Lovey

by Mary MacCracken

What plans? The phrase seemed ominous, and again I took the letter to the Director.

  She read it quickly. The thought crossed my mind that of course she must have seen it before. It was sent from the Board, and she was on the Board.

  ‘What should I do?’ I asked. She had hired me, taught me, had me train other teachers. She had been in the field over fourteen years, I was certain she’d know how to handle it.

  She lit a cigarette and studied me over the smoke. ‘There doesn’t seem to be an awful lot you can do Mary. This state aid is going to be a godsend, but I’m afraid it’s going to mean we’re going to lose some of our best teachers.’

  Lose. What was she talking about? I had no intention of being lost. I was a teacher, an experienced, qualified teacher. She knew it. I knew it. I intended to keep on teaching; the only question was how.

  ‘Now, look,’ I said. ‘What I’m trying to say, to find out, is how to get the papers that will satisfy the Board. I’m taking the courses as fast as I can, but I need some sort of dispensation or whatever, until I get my degree.’

  The Director stood up, obviously dismissing me. ‘Well, good luck,’ she said. ‘I hope it works out for you.’ Vaguely she waved the cigarette as she picked up the phone.

  I got the message, finally. The Director wasn’t going to help. She might like me, might think I was a good teacher, but she wasn’t about to stick her neck out. Her dream, her ‘impossible dream’ of her own school, was too close. She wouldn’t risk fouling it up for one teacher. Good teachers came and went during the lifetime of a woman like the Director, but there was only one school. I didn’t blame her. The school was her life; she had put all her strength, all her money, all her energy into keeping that school alive over the years. Now it – and she – were almost safe. My problems must seem very small.

  ‘How’d it go?’ Patty asked as I came in late for Circle.

  I shook my head. ‘Not so good. I’ll have to think of something else. Maybe I’ll go see Bernie Sorrino after school.’

  It was hot in Bernie’s office and he had an electric fan going.

  ‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘What’s June gonna be like if it’s hot as hell in May? What can I do for you, sweetheart?’

  I showed him the correspondence from the Board. He studied it carefully and then handed it back.

  ‘What’s the old lady say, that Director of yours?’

  ‘She wishes me good luck.’

  ‘Yeah. Well, that figures. You’re going to need more than luck, I’m afraid. If she was willing to stick her neck out and cover for you, you might get sway with it. It’s still a private school and they got a lot more leeway than we do. I’d hire you in a minute if I could, you know that. Still with that new school and state support, she’s gonna be looked at pretty close. Probably doesn’t want to take the chance.’

  ‘Listen, Bernie. This doesn’t make any sense. I’m taking the courses, not learning much, but taking the courses and getting A’s. I’ve been in our school six years altogether – teaching full time with salary for five. I like it; I want to keep on teaching. The state must want experienced teachers who want to teach. Am I wrong?’

  ‘That’s right, you’re wrong. The state doesn’t give a damn, unless it looks good on paper.’

  Frustration was mounting inside me. ‘Okay, then. I’ll get the paper. Where do I go? What do I do?’

  Bernie wiped his forehead. ‘You can’t get a paper. Not without a degree of some kind. If you had a degree in paperhanging, even, you might get provisional certification while you finish your education courses. Without it you haven’t got a chance.’

  I stood up. ‘Thank you, Bern. I appreciate your taking time to talk to me. I know how busy you are. But you’re wrong about one thing. There’s always a chance.’

  Bernie stood up with me, shaking his head, lighting a cigar at the same time. ‘Don’t break your heart, sweetheart. It’s not worth it. You remind me of that filly at the racetrack, headlong, smart, but you’re gonna run smack into the wall if you don’t watch out. Listen, why don’t you get married?’

  I stopped by the office door. ‘Proposing?’

  ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘Bigamy. That’s what you’re trying to involve me in. Ruin my saintly reputation. Listen now,’ he said, his face serious, ‘keep me informed. Let me know what happens.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I will. Thanks again.’

  Chapter 19

  ‘Open your mouth, babe. Let me take a look.’ Hannah obediently opened her mouth wide and I peered inside. Her front teeth looked deceptively good, but the back and side teeth were discoloured and broken or rotten.

  ‘Does that hurt?’

  Hannah shook her head, talking around my finger. ‘Uh-uh.’ Then, forcing my finger out with her tongue, she said, ‘I no go dentist doctor.’

  ‘Boy, that’s about the silliest thing you’ve ever said. Your teeth need to be fixed and the dentist can fix them.’

  Hannah shook her head at me again. ‘Dentist doctor bad. Hurt Carl. Not let Mama sit chair with me. Bite dentist doctor. Hate him.’

  ‘For Pete’s sake, what kind of sense does that make? How can the dentist fix your teeth if your mother’s in the chair? How can he fix anything if you bite him?’ I shook my own head at her.

  Mrs Rosnic had called the school and left word that it was urgent that I call her back as soon as possible. When I did she explained that Hannah refused to go to the dentist and wanted me to look at Hannah’s teeth.

  Mrs Rosnic was right. It was urgent. I had never seen such bad teeth. I sighed, wishing I’d looked before, wishing again that we had some sort of school doctor, or at least someone to do occasional routine checkups.

  There was always so much to be done, never enough time to do it. I shook my head, feeling a little weary but knowing part of my weariness was because my reply to the Board was still hanging fire. More than a week now and I still hadn’t come up with anything. Well, anyway, what counted now were Hannah’s teeth, and I called Mrs Rosnic after school to tell her I agreed that Hannah should see a dentist immediately.

  It turned out that what Mrs Rosnic actually wanted was for me to find a new dentist for her, Hannah hadn’t been kidding; she had bitten the other man and he refused to see her again. I promised to discuss it with the Director and see what I could find out.

  There was a formality between the Director and myself that hadn’t been there previously. It was almost as though she feared I would reopen the subject of the letter from the Board of Directors and was purposely insulating herself from discussion with me. She never spoke to me now without a cigarette in her hand, the smoke forming another screen between us.

  However, she was always courteous, and now she suggested I call the mother of a child who had just undergone extensive dental work. I thanked her and then sat without saying anything for a minute or two, watching the thin grey smoke curl before my eyes. I thought she might want to talk, but she, too, sat silently and then turned to the phone, excusing herself.

  Both the child’s teacher and the mother highly recommended Dr Sullivan, a dentist who specialised in treating children. I reported back to Mrs Rosnic and the Director and then called Dr Sullivan.

  His schedule was crowded, his secretary said, but there was a cancellation for Thursday, May 14, at ten thirty.

  I made the appointment for Hannah and called Mrs Rosnic, but then it turned out that she hadn’t realised it was so far and she didn’t like to drive on highways and she didn’t see how she could leave Grandpa and Helen, and – well, really what she was hoping was that I’d take Hannah.

  More conferences with the Director, arrangements for the boys to join other classes while I was gone. Finally everything was set. And then on May 14 Hannah didn’t come to school!

  I called the Rosnics’ house and Mrs Rosnic said she was sorry but Hannah was up to her old tricks again – wouldn’t get on the bus, wouldn’t come to school.

  It was nine forty-five. There was no way we could make the ten-thirty
appointment. All those arrangements for nothing, Dr Sullivan’s time wasted – just because Hannah had managed to have her own way.

  ‘Mrs Rosnic,’ I said, ‘I’ll call Dr Sullivan and apologise – and somehow or other get another appointment. Tell Hannah that, and tell her that we’re going to keep this one.’

  ‘Maybe if we don’t tell her …?’ Mrs Rosnic suggested hopefully.

  ‘We’ll tell her. She trusts us and it’s not fair taking advantage. Tell her I’ll see her in school tomorrow morning.’

  Hannah dragged into school the next morning, glared at me, and went into the coat closet. I ignored her and after a while she couldn’t stand it any longer and came out.

  ‘Not going to dentist doctor,’ she stated unequivocally.

  ‘That’s right, lovey. Not today. Next week.’

  ‘You mean! Hate you! Why I have to go? You not go!’

  ‘I’m going,’ I said. ‘I’m going with you. Besides, I go see my own dentist twice a year.’

  ‘Two times every year?’

  ‘Mm-hmm. He cleans my teeth and fixes anything that needs fixing.’

  Hannah came over close to me, staring hard at my mouth. Then she put out her hand and I opened my mouth while she explored my teeth with her finger.

  ‘What call that?’ she asked, running her finger over the top of my lower teeth.

  ‘Teeth.’

  ‘No. Not teeth. Inside teeth.’

  ‘Silver. Silver fillings.’

  ‘Silver,’ she repeated. ‘All white and silver. Is nice.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Two times every year?’

  ‘Mm-hmm.’

  ‘That lot of times. You go hundred times already.’

  ‘Hey, come on. I’m not that old.’

  Hannah removed her finger from my mouth. ‘You sit in chair, okay? I sit on you.’

  ‘Nope. The dentist, his name is Dr Sullivan, can’t fix your teeth that way. But I’ll be with you. We’ll drive down together in the car and go into the office together. The dentist has two rooms, at least my dentist does, and you’ll be in one room and I’ll be in the other. It will probably take about a half hour, and then we’ll drive back together.’

  ‘Maybe I not come. Maybe stay home.’

  ‘We stood Dr Sullivan up once. We’re not going to do it again. This time our appointment is at eleven. If you don’t show up at school, I’ll be over to pick you up at home.’

  The morning of the twentieth was sunny and hot and Hannah sat close beside me in the car, her arm pressed against my side. I knew she was scared and I didn’t blame her, but she rode quietly, looking straight ahead.

  We found Dr Sullivan’s office on a quiet side street and Hannah sat beside the secretary’s desk and gave the required information by herself, spelling her last name carefully, giving her address, phone number, even her birth date.

  For another child this would be good, showing composure and intelligence; for Hannah it was spectacular. Nine months ago she had lain on the floor howling and screaming. Now, immediately before going in to see the dentist, she could sit and quietly give her personal data.

  Dr Sullivan came into the waiting-room and greeted us in a slow, kind voice and then invited us both into the examining-room. He was a slight man, with a thin face, thin hair, and tired eyes that peered out from behind his glasses. I was surprised to be asked into the examining-room, but I followed along and waited in the doorway.

  His touch was sure and skilful as he helped Hannah into the dental chair, gave her a ride up and down, and asked if he could look into her mouth. There was something special about the way he asked: a gentleness, a courtesy. I was pleased and touched by the respect with which this small thin man treated Hannah.

  After a few minutes he came over to the doorway where I stood. ‘We’ll need X-rays. But even without them I can tell you there’s going to be a lot of work. It will be extremely painful; we’ll have to pull at least two teeth and maybe more. She’ll need anaesthesia.’

  ‘Is there any alternative?’ I asked. ‘She’s had some bad experiences before, and though she seems calm, it’s taking a lot of effort. She’s very frightened.’

  ‘The work has to be done, even on the baby teeth. Otherwise it will just get worse and the infections will drain into her whole system. Will she take gas? How about finances? Can the family afford it?’

  ‘I think Hannah will be all right, especially if you continue as you did today. And the finances we can work out. Does the money have to be paid all at once?’

  ‘No, of course not. Let me take the X-rays and then I can tell you how much it will run. Why don’t you go on out to the waiting-room now?’

  I walked over to where Hannah sat. She seemed so tiny in contrast to the big chair, and her courage was even more apparent. I told her I’d be in the waiting-room and that there would be no hurt today, only pictures to see what needed to be done.

  In fifteen minutes Hannah and Dr Sullivan were back. While Hannah picked out a gold ring set with an imitation ruby from a velvet tray, Dr Sullivan spoke quietly to me. ‘I couldn’t have asked for a better patient. I’ll start with the teeth that can be saved, get those filled so they won’t get worse. But I’m still going to have to pull two.’ Anger tinged his voice. ‘Why didn’t you bring her in earlier?’

  I knew how he felt. I often felt this way at school. Why had it been so long? It would have been so much easier earlier. ‘I just got her this year.’

  ‘Okay. Okay. She should have been in years ago. Sorry. Didn’t mean to jump on you.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘How much will it run?’

  ‘Family pretty hard up?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Let’s keep it to a hundred dollars. Is that all right?’

  ‘That’s fine. Now, what’s going to happen next time? I think it will be easier if she knows what to expect.’

  Dr Sullivan took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‘You know, you’re only the second person who’s ever asked me that. Usually they leave it all up to me.’

  Anger flashed in his eyes for a short minute. ‘Maybe I’m judging too harshly, but I can’t help noticing that parents seem to have abdicated. They just bring the child; that’s all they seem to figure is required of them. Get the child here on any excuse, lie to him, often as not – then they wonder why kids don’t trust dentists.’

  He sighed, the anger gone, and put his glasses back on carefully, almost delicately, tucking the wire sidepieces behind his ears. ‘Hard to know the best way to approach a child like Hannah. I think I’ll use gas even for the fillings. I could use novocaine, but that big needle’s pretty scary for any kid and she’s probably had more than her share of fright. Tell her … wait. Come on back in for a minute. I’ll show her; that’s better than trying to tell her.’

  The waiting-room was filled now with mothers and children, two of whom were crying. Hannah sat on a leather chair, hands in her lap, examining her new ring, and I felt another surge of pride in her composure.

  ‘Hannah, we’re all through for today. Dr Sullivan says you were a great patient, one of the best he’s ever had. If you want to, we can go back in for a minute and see something he wants to show you, so you’ll know what’s going to happen next time.’

  Hannah slid off the leather chair and put her hand in mine and I could feel the new ring sliding on her finger. Back in the examining-room, we both looked at the mask that Dr Sullivan held in his hands.

  ‘Sleep stuff?’ Hannah asked. Was it possible memories of that infant operation were stirring in her head?

  ‘Not really sleep. Dreams. Do you ever dream?’

  Hannah nodded. ‘All time. Dream mouses. Dream Blue Fairy. Dream all time.’

  Dr Sullivan put the mask over his own head. He looked ridiculous because he had left on his glasses and now he peered at us with an odd wall-eyed look. But I wanted to put my arms around him. He cared more about Hannah than himself, or how he looked. Who would ever expect to find a true
lover in the dentist’s office?

  ‘Now you figure out the best dream you can have, Hannah, and next week, while I’m fixing your teeth, we’ll see if we can find it for you.’

  All the way home in the car, Hannah turned the ruby ring against her finger. Finally she said, ‘He nice, that dentist doctor. Not bite him.’

  The next two visits were harder, but each time when Hannah and Dr Sullivan returned to where I sat in the waiting-room he had his arm around her.

  Finally he said to me, ‘Well, that’s it for repair. Next time I’ll pull those two teeth.’ He lowered his voice. ‘It may be a little rough. One of those teeth is so far gone, I’m going to have trouble getting a grip on it. I’ll do my best.’

  I nodded. If Hannah had to go through this I was glad she was in kind, competent hands.

  ‘I talked to Mrs Rosnic about the money,’ I said. ‘Will it be all right if she sends you two dollars a week?’

  He hesitated and I said quickly, ‘If you’d rather, I can give you a cheque now and she can send the money to the school.’

  His voice was hot. ‘Don’t be foolish. It’s not that. It’s just … having to mail two dollars every week. Life’s so hard for some people. Seems like there ought to be an easier way to live.’

  Hannah had been in the dental room for forty-seven minutes. I had turned endless pages of magazines and now I walked to the window of the crowded office, hardly hearing the noises of the other children and their mothers. It shouldn’t be taking so long – two teeth! How long can you pull on a tooth?

  Dr Sullivan put his hand on the middle of my back and I turned, startled, from the window.

  ‘She’s all right,’ he said immediately. ‘But still groggy. I had to give her a pretty heavy dose of anaesthetic, but I finally got everything out. Here.’

  He handed me a bottle filled with clear liquid and two teeth, or rather one tooth and pieces of another.

  ‘Have her rinse her mouth every couple of hours with warm salt water. If she’s in a lot of pain, grind up one of these tablets and mix it with a little sugar and water. Call me if there’s any trouble; otherwise I’ll see her once more, just to check everything out. Come on in now.’