Not my usual dentist…
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
“Don’t forget your dentist appointment today!”
“Don’t forget your dentist appointment today!”
“Don’t forget your dentist appointment today!”
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
“Air’n, STOP!”
Izzy begrudgingly got out of bed and did a zombie walk to the bathroom sink.
Head pounding, they turned on the light.
Being careful not to hit the tooth that was giving them all this grief, Izzy brushed lightly and thoroughly.
Sharp pains continued to plague Izzy as they threw on any old sweats and a NIYU alumni crewneck.
“I could've sworn I hung my keys right here,” Izzy thought.
Another sharp pain shot through Izzy’s head as they crossed off November 11, 2021, from the magnet calendar on the fridge.
Today is the last day I will deal with this pain. I can make it through today.
Today is the last day I will deal with this pain. I can make it through today.
Tripping over a stack of intellectual property law books as they headed towards the door, Izzy became even more stressed thinking about how they would win their case next week.
As a pro bono lawyer on the North side of Jackson, MS, Izzy was working with the local city college to provide free legal assistance. One case, in particular, seemed like something worth rolling their sleeves up for to earn a win.
It was the case of Jones v. Sony, a case sure to turn social media upside down. A teenager from Pearl was arguing that a new PlayStation game had used their dance move in a new game update. Izzy had been working with a small team tirelessly and truly believed they had a case to protect black creators for decades to come.
All Izzy had to do was make it to trial next week.
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
“Don’t forget your dentist appointment today!”
“Don’t forget your dentist appointment today!”
“Don’t forget your dentist appointment today!”
Izzy’s Air’n watch reminded them.
“Wallet, cell, coat, keys, what else?” Izzy thought.
“Ah! My journal!”
Izzy had been writing down their arguments and responses to 57 possible rebuttals in a journal they liked to call "Future Tense."
After throwing the journal in their bag, Izzy set off to the dentist.
Incoming call from ‘Midtown Dentistry,’ Izzy’s car alerted them.
“Hello, I’m very close. I’m not even technically late yet!”
“Hi Izzy, we’re calling to remind you that the location of your tooth extraction has changed to our new branch downtown.”
“New branch? I had no idea you all had a new branch?”
“Yes, it says here we sent you an email regarding the change in location last… ah, Tuesday!”
"I never received an email. Honest. Can you just text the new address to my phone and I’ll be there shortly?"
"Absolutely, and please remember there are to be no extra visitors with you at the time of your appointment."
“DUH! IT’S COVID!” Izzy thought after they hung up the phone and reprogrammed their GPS.
After getting there early and realizing they had some time to study their arguments for the case, Izzy realized that they knew every word written in "Future Tense" by heart. Verbatim.
There was no way that black content creators wouldn't make the money they deserved after Izzy won this trial. They were certain they would break the internet in a way that would change the game forever.
Walking into the downtown office felt eerie. It was one of those business suite buildings that always seemed cold, but this was different. For one, Izzy had lived in Pearl for the last eight years and had never seen this building, and secondly, the suite number had them shook.
1313 seemed like the nastiest number for anything, especially a dentist’s office on the day of a root canal. But ever since Izzy had taken this case, this tooth tried to fight back, so it had to go.
After confidently flipping through "Future Tense" one more time in the waiting room, Izzy was called back to the chair where the nurse went through the procedure one more time.
Izzy gave a thumbs up to signal that they understood what was about to happen, and the nurse left saying the doctor would arrive shortly.
Hearing the door open and close, Izzy sat back, closed their eyes, and took a deep breath.
Opening them, they saw someone they had never seen before administering anesthesia.
Frantically, before falling unconscious, Izzy screamed,
“YOU’RE NOT MY USUAL DENTIST!!!!!”
HE KNEW GOING COLD TURKEY WOULD BE HARD…
He knew going cold turkey would be hard—but not this hard.
It had been two weeks since Jared had spoken to Helen. The thought of calling her made him itch, sweat, and groan in desperation.
Ever since he was born, their communication had been spotty, which was weird because she was his mom. There should be a direct line, right?
"I’m just going to see if she’s eaten," Jared muttered to himself while picking up his iPhone.
“The number you have reached has been temporarily disconnected.”
Typical, Jared thought.
There seemed to be no linear way to connect with a binge addict. Maternal instinct be damned. Now, at 29, Jared knew this was something he would have to let go of. At least, that's what he thought he knew. That's what his therapist told him anyway. But how could he? How could he sever the one connection that should've been the most important to him? To her?
The last tear had dried up years ago, along with his bank account. There was nothing more he could do for Helen.
Knowing he had to help his husband with the baby, Jared powered down his cell and headed back inside.
"You give Helen my hello?" Adair asked.
"How did you know—"
Adair gave Jared that look.
"Her phone was disconnected," he muttered.
"Well, come give this munchkin her snacks. I gotta pee!"
"Do you want fruit snacks or chicken?" Jared asked baby Elaine.
"You know she wants the chicken!" Adair yelled from the upstairs bathroom.
"Zaaaa!" Baby Elaine exclaimed, reaching for her favorite food—chicken pieces.
"You’ll always respond to your parents, won’t you, E?"
"Gaaagaaa," Elaine said.
"That’s right, and we’ll always answer your calls no matter how early or late it is. Promise," Jared said as he placed her in her high chair and opened the fridge.
Knowing he shouldn't, Jared pulled the Talenti gelato from the fridge because, when he was sad, recipe #60 had a way of being a band-aid of sorts.
"What is it about coconut shavings, almonds, and chocolate anyway?" Jared thought as he scooped and scooped. It wasn't until Elaine started crying for more snacks that he snapped out of his usual trance.
"Okay, baby girl, let’s get you and daddy tucked in," he said to Elaine after wiping her down and changing her clothes.
See, the thing was, Jared knew he couldn’t change Helen, but he needed information from her. He needed to know who her dealer was this time.
Jared had climbed into bed next to Adair and had full intentions of going to sleep. Adair, however, was watching the 9 o’clock news.
"It seems like drug dealers are dropping like flies over there in Riverdale. This reporter says there’s got to be a serial killer who’s targeting them."
Jared froze.
"A serial killer in the hood? Nice one, babe. Turn the TV off and let’s get some sleep."
"I’m trying to hear about the serial killer two towns over, and you want to go to sleep? The math ain’t mathin’, Jared."
"All I know is that me + this pillow = sleep," Jared snapped before turning over and proceeding to have a small anxiety fit.
As the sun peeked through the curtains of Jared and Adair’s grand window, Jared rose.
What’s the first thing that comes to a family man’s mind at 9:30 am on a Saturday?
Chores? Groceries? Playdates? Knives? Rope? Plastic wrap? A large bed pickup truck? Bleach? Creek?
"I’m glad you’re finally up!" Adair said from the bathroom. "I’m taking Elaine to my mom’s all day since you have that journalism conference over in Fremont. That is today, isn’t it?"
"Can I wake up first? I still got crust in my eyes, and you’re talking about journalism," said Jared.
He really needed a second to sort out his lies. Did I really say journalism conference? Damn, now I gotta write something. Find a free cup or sweater. Damn, why would I say a journalism conference?
"Yes, the conference in Fremont. That is where I’ll be. It’s going to run until just before dinner. Can I pick something up?"
"That would be most helpful, kind sir."
"You play too much," Jared laughed.
"Isn’t that why you love me? Now come kiss this baby so we can go. I’ll tell my parents you’ll see them some Saturday this year."
"Tell Mama Gladys I’ll be over soon, and I want some greens!"
"You tell her!" Adair shouted from the garage.
This is when Jared turned into someone unrecognizable.
Looking in the mirror, dressed in all-black gym gear, Jared pulled on his baseball cap and headed to his shed. After meticulously moving some gardening supplies and holiday decorations, Jared found what he was looking for.
Knives. Rope. Plastic wrap. Keys to a large bed pickup truck. And medical-grade cleaning bleach.