The next day, a Friday, Mitchell had a dentist's appointment. His mother
insisted that it be in the morning, which meant he had to miss band. He was
afraid to conduct another clandestine meeting with Jamie after his father's
terrifying outburst. Nonetheless, he gave the band room a secret, longing
farewell as he shuffled out to his mother's car.
Once seated uncomfortably in the chair, Mitchell shuffled uneasily and
stole a stealthy glance at the television. He was usually too old for the
kind of cartoons they played in these places, but today the voices seemed
especially obnoxious, and he found himself slyly looking at the tiny
screen.
"YOU SNORT WHEN YOU LAUGH!" insisted one of the characters.
"Do NOT!" the other retorted.
"DO SO!"
The argument continued in this manner for several minutes. Mitchell
shuddered and turned his eyes and thoughts away from the psychodrama being
enacted before him. He began to imagine that the hygienist's prying fingers
were his saxophone and...well...after a lot of ugly events happening, including
Mitchell's being threatened to have his teeth flossed with his socks, he
escaped and was flung wide-eyed and blinking into the waiting room.
"Well? How did it go?" his mother asked uninterestedly.
"I hub a mirruh stuckh in mah thrt..." Mitchell attempted pathetically.
"WHAT?"
"Nefverkmunk..." "You want some lunch?"
"Eccccch, ech dokh, buckh..." At this point his mother enlisted the help of the dentist himself. He listened to one sentence, then, without a word, removed the offending mirror and walked into the back to wash it. "That was disturbing," said Mitchell's mother perkily. Mitchell said, wisely, nothing.
"Nefverkmunk..." "You want some lunch?"
"Eccccch, ech dokh, buckh..." At this point his mother enlisted the help of the dentist himself. He listened to one sentence, then, without a word, removed the offending mirror and walked into the back to wash it. "That was disturbing," said Mitchell's mother perkily. Mitchell said, wisely, nothing.
