No Laughing Matter Pt 01

"You know, I could easily fix those up for you and I'd even give you the friends discount." He flashed that perfectly, chiselled smile at me. There was not a single blemish on any of his pristine teeth. He took another sip of his coffee, his second cup already that morning. His pearly-white teeth would convince all that he never touched a single drop in his life.

"You know how I feel about that place," I said, with a tremble running down the length of my spine. "It has the same effect as snakes and spiders."

"Oh, come on." He smiled again. "It's just me. How long have we known each other?" He leant in closer and stared at my mouth. "In six months we'll have that gap closed up."

"I just don't like needles or anything like that, especially near my mouth."

"Jill, there's no needles involved. You don't need an anaesthetic for me to fit a brace. It's a fairly simple procedure, it just takes a little time to fit and a bit longer to see results. But we have kids coming in all week and getting fitted without any problems. You can just come back every week to have it tightened."

My jaw dropped. "Every week? You cannot be serious, Bob. Once a year is enough for me and that place."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I'll roll the red carpet out for you, I swear."

"I'd rather not. You know how I hate the dentist, and I only ever come to you when there's really no other choice."

He shrugged. "I'm just saying, you've spent the past hour or so complaining about how long you've been single and that you get no interest from guys. I'm telling you, as a guy, if you walk around with a glowing smile then you're gonna have endless men knocking down your front door."

"I just don't know..." I was still hesitant, as I really did hate everything about the dentist. However, the thought of walking around with a set of perfect teeth and the subsequent attention they'd draw was honestly enticing.

"You're probably the hardest-working person I know. How many years have you dedicated to your career? It's about time you spent some of that money you've been earning on yourself."

Bob was right, I had pretty much given my life to my work. Straight out of college, I'd taken a role in my aunt's real estate business and had never looked back. With her retirement, I had taken over the company and had progressed to one of the leading brands in our district. It had been a lot of hard graft, but these days I had a team beneath me and was able to relax a lot more while still enjoying the profits. Perhaps Bob was right, maybe it was about time I focused on myself.

"We can even whiten them up first. Your smile will belong in a magazine once everything is finished up," he added, just to cement his case even further.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. If that was the outcome, then would the short-term pain of actually attending a dental clinic be worth it? I pictured myself at my own future wedding, a handsome groom stood at my side while I beamed a beautiful smile. No longer were my teeth stained yellow or sporting that annoying ever-present gap which had made me the butt of jokes ever since my teens. Buck-tooth Jill they called me, as well as likening me to various cartoon rabbits.

I'd met Bob during college, and though we'd never had a romantic relationship, we'd been the closest of friends. Even back in those days, Bob had been dating a beautiful girl named Sandy, whom he had subsequently married shortly after graduation. Sandy was such a confident force that she never felt threatened by me, therefore, my friendship with Bob had remained strong.

From the first time I met him at a freshman party in college, Bob had enthusiastically informed me that he was studying dentistry and I should consider getting some work done. This wasn't an insult, though at the time I was slightly taken aback that he just came out and vocally highlighted something that I was incredibly anxious about. Thankfully, he phrased it in a complimentary, rather than insulting way.

"You have such beautiful eyes and a cute nose," he had said. "I can tell you're self-conscious about your teeth, but that can be fixed!"

I'd played along and acted like I was interested, but every time Bob tried to convince me to get the work done; I'd make up some excuse and wriggle my way out of it. Perhaps now, sat in his own clinic, there was no more need to wriggle.

I took a deep breath and looked Bob in his friendly eyes. "Fine," I said. "Let's do it."

My long-time friend clapped his hands in celebration.

I nervously opened the door to the clinic with all sorts of thoughts running through my head. It had been a week since Bob had visited my home and performed the teeth-whitening treatment. I was thankful that it was a possibility for it to be completed in the comfort of my own place, and I appreciated Bob for going out of his way. It had been a painful experience, and at times I had felt like changing my mind and calling the whole thing off. The thought of my perfect smile kept me going through it, though my teeth remained extremely sensitive a few days after. I was pleased with the outcome however, and my teeth had never sparkled more. I'd asked if I could have the braces fitted at home too, but unfortunately that wasn't an option.

Stepping into the dentist caused a stirring in my tummy, the sort you get as you hit one of those dips on a rollercoaster. My first thought was the pain I'd felt during and after the whitening treatment. Why was I going to put myself through even more misery? At least that had been in my own home, but now, in the clinic, I couldn't shake the idea of drills and scalpels, buzzing and poking around inside my gums. As a child, I'd had a bad experience where a dentist had accidentally caught my gum with a hooked instrument and it had stung and bled for hours. Ever since, I'd been reluctant to attend and if I had no choice and had to undergo a procedure, I'd always pay extra so that I could be put under anaesthetic. Bob had often joked about how he had to use up expensive medicine to put me to sleep so that he could complete the most minor of procedures.

Upon entering the waiting room, I was greeted by the receptionist desk where there was a young girl talking on the phone. She had long, dark hair with a sheen-like surface and a pair of green eyes that mesmerised. Her skin was a light brown made up of a smooth, blemish-free complexion with thick eyebrows that matched her beautiful hair. I inwardly smirked and rolled my eyes at the transparency of Bob's hiring decisions. Pretty face to welcome the clients in and all.

I stood and waited patiently until she had finished with her phone call. "Hello," she said with a bright smile. She was almost a commercial for the clinic itself. "Welcome to Apple Tree Dental Clinic. Do you have appointment?"

"I do, indeed," I said while putting a slip from my purse. "I'm a friend of Bob. He should be expecting me."

She smiled again, then glanced at her computer screen and clicked a couple of times. "You are Miss Matheson?" There was a light accent to her voice that sounded almost French-like.

"That's me," I said with a nod. "I'd say I'm happy to be here, but I'm really not." I could hear a warble in my voice as I spoke, no doubt giving away just how nervous I was.

She dipped her head. "Oh, no, you do not like dentist?"

"Not at all!"

She giggled and then eased my concern with a smile. "We take care of you."

I glanced over her shoulder and noticed a bunch of flyers pinned to the wall. There were all sorts of treatments listed: fillings, veneers, crowns, and root canals. Each of which made me shudder and I was on the brink of just chickening out and running away. I tried to compose myself, took a breath, and looked back towards the receptionist instead. She was still sat there, eyeing me with that same welcoming smile. I focused in on her teeth. Were they how my own smile would look once this was all over? If so, the momentary judders I felt would definitely be worth it. I just needed a distraction so my mind wouldn't overthink things and lead me to scarpering. The perfect distraction was sat right before me. I was used to small-talk and idle conversation through my job. It stopped the mind wandering and I found it effective when trying to keep potential buyers away from negativity. The sort of negativity that paralleled sharp objects being poked in my mouth.

There was a badge fastened to the girl's blouse which bore the name Hind. At least, I figured that was her name since it was one I was unfamiliar with. "That's a beautiful name," I said while pointing at the badge. "It matches your smile perfectly."

"Thanking you," she said while showing her teeth, which seemed white as snow against her light brown skin and purple lips. "You very kind." I wondered whether Bob had undertaken some work on her teeth or whether they were naturally just that perfect.

I already felt better now that I was focused on something else other than the treatment I was about to undergo. I wanted the conversation to continue to maintain the distraction, but Hind seemed quiet and polite. I realised I was the one that would have to put the effort in. "Your eyes are just gorgeous," I added. "They're so green, like emeralds."

I saw Hind blush, then she smiled and once again said, "Thanking you."

"Is that an accent I detect?" I asked, while cocking my head. "French?"

"Oui." She licked her purple lips with a moist, crimson tongue. "I speak French, but I am not from France."

"Oh? Where are you from?" My interest was certainly piqued by the delicate tone of her voice.

"Morocco."

"Oh wow," I said with genuine surprise. "And you speak French?"

She giggled and rolled her eyes. "Yes, we speak French and also Arabic." She said a few words in what I presumed was Arabic, however I couldn't understand and simply smiled politely. "I from Casablanca, do you know?"

"Well, I've seen the movie."

"I here to study," she said. "I want be dentist like Dr Jacobs."

"So, one of the best then?"

She smiled again. "Yes, he very kind. He sponsor to study and learn in clinic."

I looked Hind up and down. Her smooth, blemish-free skin with a light brown pigment. Her shiny, cared-for hair. Her enrapturing green eyes and her slender physique with a narrow waist, yet ample bosom. She had pretty, colourful string bracelets tied around both thin wrists and extravagant earrings dangling from each ear. No wonder Bob had been keen to sponsor her. I shook my head at having such a cruel thought. Bob was completely infatuated and devoted to Sandy, he always had been, and it was unfair to judge Hind in such a way. She was more than her appearance, surely, and as a fellow member of the female clan, I was better than such judgements. Yet, I'm sure of the male customers were suddenly booking more appointments than usual.

"How wonderful," I said. For some reason, I then gestured towards her hair. "But you don't wear a headscarf like the other pretty Moroccan girls?" I then saw the confusion in her eyes and realised that I had crossed a line and was being incredibly rude. I'd watched plenty of videos of Morocco on YouTube and had been considering it as a holiday destination, particularly Essaouira and Marrakech. I loved the beaches and all of the markets where you could haggle for a bargain. However, I noticed that even in the heat that a majority of the women wore the headscarves, though, there were some younger women like Hind who didn't. I was always fascinated by the women in the headscarves, they seemed so beautiful, especially the way hiding their hair seemed to highlight the beauty of their eyes further. There was something exotically mysterious and enticing about them, even to a woman such as myself.

"You mean hijab?" she asked, with a look on her face that I couldn't read. "I don't wear. My mama and sisters wear but I do not wear."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be nosey."

She shrugged. "I used to wear, but I no longer wear. Not since I come here."

"Oh, well I hope you haven't been made to feel unwelcome. We're a free country and you should be able to express yourself however you like here." I smiled, and hoped I was helping her to feel at ease with my friendliness.

She dipped a hand into her elegantly patterned blouse and for a moment I panicked and thought she was about to bare her breasts. However, she seized a necklace and presented it to me as it dangled from her fingers. "This Fatima," she said, while showing me a pendant. It was a blue-shaped hand which appeared to have an eye at its centre, which she caressed with her thumb. I noted her manicure was neat, though unpainted. "You know Fatima?"

I glanced between the necklace and Hind's piercing green eyes. "No, I do not, but it is certainly very pretty."

"It is watchful eye," she said, while looking at me curiously. "It protects from evil eye."

"Oh." I couldn't think of anything else to say as I felt awkward. It was wrong of me to mention her lack of a headscarf; however, I didn't really understand what the necklace had to do with anything. The conversation had progressed beyond that between a receptionist and patient.

"I not wear hijab since I arrive this country," she said, thankfully with a smile. "It not easy for...integrate." She tucked the necklace back between her breasts. "But Fatima protect me from eyes of men."

"Oh," I said, still with the same awkwardness. "Well, that is good." I smiled and nodded my head to show I understood, though I was never one for superstitions and didn't believe in any of that stuff. I wasn't about to tell her that though. She was right to be careful of the men in our town. They were often drunk and acted as letches. A girl as pretty as Hind would be ripe for harassment, though I doubted bars were her chosen hangout.

"Well, I'm sure you look very pretty with your headscarf. If you want to wear it, you should have the right to do so." I nodded my head to affirm my point. "I'm sure Bob would have no problems with you wearing it here."

Hind was silent for a moment while she eyed me with intrigue. She then reached across her desk and picked up her phone, then she scrolled through her gallery and showed me a picture. It was one of her, though from many years ago, and her hair was hidden beneath a multi-coloured headscarf. She looked cute and pretty, with those same bright, green eyes. "When I wear," she said. "But no more."

"Very pretty," I said, and Hind's eyes narrowed as she cocked her head. "You look beautiful with it, your eyes really shine, and it's such a pretty design."

Hind blushed again and her cheeks became all rosy. She then looked back towards the computer screen and said, "I have alert Dr Jacobs of arrival. Please take seat." She then offered me that same pretty smile from before and I took a seat across the room.

There were a few magazines on the table, though none were of interest, all topics like cars, horses and gardening. I then glanced around the waiting room and noticed a few pictures on the wall. They were various people smiling and laughing with each other, then I saw a notice board with a few articles pinned on. There was one with a picture of a mouth where all of the teeth were decaying. Immediately, I felt a shudder down the hairs of my neck as I remembered where the hell I was. I'd been so distracted talking to Hind that I'd kind of forgotten I was actually in a dental clinic, somewhere I hated. I looked towards the girl, and worried that I'd been so nervous during my nattering that I'd kind of bombarded her with questions and perhaps she thought me odd. Still, the worry was nothing compared to my impending treatment at the hands of Bob.

I felt nauseous as I thought about Bob probing around in my mouth with his fingers and various dental instruments. I almost gagged as I imagined them going so far back in my mouth to the top of my tongue. I hated visiting the doctors when they stuck that stick in your mouth at the base of your tongue and asked you to say: ahhh! I'd always retch near the point of vomiting.

My mouth suddenly felt dry, and I dashed to the water cooler and poured myself a cup, before necking it and resuming my seat. However, the nausea persisted and I wanted to leave before even seeing Bob.

I looked back over to Hind and thought about distracting myself with another conversation. She had done a good job so far, despite not knowing of her effect, and I longed for my mind to become occupied with thoughts of headscarves and the beaches of Morocco, instead of needles and sharp instruments digging away at my teeth. Perhaps I could ask her all about Morocco and what it was like for foreigners and tourists. I had long been fascinated by the country's culture. Maybe she even had family back there that could help me book a trip or rent a room. As Bob said, it was about time I focused on myself and a trip abroad may have just been the ticket.

I was about to leave my seat and approach her, when something sparkled and caught my eye at the base of her desk. The desk was made up of metal legs at each corner, with a wooden panel at the front and either side. However, there was about a five-inch gap between the floor and each panel. In that gap, there was something shiny and eye-catching.

I narrowed my eyes and focused in on whatever had sparkled and noticed it was coming from what must have been Hind's feet. I could just make out the shape of her toes with what appeared to be red polish. She shifted her feet slightly, and I noted that she was wearing a silver ring on the second toe of one foot, which was what had sparkled and caught my attention in the first place.

For some reason, I found the spectacle intriguing. Why was Hind barefoot beneath her desk? That seemed completely unprofessional, especially in the setting of a dental clinic where she was the first point of contact. I imagined Bob wouldn't be pleased if he knew that his receptionist was baring her feet for the whole waiting room to witness. Perhaps it was a part of her Moroccan culture to go bare foot and she didn't realise that it was a faux pas and against all etiquette over here.

I narrowed my eyes further so I could get a better look, however, my vision was strained and became blurred the harder I tried; I was simply seated too far away. It didn't help that it was dark beneath her desk, and with her light brown skin tone, her feet seemed to fade in and out of view with only that toe ring gleaming in the shadows. I instinctively shuffled over a few seats so that I could move closer and get a better look. Why did I need a better look? I couldn't explain, but something within me wanted to see. She hadn't been wearing any rings on her fingers, yet, there was one right there on her toe. What was so special about a toe ring? In the process of moving, while keeping my eyes beneath Hind's desk, I accidentally kicked one of the chairs and the leg squeaked on the tiled floor.

Hind's head shot up and she glanced over at me. Her eyebrows raised with curiosity as she noticed I'd moved to a closer seat for no apparent reason. I placed my hands on my knees, and looked about the waiting room aimlessly as if I was merely passing the time. I could see in the corner of my eye, Hind looking around the empty waiting room, then back towards me, before she shrugged then returned her attention to the computer screen. She likely just thought I wanted to be more comfortable, who knows what she'd think if she knew the truth, that I wanted a better view of what was going on beneath her desk. God, why did I want a better view so much?

At my nearer vantage point, within a couple of feet of Hind's desk, I was granted a greater view of her feet. I noted that her toes weren't only polished red, but they were immaculately cared for to the same level as her manicure. There were no abrasions or dry skin, and that toe ring was thick and appeared to be made from silver. I found it curious that Hind had unpainted fingernails, yet had a bright red colour on her toes. I'd worked part-time as a receptionist during college, and it was drilled into us that we were never to paint our nails. It was considered unprofessional and gave the wrong image. It seemed Hind had adhered to that rule with her hands, however, what was the point if she was going to freely show-off her polished toes in the waiting room? It was just so inappropriate.