Somebody That I Used To Know

Dentist

"Well?" Molly says while Tom walks through the door.

"I need to get my tooth removed," he groans and slumps down on the couch.

"What? Why?"

"Also, I'm never going back there."

"Tom-"

"No, I'm not. That man was rude, I'm not going back."

"Okay, calm down. What happened to your tooth?"

"It's decayed."

"Decayed? You're the poster boy of poster hygiene."

"Well, Molly, when stomach acid repeatedly hits it, it gets really hard to maintain."

"That's why." she whispers. "Okay, that's fine. It won't be a big deal."

"It is a big deal."

"Why?"

"It's embarrassing, Molly."

"No, it's not, he knows what it's from."

"Exactly. That's good, right?"

"No, it's not good. I.... ugh, I can't stand him."

"Because you need to get your tooth removed from a problem that you caused?"

"No, he's just... he's just a not nice person."

"Okay, what did he do?"

"You know, he's not even a real doctor. I shouldn't have to listen to him."

"Thomas-"

"No, no, I don't care."

"What about your dentist in England? You loved him."

"We'll he's a real doctor, that's different."

"No, he's not. He's got the same title than this one."

"I don't care." Tom snaps. "I hate him."

"Okay, what did he say that makes you hate him?"

"That I need reconstructive esophageal surgery."

"What?"

"There's a lot of scar tissue. He wants to reconstruct everything."

"Well that's... that's an invasive surgery."

"I know, I'm not doing it."

"Why did he recommend it though? Like medically, is there-"

"He says that I'll have trouble eating as I age."

"Well that's not good. We don't want to give you more of a reason to not eat."

"I think that it's ridiculous. I'll be fine."

"He's the doctor, Tom, maybe you should listen to him."

"I'm not listening to someone that wants to reconstruct my already perfectly fine esophagus."

"Honey, maybe you should get a second opinion. I can see where he's coming from."

"No, you don't, because it's ridiculous."

"Calm down, dear."

"Don't tell me to calm down, you don't understand." Tom snaps.

"What don't I understand?"

"I can't do this, Molly, okay?"

"Shhh, it's okay. What's wrong?"

"Well for starters, I won't be able to talk or eat for like a month. There's no reason for this damn surgery."

"Did he tell you why aside from the fact that there's scar tissue? What do you think it's from?"

"What do you think it's from, Molly?" Tom snaps. "Let's think about this logically."

"Okay, there's... there's no reason to get upset. All we've been doing lately is just bickering and bickering. It's alright, honey, we'll figure this out."

"Figure this out? It's not that easy. So much goes into this. It's not foot surgery, Molly."

"Well... maybe... maybe if you do happen to go through with the surgery, it'll make you second-guess before you throw up again."

"What?"

"Your throat was raw because you constantly were soaking it in acids. Maybe this'll be a deterrent the next time you want to do it."

"That's... offense."

"Not really."

"It's a mental thing, Molly."

"Yeah but having your esophagus get plastic surgery because you... messed it up."

"Just stop." Tom snaps. "How says that?"

"No, Tom, I didn't mean it like that."

"So for starters, that's just an arsehole-ish thing to say. Yes, Molly, my eating disorder did do some damage and it's causing me to not only get a tooth removed, but it made my throat raw. I'm terribly sorry that you're inconvenienced by my fears of getting dental work."

"I'm not inconvenienced. Everything I say you take to the extreme, please just listen to me. I'm just saying that this is perhaps something to make you change your mind about... hurting yourself again."

"It's not like it's a choice I have. I don't just sit there and decide oh today I'm going to throw up so much that I'm on the verge of passing out. I'm going to feel like shit about myself for the rest of the day but I'll do it all again tomorrow. That's not how this works, Molly."

"I know that but you have some control over it. It's hard but it's still kind of on you. Remember that though for the next time because I don't want you to hurt yourself again. You need surgery and-"

"You know what, that's enough. Yes, Molly, I did have a little bit of responsibility for what happened but not full, okay, not full and you fucking know that. I can't believe that you'd even say that to me."

"Okay, Tom, I... I need a breather." Molly sighs. "I just need a breather. This is... everytime we have a simple discussion, it ends in a fight. I don't want to fight."

"Whatever." Tom snaps. "Just... go."

"Go?"

"Upstairs, outside, I don't care."

"Fine."