The rumor is he had all his teeth removed – the reason given: too cheap to get the work done. My grandfather had the same mentality, but he would have been 102 years old this year.
The senator on the receiving side of my handshake doesn’t remind me of my hardnosed put-a-fist-in-any-problem-that-arises grandfather. No, not even close, and as if to prove it, with a limp wristed waggle, he lets go of my greeting.
His eyes don’t meet mine either while he stands there waiting for me to fill the silence. Instead, I study him. He has an air about him like a dog that wants to be abused. That he longs to be hated, that it is a gift, the world calls him Deputy Dog.
Because nothing compares to what he really wants.
Or so the rumor goes.
And how do I know?
Because it’s my job to make him happy.
Call me Dentist Susan.
When the women from Beijing sat across from him for the first time, he could tell it was with disgust and revulsion and that she wished to be anywhere else but with him. He was okay with that though, and due to, the young senator-aide from Kentucky has to shift himself in his seat. He is nervous because the off chance exists, the tiny bulge in his pants, might be identified for what it really is, an erection.