One good deed

He bounds down the walkway from his apartment building hopping from foot to foot, pumping his arms in an exaggerated fashion. I guess the dentist doesn’t make him nervous. He gets in the car and we’re off.

‘Can I change the station?’ he asks before we even reach the end of the block. Currently it’s tuned to one of my presets, some pop station playing some pop song – not one that I care for.

I say, ‘Sure.’

Bent slightly forward, finger hovering, ready to act, he needs a minute to find the right button. The pop song fades into an interlude of silence before the next station comes in. Talk radio. Commercial. Commercial. Religious. Classical. Some song in Spanish…

Traffic is light so I steal a glance at him. He looks intent on finding something he likes on the radio, perhaps trying to avoid conversation. ‘When’s the last time you had a filling?’ I ask.

The task at hand is momentarily suspended while he appears to think, subjecting us to some country song in the interim. ‘Geez, it’s been while. Probably five or six years, since just after school.’ He resumes his mission, sparing us from the country song. The next station has a classic rock song (I’m so bad with bands!) and it is deemed acceptable - he sits back and begins singing along.

I wonder if he’s being rude since we aren’t conversing. I suppose I’m just being overly sensitive. I’m not sure what I expected. I simply responded to his Facebook request for a ride to the dentist. That doesn’t make this a date. I don’t even want to date him. We are just Facebook friends, not real friends. Well, we’re friends but not good friends. I mean we’re often at the same parties and events, we run with the same group of people.

He takes a break from singing and says, ‘Hey, thanks for the ride, by the way. Very nice of you.’

‘Oh, no biggie.’

The dentist’s office is in a small office building just a disco song and half an NPR piece up the road.

‘Do you mind if I just drop you off out front?’

‘That’s great, thanks,’ he replies. I watch him all the way to the building then I find a parking space a few rows deep in the parking lot in front of the complex.

I try to keep listening to NPR but after twenty minutes I turn it off (how do all those people listen to it all day??) and take out my phone. Another twenty minutes and I’ve grown bored of email and InstaGram. I look at the front entrance wishing to see him walking out, finished. But he’s not there and I worry that he’s still in the waiting room, not even in the chair yet.

I get out of the car and snake my way to the back of the parking lot, which is mostly empty, save an abandoned-looking flatbed trailer and a super large pickup truck straddling two spaces.

There’s a small ladder thing on the back of the trailer so I climb up onto the well-worn wooden boards and pace the length of it, up and back. The extra three feet of height change everything and I look out over the lot with new eyes. So many cars are white or silver (or gray). Way more than half. There are almost no true colors. One stretch has eight white or silver cars in a row. I imagine there are a row of teeth but then someone comes and drives one away so I pretend they were pulling a tooth. I search out more car/teeth scenarios. A black SUV becomes dead, rotting molar. A dented, fenderless Saturn becomes a cavity-laden canine. A gold Chrysler becomes a coffee-stained incisor. I am stumped by the blue Prius and give up the game.

I climb down and return to my car, a silver (gray) Camry, and close my eyes. Suddenly the car next to me fires to life. Startled because I didn’t think anyone was in it, I look over and it’s empty. I’m relived but confused. I turn around and find a guy talking on his phone heading towards me and the adjacent car. He must have one of those remote starters. He doesn’t seem to notice me (thank god!) as he gets in and takes off.

I stare at the empty space next to me. Someone’s gonna pull into it and wonder what I’m doing sitting in my car. I don't like it, so I head for the building to see if it has a public bathroom and I kinda need to pee.

The lobby of the building is smaller that I expect. To the left is a security desk with a guard sitting there, to the right, a small waiting area with a love seat and two padded chairs positioned around a coffee table I’m sure is from Ikea. A central hall leads to the elevators (for the whopping four stories) and eventually a back exit.

I approach the security desk scanning the directory for the dentist: Moore & Lessing Dentistry, 3B. I ask for the bathroom.

‘I’m sorry, we don’t have a public restroom,’ the guard says. It takes me a second to register her words. Instead of replying, I make a face and head for the door, quietly mocking her, ‘we don’t have a public bathroom.’

My need to pee isn’t bad, but if I return to the car I’ll just dwell on it until I’ll really have to go. I remember that there was a Dunkin Donuts not too far away – I could even walk to it. And I decide to.

The Dunkin Donuts is nearly empty so after using the bathroom I feel obligated to buy something. I consider getting him something but he’s probably not going to be able to eat or drink for a while so I just get myself a caramel macchiato. Why not? I deserve it. For doing a favor for a friend.

A friend. Is that what he is? Is that what I am? Why did I agree to give him a ride? I wonder if I was too quick, too eager, to reply that I could give him a ride. Was he excited that it was me who replied? Did he care? He didn’t seem to care on the way there and he didn’t even say how long he thought it would take. He just expected me to wait. Is he just using me? What am I doing, waiting like a dog for its master to get home. I’m not waiting another minute. I rush back to the parking lot.

My head is down as I search for the keys in my purse and when I look up I don’t see my car. I almost panic, but realize that a van has parked in the space next to my car and is obstructing my view. Rounding the back of the van I let out a quick ‘Yeep!’ Sprawled out across the roof of my car from the passenger side are two arms and a head.

The head rises up, it’s him. ‘Oh hey. Dare yoo aw.’ He looks really out of it.

‘How was it?’ I ask.

‘Oh. Id wa` fine.’ His eyes find me and I redden, hoping my plan to ditch him isn’t written on my face.

I quickly unlock the car and we get in. He slowly buckles his seatbelt, still feeling the Novocaine or gas or whatever. I watch him obliviously feeling his lips with his finger, seeming to check that they’re still there. I feel petty, a pang of guilt vibrates from deep inside me.

He looks over and finds my stare. He ceases the lip touching and tries to smile, ‘I can’ fill my liss,’ he says, pointing at his mouth for clarification. Then he notices my nearly empty macchiato. ‘Oh, I wooda bod you coffee – you kno`, as danks.’ I smile and start the car.

The drive home is quiet (NPR is easy to tune out), he in a daze, me questioning if the sugar and caffeine could explain it or if I was just crazy. Would I really have done it, I wonder. I doubt it. Even if I’d gotten to the car before him and left I would’ve come back as soon as he called or texted. He’s a friend and friends give each other rides to the dentist.

He thanks me again when we get to his place. After an awkward over-the-center-console hug he gets out. I drive off right away, not waiting for him to get inside. He’ll be fine, I figure. Besides, I already hafta to pee again.