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determined to drink in the peace of the evening before disputants arrived to shatter the calm.

6
    After work, they walked side by side against the evening chill. The streets were busy. From time to time, he moved to avoid another pedestrian, but she held him firmly by the arm. She interpreted his desire to pull away as fear. She told him it was natural; everyone feared the dentist.
    This was the first he’d heard of their destination. So he was to be a project. What had he been thinking, kissing her like that? He was nothing more to her than a stray. You took strays to a vet, first and foremost, to make sure their health wasn’t a threat to your own.
    They shuffled awkwardly through the revolving door of an office tower and took the elevator to the twentieth floor. Her dentist was prosperous enough to work high in a downtown building; already his mind was reeling from the debt she was planning to incur on his behalf.
    The dentist’s office was streamlined and spotless. There were no magazines to clutter the glass coffee table. The only books were a set of pristine historical almanacs that ran the length of a locked credenza.
    She filled out some paperwork at the counter, then came and sat next to him on the hard leather sofa, whispering a steady stream he couldn’t quite hear. She seemed genuinely happy to be helping him. And why not? She’d arranged a no doubt expensive dentist’s appointment for a derelict who sorely needed it. She had every right to feel good about herself. She looked like someone who felt good about herself too rarely, when by all rights she should feel it every waking hour.
    The dentist was tall and gaunt and wore a yellow bow tie under his prominent Adam’s apple. He had a politician’s folksy manner, but his spit-polished shoes spoke of a man with a history in the service. He gave her hair a playful fluff and said he’d heard the exhibit was really coming along. Then he winked and said, “Let’s take a look at your new protégé.”
    His examination involved three quick forays into the mouth, with a change of gloves each time he made notes with his tortoiseshell fountain pen. “Right,” he said, turning to announce that aside from one fairly deep cavity, the remaining teeth were sound. He waved her off when she asked if the cosmetic work was going to be terribly involved. “Not to worry,” he said. “I’ll put it on your tab.”
    There were several injections, but he never felt anything worse than a pinprick. The drill made an eerie breeze on the back of his tongue.
    There had been great advances in dentistry. Or perhaps private dentistry had been different for a long time. No sooner had the dentist finished filling the cavity than he started rummaging through a drawer labeled TEETH, INDIVIDUAL AND SMALL GROUPINGS . The new teeth were fitted with the help of a wand that cast gorgeous purple light.
    After the final adjustments, the dentist ran a gloved finger across the repairs, closing his eyes to better concentrate with his fingertips.
    The last step was to polish the teeth to erase any remaining differences. Only then did he step back to take in the overall effect.
    â€œYour friend looks awfully familiar,” the dentist said.
    â€œHe has one of those faces,” she said.
    â€œNo, I’ve seen him before. I just can’t place him.” The dentist excused himself and left the room.
    Supine on the armless chair, he suddenly felt very small and exposed. The anesthesia didn’t mask the feeling that a great trauma had happened in his mouth. He ran first his tongue, and then a tentative finger, across his new teeth. It felt as though a door that had been left naggingly open was at last closed. But for how long?
    The dentist burst back in waving one of the historical almanacs. He handed her the open book, slapping the page with the back of his long elegant fingers. “There, you see?” he said.