’s not directed towards him. The game went on like this, Leonard and Sally directing Jimmy, until Jimmy had collected all the pieces, and I nodded when either of them would look for my agreement and laughed when they laughed, but I never told Jimmy what to do.

After the game, which earned Jimmy 100 tickets, enough for one of the big stuffed animals at the prize stand, Sally used the bathroom while Jimmy went to collect his prize, leaving me and Leonard by the game.

“You know, some part of me wants to try this while the other wants to pick it up and chuck it at the wall,” Leonard said, examining the game like it was an ancient museum artifact. Pressing his hands against the glass, I thought that Leonard might break the machine clean in half and fall right in. “He makes it look so dang easy.”

“He’s a natural,” I said. “You have to hand it to him.”’

“There’s something weird in his brain, I tell ya.” Leonard crumpled his brows together, knelt down to the ground, and ran the tweezers between his fingers. “If only I could crack it.”

I don’t think I wanted to “crack it,” as Leonard put it. As much as I could admire Jimmy’s proficiency with arcade games and his dedication to school, I couldn’t help but think that there was something a bit off with him. A week before, Jimmy told me that he had stayed up until three in the morning reading our biology textbook for fun because the chapter on the human heart was fascinating. A week before that, the atom was interesting enough to keep him awake until four in the morning, and a week before that Jimmy pulled an all-nighter because Emily Dickinson was just so interesting to him. And so whatever gene, whatever obsessive bone Jimmy had in his body, I wanted no part of it.

“Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”

Leonard nodded, but he had a look on his face that told me he was only half-way convinced. If there was a kid who deserved to crack it, Leonard Hamilton would be that kid. The Hamiltons were the type of family with parents who pretended to love each other and would get divorced ten years after Leonard graduated high school. Ten years after that, Leonard would fall into a deep depression, I would barely see him for years afterwards, and would not speak to Jimmy Newman or Sally Parker. Sometimes I think that the glasses Leonard wore gave him a vision that transcended sight, because he was the only one of us that ever had a clue about what I was thinking.

“Are you okay?” Leonard asked. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Why?”

“I dunno.” Leonard stood up from his crouch. “You just barely spoke this entire time, so I was just wondering. That’s all.”

I wanted to ask him if he ever got tired of coming here every Friday afternoon just to watch Jimmy beat every game that we couldn’t, if we ever got tired of the predictable pattern of Jimmy winning, and if he ever wanted Jimmy to lose, but I was only eleven so I didn’t know how to phrase that.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

Leonard nodded. I knew that he knew that I was lying. “So why don’t we give this a go?”

“Sure,” I said. “Why not?”

“You go first,” Jimmy said. 

I slipped a coin into the slot, and the machine lit up. Grabbing the tweezers, I wondered what it would be like to make a perfect run in this game, to be Jimmy, to be better than Jimmy and get all the pieces in five seconds with no mistakes. Instead, I over thought it, and the butterflies in my stomach stayed where they were. When my piece hit the edge of the hole, the jolt made me flinch, and I dropped the tweezers.

“All it takes is concentration.” Evidently Jimmy was back, as he was talking to me. I turned around, and he was holding a giant stuffed koala in his hand. “Here, let me do it for you. You can get the tickets.”

Before I could say no, Jimmy handed me the koala and stepped in front of the machine. As he played, Sally approached us again and said, “Back at it for round two?”

“Arcade games are drugs for this kid,” Leonard said. “So of course we are.”

“Do you guys want to play a different game?” Sally asked. “I’m sure the Arcade Wizard won’t mind being alone for a minute.”

The thought of being around Sally without Jimmy taking up the spotlight sent a flurry of nerves and excitement zipping through my mind like the pinball machine on the other side of the arcade. When I heard Jimmy’s voice from my periphery – “And that is how you get rid of the ‘Butterflies in Your Stomach’” – I nodded immediately.

“Len?” Sally asked.

Maybe Leonard wanted to say yes, but he glanced between me and Sally and said, “I think I’ll stick with Jimmy for now.”

With an innocent magic, Sally looked at me and said, “Let’s go.”

I handed Leonard the stuffed koala and  followed her lead, my legs working on autopilot as she navigated us through the crowds of running children, cool teenagers, and parents supervising their children and teenagers, but I didn’t pay attention to them. The only important thing was keeping up with Sally, because she was the one who had a destination in mind as she said “I think it’s this way… No, wait it’s over here… Yes, yes here it is. I’ve always wanted to try this one, but Jimmy always says it’s bogus.”

Zoltar, the bogus fortune teller that Tom Hanks popularized. Staring at us, dressed in his Egyptian or Arab (which were the same to an eleven-year-old boy from Salem) garments, Zoltar, as if sensing our presence, spoke to us as celestial harp music played.

“I am Zoltar, the great gypsy, and I can see your fortune,” he said. “Come see it too, no?”

I reached into my pocket for a dollar. “I can pay for this. My mom gave me my allowance yesterday.” She didn’t. I just wanted to be useful. Before I inserted my dollar in the slot, Sally grabbed my hand. 

“Wait! We should ask him a question first.” Sally thought for a moment and then put her hand back to her side, relinquishing the momentary warmth on my wrist. “What should we ask?”

Does Sally Parker like me back?

“I don’t know,” I said. “What do you want to know?”

“How about we ask it if we did well on our math test the other day. Zoltar, did we do well on our math test the other day? Now put it in.”

I obeyed, and for a moment it seemed like nothing would happen. Then the celestial music played again, and Zoltar spoke.

No, she does not like you back, he said. The lights around us dimmed, pitch black, and I couldn’t even see Sally standing right next to me. His movements were not that of a game machine, they were human, as he gestured with his hands, pointing beside me. In three years, she will kiss Jimmy Newman for the first time while you are in love with her. As if on cue, Sally reappeared, looking blankly ahead, her eyes lifeless. Second by second, she minutely aged, her face growing more mature, her hair growing an inch longer, until she no longer looked like the child she was, but like a young woman. And yes, there’s Jimmy, too, slightly taller, his hair shaggy, and hints of acne on his face. They turn to each other and kiss, both smiling, spurning whips of jealousy within me. Then you’ll date three girls in quick succession to get over it. (“I’m sorry, it’s just not working out” echoed in my head. My own voice, deeper). Six years after that, Jimmy will propose to her, and Leonard will be the best man at Jimmy’s wedding. (“I do,” Jimmy said. “I do,” Sally said). Two years later, they will have a child. Eventually, they will divorce. Sally will find love, and Jimmy will have his work. (Shouting, shouting, increasing in volume, a mixture of hatred and compliments hurled between them).

“You okay, Gary?”

“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m fine.”

“Looks like you just saw a ghost or something.”

I thought I did, because a second later Zoltar spoke again. “Signs point to an uncertain future,” he said. 

“Darn,” Sally said, her shoulders sagging. “I wasn’t expecting that. My parents will kill me if I flunk this one.”

Sally’s mom was a math teacher, and her father was in finance. Whether it was because they had such prestigious occupations, or because of her father’s status as an immigrant, Sally placed a lot of pressure on herself academically. Too much pressure. In high school, she’ll go on to try and match Jimmy’s academic success to her detriment. She’ll have fifteen panic attacks across the four years, and I will try to be there to support her, even if she doesn’t want me there all the time. I kind of turn into a jerk.

“Let’s do another one,” Sally said.

I nodded. Some part of me wanted to see if that strange connection between me and Zoltar was still there. 

“You ask this time,” Sally said. 

“Uhh…” Will I be alone? Scratch that. Will I be lonely? “Will–”

“Will I win enough tickets to buy the big stuffed turtle?” Sally asked. “Sorry. I got impatient. I’ve just always wanted that stuffed turtle.”

The lights dimmed, and I had a second divine connection with Zoltar. Isn't every human being alone at some point in their life? But you’re wondering if you will be alone forever. No, you will not be alone forever. There will be long stretches in which you are alone, and long stretches when you are not. In your early thirties, you will be lonely for a number of years. I ask Zoltar why. That wasn’t the original question, and so I'm under no obligation to answer. But after that loneliness, you will be content so long as loneliness’s long and tracing fingers don’t touch you. 

“Signs point to certainty!” Zoltar cheered.

It took me a moment to respond, seeing as I had just been given what I thought was a life-changing lesson. My mind, it seemed, was short-circuiting, and for the next few minutes I wasn’t sure whether or not the conversation was real. In reality, I told myself that Zoltar’s words were just words and not prophecies, that an old game machine couldn’t tell me my future. 

“What are you guys doing?” Jimmy asked as he and Leonard walked towards us. Leonard held the koala in his right hand while Jimmy held something behind his back that I couldn’t see. Leonard’s eyes looked uncertain as he walked beside Jimmy. 

“Getting our fortunes read,” Sally said. 

“Cool,” said Leonard. He sounded like he was testing the waters and gave me a strange look that said, I’m sorry. 

“You know this thing is a piece of junk, right?” Jimmy said. “You can't even beat this one.”

“You can beat anything,” I said, trying to keep calm. Why did he have to come over here and interrupt us? “So why don’t you give it a try? Aren’t you the Arcade Wizard?”

“The Arcade Wizard doesn’t waste his time with–”

“Sounds like you’re a chicken.” I did my chicken impression to accentuate this point. 

“Yeah don’t be a chicken, Jimmy,” Sally joked, poking Jimmy in the side. Jimmy laughed and revealed what was in his other hand. 

A giant, stuffed turtle. Neon green, bright blue eyes, and an innocent smile. 

Sally grinned with delight and let out a cheer, grabbing the turtle from Jimmy’s hands and hugging it close to her chest. I imagined that she was hugging me, that I was the turtle, and that again made me feel warmer and colder at the same time. 

“I got that for you,” Jimmy said. “You told me last time that you wanted it.”

Those are my tickets, I thought. You told me I could have the tickets.

The look they shared just then told me that everything Zoltar said about them was true. I knew that they were going to have a long and complicated history together, and that I would be on the outside looking in. I don’t know if my love for Sally Parker ever really died or if it was just concealed beneath a thin layer of denial and a thicker layer of age, but sometimes that late childhood to teenage love seeps through the cracks, and Zoltar’s voice creeps into my head as I procrastinate sleep in my lonely house – two bedrooms, one occupied, and one (the nursery) once occupied.

Jimmy slipped a dollar into the machine and asked his question. He gave me a look that I will never forget. A half-smile, lips slightly parted to show his teeth. I kept thinking about what that look meant that entire day.

We stopped playing at the arcade a few months later as school crept in like an uninvited guest. I forget what Jimmy’s question to Zoltar was, something about if we should get pizza or burgers for lunch. It doesn’t matter. When I think about our time at the Willows Arcade, I can’t help but think about its magic. Whether it was a joyful magic, like seeing Sally Parker smile at me, or a melancholic one, I can’t tell you. I just wish I had Leonard’s glasses so I could see it all a bit better.