Page 13 of The Risks of Reuniting

Dr. Joseph is middle-aged, not single, but super nice. Two strikes, as far as Rachelle is concerned, but one homerun for me. I'd take nice over just about any other character trait. He's tall and thin, just like Carlos described him, with brown hair that he styles back from his face, and an expression that tells me he's amused by a lot of what he sees. I can work with that.

I listen attentively as he walks Rachelle and me around the small clinic, opening cupboards and drawers that are labeled in Spanish, and explaining what he expects of us. Most of it sounds pretty routine other than the fact that we have no schedule and we roll with whatever the day holds. He's wearing a white lab coat over a T-shirt and cargo shorts, and barely lifts his eyebrows when he sees Rachelle's colorful outfit. I get the feeling he doesn't ruffle easily.

"Sometimes people aren't here for oral health. They get confused and come with a cut that needs stitching, or a sinus infection. We help where we can, and send them to the correct place if we can't," he says as he leans a hip against a countertop and crosses his arms. "I've been here for a month now, and I've gotten pretty good at stopping wounds from bleeding and wrapping them so that the patient can be transported to someone who can do stitches. I'm also great at splinting broken bones."

"Unexpected," Rachelle mutters thoughtfully, tugging at her lipstick-covered lower lip.

Dr. Joseph points at her. "Exactly. Prepare for that."

For the most part it sounds like the clinic is open from 8:30 to 11:30 and then again from 1:00 to 4:00, leaving us an hour and a half for lunch each day. I've worked dentistry long enough to know that the patients will bleed into the lunch break and we'll hopefully get thirty minutes of that, but I'm good with it. We have Saturdays and Sundays off, but he says he never turns away someone who shows up on those days, so to not get too attached to weekends.

"You've already been here a month?" Rachelle asks. "How long is your commitment?"

"Three months," he answers.

"You must miss your people," Rachelle responds with a sympathetic face.

He smiles. "It's not easy to be apart, but my wife is supportive and we video call every day."

"I love that for you," Rachelle coos. "It's so sweet. Hey, does anyone call you Dr. J?"

He laughs, and it's contagious, making me smile. "I have a feeling someone is about to."

She nods. "Well, two people, because Chloe is going to call you that too."

Dr. Joseph – or should I say, Dr. J – turns to look at me with a raised eyebrow.

"I . . ." have no idea what to say. I'm professional to the core, and don't know the guy at all.

"You know what," he says, "let's do it. I'll be Dr. J this month. Maybe Dr. J is the guy we never knew we needed."

Rachelle claps her hands together and nods, pointing at me. "What should we call you?"

"Chloe," I respond, deadpan.

At this they both laugh and Rachelle shrugs at him. "I guess it's a win that I got her to use a nickname for you."

"Guess so," he responds. "And what are we calling you?" he asks her.

Rachelle tilts her head playfully and puts a hand against her chest. "The Queen."

"Queenie it is," Dr. J nods once, and Rachelle laughs.

Dr. J jumps back into business, telling us what he expects of us, and before I know it the door is opening and a family comes through. My heartrate rises slightly as I turn to face them. Dr. J steps toward them, speaking to them in Spanish and assessing their needs before turning to Rachelle and me, handing out our assignments. I gather my tools, put a smile on my face, and take a deep breath. My first Peruvian patient. Pinch me.

Wed, May 7

Dear Family,

I am pleased to report that I am alive. It was touch-n-go for a bit there, because planes are the devil's invention, but only one baby cried, nobody threw up, and the great beast did not plummet to the earth carrying my corpse.

All in all, a success.

Dad – I live in a shack, in a dirt courtyard, on a hillside. I have to boil all water before using any of it, my bed is made of concrete bricks, and the bathroom is a glorified outhouse. These are all the hard things you were hoping for, so that I could build some character and appreciate my blessed life. Character building is happening. Also, thanks for always making sure I had a comfortable life. I know this is what you were hoping I'd say to you, so I'm saying it now. Enjoy that smug feeling.

Mom – my roommate is a woman named Rachelle. She's in her 20s and from Georgia. She's beautiful and nice. She doesn't do drugs, I haven't seen her drink, and I do not believe she's into anything that may taint your baby girl. She's dramatic in the best way, wears hilarious scrubs that have the whole compound talking, and has magical hair that dries looking like she stepped straight out of a salon. I should be jealous, but I can't bring myself to be. She has a large social media following, so next time you're stalking people you should look her up, there might be some pictures of me. The dental patients all love her, and there are a few teenage boys that have come the past two days saying a different tooth hurt. Dr. Joseph told them the next time they show up faking it, he'll pull all their teeth. We didn't see them today.

Gavin – since you're obsessed with plumbing, you may find it interesting to note that the toilet has no seat, nor can we flush the paper down. We shower by standing with our legs straddling the toilet and letting water shoot out of a showerhead attached to a hose hanging from rafters above. I've learned you can't touch the showerhead hose combo or the entire set up will become unattached and you will find the water shooting straight at the door. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but the door doesn't lock and isn't stable. The force of the water knocks the door wide open, and you're left there in nothing but your birthday suit while screaming. I know this because it happened to my roommate, and none of thePeruvian men were very quick to help. The women however, rose to the occasion and handled it. Rachelle was the best choice for this kerfuffle because she simply laughed and moved on with her life. I would have purchased a plane ticket home.

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