We went down a dirt path until we hit asphalt. The place was located in a strip mall next to a sandwich shop and a hardware store—a small-town atmosphere. Within minutes, I was seated in a dental chair. Chris asked him how long, and the dentist—a nice-looking dark-haired guy around my age—told him over an hour, maybe even two. His name was Dr. Kenneth Woodruff.

“I’ve got things to do,” Chris said. “Unless you want me to stay with you.”

“No, no,” I told him. “I’ll be fine.”

He left, and about two hours later, the dentist took the bib off me. My bottom molars were wired to each other, but my jaw was free, although it was sore when I tried to open my mouth. But I could lick my lips for the first time in weeks. He had scraped and polished my teeth, and I felt normal if I didn’t look at my face or at my arm in the cast. Chris was in the waiting room, clicking away at his phone. Next to him were two big bags. I was holding a pile of discharge instructions.

“Done?” he asked. He stowed the mobile in his pocket.

“I am.”

“How do you feel?”

“More human than not.”

“Take it easy for the next month,” Woodruff said. “Your back teeth are still wobbly. Soups, soft vegetables, fish. No steak, okay?”

“Got it,” I told him.

Chris looked at the dentist. “Thanks for making time, Doc.”

“No problem, Mr. Donatti.”

Chris put his arm around me. “Ready?”

“I am.” I looked at the clock. It was around five when we left. As we were walking to his bike, I said, “Are you taking me to see Juleen?”

“In an hour.”

“Why an hour?”

He looked at me with intense eyes. I said nothing. Another hour wouldn’t make a difference. I felt better and I wouldn’t even mind the contact with him. But I felt he was stalling. He said, “I’ve been dreaming of kissing you.”

“You’re not a big kisser. You mean other things.”

“Maybe.” He gave me the helmet. “You used to like blow jobs.” I did like them. It had been one of the few times during sex that he ceded control. He asked, “Do you still like them?”

“I suppose. It’s been a while.”

“How long?”

“Are you asking Devek’s size, or how much time has passed?”

He broke out in laughter. “Maybe both.”

“To both those questions, I say none of your beeswax.”

“Seriously, how long has it been since you fucked him?”

“A long time.” I paused. “He has a girlfriend.”

“Did he take up with her before or after you stopped having sex with him?”

“Why are you torturing me?” He waited. “After.”

“Can’t blame him if he’s not getting it at home.”

“So now you’re Devek’s advocate? You love giving me a hard time, don’t you?”