Dentists by Katie Oliver

My mother always said that dentists were dangerous
that they did bad things to your teeth on purpose 
then charged you for the pleasure. The murky world 
of teeth and The People Who Did Things To Them 
chattered at me quietly throughout my childhood 
like the wind-up sets my mother hates so much. In private 
I would push my thumb behind my two front teeth 
then present her with the evidence: I think I need braces. 
Without looking up she’d say I think you’re fine. 

She often would recount how she’d walked out 
of her first marriage with nothing but her passport 
and a handbag, shedding possessions and her former life 
as quietly as a snakeskin. I often think about the books 
she left, scattered across America like a trail of crumbs.
Back then she took tennis lessons and gave
dinner parties, where her guests were scandalised
by the gap between her two front teeth 
and told her they knew a guy.

When I am thirty I visit the dentist for the first time, 
convinced I have a cavity. He is visibly annoyed 
that my teeth are in largely good condition, though takes 
comfort in the fact that I have too much plaque. I endure 
having tartar chipped away as I lie prone under the lights. 
He tells me to look after my gums and charges me 
£21.60. Triumphantly, I call my mother.

………………..

Katie Oliver writes flash fiction, poetry and short stories. She has been shortlisted for the Bridport Prize and the Bath Flash Award, and was awarded an honourable mention in the Reflex Fiction Winter Competition. She has had work published by Dust Poetry, Funny Pearls, Idle Ink and Popshot Quarterly.

Twitter: @katie_rose_o