The phone was ringing at 3:00 am.
I knew because I looked at my digital clock just after it started ringing.
It could only be Harper, because he is my only friend that calls me at 3:00 am. No human being should be doing anything at 3:00 am. You are either up too late or getting up too early. That is how normal human beings behave. But Harper has never behaved like a normal human being, so I picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hey."
"Harper?"
"Yes, it's me, sorry to wake you, but did you ever wonder about friendship?"
"Yes," I said, "I am wondering about friendship right now...do you know what time is it?"
"No, I don't know."
"Of course you don't."
"You ever wonder about friendship?"
"Yes, I already said I did."
"I have a problem," Harper said, "and I thought you could help me out as part of the friendship thing we do."
People often ask me about the "friendship thing that Harper and I do", because they find Harper difficult to be around for more than a handful of minutes. He is difficult, I won't deny an obvious truth. Still, if you have a Harper in your life, I suggest tuning into the tangled rambles they weave.
After a tough day of work, eight to fourteen hours of facing people who are stupid or crazy or cruel, I like to settle down and immerse myself in the experience of a conversation of ideas. This is my mental comfort food, words that are mystical, magical, abstract, obtuse, fractals of facets of Real Truth. When I crave mental white noise of the highest caliber, Harper is the best source I know. His words quiet me and I am comforted.
"What is your problem?" I asked.
"I think I am in love."
"Why is your love my problem?"
"Because I don't know if I am am in love and you probably do."
"Fair enough," I said, "Why do you think you are in love."
"Because I just flipped a woman a perfect omelette."
A moment of respectful silence from Harper and myself ensued, because a moment of respectful silence is what is appropriate for those people who understand the importance of flipping the perfect omelette. Flipping the perfect omelette is a labor of love, and flipping the perfect omelette for someone you love is the most perfect manifestation of simple and elegant and sublime and perfect love.
For those of you who don't understand, let me lay out the complete list of the challenges that await you. All of the decisions and permutations, the frustrations and barriers, the quintessential essence of flipping a perfect omelette.
Better yet, let me lay out for you Harper's description. I've had to listen to it at least a dozen times, so you all can certainly experience it once:
"Many decisions go into flipping the perfect omelette. First, you need to decide on two eggs or three, and then, you need to decide on how much salt and pepper to add, and then, you need to decide if you need to add a small amount of water or milk or nothing at all, because some people say that the eggs should be pure, and some people say the eggs should be fluffy, and some people say the eggs should be creamy, and then, you need to decide how to mix the eggs, because you can use a whisk, or a fork, and you can spend a lot of time, or a little bit of time, on the mixing process, and you can make the mixture bubbly or smooth, as I mentioned before, and the texture of the mixed eggs depends a lot on all of your previous decisions, but it doesn't end there, because then, you need to prepare the pan, probably a ceramic pan is best, because it is non-stick and easy to clean, but traditionalists love a cast iron, and there are lots of reasons why cast iron is both good and bad, but we need to keep focused on the task at hand, so, then, you need to select a good size, I have tried eight inch, and ten and one half inch, and twelve inch, and all three have pros and cons, but the eight inch gives you the most cooking and flipping control, and then, you need a nice thin and narrow spatula that can handle fragile items like eggs, and you need to select the heat of the burner, somewhere between medium and medium high, because eggs that cook too fast get rubbery, and eggs that aren't cooked enough are runny, and then, select butter, or cooking oil, or both, to add to the pan, and after the eggs start cooking, you need to decide if you will scrape the egg mixture with your spatula and let it settle, or if you will simply let it cook on its own, then, you need to decide if you will fold it over in half or in a three folds, and then, you need to decide if the middle will be wet or dry before the flip, but before all of that, you need to decide on the central ingredients, because some ingredients have more water and some ingredients have less, so you need to decide how wet the inside of your omelette is going to be, because no one likes a soggy omelette, and no one likes a dry omelette, so it has to be just perfect, which is to say that it is pale yellow, and not too brown, on the outside, and perfectly folded along whatever creases you decided upon earlier, which is not an easy thing to do if you mess up the flip, so you need a good flipping technique, flipping just with the spatula, or with both the spatula and the pan, and it needs to be firm on the outside, and tender on the inside, and all of the ingredients need to be nestled comfortably inside the well-cooked confines, and it need to look good, and smell good, and feel good while you are cutting it with a utensil, and feel good while you are chewing and swallowing it, and taste great...and that's it."
And that's it. The mastermind at work.
"Did she like it?" I asked.
"Like it?" Harper asked.
"Yes, did she enjoy the omelette that you prepared for her?"
"I don't know. Can you tell me how I would know that?"
"Did she eat it all and leave an empty plate?"
"Yes."
"Then she enjoyed eating the omelette."
There was a very long pause on the phone while Harper thought about this.
"She enjoys eating the omelette as much as I enjoy creating it?"
"Yes."
"The word 'enjoy' means the same thing for both of us?"
"Yes."
"You don't know that for sure. You are lying."
"Partially."
"Why are you partially lying?"
"Because you probably are in love and it is easier to agree with people who are in love than to argue with them."
"And..."
"And because I am half asleep and I really would like to be fully asleep again in the very near future."
"And..."
"And because, even on my best days, I don't know what love is."
"Why?"
"Because no human being knows exactly. It's just something you have to experience yourself."
"I'm not sure if you know this about me," Harper said, "but I'm not very good at just jumping into things without first doing a thorough analysis."
"I do know that about you, yes."
"And love is considerably more complex than an omelette."
"I believe, in most cases, that is correct."
Another long pause on the other side of the phone, then Harper hung up. Letting me go back to sleep was his way of showing his appreciation for my advice.
The love story does not last very long. Harper was slow to share his feelings although I imagine a considerable amount of thought went into them. I would inquire from time to time how things were going and received very little feedback for my efforts. The mystery lady was never revealed to me and one day, a few months later, she had faded away from his life.
Still, one has to crack a few eggs to make an omelette, and, in Harper's case, he just kept on cracking. His brief love affair, and the subsequent months after the breakup, provided me with some of the best impromptu brunches I have ever eaten: scrambled eggs with lobster, poached eggs topped with caviar, roasted asparagus and soft eggs on toast, crab cakes eggs benedict, huevos rancheros with shrimp, chipotle deviled eggs, curried egg salad with truffles, smoked salmon tarts, custards, flans, and creme brulees. It was a period of unbridled creative energy, completely unexpected, brilliantly executed, and absolutely delicious.
Then, one day, as I showed up at Harper's apartment, my mind spinning with the culinary possibilities of the humble egg, and he served me a cheese omelette.
"What's this?" I asked.
"It's a cheese omelette," Harper said.
"I know what it is..."
"I gave the matter a lot of thought," Harper said, "and I decided that I like omelettes best of all."
I nodded in agreement and began to eat. I like omelettes best of all, too.
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