Mirror in the Sky

Chapter 1 - Peas and Rice

Chapter 1 - Peas and Rice

"Mr. Lemmens, you need to floss after chicken wings and popcorn, because cavities are coming out of your wazoo."

My patient, in for fissure decay and plaque build-up, doesn't make eye contact with me when I say this about his oral hygiene habits. Instead, his attention is glued to the little t.v. suspended from the ceiling.

"Um, I have a question." My new dental assistant, Britney or Brittany or Britani (there are more bewildering ways to spell the name) raises her hand like she's in class. "What does wazoo mean?"

Butt. I should say butt. But I'm a stickler for getting things accurate.

"Anus," I whisper.

Mr. Lemmens eyes crank over to mine and I slide my facemask up. As I drill, the smell of burning teeth filling the room, even through the facemask, I wonder how long Britneybrittanybritani will last. Who doesn't know substitute swear words? Like fudge or peas and rice instead of Jesus Christ?

I pause drilling and motion for Britneybrittanybritani to use the saliva ejector on the patient.

The sound of suction fills the room. "I thought wazoo might be a dental word. I was like 'I don't remember learning that!'" She giggles.

I shake my head and drill again. Something from between Mr. Lemmens back molars flies at my plastic safety glasses and sticks. Chicken is my guess.

"I need you to do another floss at the back," I say to Britneybrittanybritani.

She nods and pulls a string of blue floss long enough to wrap around each of her index fingers.

"Your Mom asked how long this appointment will be," she says.

I frown. I told Mom to not talk to staff and just wait in my office.

"It will take as long as I need," I say.

"Yosie, do you normally bring your mom into the clinic with you?" Britneybrittanybritani asks this casually, but I know she's been talking with the other hygienists.

They've all been wondering how much longer I'll bring Ruthie in during my shifts. None of them want to be stuck keeping an eye on her for me while I'm with a patient, answering her relentless questions of "when is YoYo done?"

The problem is there isn't anywhere else for Mom to go or anyone to monitor her.

"The situation is temporary," I say.

"I only ask if you normally bring her in, because Dr. Watts wondered why you don't look into a care home."

A jittery sensation enters my belly. Watts is the managing director at the dental clinic and I've been trying to keep my bringing Mom in on the down low. If he's getting annoyed then temporary could turn into trouble.

I pick up my drill and wave away her flossing hands.

"That's great, Britney with a y. I'll take it from here."

"It's Brittani. With an i."

At the end of my shift, I gather my things and say good-night to Doris at the front desk. I'm glad I wore thin slacks and a t-shirt under my lab coat all day because instead of heading directly home, like usual, I'm embarking on a forty-five-minute drive from Bellevue to Bellingham. The equivalent being suburbs to a farm town.

I stop in front of the door and look at Mom in a waiting chair, leafing through a Reader's Digest. I told her to stay in my office.

"Mom." My tone is a little sharp. "I'm leaving. Come on."