My Japanese Tooth Fairy

“This is just like you Leanne,” my mother huffs as we pulled out of the dentist parking lot. I was two days away from flying to Japan and now she was blaming me, for needing to have my wisdom teeth pulled.  “You leave everything to the last minute!” she said. “Ahhh that’s right mom,” I thought to myself. “I must have a real ‘in’ with the head tooth fairy to have pulled this shit off.”  I stretched my feet in an attempt to relax my body. The last thing I wanted was for this conversation to lead to a fight where we wouldn’t speak for weeks. I didn’t have weeks.  Anyways, I knew my mom wasn’t really angry at me; she was simply terrified that her headstrong first born, was moving half way around the world... in less than 48 hours.

My dentist had strongly recommended that I postpone my trip or wait to have the teeth removed in Japan. “No freaking way” – was my immediate response to both scenarios. Like most tough decisions in my life, the librarian in my brain clocked in to catalogue my problem under the “forget me files.” As a result, I felt calm and at peace again in the car. This drives my mother crazy.

Fast forward one month... to my apartment in Japan.

“Claire, I swear I am dying, my mouth hurts soooo much!” I place my palm firmly on my bottom left cheek and push inward. The flesh squishes against my inflamed gums and itches away at the pain. My roommate Claire looks at me from across the room. “Lee, you’re not going to die, you’re just going to have to get them taken out here. I mean it can’t be that bad – we’re practically in the technology capital of the world.”

Faith somewhat restored, I begrudgingly phone my boss – Mr. Adachi (A-datch-ee) and try to explain my predicament. We navigate awkwardly through the conversation, as if I’m singing country while he belts out classical opera. Needless to say it doesn’t blend well.  I have been able to decipher one key piece of information though; he is on his way, now.

We pull up to the dentist office and I gaze up at the building before me. So far, so good – nothing appears odd or out of the ordinary.  My apprehension about the dentist typically falls within the red zone on a good day, so being in a foreign country - one which I couldn’t even locate on a map the year before, was quite daunting to say the least.

I pull on the steel door handle and feel light headed with anxiety. My feet stumble over an assortment of shoes upon entering. Not wanting to appear like a “foreigner,” I walk up to the counter trying to act like I’ve been here 1000 times before. My body weight leans on the stark white counter for support. Its smooth surface is cool and refreshing against my skin. The receptionist looks up at me. I am unable see her mouth because it’s covered with a white surgical mask but her eyes are smiling.
“Namae?” she says to me while simultaneously pulling the mask under her chin. I look her in the eyes, trying desperately to understand what she is asking.  She repeats the question, which I have only deciphered is a question from her rising intonation. My cheeks are burning and I know my body has betrayed me. I am flustered and at the same time embarrassed because she knows this. “Ahhh my name? It’s Lee, Leanne Hines,” I manage to stumble out.  She frowns and motions for me to take a seat.

I stare at the circus she has presented to me. The waiting room.  My eyes scan the compacted area for a free seat next to a friendly face. I squeeze into a chair and its cushion seems to sigh under my weight. This shouldn’t embarrass me but it does. My spine tenses.  The silence in the white room is deafening, interrupted only by magazine pages flipping and the light hum of a fan. A new patient has come in and the sound of the receptionist speaking feels like paper cuts on my ear drum. I stare at the floor in disbelief of this situation I have found myself in. That is when I notice that everyone has on purple slippers. My brand new sneakers, at the point of purchase an accessory of pride, now stick out like an obese woman on the fashion runway. Without thinking I react, pulling my sneakers off one by one, followed by my socks. This is when I realize that I don’t know where to find these plum slippers. Nor do I really want to put my foot into something that other hobbit's feet have occupied.

 “WEEEEE ANNE HINEZZZ.” I jump startled and proceed to follow my Japanese tooth fairy behind the curtain. I am terrified and yet trusting with every barefoot step I take into the unknown.