Gum

It's good for your teeth isn't it?

Gum

He chewed his gum loudly, deliberately, purposefully. As time passed, I could hear nothing else in the waiting room. The white-washed wallpaper, the tiny table strewn with ancient magazines. Splintery wooden chairs. I believed his chewing was a skill honed to irritate. It was admirable in its antagonism.

 

I would have welcomed any distraction from my pending dental appointment. The dentist’s chair is synonymous with agony. The snapping, squishing smack of the gum within this man’s stagnant mouth was sufficient to silence any musings of drilling. The clinical scent of potent mouth-wash.

 

My frustrations rising, I observed his character. He was the most frustratingly boring and indecorous "default" human being I'd yet shared a room with. His hair neat and short, plain white tracksuit and paler skin, sat oddly upright in constant expectation of something. Having mashed all flavour from his present stick, he looked for a bin to harshly spit the gum in to. Failing this, he turned to me.

 

"Hi" he chirped nasally, trying to make eye contact.

"Hi" I relented quietly, not desiring to talk.

He took this as an invitation to continue. "I'm getting a checkup. I know I'm fine. I take good care of my teeth. Really good. The secret is lots of gum, see?" he flashed his greatest possessions. Forced to look at them, they seemed well kept, at a glance...

 

The needlessly intimidating and strong figure of the dentist roughly pushed open the swinging doors.

"Ok who have we got...Damien. Is that gum, again? We've been over this. Please spit that out."

Shaking in the presence of authority, Damien found a bin. As he spat his gum with great gusto, some pink shape shot from his mouth, clacking harshly on the tiled floor! I jolted upright as Damien, as shocked as I was, stared at the now-broken object with guilty dismay.

 

"Please don't chew gum with your dentures."

"My perfect teeth..."

"Come on Damien. Ah, Mr Jones. One moment.”

 

I nodded gently as Damien was led away. To get a new set fitted, or to be scolded again, I couldn't be certain. Smirking to myself, I vowed never to trust a man who takes too much pride in himself, for everyone has their dentures. 

 

Moments passed silently, save for the gently buzzing fluorescent lights. One noise replaces another. Tempted to reach for a magazine, my eye was first caught by the shattered dentures. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the ruined shards. They looked expensive. I recalled how highly the kid praised his “perfect teeth”. Perfect?

 

A loud smack broke my trance. The kid shot out from the swinging doors. His perfect white persona for once tinged with red around his eyes and cheeks, hot with the glow of discipline and frustration. With only the most furtive of glances at myself, then at his shattered perfection by my feet, he kept his mouth firmly closed and burned redder still from his private shame. Momentarily, he stormed from the dental practice having failed to regain his composure.

 

The dentist emerged, wearing an aura of frustration. Seeing that Damien had departed, he relaxed his shoulders and sighed with tired exasperation.

“Sorry about that.” He spoke apologetically. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

“Wait...” I had conversely found this turn of events worthy of emotional investment.

“I...what happened?” I was unsure what else to ask.

“He’s my son. I’m hard on him, but that’s the third set I’ve had to make. This time all he did was drop them.” The dentist sighed. “He used to get in to trouble with some of the older boys.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I replaced his teeth. Even with his medication he has panic attacks if he’s...not up to his own standards. He’s a good kid, really.”

“I’m sorry, John.”

“No..it’s good to get it off my chest. I’m sure he’ll go for a run, take his medication and feel better.”

 

Fortunately for myself, I’d only had a couple of fillings in my full set of teeth. On an evening some days later, I took a perfectly calm stroll, still unable to fully filter the sight of fractured pink plastic from my minds eye. I was oddly haunted by the fragments, by the sight of hot salty tears streaming from Damien’s swollen red eyes. As if when his dentures broke, a segment of his soul had shattered alongside them.

I turned a corner towards the local park, and froze on the spot. Damien was indeed taking an evening jog with a sort of focused determination. Fully equipped with heart rate monitors, perfect running shoes, sweatbands, an expertly crafted gait. He at once profoundly impressed and irritated me, and I decided to hang back for just a moment, hoping not to be recognised.

It was this moment when, recognising him, some local kids drove a corsa quickly through a puddle and violently garnished his runners uniform with muddy water. I could practically see him bend and snap as the kids peeled away, hollering out of the window, as he reached for a small empty bottle in his pocket. His medication?

Without the slightest warning, Damien hurled the plastic bottle to the ground and screamed. Ripping off his muddy clothes in a state of total rage, I saw him spit something out of his mouth. In some bizarre nightmare I never expected to have to witness, I saw a raging, shouting naked man sprint down the street and projectile a new set of dentures at the speeding car to have finally broken him.

As the car pulled over, and three aggressive teenagers lumbered forth from the vehicle, I was forced to admit a newfound fascination and respect for Damien. Here was a man who, not days ago, I had written off as insufferably boring by appearance, ready to engage the world like a Wildman.

Truly he was one of the most interesting people I hoped never to know. I silently wished him the best of luck, before sneaking away down a side street.

 

Reviews

[Maya]

Haha, perfect characterisation, as usual! Interesting little piece, very entertaining.