Shelly. He had a little round bowl next to the Chair. Water swirled round and round before zipping down the drain. You were supposed to spit into the tide and your bloody plaque would instantly disappear. "If you're good". he'd whisper, "you'll get a card from my girl out front. It's good for a free ice cream cone across the street at the pharmacy. Any flavor. But only if you're a good girl." I moved my eyes away from the spit bowl. The windows were wide open, the chair faced Rowayton Avenue, and later my mother said she could hear me scream as she sat in the parked car sullenly smoking. He practiced dentistry on children without the benefit of Naovacaine or gas, and his drill was loud and slow and sounded like a mixer suddenly slow,hitting the bread dough. Grrrrrrrrrr grinding that cavity until it was just a hole waiting to be packed and filled with silver. "Number 4 times 2" he'd command, and Judy Silverman would smile as she turned on her white nurses shoes. 'Yes sir!" she says and bounces away to mix it up.
I don't remember the rest of the appointment, whether he scolded me or ignored me or later told my mother how badly I'd behaved---as if she didn't already know. I do remember his deep tan face and the black curly hairs on his arms and how tight around his neck the green dental jacket was buttoned. Why wasn't that collar choking him? And that skin and those hairs..well one thing I knew. He was not like any male I'd ever seen before...ehhhh.
Not long after we switched to Dr. Weinburg on that avenue up in Norwalk facing the green. Even for cleanings, he used gas. Mmmmmmmmmmm. Me like!