“I’m sorry, but the doctor hasn’t called to okay your prescription yet.”

“What? Why not?”

“I don’t know why. You should call your doctor. Sometimes they forget.”

I hang up. “It’s my dentist!” I say into the phone as I speed-dial his number. “Hello, Sylvia, this is Paris Price. I was hoping to get a refill on my prescription, but the pharmacist said that Dr. Bronstein hasn’t called it in. Is there a problem?”

“Hold on and let me put Doctor on.”

More waiting. I’m waiting for Dingus to walk through that door, because last night I decided to ask him if this girl is pregnant by him or not. I’m tired of walking around here like everything is just hunky-dory. I’m also waiting for a client to fax me directions to her home, which is at least an hour’s drive from here, all the way in Hillsborough, somewhere up in the hills, off a windy road. She’s the CEO of one of the top advertising agencies in San Francisco. And throwing quite the shindig for Lord only knows who. What I am sure of is, she’s willing to spend the hundred thousand plus that I quoted her. I just need to see the place in person.

“Paris, this is Dr. Bronstein. I didn’t refill your prescription because I’m wondering why you’re still experiencing discomfort with your gums after all this time. If you are, then you need to come in and see me right away and let me take a look to see what’s going on.”

Without even thinking, I hear myself lie: “It’s not my gums, Dr. Bronstein, I think it’s my tooth, the one in the bridge that we talked about before.”

“Oh, yes. It’s starting to give you trouble, huh? Is there any way you could come in to see me today?”

“I can tomorrow, but not today.”

“Okay, then. Hold on and I’ll put Sylvia back on to set it up, and I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

“Wait! But what about today?”

“Are you in that much pain?”

“Yes I am.”

“Have you tried Tylenol or Advil?”

“They don’t work.”

“I’ll call in six Vicodin. That should get you through until tomorrow, and we’ll see if we can’t get you fixed up. Take care, Paris. Here’s Sylvia.”

After scheduling the appointment, I know full well I’m not going to see him tomorrow, because there’s nothing wrong with my tooth. The kind of pain I’m feeling doesn’t ache or throb. In fact, I think I’m finally starting to catch on that it’s not pain at all. I want to be distracted. I want not to care what happens one way or another. I want things not to bother me. I would like to be more nonchalant, less emotionally charged up. The problem is, a lot of things bother me that I wish didn’t. Things I can’t control. When I take one or two pain pills, it helps me pull back, hand the reins over to the gods in charge.