Page 10

Five days have passed, and I’ve lost the ability to know when I’m awake and when I’m dreaming.

They’ve broken me down. Is that their intention, or did they forget about me?

No, they couldn’t have forgotten about me…

I just ate lunch. I turn over on my other side and see the orange-colored plastic food tray with the crumbs left over from my chocolate chip cookie, and an apple core.

Then I hear a female voice say, “Aaron.” It trails off and sounds like Annie too, the sweet goth girl who I murdered because I lost control in more ways than one.

She still hasn’t manifested into a nebulous memory.

I vividly remember how pretty she was. Her skin was pale but flawless.

Dark eyeliner highlighted her gorgeous, crystal-like, hazel eyes.

Perfect teeth too. All she needed was a change of hair color and she easily could’ve been a cheerleader or made a serious run for prom queen.

Yet, she chose to be somewhat of an outcast, and foolishly chose to be with me, an animal.

I loved her, or I grew to love her. At first, I felt that she was probably playing a cruel trick when she approached me and asked to see my fangs.

I’d always been self-conscious about my teeth because.

Yet, here was Annie standing in front of me, with hands behind her back, and one foot in front of the other, waiting patiently for me to comply with her request. I remember the way she brushed back her green-and-black dyed bangs behind her left ear when she asked me again.

She lacked the arrogant posture others have when they asked to see my teeth. No mocking smirk.

It was summer when we met at work. We’ve both been hired for the graveyard shift. I was a security guard; Annie an inventory clerk. We worked for an auto parts warehouse behind a strip mall near our homes. Her mom’s boyfriend’s brother gave her a part-time job so she could help pay the bills.

The warehouse had a varnish smell to it, and the lights above the large gray metal racks flickered like strobe lights. It was that time of night where we found ourselves alone, over by the spark plugs and headlamps.

I was doing a security camera check when she surprised me from behind.

“You should smile more,” she said.

“Excuse me?” I turned my head, looking over my shoulder, almost falling off the stepladder.

“You’re Aaron, right?”

“Yeah, hi, umm... you’re Annie... Annie Hox?”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Freaking hot in here, isn’t it?”

“Very,” she said with a radiant smile. Perfect response from the most perfect girl.

Working without a car, meant that only positions within walking distance were viable options.

I happened to run into the owner of the auto parts warehouse, right as I turned in my own application.

I remembered him measuring me up and down from head to toe.

There was no way he’d hire a scrawny kid like me.

But I smiled, and that was all he needed to see.

No experience necessary, I guess. Someone willing to put their life on the line, working security for mud flaps and pine-scented air fresheners who owns a set of teeth like a menacing German shepherd was all the place needed.

“No break-ins so far?” she said, flashing a smile. “You must be doing something right. Looks like they finally hired the right guy.”

“Yeah?” I shrugged. “Guess so.”

“There was a break-in nearly every week before you came along. Place no longer carries car stereos.”

“That’s good to hear,” I said as I keep my lips as close together as possible. She probably thought I was practicing ventriloquism.

“So, like, what’s your deal?”

Great. The inevitable interrogation, I thought.

“Deal?” I forced a chuckle, dry as dust. “Just doing my job.”

Although the question was rather rude, there was a subtle sweetness in her voice.

She then pointed at my mouth.

“Yeah,” I said, lowering my head, defeated again.

“No, no. I didn’t mean to be rude. Sorry if I came off that way. I... I think they’re pretty awesome.”

That was the first time anyone had ever described my mild deformity with a positive adjective.

“You think so?” Still, I remained poised for a punch line at my expense.

“Yeah. Kinda wild. I like them. Have you ever used them? Like, is it easier to chew through a piece of steak or something?”

I can’t remember the last time I had steak. My mother worked days and evenings trying to support us after my dad left us high and dry, and steaks were one of those luxury items we never indulged in, cable TV being another. I couldn’t recall my teeth making eating a burger any easier.

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”

If Annie only knew why God gave me these teeth, and if there was a way I could tell her without scaring her off… but Annie was full of surprises. Her next inquiry was just as shocking as her first.

I remember her playfully tilting her head, exposing the right side of her neck. Her smooth and clean skin seemed as if it was made from the world’s finest vanilla ice cream. Her paleness was the perfect backdrop for the bluish carotid artery.

“You ever, you know, used them for...” she asked flirtatiously. “Biting necks...?”

Normally, I’m awkward around girls, but as soon as Annie asked me that question, I realized that here was the first girl to know exactly how to push my buttons.

A newfound and unexpected confidence percolated from within as soon as I heard her question.

My response was of few words, but felt natural and filled me with an inner strength I knew I always had but never knew how to express.

I nodded and grinned. “Yeah, maybe.”

A cold shiver raced down my spine. It rattled me enough to where the confidence Annie just elicited disappeared just as suddenly, replaced by the image I always had of my unusual exterior. That of a misshapen, snaggle-toothed wimp who’d been bullied and cursed with semi-poverty all his life…

“Snap out of it,” said a man’s voice.

As his voice grows louder, Annie’s own trails off...

Then I feel a familiar cold bite at my ribs. The simmering heat from inside the warehouse has been replaced by a strange sensation. As if I’ve awakened naked on the sleet-covered hood of my mom’s Oldsmobile.

I turn on my side and a man and a woman stand over me, both in their mid-thirties and both wearing spectacles. The woman sounds like Annie but looks nothing like her.

In my groggy and blurry-eyed state, I ask her, “Annie? Is that you?”

“No,” she says with a smile.

“Aaron, we’re here to give you an assessment. How are you feeling?” asks the man.

I’m dreaming, and these folks bring me back to my reality. I answer their question as honestly as I can. “Like crap,” I moan.

The woman then asks, “Do you need a glass of water?”

“Please.” I moisten my dry lips with my tongue.

“We’re here to ask you some pertinent questions,” the man adds.

“But we want to know if we can trust you. You’re currently sedated, but we’re worried it might wear off before our initial counseling session is over.

We’re here to help you, and if you work with us, you might not be stuck in this small room for long. ”

What the hell is going on?

“What do you mean?” I say. I sit up on my bench, feeling as if my head is ready to explode.

The man says, “I’m Dr. Finnegan and this is Dr. Carter. We are both clinical psychologists for the hospital and we have a few questions about your condition, and um, your physical attributes.”

Euphoria envelops me for the first time since that last blissful moment I shared with Annie. The combination of refreshing water entering my lips and the gentle and caring, though clinical, words from someone else makes me feel like a human being once again.