by Lisa Cach
I paused at my open car door, ready to get in. “I can’t think about that right now.” What was he talking about? Another date?
“Oh, okay, I understand. You look pretty shaken up. Call me.”
I stared at him a moment longer, this stranger with an earring—why would I call him?—then shook myself and got in the car.
My tooth…
“You’re shivering,” Scott said.
“I know,” I said, my muscles jittering. “I’ve got to use the ladies’ room.” I held my stomach and dashed across the semidark waiting room and around the corner to where I knew the rest room to be. I’d been to his office before, but never for more than a few minutes, and never as a patient.
I locked the door behind me and went to sit on the toilet, still shivering, my bowels feeling ready to let go. But nothing came. I sat there, shaking, bent forward with my face and arms resting on my knees, until Scott knocked.
“Hannah? You okay in there?”
“Yes.” I got up and flushed, and ran water in the sink, letting it rush over my fingertips, postponing the opening of the door.
“You don’t look so good,” he said when I came out.
“I don’t feel so good.”
He frowned. “You’re afraid, aren’t you? I mean, really afraid.”
I nodded. “I know it doesn’t make sense. I know you can give me novocaine and I probably won’t feel too much, but I can’t help it.”
“What is it that you’re afraid of?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t,” I said.
“If this is just a bit of broken off tooth or filling, I promise you, it’s not going to be hard to fix. I’ll either patch it, or if enough is missing, put on a crown.”
“Will you have to drill?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet. I might not. But if I do, I’ll get out the lidocaine and numb you up until you drool, I promise.”
“Lidocaine?”
“No one uses novocaine anymore.”
He opened a hall cupboard and took out a synthetic blanket, the type they have in airplanes. He shook it out and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said, and wrapped it around my shoulders.
“You want to see my toy drawer?”
“Is that some kind of come-on?”
He laughed. “Not hardly. You don’t think I want a lawsuit on my hands, for inappropriate behavior with a patient, do you? No, these are real toys.”
He led me to a large drawer low in the hall wall, and motioned for me to open it. I did, and inside found several dozen cheap toys, from plastic dinosaurs to super balls to fake jewelry.
“These are for the kids?”
“It gives them something to look forward to—choosing one at the end of the visit. Positive reinforcement for the dentist experience, you know. They also get a toothbrush and floss, of course.”
I picked out a pseudo-pearl bracelet and modeled it on my wrist. “Affordable, yet elegant.”
“But you don’t get it yet. Put it back, or I’ll tell your mother.”
“Ooo! Dire threat!” I smiled up at him, and shut the drawer, bracelet inside. My shivering had lessened.
“And this is Elizabeth,” he said, leading me to a bird cage that had been converted into a lion’s den. He opened the wire door and lifted out a stuffed baby-blue lion with a silky white mane. “Elizabeth is going to come with you to the big chair, and sit in your lap.”
I took the lion in the hand that wasn’t holding the blanket closed around me. “She’s very soft.”
“And clean. She gets regular baths in the washer.”
“Poor Elizabeth.”
“She’s a dedicated professional. She can handle it. Actually, most of the time she stays in the cage. I discovered pretty quickly that while she might help keep kids quiet in the chair, they throw a screaming fit when I try to take her back. She’s only for the hardcore cases.”
“Does she usually work for frightened adults, as well?”
“I don’t offer her to them.”
“Too bad.” I would have been too embarrassed to carry a stuffed animal around his office during the day, with witnesses, but right now I was glad to have the lion. It was at once both soothing and ludicrous, and above all distracting.
I followed him to the exam area, with its padded reclining chair and the light on the overhead arm. The familiar smells of dentist office reached down deep inside me and set off a fresh bout of shivering. I kneaded Elizabeth and sat sideways on the chair, staring at the poster of a panda on the wall while Scott fussed around.
He turned back to me, wearing latex gloves. “First things first. Let me take a look at this immense crater that’s ruined your life.”
I couldn’t seem to speak, so I scooted fully into the chair and leaned back, letting myself recline as Scott worked the controls. I shut my eyes and concentrated on the soft feel of Elizabeth and the blanket in my hands, trying to pretend I was somewhere else.
“It’s going to be okay, Hannah. I promise,” he said.
I nodded and opened my mouth, but I didn’t believe him.
He clicked on the overhead light, and then I felt the touch of his gloved fingers on my chin, turning my head, and on the edge of my lips. I caught the touch of the cool metal mirror next, and then the testing probes of one of those awful tools that figured so prominently in my dental fears. My jaw moved with the pressure of his poking, and I shut my eyes even tighter, trying to hold still, and trying not to whimper.
“We’ll do an X ray to be sure, but I think it’s good news,” he said, withdrawing.
I opened my eyes. “No root canal?”
He smiled, looking at ease. It was the relaxed attitude that reassured me, more than whatever he was about to say possibly could. “This’ll be a piece of cake. You probably won’t even need the lidocaine.”
“You sure?”
“It’s just a dab of patching—the missing bit looks like a tiny chip, nothing more. The worst you’ll feel is pressure.”
“Laughing gas, then? Can I have that?”
“If you want it. In a very few people, it tenses them up instead of relaxing them.”
“I need something,” I said.
“How about music, and my own witty conversation?”
“Plus the gas.”
“Okay. Let me get you a medical history form to fill out, then we’ll go take a picture of that tooth.” He turned on the radio, the volume set comfortably low to a classic rock station, and went to get the form.
I shut my eyes, and tried to pretend I was somewhere else. The Lion Sleeps Tonight came on the radio, and I smiled, Elizabeth in my hands. Now there was synchronicity for you. And then I realized I wasn’t shaking anymore.
Fancy that. I must actually trust Scott not to hurt me.
Twenty-Eight
White Silk for Another Day
Voodoo Wade and Voodoo Pete turned in slow, silent circles on their invisible filament, awaiting further rubber band abuse. I’d considered adding a Voodoo Tyler, if only for the joy of reproducing the toenails, but couldn’t muster the effort for so short an acquaintance, and one that had really done nothing wrong.
He’d sent an e-mail a couple days after our date, asking how I was, and asking if I’d like to try it again sometime. I’d e-mailed back that I was fine, the tooth had been easily repaired, and that while I thought him to be a wonderful man, I felt we made an unlikely couple.
The truth was that while I might have been able to persuade myself to tolerate the kale and the nude sunbathing, I couldn’t imagine where I could fit in Tyler’s house. The rooms were empty, but he had left no space in them for another person, and her ideas. Whatever he said about wanting a wife and a family, he was not ready for such an intrusion.
Seeing that in him had made it easier to see it in myself.
Maybe I really wasn’t ready for marriage, or was at least ambivalent about it. Cassie might be right, and I hadn’t let myself feel for Scott what I probably could becau
se I knew, deep down, that I would fall for him and end up married.
There was still my concern about Louise’s prior claim to him, but it wasn’t really that big an issue. I may have been using it as an excuse to keep my distance.
I swiveled in my work chair and looked at the wedding dress. I’d gotten it to the point that with another hour’s work it would be finished, and then I’d stopped, and not touched it again.
If you sew it, he will come.
Maybe I didn’t want him to come, not yet. There wasn’t as much of a rush as I’d been telling myself: women gave birth in their early forties now, after all. Maybe I had things to do before I blended my life with another, and before I gave my energies over to having a child.
It was the only explanation for why I would have stopped work upon the dress, or why, for all my ambitions, my mate search had progressed in such fits and starts and with such a remarkable lack of success.
Today I was thirty, and instead of lamenting not achieving the minimum goal of a fiancé, I was instead wondering if such a wish had ever truly been from my heart.
“Hey, Scott, I have a new joke for you,” I said.
“New? I doubt it.”
We were in the foyer of San Juan’s, our Mexican restaurant of choice. Cassie had disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Scott to hold her gift as well as his own, and Louise had yet to arrive.
“So this man has a sore tooth, and he goes in to get it taken care of. The dentist says he’s going to have to pull it, and it’ll cost ninety dollars. The guy says, ‘Ninety dollars, for a few minutes’ work?’ So the dentist says, ‘I can pull it more slowly if you like.’”
“Ha, ha.”
“Aw, come on, that’s a good one.”
“How’s your tooth?” he asked.
“Perfect, no problem.”
“You still coming in on Tuesday for a full exam and cleaning?”
“Yes,” I grumped. He’d persuaded me to do it, and we’d agreed I should see his partner, Neena, just so there wouldn’t be any weirdness between us. He’d also promised to give a second opinion on anything Neena suggested, so I needn’t worry about having more done on my teeth than absolutely necessary. “Where’s my gross-out story?” I asked. “You usually come back at me with one.”
“I don’t have the heart for it anymore. Dentists aren’t really sadists, you know. We don’t really want to frighten people. How could we ever get anything done, if they were running away from us all the time?”
“Treat us like wildebeests—hide behind the receptionist’s desk with a tranquilizer gun, and when it’s the next person’s turn, take her out with a dart.”
“That’ll go over well with the dental board.”
Cassie emerged from the rest room, and Louise arrived, carrying a present. Birthdays did have their benefits.
We sat, ate chips and ordered. All three insisted I drink margaritas instead of diet soda, and since Cassie had driven me here I had no reason to refuse.
“So how does it feel to be thirty?” Louise asked. “Are you older? Wiser? Depressed?”
“I’m half drunk, that’s what I am.”
“You’ve only had half a margarita,” Scott said.
“I’m an easy drunk.”
“She’s drowning her sorrows,” Louise said.
“There are no sorrows. I’m actually quite happy, all considered.”
“What about your marriage-by-thirty plan?” Cassie asked, the question full of hidden assessment.
“Maybe I’ll change it to married by forty.” I shrugged. “It’ll happen when it happens.”
They all three stared at me.
“Really, I mean it,” I said. “I’ve been wondering why I’ve been in such a rush—besides for the aging eggs issue—and the only answer I’ve come to is that I thought that was the only way to make my life fuller. To make it mean more. To make it mean something.”
“You’ve decided it’s not?” Scott asked.
“It’s one path, but not the only one, and maybe not the one I should take right now.”
“If you’re not going to be hunting down a husband, what are you going to be doing instead?” Scott asked.
I smiled, thinking of the possibilities Tyler had put in my mind, about my own line of dresses. “I’m not sure. I’ll figure it out along the way. And, hey, I’m in good company. Look at you three, all still single.”
The food arrived, and we dug in with our usual messy enthusiasm, except for Scott, who as always failed to drip fajita juice down his arm. We chatted about work and gossiped about acquaintances, and a second margarita left me muzzy enough to not be utterly horrified when a group of wait staff appeared, deposited a sombrero on my head and started to sing their own version of “Happy Birthday.”
I was horrified, just not utterly.
And while they were singing, one of them set a chocolate double-layer cake on the table, thirty candles flaming on top.
The song ended to the applause of the nearby tables.
“Make a wish!” Louise said.
So I did.
I wished for happiness. It was the same wish I’d always made as a child, when blowing dandelion heads or the floating, downy seeds of thistles. Happiness, in whatever form it wished.
I blew out the candles, taking three breaths to do it—to their groans—and then Louise took a large knife out of her purse while Cassie plucked the candles from the frosting.
“I snuck the cake into the kitchen before you arrived, then went out the back door and came around front, so you wouldn’t suspect anything,” Louise said.
“Tricky girl.”
She distributed cake, and then Cassie handed me her gift.
I tore it open with the type of disregard for paper preservation intended to show great pleasure at receiving a gift. It was a deck of tarot cards, and an instruction book.
“So you can tell your own future,” Cassie said.
“Thank you!” I said. She was always so symbolic in her choices, I had to smile.
I ripped into Louise’s gift. It was a hardback book of costume history, full of color illustrations.
“I read part of it,” Louise said. “The text is mostly how clothing relates to everyday life, in the period it was worn.”
“I’m seeing future Halloween costumes here,” I said, flipping through the glossy pages. “Sometimes I wish we still wore clothes like this. Although I don’t suppose much of it is machine washable.”
And then Scott’s present.
“It’s not an ultrasonic toothbrush, is it?” I asked, tearing open a corner. “Or one of those electric flossers?”
“No. I did think about getting you the automatic pants press from The Sharper Image, but it cost too much. The digital, talking tire gauge was within my budget, though.”
“You better not have.”
And he hadn’t. It was a freshwater pearl and pale blue crystal necklace, the pearls and beads separated by fine silver chain.
“Oh, Scott, it’s lovely!”
“I thought you needed something to go with your pearl bracelet,” he said, cheeks coloring.
“Thank you so much!”
I couldn’t miss the knowing glance that Cassie and Louise exchanged. I ignored it, and opened the clasp and put on the necklace.
“It suits you,” Louise said. “The colors are just right.”
I lay my fingers on it, and smiled at Scott.
We finished up our cake and drinks, and then it was time to go. Louise and I stopped in the rest room, and while we were washing our hands I admired the necklace in the mirror.
“You really like it, don’t you?” Louise said.
“Yes. You know I don’t wear jewelry often, but I like this.”
Louise dried her hands, then rested them on her hips. “Hannah, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have no interest in Scott whatsoever?”
I looked at her in surprise, and couldn’t find the words in my marga
rita-befuddled mind to answer.
“Because the poor boy has been boring me to tears talking about you, asking my advice on how to woo you—woo you! Can you believe he would use such a term?—and if you want him, I really wish you’d hurry up and let him know so he’d quit bothering me.”
“But—” I said.
“But, what?”
“But—wouldn’t that trouble you? If we got together?”
“For God’s sake! I think you’re perfect for each other. I’ve been trying to push you together for ages.”
“I thought—”
“That I’d be jealous, or something? Look, I was never completely in love with Scott, I never thought I’d end up with him, not even when we were still teenagers. He’s a great guy—for someone else. And I think that someone is you.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah, oh. So, please, if you like him, let him know. I spend enough time on the phone at work. I don’t need it at home, too.”
We left the bathroom, and found Cassie and Scott waiting in front of the restaurant. The night air was pleasantly warm, the sounds of traffic intermittent, snatches of conversation drifting to us from the open patio farther down the building.
“Hannah, would you mind if Scott took you home?” Cassie asked. “I’ve got to run over to work and pick up my check.”
I could smell a setup, but was willing to bet it was one of Cassie’s making, not Scott’s. “Sure, fine. If it’s okay with you?” I asked Scott.
“No problem. We get to take home the leftover cake, don’t we?”
“Of course,” Louise said.
We said our goodbyes, I thanked Cassie and Louise again, and Scott carried the cake to his car, setting it on the trunk while he opened the passenger door for me.
“Such service!”
“It’s your birthday. You’re queen for the day,” he said.
“You’re just being nice so you can get another piece of cake.”
“Probably.”
He handed me the cake, and went around the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. We pulled out into traffic, and started the short drive back to my place.
