“Aiiah.”

“A client. Interesting. How old?”

“Ooou. IoohiOhohoh.”

“Four? And you represent him pro bono? I’m so very impressed. I think, in many ways, we are more alike than one would expect. Hold on while I grind out this ridge. So this is a four-year-old child with serious dental issues. Why don’t you show me which teeth.”

I rubbed my tongue all along my upper row.

“Ah, yes. Now that can be serious. Does he still use a bottle? Do his parents let him suckle himself to sleep with it?”

I nodded. He shook his head.

“I can’t tell for certain without examining the boy, but it sounds like he is suffering from something called BBTD, or baby bottle tooth decay. Ooops. Sorry about that. When you keep fighting me by clenching your teeth, it makes it that much more difficult to get this right. Nothing serious, but suddenly there’s a lot of blood. Rinse, please.”

My God, it was Guérnica in the spit sink.

“Just a bit more and we’re done. BBTD. A bacterium called Streptococcus mutans is feeding on the sugars in the milk or juice from the bottle, and its toxins are eating away at the teeth. If it progresses far enough, it can cause a serious infection that can enter the bone and permanently damage the adult teeth forming beneath the surface. This child should be immediately examined and treated by a qualified dentist.”

“Aahilleyoo?”

“The standard treatment is to go into the affected teeth, excavate the decay, and then, in effect, mummify the damaged nerves. Caps are placed upon the teeth, which restore the primary teeth and allow the permanent teeth to come in without any additional problems. All very necessary. I hope the parents have insurance.”

“Ayhaaahi.”

“Nothing? That is a problem. You better rinse again, Victor. The flow of blood is stanching, but it’s still pretty heavy.”

Swirl, swirl, swirl, splat.

“Let me take another quick peek.” He sprayed my teeth with warm water.

“How do they look?” I said. With his hands out of my mouth, I was finally able to pronounce consonants. I suppose consonants are like lower-right molars, we only really appreciate them when they are gone.

“Beautiful,” said Dr. Bob, “round and even and beautiful. I could have been a sculptor, Victor. I could have been David Smith. I had the talent and the vision, but being locked away all day in a studio, the loneliness broken only by the occasional nude model, that wasn’t for me. Instead I have the best, most noble job in the world.”

He lifted up his diamond bur as if it were a torch of liberty and let it whir.

“Who knows what evil lurks in the teeth of men?” he proclaimed. “The dentist knows.”

“You ever read comic books as a kid?” I said.

“Voraciously.”

“You maybe take them a little too seriously?”

“Of course not. They were so unrealistic. Superman was a newspaper reporter; Batman, some millionaire socialite; Daredevil, a lawyer. Those are heroes? Please. Spider-Man, the part-time photographer; Iron Man, the industrialist; Green Lantern, the architect; Silver Surfer, some sort of Zen wanderer. Oooh, I’m impressed, Zen wanderer. Captain Marvel was a paperboy, for God’s sake.”

“But no dentists, is that it?”

“Tilda will take an impression for the lab, then I’ll set temporary crowns on what’s left of your teeth. When the full bridge comes back from the lab, I’ll give you a call. Everything is going swimmingly, Victor. You should be greatly encouraged.”

“Oh, I am,” I said, rubbing my tongue along my lifeless gum. “One more thing. I was just wondering if…”

“The boy, is that it?” he said.

“Yes.”

“I was curious as to when you would get around to asking. What is his name?”

“Daniel. Daniel Rose.”

“Have Daniel’s mother call me and set up an appointment. I’ll do what I can. Pro bono. Just like you. You see, Victor, it is important for you to understand my mission in life. It is important for you to know what kind of person I really am.”

“Why is it important what I think?”

“We are all one family. We should all understand one another. Tilda,” he called.

She was in the doorway quick as the Flash. “Yes, Doctor.”

“Let’s finish up with Victor, shall we?”

She pressed a massive fist into her palm until the knuckles cracked. “With pleasure.”

35

Julia and Daniel Rose’s one-room apartment above the salubrious atmosphere of Tommy’s High Ball: one unmade bed, one listing crib, a hot plate, a small refrigerator, a portable television, the faint smell of vomit. In the closet, above the piles of dirty clothes and dirty plastic toys, hung men’s pants, men’s shirts, a leather jacket twice Julia’s size. Beside the closet was a small bathroom with a moldy shower stall. Not exactly the Ritz.

“How long has Randy lived here with you, Julia?” said Isabel.

“Off and on for about six months,” said Julia Rose.

“Why did you lie to us and say Randy wasn’t here anymore?”

“He said that because of his record, and his time in the pen, you might take Daniel away if you knew we was together.”

“We don’t want to take Daniel away from you, Julia. We only want you to take care of him as well as you are able.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” said Julia defensively. “And Randy helps. He’s fine with Daniel. They get along real good. He takes him to the park, out to McDonald’s. Randy’s the closest thing Daniel’s ever had to a father. And he didn’t like it, you sitting outside spying on him, Mr. Carl. He didn’t like that at all.”

“I just gave Randy a lift to work, Julia. And I only did it because I wanted to find the truth, and we weren’t getting it from you. But I was impressed with him all the same. He gets up every day, goes to work, works hard. I admire the hell out of that. I agree with you, the best thing for Daniel would be to have a father in the household.”

“Okay,” she said.

But it wasn’t okay, that we were there, that she had to answer to us, none of it was okay, and her sullen disposition let us know it clearly. She sat on the unmade bed, holding Daniel like a baby. Daniel looked up at me with big red eyes.

We had knocked on her door unannounced. That had been my clever idea, the only way, I assumed, we could be sure that Julia wouldn’t bolt before we arrived, the only way we could check out Daniel’s living conditions. We had entered the apartment like G-men, sniffing around, scanning it for evidence of a crime, and now we were standing there, in our suits, standing because there was no place to sit, standing as emissaries from a system that had somehow already failed this woman and her child. When first we showed, it had felt like we were being proactive, but now the unannounced visit felt presumptuous and creepy. Yes, I represented the little boy, yes, Isabel was just trying to be sure the child was cared for properly, yes, all of this was sanctioned by the court. But still I had to wonder what the hell I, a man who had no children, no experience working with children, who, to be honest, didn’t even like the little smackers, what the hell I was doing here, judging the fitness of this hole they lived in, which was the most Julia could afford, judging her fitness to be a parent, when it seemed she actually was trying to do her best.

“How are the parenting classes going?” said Isabel.

“Good. Really good. I’m learning a lot.”

“You missed Tuesday.”

“Daniel had a fever.”

“How is he today?” Isabel stepped over to my client and put her hand on his forehead. “He feels all right. Did you take him to a doctor?”

“No. It was just a fever.”

“How do you feel, Daniel?” said Isabel.

Daniel didn’t answer, he just tucked his head into his mother’s shoulder.

“Has he been crying much?” said Isabel.

“Some,” said Julia. “He’s been having trouble sleeping.”