Episode 11

THE DENTIST APPOINTMENT:

A short story about a dog, a girlfriend, and a dentist.

Let me set the scene.

The year was 2008 and I had just moved to Ohio. Moving as a kid is never easy as you have to make new friends, navigate a new town, and try to stop your acne from getting worse. A task that would prove to be impossible. 

Kids have an innocence that we all admire. They are also extremely judgmental, mean, and cliquey. One wrong move and suddenly you’re eating lunch in the bathroom stall. One day, I ate oranges and my lips blew up like I’d been getting botox for twenty years. I found out that day that I was allergic to oranges. 

I was called “Oranges” for not just sixth grade but the next six years. 

With the worst nickname a school has ever produced, Oranges was still able to find young love. Love in middle school meant writing each other's names in the corner of your science notebook in the tiniest handwriting possible, like the FBI might be watching. It meant smiling too hard in the hallway between third and fourth period and then not speaking the rest of the day. 

There were no fancy dinner dates at the Palm or honeymoon suites at the local St. Regis. There were Hershey Kisses and Coca-Cola cans as gifts. 

Alexa was her name. 

Alexa and I tried seeing each other outside of school but our parents thought we were too young to be hanging out together without supervision. Parents telling their kids no has always worked. No kid ever has ever revolted against their parents saying no. When kids hear the word no, that’s a code word for go, go break the rules. If only my parents told me not to study hard, maybe I would have been valedictorian.

When parent-teacher conferences left both our houses empty for one golden unsupervised afternoon, it really wasn’t a hard decision, it was destiny and I called her.  

“I’m dog-sitting Maxy and my parents will be back in an hour. I can’t come,” she said.  

“My parents aren’t home either. Just bring the dog,” I said. 

Convincing, I know. Never underestimate what an eleven-year-old boy will do for a girl he gives Hershey Kisses to. 

She walked over with Maxy on the leash, and we proceeded to commit the single most scandalous act two sixth graders are capable of;

We walked around the block! 

That was the horrific crime our parents were worried about. 

There was no handholding, barely any eye contact, just two kids too nervous to speak and a dog smelling everything in sight. 

After about fifteen minutes into our scandalous walk a car whipped onto my street like it was a character from the Fast and the Furious. 

It was Alexa’s mom. 

I knew before the window came down that she was in fact furious. 

“Get in the car,” she said. 

I didn’t even get a hello or thank you for taking Maxy out. 

Alexa didn’t argue. She immediately got in the car with Maxy and I looked at the ground like that would hide me from embarrassment. 

They sped off into the distance. I stood on the curb, alone, trying to come up with any excuse I could use to tell my parents.

Luckily, I didn’t get grounded because nobody called my parents. However, I didn’t hear from Alexa for a while after this. I figured young love had been killed at the scene with the arrival of the Honda Odyssey. 

About two weeks later I had my first dentist appointment in the new state. 

I hated the dentist. Great people, but they never know when it’s the right time to partake in small talk. They always ask you something the exact second the tools go in your mouth, so you’re left answering a question with the nod of your head like a bobblehead.  

I sat in the chair, bib clipped on, staring up at the ceiling tile with water stains already all over me. 

The door opened. I didn’t look over right away, I was busy coming up with a lie about how many times I floss and wear my nightguard. 

I looked over it was Alexa’s dad. 

He didn’t greet me with excitement. In fact, he didn’t greet me at all. He just pulled his stool up, clicked the overhead light on, and reached for a mirror and a pick like it was just another patient. He got to work, poking around, humming faintly, a guy with all the time in the world. No recognition, no sign he even remembered whose son I was. I let myself relax a little. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe I’d make it through the appointment without a reference to Alexa. 

Then, elbow-deep in my molars, without so much as looking up from my mouth, he asked it:

“How did Maxy look?” 

With his hands in my mouth the only thing I could do was nod. 

Nobody Asked. Now you know anyway.