back at the last minute and grabbed a pair of jeans in case Tara was going to arrive down for breakfast and be scarred too. Anna was sitting at the table with a glass of grapefruit juice. Joe took charge of making pancakes and distracting her. With every break in the conversation, she was leaning an ear towards the door.
‘Stop that,’ said Joe, looking around at her.
She shrugged. ‘I’m just-’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘But…’
‘Have you got a dentist’s appointment this morning?’ she said, glancing at a calendar pinned to the wall.
He paused. ‘Maybe.’
‘Do you need a hug?’ she said, smiling.
‘What are you talking about? Do I look like the kind of guy who needs a hug before going to the dentist?’
‘Yes.’ She walked over to him, grabbing him from behind, leaning her head against his back. He pretended to shake with fear. They were laughing when Shaun strolled in, dressed in board shorts and a T-shirt, his eyes puffy, his hair on end.
‘Get a room.’
Anna’s smile faded quickly.
Shaun pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge, drank straight from it, then put it back in.
‘Is that empty?’ snapped Anna.
‘Yes,’ said Shaun.
‘Stop doing that,’ said Anna. ‘I’ve told you over and over.’
‘Big deal,’ said Shaun. ‘It’s just a carton.’
‘If I’m going to the store, I don’t know what I need to buy if you keep…’
Shaun flung the fridge wide open, knocking bottles against each other, pulled out the carton and threw it in a pile for recycling.
‘There,’ he said. He waited a beat. ‘Hey, Mom? If you’re going to the store? We need juice.’
‘Don’t be a jerk,’ said Joe.
Shaun made a face as he put a bagel into the toaster.
‘What time did you get home last night?’ said Anna.
‘About three o’clock,’ said Shaun. ‘I had to drop Tara home.’
‘Really?’ said Anna, raising an eyebrow to Joe.
‘Yeah,’ said Shaun. ‘Why?’
Anna stood up and walked upstairs, opening the door to Shaun’s room, then the bathroom. No Tara. She walked back into the kitchen and sat down. She shook her head at Joe. Anger simmered behind her eyes. Shaun grabbed his bagel, smeared cream cheese on it and left the knife on the counter top by the open tub.
‘Your knife,’ said Anna. ‘The cheese.’
Shaun kept walking.
Joe slid into the seat beside her. ‘There it is,’ he said. ‘The Mom’s approach to a problem. You start by identifying the issue – girl in Shaun’s bed – you can’t say it right out, so you survey the child going about his business and pick apart all the other things he’s doing. That’s good.’
‘Ugh,’ she said. ‘Tara. Ugh.’
‘Hey, even I feel dirty.’
Shaun stuck his head around the door, his cell phone in his hand. ‘Guys, I’m going out to meet Tara.’
Dr James Makkar had accepted two important things about Joe Lucchesi: a. he didn’t do alternative therapies to alleviate stress, therefore, his symptoms and b. he was surgery-phobic. Joe and Dr Mak had an understanding.
‘Hello, Joe. Nice to see you for a scheduled visit.’ Dr Makkar was dressed in white scrubs with a white mask hanging around his neck. He was in his late thirties, but his silent-movie grooming added years. ‘Need me to wipe that sweat off your brow?’
‘You’re not supposed to make fun of me,’ said Joe.
‘You are looking for a nurturing environment?’ said Makkar.
‘I don’t know why I come here,’ said Joe.
‘You need me.’
‘Right. But thanks again for helping me out last time.’
‘Temporarily,’ said Makkar. ‘With all the limitations you put on me, my hands are tied. Which is obviously how you like them.’
Joe smiled.
‘Follow me.’
Joe walked behind him down the short corridor.
‘Take a seat. Let’s have a look at that jaw.’
Joe sat down and opened his mouth when he was told.
‘How’s work?’ said Makkar.
‘Crap. How about you?’
‘Fantastic, of course. It’s all about smiling.’
‘Or crying out in pain.’
‘You wouldn’t come to me if I caused you pain. The amount of times I’ve numbed your mouth before you even knew I was in the room. Your condition causes you pain; I make it go away. I’m good cop.’
Joe raised his eyes, one of the few responses open to a patient in a dentist’s chair.
‘You get very close to people’s eyes in my business,’ Makkar had told him before. ‘We see right in, all those little reactions. I think I’d make a great jury consultant if I wasn’t doing this. Or a cop, of course.’ Joe wanted to smile at the thought of this slight, dapper Indian cop, patrolling the 75th precinct, but he couldn’t.
‘OK,’ said Makkar. ‘First of all, how are your symptoms?’
‘Not as bad as the last time. Pain in my jaw, cracking when I open my mouth.’
‘And,’ said Makkar tapping Joe’s chin and looking inside his mouth, ‘grinding your teeth.’
Joe nodded.
‘Your options are… well, keep taking painkillers. But that’s getting a little tired in my opinion. It’s not getting you anywhere. I’m thinking you really should consider surgery.’
‘What?’ said Joe, struggling to sit up. ‘We’ve been here. I don’t do surgery.’
‘Joe,’ said Makkar, laying a hand gently on his shoulder, ‘if you shattered your leg in an accident, you’d do surgery. You’d have no choice. Of course, you do have a choice in this case, but you can’t keep going on as you are, suffering with this unnecessarily. The pain does go away, but it’s been years now and I think your lifestyle and what you’ve been through – and are probably still going through – are taking their toll. Those problems are not quick-fix ones. It’s likely you’ll be signing up to a lot more pain for a lot longer.’
‘That’s positive thinking.’
‘I’m being realistic. Hear me out. I know you fear surgery-’
‘It’s not fear, it’s-’
Makkar tilted his head patiently. ‘I know you fear surgery, but this is different. I mean, I don’t even need to call it surgery.’
‘Doc, I’m forty. I’m a big boy. Call it what it is.’
‘OK, then: arthroscopy. Here’s the deal – you go under general anaesthetic. The surgeon makes a little incision right here in front of your ear.’
Joe touched the side of his face. ‘I don’t like the sound-’
‘Oh, shut up. He inserts this tiny instrument with a little lens and a light and he has a look around. If he sees inflamed tissue or whatever, he’ll remove it. Or he might need to realign the disc. Or he might inject liquid steroids if you need it. You’ll have a couple of little stitches, some swelling afterwards, that’s it. No overnight stay in hospital. It’s way less hardcore than open-joint surgery. Recovery time is quick, there’s no major scarring. And a few weeks of physical therapy, just twice a week.’
Silence.
‘OK,’ said Makkar. ‘Why don’t I tell you about an alternative: joint replacement procedure. You go under
