a story to get your teeth into..
Home sweet home Latest site info Poetic stuff Serious stuff Funny stuff Topical stuff Alternative stuff Shakespearian stuff Musical stuff
  click here for a "printer friendly" version

Lest We Forget. By Martin Green.


Paul Lerner looked forward to his quarterly dental check-up with the same enthusiasm, he thought, as going to, well, as going to the dentist. But at his age, late seventies, fighting a rear-guard action against receding gums (as well as against a host of other calamities), he supposed his teeth had to be examined every few months no matter how he felt.

On this visit, he had a new dental hygienist. Her name, he saw by the badge on her white uniform, was Ruth. She was young, not that most people didn’t seem young to him nowadays, but she couldn’t have been any more than 20 or 21. Ruth. That had been the name of Paul’s secretary when he worked. And, like that Ruth, this one had blonde hair worn in what he supposed was a pageboy and was very pretty. Paul had lost touch with his secretary after he’d retired, then somebody else who’d worked in their office had called to tell him that she was in the hospital and he’d gone to see her. He’d known that Ruth had diabetes and now she had some rare related disease.

Paul had been saddened to see how puffed-up Ruth’s face had become. Her voice was also very weak. He’d stayed for an hour, trying his best to make conversation. He went to see her again and this time she seemed a little better, but then he’d gotten a phone call from Ruth’s sister, telling him that she’d suddenly passed away. Ruth had been about 15 years younger than him and Paul had been shocked and then saddened.

Ruth, the dental hygienist, installed Paul in the dentist’s chair and asked him if there’d been any change in his health since his last visit. “No,” answered Paul. “Just keep on getting older and more decrepit.”

“Oh, you don’t look decrepit,” she said. She asked him if he still lived at the same address, Sun City Roseville, which was a retirement community just outside of Sacramento, the capital of California.

He asked her if she lived in Roseville and she told him she’d just moved there. “How do you like it?”

“Oh, it’s great, I found a great apartment and there’s so many things to do.”

Paul wondered what there was to do in Roseville, not much of a place for young people, he’d have thought,, although its population had soared in recent years. He would have asked, but it was time for the cleaning and he had to sit there, his mouth open, while she scraped away at his gums, something he’d always hated.

He thought back; his secretary Ruth’s death had been about five years ago and he realized he hadn’t really thought about her since that time. God, how quickly people forget. During his time at the retirement community, any number of residents he’d known had passed away, guys he’d played golf with, persons who’d organized clubs, those who’d served on committees with him. Now he played golf with different people; the clubs and the committees went on with different members.

He was thinking more and more about his own mortality lately and wondered how many people would remember him after he was gone. His wife, his sons, maybe his grandchildren for a while. His friends at the retirement community? They’d come to his memorial service and then, after a short while, he’d have faded away with all the others.

If he didn’t show up for his next check-up, how would this Ruth remember him? As a set of not especially good teeth? That is, if she remembered him at all. What could he do to make her remember him. He could tell her how pretty he thought she was and …

“Don’t you dare, Mr. Lerner.”


“I said we’re all through here. Did you doze off?”

“No, I was just thinking about something.”

“Well, you seem to be holding your own. Keep flossing. I’ll see you in three months.’

“Three months. Right.”

* * *

The way back to Sun City passed Roseville’s mall, the Galleria, and since it was only mid-morning Paul stopped there. He went into Border’s, the book store, got a latte in their coffee shop and went to a table by the window. Outside, the sun shone brightly. It was the kind of day that when he was younger would have made him wish he was on the tennis courts. Now he managed to play golf once a week. He raised his latte and said to himself, “Here’s to you, Ruth. I’ll try not to forget you again.” He drank and put down his cup. He’d try, at least every now and then, to also remember the others who’d passed on. He’d never told the dental hygienist how pretty he thought she was. And he’d never really completed the image in his mind of how he’d follow up on this. He smiled to himself. What he’d half-imagined would really make her remember him. It would also get him a slap in the face and he’d have to find a new dentist. Well, the prospect of seeing pretty Ruth again gave him an incentive to hang on for another three months


© is reserved by the author. Please do not reproduce it without consent.


© Winamop 2008