Chapter 2, Part 1
Grace
“If you want to make it to the end of the summer, stay one step ahead of him. This’ll mean getting in early. I’m usually here at 7:30. He gets in at 8, sometimes 8:30 if the kids are fussy. His first patient is always at 9.”
“So what time should I—
“You should be here by 7:15. Bring the morning papers with you, the Chronicle and the Journal. I usually pick ’em up at Grady’s Diner. On Mondays, ask if they still have copies of the Sunday editions. He likes to bring home the Styles section for his wife. Put them on his desk, side by side, unfolded, that way he can scan above and below the fold without getting any ink on his fingers. Most times he chooses the headlines that interest him and Googles them. Just to the right of the newspapers, set a bottle of Deer Park water with a small plate of three lemon slices. We restock the fridge in the kitchen with the water and the lemons on Friday afternoons. He doesn’t know the lemons sit around all weekend and I don’t plan on telling him, so if he ever catches wind I’ll know it was you. After the papers and the water, turn on his computer. His username and password are on a Post-it note under his keyboard. Open his email and make sure his volume is muted so it’s not pinging every other second. He likes a fresh Google tab, for the headlines. He also enjoys the doodles.
Once the day gets going, he’ll listen for us when the phone rings. You want to sound warm, but not too friendly—especially if it’s an insurance company. If he thinks you sound too friendly, he’ll say something over your lunch break and it’ll ruin your appetite.
When he’s with a patient, he likes for us to write down any missed calls on these here slips of paper that are to be stacked on his chair. Always make sure to get a first name, business affiliation, and a phone number where the call can be returned. Repeat it back to make sure you didn’t screw something up. You do not want to find out what happens if you screw something up.
On Wednesdays, he’ll ask me to pick up his dry cleaning but now that you’re here it’s your job. He’ll give you two $20 bills because that’s what he expects the total to be. Bring a few dollars from this here jar with you because if the cleaners say it’s more—you know, one of them stubborn stains on the collar or a little tear along the hem—you don’t want to be short. Like I said, one step ahead.
Every so often, he’ll text you after hours with a question about the kids. Last week it was whether or not TV counts as screen time. If you don’t know, make something up. He’s only asking you because he doesn’t want to ask his wife.”
I didn’t mean to sound harsh. It’s just that I needed these girls—excuse me, young women—to take me seriously. At 31, I felt like I looked the part: thick, wheat-blonde hair always back in a ponytail. Not a lot of makeup. But Jamie, Ossor Orthodontics’ newest intern, was L.A.-pretty. I’ve never been to Los Angeles, but she reminded me of the sparkly ladies on The Real Housewives of Orange County. Bleach-blonde hair. Spray tan. Thick black eye-liner and hot pink lip gloss. Except the Real Housewives pay big bucks to look younger and Jamie hadn’t even hit her twenties. Her father, who knew my boss Damian, hooked her up with this summer internship. That’s the way Maidentown works. Everyone knows everyone and class is class, baby. The rich families around here, they’re like a little club, always doing each other favors. Men of a certain legacy run all the local businesses—the law practices and the doctors’ offices and the car dealerships and the restaurants—and pass their fortunes down to their children and their children’s children and so on and so forth in perpetuity, forever and ever.
Damian, my boss, inherited his father’s orthodontist practice in 2006. If you ask Damian, he took over his father’s orthodontist practice in 2006. By local standards he’s a real looker. Olive skin with a salt-n-pepper buzz cut and perfect teeth, of course. Now, middle age did bring with it a little padding around the stomach. People think of doctors as the epitome of health but they all have their vices. For Damian it’s an after-work six-pack and sometimes even a smoke because he knows a little prescription-grade teeth whitening can touch that right up.
Until 2014, everyone east of Indian Springs Road saw Dr. Henry Parker and everyone west of Indian Springs Road saw Damian, or Dr. Ossor. The night before Thanksgiving that year, Dr. Parker was killed by a drunk driver. Everyone in Maidentown mourned the loss a great deal, but Ossor Orthodontics thrived. Damian had become the only orthodontist within a 65-mile radius, population 24,000.
His ego went up a few sizes but the damn thing was always as big as a horse’s ass. Comes with the territory in Maidentown. He’d grown up watching his father flip through secretaries like pages in a magazine, marrying the prettiest one twice. At least he was smart enough to keep me around. He hired me in 2015, straight out of community college, and I’ve been with Damian ever since. Same chair, same parking spot, same damn phone greeting: Ossor Orthodontics, how can we straighten things out for you today?