Free Hyena by Jude Angelini

been to the dentist since the fifth grade; we didn’t have insurance.
    We were “the working poor,” barely making rent, missing it some months. That health shit’s a luxury when you’re scraping by.
    Both my parents had bad teeth, so it was important for us to keep our shit clean.
    Every time my old man would have another problem with his mouth he’d call me over to his dresser in the living room and pull from the top drawer a mason jar with six yellow rotted-out teeth in it.
    He’d bring me close and shake the jar in my face, teeth clanging against the glass and start yellin’. “Look at dis! Ya know what dis is?! These are my fuckin’ teeth, this is what happens if ya don’t brush ya teeth! Brush ya fuckin’ teeth!”
    I’d roll my eyes. “I do, chill out. . . .”
    “Oh you do?” He’d stick his finger in his mouth, pull back his cheek, and expose gaps where his teeth used to be. “Look at that! All ya got is ya teeth! Brush ya fuckin’ teeth! Or you’ll end up like me!”
    I brushed my teeth, but they got fucked-up anyway. I guess I shoulda flossed more.
    My ma saw some ad in the paper; a new local dentist was charging sixty bucks for fillings and a cleaning. She got it in her head that she was gonna take me there.
    I didn’t take her serious; she was always making plans. Like, we should go hit an art exhibit or take a nature hike before school. We never did.
    My mom worked three jobs; we’d get up late; my stepdad Terry would be out all night in the van and bring it back on empty. We’re just trying to get to Mobil before we run out of gas. Put thirty-seven cents on pump two and get to Rochester.
    We get home, my mom’s been working all day. Terry’s on the couch, hungover drinking a Rolling Rock, watching soap operas with his sunglasses on. There’s nothing in the fridge to eat but some cold cuts, and he wrote his name on ’em.
    We ain’t never take that nature hike.
    For weeks she’d be like, “Just wait, when I get my check, we’ll go to the dentist. We’ll get your teeth cleaned and fix that tooth for you. And maybe we can get lunch before that, too.”
    I’d be at the kitchen table with a toothache nodding. “Okay, Mom, sounds good.”
    “And Jude, once you get your teeth fixed, you’ll be starting new, and then you can take better care of them. Because youhave to take good care of yourself; you’re the only self you have.”
    She even had the little coupon from the paper saved, folded up neatly.
    A few weeks pass; she gets her money up and makes the appointment. I take a half day off of school. It’s spring. It’s sunny and breezy. You can feel it in the air, it feels hopeful.
    When the weather was like this, my old man used to say, “It’s days like this makes me happy I didn’t kill myself.”
    We’d laugh and say, “Shut up!”
    We pull into the brand-new strip mall. Our van’s beat-up but we’re wearing our nice clothes, and my mom’s commenting on how nice the parking lot looks with its new painted lines.
    She’s excited to be doing this for me. She’s happier than I am.
    We roll up into a full waiting room, I sign in, fill out the paperwork, the little dental hygienist lady takes me to the back. I’m sitting there in the dental chair with my bib on. My ma’s back there with me, too.
    They’re being real nice, with the how-ya-doings.
    “Do you want some water?”
    “Yes, please.”
    And in comes the dentist with a hi-de-ho and what can we do for ya?
    He’s sitting on the stool talking to me. I tell him where it hurts.
    The lady from the front desk comes back with a folder and pulls the dentist aside, they’re talking in hushed tones.
    Then the dentist gets serious; he asks my mom how we’re gonna pay for it. My mom’s got the cash in her hand, sixty dollars ready to give to him.
    He tells her it’s not enough. He’s pointing to my forms, telling us how we don’t have insurance.
    She shows him the ad. He tells her that ad’s for people with dental