Elena Ramirez sat on the hospital bed clutching the loose gown over her chest, wishing they would turn up the heat. She looked around the small room like she had done a hundred times before as she struggled to breathe through the anxiety. She had been here before, six times to be exact and every time she was anxious about what was going to happen. But this time she was anxious about what was not going to happen.
Doctor Gonzales simply could not say no to her. She needed this, if she was to save her marriage she needed him to say yes.
She stood up and walked to the long mirror. It was the first thing she saw during her first visit to this office. It judged her, it mocked her for all her flaws and imperfections, but not as harshly as Fernando—her husband—did.
Who needs a mirror if there was someone all too ready and willing to pick out your flaws?
Elena stepped in front of it, and stared at herself. She could recognize the face that stared back at her, nothing major had changed about it. But the eyes, she didn’t recognize them, they weren’t her eyes. Well yes, they were hers; she saw them every morning in the mirror but there was something different about them. They were sadder, hollow and empty, and they have been so for the past six years.
Elena blinked back the tears and swallowed the tight lump in her throat. She stood up straight and held her head high ashamed that she had let herself think she was never happy in her marriage.
She stroked her chin with the tips of her fingers and smiled at the distant memories. She used to be perfect. He used to love every part of her body. He said she was perfect. Then… then she suddenly wasn’t anymore. She had been happy, once upon a time, before she got married, before she spoke those vows. Vows that she had kept. Vows that Fernando had made meaningless.
She dropped her hand to her hips and scolded herself again.
“I’m the luckiest girl in the world, I have everything! Millions of women would kill to be in my shoes!” She recited firmly before she dropped the gown and stood naked in front of the mirror and examined herself for more flaws.
“You have the most perfect body I’ve ever seen,” Doctor Gonzales’s quiet voice filled the silent room.
Startled, Elena reached down to pull her robe on. She stopped for a moment contemplating his words. No one had ever said that to her, and it felt so foreign and unjustified. She didn’t deserve those words, not yet any way.
She turned to face him, “You are just saying that doctor Gonzales,” she whispered her voice thick with emotion.
He walked to the bed and sat down, his gentle eyes fixed on Elena’s face, “Why would I lie to you?” He asked with a sweet smile.
Elena brought the gown up and held it under her chin, “Why do men lie?” She faked a cheer in her voice as she held back more tears.
“I’m a plastic surgeon, and a man,” he pointed towards his desk where several framed documents hang on the wall over it, “Don’t let the degrees and the white coat fool you. My hormones still operate like a teenage boy’s so yes, I do know what I’m talking about.”
Elena wanted it to be true so bad, she wanted to believe him but he wasn’t the judge in this particular exhibition, Fernando was and yet....
She dropped the gown and let her long jet black hair loose across her left shoulder and did a complete three-sixty very slowly so that he could see every inch of her body. She held her hair up to show off her neck and back then dropped it on her back to show off her shoulders and breasts.
She stopped and faced him after what felt like the longest thirty seconds of her life. She was scared of asking, in case she didn’t like the answer. But as he said, he was a man with a teenager’s hormones, she needed his perspective.
“So,” she started with a quivering voice, “What is your honest opinion?” She paused before she added quickly, “As a man with a teenage boy’s raging hormones.”
Doctor Gonzales looked at her, his gaze ever so gentle like he was staring at the most fragile flower on earth. “You are beautiful,” he stood up and moved to her and placed his finger under her chin, “you were always beautiful.”
He pushed her head up and stared into her eyes, “Your hair is beautiful,” he lifted his other hand and brushed the hair off her forehead with the tip of his fingers and then ran them through the heavy mass right to the tip. “When you let your hair down it cradles your face in the most perfect way, like a frame to a portrait.” He traced his fingers down her face and ran them along her lips making her catch her breath, “Your full lips are perfect rosy red. Enticing and so very provocative, taunting a kiss.”
Elena stared at him, shocked and confused. She’d never heard those words in reference to her before. At least not in the way he said them. He sounded so sincere, and the words as they came out of his mouth were so dangerously assuring.
He slide his hand down to her neck, his other hand holding her chin up to ensure their eyes stayed locked, “Your neck is like a swan’s neck, and it looks so gentle and long because of your petite shoulders.” He ran his fingers down the mid of her chest, grazing the curves of both her breasts with the faintest touch that made her shiver and rested it on her waist, “Your breasts are the perfect size, not too small to be forgotten and not too big to be vulgar. Your waist is tiny. Like the ones in the black and white movies so that,” he shifted his hand to her back, stretching his fingers out over her waist so that his thumb and middle finger touched each edge, “it can fit perfectly in my hand.”
He let her go—she immediately felt bereft—and bent down picking up her gown and tracing his fingers up her legs as he stood up. Elena held her breath, her errant heart beating a tattoo in her chest, unable to make out her confused emotions. His every touch made her shiver, and it had nothing to do with the air conditioner.
“Your legs are Barbie doll perfect, and your hips are voluptuous and begging to be touched just the right way. And your ass is as perfect as our heritage demands it, a true Latina’s ass, mi niña dulce, bonita.”
He slipped her hands into the gown and brought it up over her shoulders under her hair, his eyes back to being attached to her even more confused ones. He ran his fingers down her arm to her hand, “Your arms are long and graceful like a ballerina’s,” he lifted her hand to his lips planting a feathery kiss on the inside of her wrist, making her gasp and shiver even more. He then brushed his lips over her palm and fingers, biting the tip of her middle finger gently before he raised her open palm to his cheek, “And your fingers are so delicate and long. So very soft and reassuring, like an angels touch.”
He placed her hand on his shoulder then reach down to tie the gown’s belt and then placed both his hands on the sides of her face. “Your brown eyes are like diamonds, big and captivating.” He paused, his eyes searching hers and Elena immediately retreated from the spell he’d cast on her, feeling more exposed than she had standing naked in front of him.
“But there is one thing I don’t like about your eyes.”
“What!” Elena demanded, her insecurities taking the best of her.
“They are always so hollow and sad.” He dropped his hands and took a step back, “I like you a lot. More than a doctor should towards his patient,” his tone changed, it was stern and direct, “You are always so insecure and afraid that you aren’t enough.”
“But I’m not!” Elena defended herself. This was one thing she was sure about. “I’m afraid and insecure because I know I’m not enough.”
“Who told you that?” He demanded, his temper making its way to the surface. She’d never seen him like this. Her foot slide back instinctively, but she forced herself not to make another move. She’d known Dr. Gonzales for a long time and she knew—she couldn’t explain why—she just knew he would never harm her.
“Fernando, my husband, he knows me better than anyone.... better than I know myself!”
He snorted, “And I bet he is the one who told you to get surgeries you don’t even need!”
“Yes!” Elena shot back. She didn’t want the doctor to think ill of Fernando. He was only doing what was best for her! “It’s not his fault that I need them!”
He scoffed, his lips twisting in a cynical smile, “When he’s done making you look perfect, what is he going to do? Hang you on the Christmas tree or is your job exclusively hanging on his arm like a pretty ornament?”
“You don’t know him!” She yelled tears running down her cheeks, “He’s doing it for me. Do you have any idea how expensive plastic surgery is?”
“Yes,” he spoke walking to his desk, “I have a Porsche and a house at the beach. I know exactly how expensive it is and I also know you don’t need any more surgeries.”
Elena felt her stomach drop. He couldn’t do this to her. “You are not giving me the surgery?”
He walked to the door, “No.”
Elena run and pinned herself against the door to keep him from opening it, her tears running down her face unchecked as she sobbed. “Why are you doing this to me? Fernando says I need it! Why don’t you just do it?”
Doctor Gonzales shifted her away from the door and opened it, “You don’t need a tummy tuck. Your husband is addicted to plastic surgery and you are the dummy he is fulfilling it through. And anyway, like you said, men, especially those like your husband always lie.”
The door shut behind him, a loud echo of rejection.
Elena stared at the closed door confused, angry and panicked. Doctor Gabriel Gonzales was the best and most reputable plastic surgeon in Miami. All he had to do was label her a surgery addict and no one in his profession would touch her.
Elena sunk to the ground her eyes glued to the door. Her panicked breathes short and slowly turning to sobs. Doctor Gonzales had screwed her and now she had Fernando to contend with.