The Notional Dentist

Nonfiction by Robert McEvily



Today’s the date of my grandmother’s death. My mother’s mother, the one I never met. She died a month after my birth. She was like a darker version of my mother. Darker hair and eyes, a darker expression. At least in the few pictures I’ve seen.

My mother and I haven’t spoken in a long while. With her birthday coming up, I’m sort of planning some contact. My mom’s not usually on my mind, but her birthday forces the issue. I’m thinking of sending a card and suggesting we get together. She’s mad at me for leaving home. I lived at home for way too long.

I do see my father. He flirts with my girlfriend. My girlfriend was a scholarship swimmer in college and my dad insists he can beat her in a freestyle race. He’s 68 and a smoker. I think he really thinks he can win. My girlfriend loves me and humors him, and loves me more because I come from him.

I want to be a dentist. I work as a copywriter, but I want to be a dentist. My girlfriend says I don’t multitask enough. She says I do just one thing at a time and each thing takes me forever. So I figured I’d write, sort out some feelings, and complete dental school applications. I figured I’d write about my mother on the anniversary of her mother’s death. Seemed like perfect timing.

I think my grandmother’s name was Margaret, but I’m not sure, and it makes me feel crummy to not know. And I feel crummy using the word crummy. It’s a dumb word. And I wonder what my grandmother would think of me. I wonder if any relationship or anything I write will ever feel just right. Working with teeth is easy – I’m sure of it.