Root Canals and Cow Fields

Yesterday I took a girl to the dentist. We'll call her Kitty. She's the second girl in two weeks to have tooth issues. I hadn't spent much time with her before this and I know she struggles with English, so I was a little anxious. The dentist's office was in Hartland, a neighboring town only ten minutes away.

I'm normally very good with directions. Honestly.

The building wasn't marked. I mean, no address, no sign, no nothing. I went past it, turned around, couldn't find it and finally called the office. It was right across the street from where I parked to call them. I was not inspiring confidence in Kitty.

We went inside. The dentist takes some X-rays and then called me back.

"There's a lot happening here," he said, waving his hand in front of the X-rays. Diagnosis: one root canal, one filling and "maybe more." He gave us a referral and a prescription and sent us on our way.

In the car in the parking lot, I try to translate what just happened. Kitty's eyes were large and her hands almost shaking. She was afraid it would hurt and I told her she'll feel much better afterwards. She asked again and squinched up her face then typed something into her iphone.

"Will they have this?" she asked, showing me her phone. Under some Chinese characters in the Google translator it said: anesthesia.

"Of course!" I almost yelled and told her all about the numbing they will do.

She seemed happy after that so I started the car. It was 10:56am. Feeling chatty, I asked her about if she wanted to go to college and what she wanted to study. We talked about her parents and I felt like I was learning a lot about her. Learning so much, in fact, I wasn't paying attention. There weren't many turns to get there, so I'm not sure how I ended up on the wrong path. New England back roads in Fall look similar. Cows. Fields. Green. Trees. It took me a little while to realize I wasn't on the right road. But I figured if I just drove, I'd see something familiar. I saw a Route 152 sign (the road I drove in on) and took it. Again, it took me awhile to realize I wasn't on the right road. Too long.

"How close are we to school?" Kitty asked.
"Oh.... ten minutes?" I guessed, hoping I wasn't lying too much.

I saw a sign for Cambridge, a city I've only ever heard of as being in Massachusetts and pulled over. At this point, I noticed my gas tank was almost empty. No gas light yet. I pulled out my cell phone to call Jared. No reception. I carry the duty phone for work and tried that. When I told him where I was, from his pause I could tell he had never heard of Cambridge, Maine.

"I'm on 152. Going north, I think."
"Go south," he said.

At this point, Kitty was leaning against the door.
"I feel dizzy," she told me.
I rolled down her window a few inches. Have I already mentioned it was raining?

She leaned her head against the cool glass and silent plops of water started pooling in the armrest. I turned the car around and headed back through the orange and yellow and naked trees. The sloping hills and L turns. It would have been an incredibly, beautiful, scenic, idyllic ride if I didn't have a student in pain over a root canal, feeling dizzy, while it rained (both inside my car and out), on a back road in rural Maine with no cell service while running out of gas.

Forty-five minutes after leaving the dentist's office, I found the road I was supposed to be on. Kitty was half-sleeping, half-clutching her stomach at that point. I noticed her fist was clenched. We hadn't spoken since Cambridge.

"Are you okay?" I asked.
She nodded.

I breathed easier when I drove past the golf course and the tractor store. Through the neighborhood where some friends of ours live and Henry and I found the snapping turtle that one time. I was beyond relieved to drive through Hawthorne Park where they take the little league pictures and saw the Post Office up ahead. But as I turned a corner, maybe two minutes away from home, Kitty said, "Can you stop the car?"

I pulled over right away (right in front of a puddle, of course). She grabbed at the door and I fumbled with those stupid, automatic locks I'm always yelling at Jared about. At first she just leaned her head out and then jumped out all together. Wearing only a thin, white hoodie, Kitty stood in the rain, in the weeds, and puked.

I. Felt. Horrible.
Sooooooooo horrible.

"Sorry," she said when she got back in the car after maybe five minutes.
"No, I'm sorry," I told her.

Minutes later I dropped her off in front of the dorm and she bowed, slightly, as she got out of the car.
"Thank you so much, Mrs. McCannell," she said.
"Sorry again, Kitty!" I said, almost crying.
She shook her head and ran for the door. It was 12:10. I'd made her miss lunch.

And today she had a root canal.