Page 65
Story: The Strategist
“Youdon’tbelong to me, Sylvia. I’ve got to go to my appointment.”
“Fine. I’m going with Tyson.” She hung up.
I sighed, shoving the conversation from my mind. How much clearer could I be with her? I didn’t have the energy right now. My thoughts swung back to the reason for the sick feeling in my gut.
Don’t be a wuss. Only little kids are afraid of the dentist. Not a grown ass man like you.
Holding Vivian’s face in my mind to give me courage, I headed to the front door. Nerves wrung my gut as I stood staring at the Healthy Smiles Dental Care sign with a joyful tooth image that didn’t make me want to smile at all.
Anxiety tightened the muscles in my shoulders and legs. A chill rushed through me. Sweat warmed on my hands, and I clenched it away. I forced myself to breathe regularly as the shortness of breath was another symptom I detested.
I hated how dentophobia had turned me into a weak person.A negative experience from when I was eight years old had transformed into a monstrous disorder. While lying in the exam chair for a filling, I had choked from the water running to the back of my throat. I couldn’t breathe, and it freaked me out. From that horrible experience I’d developed this strange aversion to the equipment. The sounds of the drill and water suction triggered an awful sensation in my body.
My former dentist had suggested hypnotherapy and acupuncture to help me relax. Nothing helped. Whenever I had any work done, I asked to be sedated. Few people knew this about me. Not even my friends. This wasn’t something I’d discussed over a casual dinner, during a video game, or at a sporting event.
The shame and embarrassment were too much.
I was a formerNavy SEAL who had conducted high-risk operations in all kinds of dangerous situations where I’d captured and killed high-level targets. Now, I ran a billion-dollar empire that had its own risks and danger, and yet I succumbed to a mere visit to the dentist.
Pathetic.
This was a hurdle I had to overcome. Vivian would be the person to assist me. I was due for a cleaning a year ago and kept canceling it.
I released a heavy sigh and prayed she had an opening for me. I didn’t make an appointment because that would’ve intensified the anxiety.
A little boy about six years old stared up at me. “Hi.” He wore a Batman knit hat and matching gloves.
“Hello,” I said.
“I have a cleaning today.” He beamed. “And then the office is gonna give me a bag of goodies with some toys in it. And then my mom is gonna get me some McDonald’s. That’s my favorite restaurant.”
“That sounds wonderful. You like going to the dentist?”
“Yup! Dr. Vo is my favorite dentist! I get to watch Peppa Pig on the TV!”
I glanced behind me, and his mom was chatting with another woman.
“You’re not afraid of the dentist at all?”
“Nope,” he said with pride. “Some of my friends cry when they go. Not me. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He rolled his eyes, and his whole body followed the motion.
Show off.
“You’re a brave boy.”
He studied me with curious blue eyes. “Are you getting your teeth pulled today?”
“No.”
“Are you afraid of the dentist?” he asked.
I didn’t answer the question.
Looking serious, he moved closer and placed a tiny, glovedhand on my thigh because that was where he could reach. “Everything will be okay.” He patted my thigh. “My uncle issuperafraid of the dentist too. One time, I went with him for‘moral support.’” He used his tiny fingers to emphasize the quotation.
I laughed out loud, and the sound rushed down the street. This kid was growing on me.
“Do you have someone to hold your hand?” he asked innocently.
Table of Contents
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