TEETH
I was having trouble sleeping. I spent most of the night tossing and turning, twisting my bed sheets into knots, and kicking frantically at my bed posts. Sweat beads were multiplying across my back despite the cool air trickling in from the open window. Finally, just as my eyelids shuttered, the shriek of my alarm stunned me and woke me from my brief and unpleasant slumber. I could hear my mother’s footsteps shuffling around in the hallway and knew that it was only a matter of minutes before she’d barge into my room and shake me awake, knowing full well that I was no longer sleeping but prolonging my time in the comfort of my bed. The rigmarole of my morning routine was the least favorite part of my day, even if it was something I grew to count on.
But today would not be like all the others. Today I was on a mission.
Suddenly, I remembered just why I felt so clammy, anxious, and sleep-deprived. I threw the ball of sheets that were barely covering my mid-section to the side and sprung out of bed like one of my mattress springs had broken through the covering and poked me in the behind. On my toes, I braced myself before gently peeling the damp pillow off the mattress and peering at what was left behind.
There sat one small incisor, in the same spot I had placed it the night before.
I grimaced and quickly covered it back up with the pillow just as my mother approached my room.
“Oh!” She exclaimed, startled by my frantic appearance, “you’re already up! Are you okay? You look… off.”
I shrugged off her concerns and tugged at my nightgown, peeling it from my back.
“I’m OK,” I replied.
“Good. Well, get yourself dressed. Since you’re up, I can make a bigger breakfast for us.” Mom said before turning and walking towards the kitchen.
But I was not OK. So not OK, in fact, that I had willingly given up the golden opportunity to say I wasn’t feeling well and gain a sick day out of my experience. But I wasn’t ill, at least not physically. I was just… disheartened. I had lost my tooth the night before and, unbeknownst to my mother, I had placed the tooth under my pillow for the tooth fairy to make her rounds. Normally I would tell my mom as soon I lost a tooth, but Michelle from school has been spreading an awful rumor that the tooth fairy doesn’t exist. I told her that if she doesn’t, how does she always know when I’ve lost a tooth? Michelle just laughed and dared me to hide my tooth... without telling ANYONE about it first. So I did just that.
But I refuse to believe that the tooth fairy isn’t real. Maybe she was just busy last night and didn’t have enough time to stop by to enact our usual trade agreement. Or, more likely the case, she saw that I wasn’t sleeping for most of the night and refused to come in. This was on me. I quickly grabbed my tooth before my mom returned to check in on my morning routine progress and hid it in a small jewelry box on top of my dresser. Tonight I wouldn’t be so nervous. Tonight I would place the tooth back under my pillow, sleep throughout the night and wake to four shiny quarters under my pillow, as is our unspoken agreement. And I’ll bring that dollar’s worth of change into school and make Michelle into the fool I know her to be, even if no one else thinks of her that way.
I rushed my way through the school day, moving at hyper-speed as though that could speed up time itself. My eyes darted to any time piece that came across my field of vision; the clock on the wall in my classroom, the time on the radio in mom’s car, the numbers on the microwave, the timestamp on the television, my eyes twitching, my legs jerking, waiting impatiently for my 10:00 PM bedtime. At 9:59 I sprang to my feet from the living room floor and sprinted to my bedroom.
“Since when are you so eager to get to bed?” My mom inquired as I reached my bedroom door.
“Um… sleepy today.” I said, bounding inside before she could respond.
After making sure the coast was clear, I reached my arm up to the top of the dresser and pulled down the jewelry box. Time to try again. I made sure one last time that my mom wasn’t coming, and gently opened the lid. To be expected, there lay my tiny incisor.
...but it wasn’t alone.
Next to it was yet another incisor. Confused, I closed the lid back on the box. Where did this second tooth come from? I opened it and peeked in once more, in case my eyes were deceiving me but sure enough, there were two baby teeth where there was just one before. The pieces started to assemble in my mind. The tooth fairy must have realized she missed my house the night before and was gifting me a second tooth to place under my pillow, upping my total profit from one dollar to two. Her generosity knows no bounds. I placed both teeth under my pillow and jumped under the covers, falling asleep without any fuss. The next morning I woke up before my alarm and, without hesitation, tossed my pillow to the floor to unearth the goodies that lay under it.
There was no prize to be found. No monetary rewards. Not even an IOU.
Just teeth.
Three baby teeth.
I nervously scooped the teeth into the palm of my hand and threw them back into the jewelry box. Was this a prank? How could anyone even know of my plan? Maybe my mom saw the missing tooth and figured out what I was doing but--where were the other teeth coming from? I had no siblings, was my mother hoarding teeth from neighborhood children for this very moment? Could it be that my mom was actually the tooth fairy herself, and by not telling her of my newly missing tooth I had angered her? Was this a warning?
I needed to right my wrongs and ran into the living room to display my mouth.
“MOM I LOST ANOTHER TOOTH!” I yelped.
She cupped my face in her hands and laughed gently.
“Look at you, growing up so fast. Did it just happen? Better put it under your pillow tonight. You’ve been such a good little girl I’m sure you’ll get quite the reward.”
The guilt ravaged my insides. I wanted so badly to let her know of my plan, but if she were the tooth fairy, surely she would have already known. I ran to the bathroom and dry heaved into the sink while trying to keep my composure before my mother took notice. The school day dragged and the evening seemed to be never-ending. I hastily swallowed down my mashed potatoes and peas at dinner and anxiously finished my homework before 8:00, where I rocked back and forth in front of the TV while my mom watched her court drama. I felt a kinship with the guilty party who awaited his judgment. I couldn’t make it all the way through, and at 8:45 I declared that I was tired and made my way to bed.
“You’re tired already?” Mom inquired. “Oh,” she continued, “that’s right--you want to get a good sleep so the tooth fairy can come. Ok, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”
Her voice sounded so soothing but I couldn’t help but feel as though she knew something was up. I opened up the jewelry box once again. I’d have to be careful to only place one of the teeth so as to not arouse any suspicion. Maybe, if I were lucky, there’d only be one in the box, just the way it was when I first put it there, like an atonement for my sins.
I would not be so lucky.
Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes as I stared down at the one… two… three… four teeth nestled together on the cushioned inside of the box. I picked up one between my fingers--what I believed to be the original--and placed it under my pillow. I’d deal with the others in time but, for now, I’d try my hardest to achieve normalcy once again.
The next morning, sure enough, not four shiny quarters but instead two whole dollar bills were tucked under my pillow.
It didn’t matter. I couldn’t sleep. I saw my mother enter my room and place them there. There was no tooth fairy. I was two dollars richer but the problem wasn’t solved. In my jewelry box were four more teeth. My mother noticed my disdain despite my recently amassed riches. Thinking on my feet for the first time, I informed her that I wasn’t feeling well. She obliged and let me spend the day at home, which gave her a rare day off as well. I jumped into my coziest pair of jammies and plopped myself in front of the TV for The Price is Right and the morning judge shows when it dawned on me: the teeth only seemed to multiply while I was sleeping or at school and my mother at work. With us both home, whoever was behind this couldn’t hide for that long.
I laid in bed for as long as I could, sometimes closing my eyes to see if it would trick whoever it was into thinking I was unconscious and vulnerable to their mischief. Nothing. I made sure all the doors were locked and windows closed tight so no one would get inside. Any time I was away from my room I followed closely at my mom’s heels, tracking all her steps. I’d peek inside the jewelry box periodically, only to find the same amount of teeth nestled away in their bejeweled prison. At least they were no longer multiplying so I thought that just maybe it had finally ended.
That was, until dinner time.
“Can you set the table, honey?” My mom called from the kitchen.
Setting the table was a badge of honor. Even if it was just the two of us eating dinner, my mother still took great pride in the presentation of a meal. When she had the time to cook something from scratch instead of grabbing takeout or defrosting something quick, dinner was an event. I pulled one of the dining room chairs over to the cabinet and opened up the top door where the good plates were. But opening the door led to an avalanche of sand that knocked me off the chair and onto the floor.
“What the-” my mom exclaimed. She picked up the sand and let it flow through her fingers, but it wasn’t like the sand from my sand art projects. It was much rougher than that. Like bone particles.
I ran to the bedroom only to find my door unable to budge. I slammed my shoulder forcibly into it to see what was causing the obstruction: more sand. Bone fragments. Enamel.
Mom stood in the doorway and looked at me with fright in her eyes. But she wasn’t staring at the hill of ground up teeth I was perched upon. She was looking at me. At my face. My mouth. I could feel the warmth and taste the salt. I opened my mouth and noticed the stream of red pouring out. As my mother sobbed and shrieked I waded my way over to the dresser and pulled the jewelry box down, opening it up to reveal a full set of adult teeth where the baby ones had been before.
I placed them in my mouth. The bleeding stopped. The desert of teeth cleared up before our eyes. It was all over.
We’d never talk about this again. What was there to say?
All I know is that Michelle was wrong. Maybe the tooth fairy didn’t exist, but something sure did. And whatever it was, it made sure that it would never visit me again.