Chapter 7: Teeth
Jake was up early again. Tuesdays, like Mondays, he left at eight and was not expected home 'til three. Josh would be home around four, and they would be off to the pool. Bolco got up with Jake, and ate first breakfast with him. He slowly and carefully demonstrated use of the CD player to Bolco, and left him with several CDs to listen to. Then he taught Bolco how to read the strange, constantly changing, little runes in the kitchen that combined to represent the hours and minutes; Bolco copied the strange runes into the back of his notebook, noting which one represented Jake's return today and which one represented Josh's arrival.
Jake remembered Bolco's cold-sensitive tooth, and told Janiece, who gently asked Bolco to show it to her. After much coaxing, Bolco did, very unwillingly, deeply embarrassed, and only after shooting Jake a withering glare. Janiece shook her head. "No wonder that's painful. We'll get you the first appointment we can." Momentarily forgetting his age, she maternally stroked his head, embarrassing him still further, and what was worse, she didn't even notice his embarrassment, busily worrying about the tooth. Bolco glared at Jake again, and Jake thought unhappily, He'll really hate me when we get there and they start drilling.
Then Bolco said farewell as Jake left for school and Janiece left for work.
Bolco reviewed his runes thoroughly, sitting at the kitchen table, and glancing often out onto the deck. Casting a long, lingering glance at the pine tree, he sighed, and turned toward the set of shiny black boxes that produced music when you aimed the small, handheld thing at them. Jake had called them remote, and he mouthed the word as he turned the power on-- Jake had called it "Power On"--, and then switched to the other remote and selected play. He hit the buttons to make it softer and louder many times, experimenting, and then puzzled over the flat little boxes that the CDs came in, and studied the pictures on them carefully.
And then he recognized one of the songs as one that they had sung together at the gathering. He listened through the song, and then wrestled with the remote trying to find a way to make it play again. The green runes changed, and he recognized them as the same ones as in the kitchen, only in different patterns. He got his notebook, and tried to correlate them. The more he tried various buttons, the more strange runes flashed on the black box, and at one point the music stopped altogether, and many lines of strange runes confused him on the panel. At that point he couldn't get the music back. He sat down in a funk, and thought hard, and then got up again, and tried again for quite some time, but got nowhere. Finally out of sheer frustration, he reached for the other remote, and pushed the button for what Jake had called "Power Off". It was a relief to see all the strange green runes go away.
And then on a whim, he powered it on again, and found himself back to song number one, and almost wept with relief.
He warred with the thing for an hour and a half, and finally began to feel that he could almost make it do what he wanted it to do, but he heartily wished he could read the runes on the remote; he was sure that would make things much simpler. He resolved to ask Jake that very evening.
He found several other songs that he liked, and played them over and over ‘til he knew the tunes, and most of the words. Then he was hungry-- in his battle with the remotes and strange green runes, he had forgotten second breakfast and almost missed elevensies. Leaving the music running, he restlessly raided the fridge for fruit, and then nervously toasted a ring-bread. It was a little over-done, but not bad. He climbed onto the counter and, standing on his toes, got the honey off of the top shelf.
For lack of a better idea, he kept eating until he was stuffed, toasting two more ring-breads and having milk and fruit to go with them. Then he cleaned up the kitchen, opened the dishwasher and added his dishes, closed it again, climbed back up and put the honey on the top shelf, washed himself up and looked at the clock, frowning in concentration. Twelve hours, and... some minutes. And Jake wouldn't be home ‘til three. Was it really just noon? He climbed up near the kitchen sink and looked out that window, checking the sun, suspended in the south over Mrs. Chattam's house at its low wintry zenith; so, it was noon, true enough. He sighed.
The sun was beating on the side of the house, and warming it. But the air inside was rather stale to begin with, and as the house warmed, it got worse, ‘til the smell in the house was stifling, a strange, stale smell that had no life in it, no freedom. And suddenly Bolco couldn't stand it. He wanted air. He wanted wind. He felt ungrateful, but he also suddenly felt caged, and something akin to panic.
He went down to Jake's room, and carefully raised the blinds on the window, and carefully opened the window and the screen; he put on his jacket, and carefully climbed out. Hunter emerged from his doghouse and came over to snuffle him, and then wandered back. But Bolco hardly noticed the dog; the scent of the fresh air relieved all his tension and pent-up frustration, and he took a few more steps toward the delicious freedom, inhaling, letting his eyes closed in bliss, breathing deeply through his nose, and then through his mouth, tasting the wonderful, cold, fresh air, tasting the fragrance of the melting snow and the emerging earth, inhaling deep lungfuls, sucking in all he possibly could.
Then he heard a quiet humming noise, and Hunter barked. Bolco, with a jolt of guilt, suddenly realised that he had carelessly stepped out onto the lawn, well past the friendly yew bush. He was not hidden at all. And as he turned, with a sinking stomach to look at Hunter, barking, he realised there was a sleek, shiny gray car stopped on the road, with the window rolled down, and a stern-faced woman was suddenly pelting him with questions in a sharp voice.
"Little boy, are you all right? Can't you breathe? Do you have asthma? Are you sick? My goodness, you're barefoot, you poor darling. Why aren't you at school? Why are you unsupervised? Are you home all alone? Why--"
Despite the fact that she called him darling, there was nothing warm or endearing about her. Bolco bolted behind the yew bush, dove through the window, and closed the screen, closed and locked the window, and then closed the blind, and ran upstairs, suddenly shaking, although he didn't know why. The woman's questions hadn't seemed harmful, but neither had she impressed him as kind; he didn't trust her, and that worried him. The brothers' repeated warnings that this neighborhood was more dangerous than he understood had seemed silly to him, but they hammered at his mind now. Who was she, and what would she do? He had left Hunter out there; was Hunter in danger too? Should he have tried to bring Hunter in through the window with him? She hadn't seemed interested in the dog, but he was barking ferociously now. He ran back downstairs and looked through the blinds; Hunter was still barking, but he couldn't see the car from the window.
Suddenly he heard a strange sound that he had never heard before. It was simple and oddly musical, two bell-like tones. It was beautiful, but he thought it must have something to do with the strange woman. He thought it came from upstairs. There it was again. Hunter was now barking furiously.
He went back upstairs, and carefully peeked through the blinds. The car was empty-- and the woman was at the front door, peering through the window! Thank goodness it was locked. But every time she poked her finger towards the wall of the house, that strange musical noise came again. She tried it again, and again, not satisfied that no one came to the door. Then she shouted and called aloud, "Little boy!" and began knocking on the door.
He cringed and closed his eyes. This was perfectly horrible, not to mention absolutely humiliating. It took her five minutes to go away. Once again the house had turned from a sanctuary into a prison.
But finally she did, first walking around the south side of the house into the back yard, still calling "Little boy!", except she did not approach Hunter, who was still barking ferociously at her. Then she returned the way she had come, and got into her sleek gray car, and drove away; he watched her through the blinds, and he thought that she pulled into a driveway almost out of sight. He wondered if she lived there, and decided to ask Jake. And then he realised how upset Jake would be. He sat down on the couch, miserable. After all of Jake, James, and Josh's cautions, he had been careless. Terribly careless. He was ashamed of himself, and thought that any other self-respecting hobbit would have been ashamed of him too. He sat and berated himself for half an hour. And then once again he became aware that the air was stifling again.
Suddenly, desperately, he ached to be back in the Shire, where the air inside the hobbit-holes was fresh and keen with the windows open, or had a pleasant, earthy smell if the windows were closed tight, or a warm-wood-fire, cozy and welcoming sort of smell. And as he thought that, he stood. He still had his jacket on. She was gone, and he would be careful. He wished that there was another window that opened out into the back yard, but there wasn't. He wished that he had asked Janiece and Jake for a key; but he knew that they both thought he wasn't going to go outside til they returned home. He sighed again, deeply miserable. But he went back to Jake's bedroom, carefully opened the window and the screen, and this time crept cautiously out, all senses alert, and pulling the window and the screen closed but not locked behind him. And then he headed for the pine grove behind Mrs. Chattam's house-- as he should have the first time. He blushed thinking about it. But he was outside, and he sighed, and tried to enjoy the air.
Several quiet songs later, he had relaxed somewhat. He wondered what to do, and wondered what to pray. But for some reason, he had no idea, and he just stared at the tree-bark and explored the pines, climbing all of them that he could, and trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that he had.
Finally he heard Jake pull up, and he ran back to the window, crawled in, shut it, and was running up the stairs when Jake came in. The story tumbled out of him breathlessly as Jake was saying "Whoa, slow down, what?" He started over and told it as slowly as he could, apologizing profusely, inwardly panicking at his carelessness and the fury that he was sure would pour from Jake.
Jake sighed and felt his stomach sink. "All right. Put your jacket back on, and come with me; we'll go and look."
Dry-mouthed, Bolco did so, and Jake drove slowly down the road, past the driveway. "That's it! That's the car. Grey, and shiny. Does she live there?"
"Evangeline Burroughs." Jake heaved a deep sigh, and looked over at Bolco. "She's a busybody, all right. Well, we'll just have to see what happens. And we'd better pray that nothing does."
He ruffled Bolco's hair. "In the meantime, we've got to pack for the pool. Josh will be here soon. Come on, Bolco. Cheer up. You're about to go swimming."
****************
Josh arrived with his swim satchel already packed, and he guzzled a glass of orange juice and they piled into his car. Jake summarized the Evangeline Burroughs Event, and Josh shook his head. "I'm not sure what she'll do, but she's a fierce one," he sighed. "Please, God, hold her at bay."
Bolco sunk back into the depths of misery, ‘til Josh reached over and tousled his hair. "You're going to start work on freestyle today," Josh said. "Cheer up. I need you ready to work."
Bolco drank his gaze, remembered all the promises he had made to himself on Sunday about learning everything from Josh that he possibly could, and slowly let go of his other anxieties. Right now, he was headed for the pool, and there, Evangeline Burroughs had no sway over him or Josh or Jake. And the first thing he would do, he knew, was at least thirty of those... "What do you call those breathing exercises?"
Jake laughed bitterly. "We used to call them bobs. I always hated that name almost as much as I hated the exercise."
"Huh." Josh glared at him. He's on edge, he thought, and decided to let it go. "Well, Nathaniel, today you're going to do them in deep water, and then it's called survival floating."
"Oh?"
"Yes. You learn to stay afloat with the minimum amount of motion required to keep you afloat. The idea is to float almost totally relaxed, and just keep breathing. And if you're a sinker, that takes a little bit of motion-- but just a little. Today you're going to find out how much."
"I am...?"
"Probably a gentle flutter kick will do the job. But today you'll find out."
"And I'm going to do this in deep water?"
"Eight feet deep. Without holding on to anything."
Bolco began to worry, and then he remembered how they had taken care of him last time, and how safe he had been. And he returned Josh's gaze again, and decided that he would simply do exactly as he was told. "How many?"
"We'll see how you are feeling after thirty."
"All right." They arrived, showered and changed. Different lifeguard. Same suspicious glare at Nathaniel's tee-shirt.
The survival floating was more relaxing than treading water, and not much more difficult to coordinate, and when he had done thirty, Josh asked him for twenty more. Again, Nathaniel rather enjoyed the feeling of victory that staying afloat in eight feet of water gave him. Then they swam to the shallow end, and Josh reviewed the last lesson thoroughly; Nathaniel finned and back floated and treaded water and swam underwater, and then they got up on the deck and Josh began lecturing on the freestyle. He had Nathaniel mime the motions on the deck, and then they got back into the water.
It was a little bewildering coordinating the breathing and the arm stroke and the kicking all together, but Nathaniel struggled and fought and persisted. He was frequently ordered onto his back to rest. The lesson ended long before he wanted it to, but he realised climbing out that he was, again, dead tired. He sat by the starting block while Jake and Josh swam laps, and he studied them avidly.
He looked up and realised that the lifeguard was standing over him.
"Hi, " she said, pleasantly, swinging her whistle on its strap. "What's the deal with the tee shirt and leggings?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, wide-eyed.
"How come you're wearing a tee shirt and long leggings in the pool? You saw the sign on the door: reasonable swimming attire required. And here you are covered from head to toe. You worried about a sunburn?" she asked, indicating the solid ceiling above.
Suddenly Jake surfaced, and stood, and Nathaniel shrugged at him.
"Your little friend worried about a sunburn?" the lifeguard persisted, pleasantly. "He wouldn't have any rashes to hide, would he?"
"No, Ma'am," replied Jake respectfully. "He comes from a modest culture, and he's shy. That's all."
"Shy."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Josh surfaced, and stood. "Problem?"
The lifeguard looked at Josh. "How do I know the tee shirt and the leggings aren't hiding an open wound or a contagious rash? For some bizarre reason, we've had to turn away several cases of poison ivy here in the middle of February. I know it's really strange, but I'm under orders to keep a close eye on it."
"Yes, Ma'am, " Josh sighed. "Look, I know you're just doing your job. Can you take our word for it that he's all right? He's very shy."
"No, I can't. Look, guy," the lifeguard said to Nathaniel reasonably, "Your friend is right, it's my job, and I need to know. Why don't you just pull your shirt off for a minute and let me check for rashes and open cuts, and then you can put it back on again. Okay?"
Nathaniel looked at Jake, and Jake looked at Josh, and Josh said, "I know it's embarrassing, Nathaniel. But she's just doing her job. You can put it back on right away."
"I-- Jake, please, I can't."
Jake sighed. "Ma'am, he's done swimming for today anyway."
"Look, I don't want to have to cancel his pass. The rules are the rules, and we've got to keep the pool clean. If he wants to come back, he'd better be willing to wear more normal swimming attire."
"What?!?" blurted Nathaniel. "What do you mean, if I want to come back? Of course I want to come back!"
The lifeguard shrugged and gestured at the shirt.
Nathaniel glared at her for several moments, and as his embarrassment swelled to anger and twisted his face, he yanked the shirt off where he sat, and bending forward, buried his now-scarlet face in it. As the lifeguard quickly checked his back, Jake saw his shoulders shaking. A moment later, Nathaniel took the shirt away from his face, and shot the lifeguard a tear-filled look of such injury that she softened, even as she was bending down to try and get a glimpse of his chest. Instinctively he folded his arms, covering his chest with the shirt, and glared at her.
She sighed, realizing that this guy was much more than just shy. At any rate, the good news was that from what she could see of his back and sides and shoulders, he did not have poison ivy or any cuts. It would have to do. "Okay. You can put it back on now." Shooting Josh and Jake an apologetic glance each, she returned to her station, swinging her whistle on its strap.
But the damage was done, and Nathaniel was sunk into such misery that he did not want to move. He stayed hidden between the starting blocks, shirt clutched to his chest and knees drawn up in front of himself, and leaned his head against the blocks, and stared at the water as tears rolled silently down his face. Jake and Josh exchanged glances, and stood and waited, and at first Nathaniel seemed to calm down. But then suddenly he flung the shirt behind him, with another rush of silent tears, and lurching forward, dropped himself into the pool, surfaced-- still furious-- and began swimming down the lane, alternating a breath with three pulls underwater. Josh followed close behind him, watching. Jake noticed his goggles on the deck, and collected them, and jumped onto the deck and collected the shirt.
Bolco expended his temper in three and a half lengths, and then suddenly realised he was exhausted, and rolled onto his back, and finned to the starting blocks where Jake was waiting for him. Jake held the shirt out to him, but he shook his head, and stayed in the pool, gripping the wall. "Do your laps," he snapped at Josh.
Josh raised an eyebrow, replied, "Okay," and surged away. Jake climbed back down into the water, and stood waiting by Nathaniel, saying nothing. Nathaniel hung onto the side of the pool with one hand, and absentmindedly moved the water with the other hand. He wasn't done crying, either, and every now and then he rinsed the tears away by ducking his head.
Josh returned, gestured to Jake, and Jake swam a lap while Josh waited. Nathaniel glowered at him. "You don't have to baby-sit me."
"Shut up," Josh said quite tenderly, removing Nathaniel's hand from the deck and pushing him underwater, and when he came back up-- not spluttering, Josh noticed, pleased-- Josh replied, "Besides, with you two here, I can't exactly do flip-turns, can I?"
Nathaniel glared at the deck. "When can I learn how to do flip-turns?"
"When you're ready."
Jake returned, and Josh swam off. Jake waited silently,
"Jake."
"Yeah."
"When Josh comes back, help me push him under."
"Why?"
"He pushed me under."
Jake thought, He'll kill me; he's a lifeguard; he hates rough-housing in the water just like they all do. Why he ever pushed Nathaniel under-- well, I guess I'll have to ask him. But-- "You don't need my help; it's all about timing. Get him before he puts his feet down. Climb on him as he comes to the wall."
When Josh swam back, Nathaniel was ready, and Josh sank immediately. In fact, he sank to the bottom. Jake grinned. Nathaniel got nervous, and came back up, and Jake stayed down, with clouds of bubbles rising to the surface. Jake could see he was finning hard to stay down. Nathaniel looked at Jake, and back down at Josh, suddenly worried, and dove back under. Jake grabbed him and pulled him back up. "He's way too big for you. Don't try it."
"But--" Nathaniel panicked, looking back down, where Josh had now gotten rid of enough air to stay still on the bottom.
"He's teasing you. He'll have a good laugh at you when he comes back up."
And indeed, Josh was ready to burst out laughing as he surfaced, but something stopped him, and he sobered immediately. The lifeguard, frowning, was standing nearby on the deck, swinging her whistle on its strap, and glaring at Josh.
"Sorry, Ma'am."
She stalked away, not at all pleased. Josh looked bashfully at Jake, and then at Nathaniel. "So, okay, we won't do that again. Ever. Will we? No, Ma'am. We won't."
"Sure," Jake growled. "Get us all three thrown out for the semester. Nice."
"I'll be good," Josh muttered, "I promise."
"What were you thinking?"
"I was trying to lighten up the mood around here," Josh replied. "It was a little heavy."
"Yeah, well, let's get out of here before we get arrested."
The three climbed out, and Jake offered Nathaniel his tee-shirt. Nathaniel took it, resentfully folded it up very small and held it in one hand, even as he tried to hide as much of himself as he could by wrapping his arms across his chest. The picture of angry misery, he stalked out, wretchedly certain that every eye in the place was on him. Several eyes were, but not for the reasons he assumed.
***************
Bolco was still in a bit of a funk in the locker room. Gently Jake asked him, "I don't understand why you didn't put the shirt back on."
"Because having to take it off is far worse than not having it on in the first place," he replied miserably.
"It is?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, " Bolco snapped, and Jake let him be.
Janiece had dinner ready for them when they got home. Bolco was still on the testy side. Janiece asked him why. The whole story of the tee-shirt came out. Janiece struggled to understand why he hadn't put it back on.
Bolco glowered out at the deck. "I should have just accepted that the normal thing to do in the pool is not to wear one, and let it go at that. I almost lost my chance to swim."
"But she said you could put it back on," Janiece replied.
"So she can make me take it off again next time? No thanks. I should have worn what your sons wear and let it go at that."
"There's nothing wrong with modesty, Bolco."
"At the pool, it makes me stand out. If I've got to wear the shoes and socks and long pants to blend in everywhere else, then I might as well learn not to wear the shirt in the pool. If you had a fireplace I'd burn the shirt." The subject was closed.
Janiece sighed. His will, and his temper, were a force to be reckoned with. She resolved that she would spend some time praying about it that night.
She shifted in her seat. "The dentist's office returned my call late this afternoon. They've had a cancellation, and they can take you tomorrow morning at nine-thirty. We'll get that tooth of yours taken care of. You should be more comfortable after that."
"Mom," Jake interposed, "it's not like he's insured."
"You know my priorities," Janiece replied, in that quiet tone of hers that brooked no argument. "Eyes and teeth are not to be neglected. We're not putting this off. I will be there to discuss his needs with the dentist. You will be there to keep Bolco company. I'm sure you'll be able to find a way to make up the class work."
"It's just lectures, Mom," Jake replied, uneasy. He knew he was starting to fall behind.
"Janiece," Bolco replied, "You haven't asked me if this is something I'm willing to do."
"No, Bolco, I haven't." She looked him square in the eyes. "Nor would I ask my own sons if it was something that they were willing to do. My sons know what my priorities are. If you intend to stay under my roof, then you will take care of your teeth, as well as the rest of your health. And you will not intentionally miss an appointment that I have set up for you. I am not trying to make you miserable. Yes, you can choose not to go. Ask my sons what the consequences might be."
Jake winced. "Please, Bolco, just get the tooth fixed. I don't want you to have to go apartment hunting."
"Apartment hunting?"
"Looking for another place to live? Mom doesn't pull punches with this. It took Josh a year before she'd let him back home over the summer."
Josh put his face in his hands. "The dentist isn't that bad, Bolco," he said, muffled. "If I were you, my choice would be easy. That is, now that I've learned my lesson."
Suddenly Bolco had another ultimatum-- with far worse consequences than the shirt versus the pool. Trapped again. Suddenly, all his memories came flooding back of being thrown out of his father's hobbit-hole in Long Cleeve. He folded his arms, hunched forward, curled his toes underneath him, and glared at the tablecloth. This isn't the same, he told himself. She's trying to take care of me, and my teeth, whatever that means. She's not angry. She just has her rules, and those that stay under her roof have to live by them. And this is one of them. But still, he felt sixteen again, and echoes of his father's rage swirled around in his stomach.
Janiece ate her dinner steadily, Jake picked at his, and Josh watched Bolco.
Finally Josh's hand reached out to Bolco's shoulder. "I can stay, too, if you'd like. I can make up the lab work at another time if I have to."
"You really think I should go." Bolco studied Josh.
"Oh, yeah." Josh nodded glumly. "For more reasons than one. Mom's right about the tooth; the sooner you get it fixed, the better off you'll be. I mean, it's nasty having someone digging around in your mouth for half an hour, but then it's over, and you're better off. "
Bolco shifted, folding his arms across his stomach, which was churning. He wondered what the right thing to do was. It was clear that the three other people at the table felt that letting this dentist work inside his mouth was the right thing to do. Why was he fighting it? Because he was terribly embarrassed, that's why.
"I thought you said that there's nothing wrong with modesty. Isn't there any privacy in your world at all? Isn't there anywhere that the line is drawn, and nobody meddles beyond that? What else are people going to pry into?" He refolded his arms, tighter, and then looked up at them. "Is this something you've all done?"
Josh and Jake nodded glumly. Janiece replied firmly, "Yes it is."
"I've got my share of filled teeth," Josh said. "I'll let you see the fillings if you'd like."
"No, thanks," Bolco said. There was another long pause while Bolco considered all this, and then he covered his face with his hands, and his shoulders sagged again, and they knew he had given in.
"Do you want me to come?" Josh asked.
"No. Go to class," Bolco replied, tight-lipped.
Jake and Josh exchanged glances again. Jake wondered how long it would be before Bolco's temper subsided this time, and he idly considered calling Anne. She seemed good at cheering him up. Two nights in a row, he thought; did he want to seem that eager? But then, it wasn't about him. It was about the irate hobbit sitting across the table. He could simply ask her if she was willing to come and cheer him up again.
He stood, reaching for the phone.
"I meant to ask you about the ice cream trip, " Josh said, and then heard the phone beeping as Jake dialed.
"Hi, it's Jake. Fine. Yeah, thanks. Listen, Josh and Bolco are both here, would you like to join us? Anytime. Sure. Bye."
She came dressed for a hike, and got Bolco's jacket out of the closet for him. They wandered around outside for a bit, flirting with the edge of the woods. Twenty minutes later, Bolco was in high spirits, and Jake had firmly decided that Anne was good for him. Josh asked numerous questions about the ice cream trip. As an afterthought, Bolco asked, "How late are they open?"
"Nine," Jake replied, having checked. "How about tomorrow-- uh, Thursday night?"
"What's wrong with tomorrow night?"
"Another of Mom's rules," Josh soothed. "All those living in the house attend church Sunday morning and Wednesday night; no exceptions. Jake can't get out of it, and so you've got nobody to drive, even if you could get out of it."
"Or wanted to," Bolco replied. "Anne, will you be there? At church?"
"All right," she smiled.
"Well, then, I suppose the ice cream will wait ‘til Thursday. Why don't you sit with us?"
Josh choked back his laughter, and Jake waited to see what Anne would say when she finished laughing.
They went to the golf course, with the humans walking in the rough along the edges, and Bolco running and dancing and dodging all over the fairways and the greens. To Josh's relief, Bolco's bare feet left no marks on the turf, and by Josh's request, Bolco stayed out of the sand traps. Josh had had enough trouble with authority for one day.
He was not tempted by the large, dark ponds. However, he insisted on wading in the icy little streams, splashing mischievously. Despite his contagious laughter they gave him a wide berth. When he got back onto dry land his feet were stiff, and after he got them moving again he had to run around to warm up, and they all played tag for a while.
Eventually, Bolco even found a climbable, deciduous tree, and Anne was introduced to the fine art of stargazing from tree branches. Climbing in the hiking boots was a little awkward for her, but she managed well. Jake made sure he was below her and within easy reach as she climbed up and down. Bolco and Josh both gazed at the Milky Way and thought about swimming, and Bolco realised how little he had spoken with the Creator that day, and took the time then.
*****************
Wednesday
The next morning, they slept in ‘til seven, except Josh who had to get to class. Bolco was up in time to eat breakfast with him and see him off, and then Jake joined him for second breakfast. Bolco tried not to be utterly miserable, and failed.
Jake explained the process of filling a tooth as best he could, and then promised to stay in the office. "The only time I'll have to leave is if they take x-rays," he assured him, and then had to explain x-rays. That only made Bolco more nervous.
Eventually the moment arrived, and they drove to Dr. Jacobson's office in Janiece's car, Nathaniel procrastinating putting his shoes on until the last possible moment. By the time they walked up the stairs and sat in the waiting room, the smell of the disinfectant and the sounds of the hygienist’s rotary brush put Nathaniel so on edge that he was wide eyed and close to hyperventilating. Jake was afraid he'd bolt down the stairs, out the door and into the street. He put an arm around Nathaniel's shoulders; the little guy was as tight as an E-string on the guitar.
Jake answered the secretary's questions as best he could. For some reason, he spelled out Bolco Nathaniel Tuk, even as he wondered whether that was a good idea. But somehow he knew it was. Nathaniel looked up at him with wide eyes, and the secretary studied him. "Hello."
Nathaniel, unable to speak, nodded and tried to smile in return. "You'll be all right, dear," she soothed.
Janiece spent quite a bit of time talking to the dentist. "He's homeless. I don't think he's ever been to the dentist in his whole life," she said. "He's not just afraid, he's terrified. We've promised him that Jake can be with him; he trusts Jake. Please, be very careful, and work with Jake as much as you can."
And with that, Dr. Jacobson said, "All right, son, come this way," and led Jake and Nathaniel down the corridor.
As Nathaniel followed Jake's directions, and let the assistant clip the thick napkin with the chain around his neck, Dr. Jacobson tried, hard, to put Nathaniel at east, to chat with him, and get him to relax. But it was all to no avail. The more he chatted, the deeper Nathaniel withdrew, and the more Nathaniel tightened up, until finally Dr. Jacobson gave up, and simply said, "All right, son. Let's have a look. Open wide."
Nathaniel clawed for Jake's hand, holding it tightly enough that Jake winced, and, staring at the ceiling, by sheer act of the will opened his mouth. Jake sat as close as he could, speaking to Nathaniel, again, as if he was a spooked horse. Dr. Jacobson gently studied Nathaniel's teeth, and then said, "All right, sir, take a rest for a minute." Then he turned to Jake and softly said, "You do realize, he's over twenty years old." And he stood and went to speak with Janiece.
"We know he's not a boy," Janiece replied to the doctor's admonishment. "He's just quite short. That's fine with us. But you can fix his tooth, can't you?"
"I can," the dentist replied. "How old is he?"
"What would you guess?" she wondered.
"Mid-twenties; perhaps a little more. Certainly past his teens."
"He's twenty six," she nodded.
Dr. Jacobson frowned. "Well, you could probably have the state pay for him, or maybe get federal assistance."
"We're paying cash," Janiece replied with a touch of obstinacy. "Just please do the best you can. Take good care of him."
Dr. Jacobson returned to his office, frowning, and ordered a pair of x-rays. They all stepped out as he did so, Jake keeping up a chatter as he stood outside the doorway. Then Dr. Jacobson prepared a syringe of Novocain while his assistant produced a gauze pad to prep the injection. The two sterile smells combined to gag Nathaniel horribly, and he wished with all his might they would open a window. He whispered that to Jake.
"Any chance we could open a window, Dr. Jacobson? The smells are a bit strong for him. He's used to fresh air."
Jacobson looked at his attendant. "Get a sweater or something," he said. She did, and returned bundled up. The dentist wiggled his gloved fingers at Jake; "Jake, if you wouldn't mind getting the window?" Jake opened the window, wide, and the fresh air flooded in. Bolco drank it as if it was water and he was dying of thirst. It calmed him, just a little.
"Okay, Nathaniel, " Jake said, re-clasping his hand. "Dr. Jacobson's ready. Are you?"
Nathaniel looked up at the dentist, and as he opened his mouth again, a stream of tears poured from the corner of his eyes, past his ears and dripping into his hair. The assistant was startled to notice that the short man's ears were pointed; odd genetics, she thought, as the doctor injected the Novocain. The short man's eyes were the wildest of any patient she had ever seen. She wondered if it would have been kinder to put him out for the duration, but the Novocain was in him now. The doctor was getting down to business, and the short man was so far avoiding passing out from hyperventilation; but he wasn't calming down, either.
Nathaniel's grasp on Jake's hand only clamped tighter as the procedure continued, ‘til Jake had to ask him to switch hands. Nathaniel was in complete sensory overload; between having gloved fingers inside his mouth, metal clamps, scraping tools, gurgling vacuums, and the horrible drill, he finally decided it was all a wretched wightish nightmare and that he would wake up in the chair by the fire at the Smials and feeling all creaky and wrinkled for having slept in his clothes. He closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them he would see the parlor flickering in the firelight and perhaps Pippin's laughing face. As the fillings were pressed, squeaking, into his tooth, and finishing touches were being put on the work, and clamps were being undone, his tears finally dried, and Jake thought he was relaxing at last; but he wasn't. He was thinking that if it was just a nightmare, there was no reason not to hit the dentist when it was over. Or even, right now.
But before his idea had quite turned into resolve, the dentist sat back, and said, "Well, sir, there you are. No eating for at least an hour. And I might add you've controlled your fears quite well. Perhaps next time you'll be able to relax just a little."
The assistant was relieved when it was all over and the little man had not hyperventilated badly enough to pass out; she hated having to call 9-1-1 from the dentist's office. The coffee shop across the street invariably noticed, and the whole town found out, and it was bad for business.
Jake leaned close to Nathaniel. "Careful. As you close your mouth, don't bite your lip or your tongue. Think about where they are. And if something stops you from closing your teeth, find out what it is; it's probably your tongue, but it might be your lip or cheek. Be careful. Okay?"
The assistant stepped out, and returned with the hygienist, who offered Nathaniel a toothbrush, and invited him into the next office. He went reluctantly, with Jake in tow, and got a lecture on tooth brushing and flossing. Jake stood by him, and Nathaniel listened because Jake seemed to think he should.
Janiece was astounded to find that the dentist planned not to charge her at all. She insisted.
"All right; materials only, then," he conceded. "You're a good lady, Mrs. Scott. And for someone as terrified as he was, your friend was quite brave. I'm glad I could help."
"Please keep his record together with our records," Janiece said.
The secretary frowned. "I'm sorry, but we've got to file it by his last name."
"Can't you put ‘Care Of Scott’?" Jake prompted.
"Put a placeholder in under Tuk that references Scott, and put the record where Janiece wants it," Dr. Jacobson said. "Just be sure the names are all clear."
As they were walking down to the car, Janiece said, "Jake, I wonder if he might appreciate your company for the rest of the day."
"Yeah," Jake agreed. He'd have to make a few phone calls to be sure he could get the notes. He did that first thing when they got home.
Bolco did not even go inside the house. He took his shoes and socks off, and set them on the front steps, and headed into the woods past Mrs. Chattam's house. After Jake finished his phone calls, he headed back outside. Bolco was only a quarter of a mile away, and when Jake called, he stopped and waved, and Jake jogged to catch up. They were out until they both got painfully hungry; then after they ate, they went out again, pockets stuffed with food. They were out until Janiece came back from work.
By the time they arrived at church, Nathaniel's face was almost normal-feeling again, and he was able to sing. To Jake's surprise, Nathaniel asked, not Anne, but Jake to pick him up again, so that he could hear the lyrics. Nor did he change his mind halfway through worship; he was content to listen to Jake sing through the whole set.
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