Читать книгу No One You Know - Jason Schwartzman - Страница 16

The way this hygienist speaks is tentative at first. “Is this okay? I’m going to do this now.” At the same time, her cleaning is very thorough. She likes getting rid of all the plaque, she tells me. Making people’s teeth clean. The one on one of it. She doesn’t mind the blood.

She notices teeth more than other people do, she thinks. Most people don’t notice. We are talking about some blemishes on mine.

“I notice those,” she says, “but most people wouldn’t. So don’t worry. I see all these women who spend fortunes on their hair, their makeup. They open their mouths and it’s not good. Their breath is bad. They don’t take care of their teeth.”

“Have you ever noticed that?” she asks me. “People

are so full of their own selves. They just don’t notice.”

We are not talking about teeth anymore.

“And most people don’t care,” I add, my teeth coated with baking soda. “Which is an antidote to selfconsciousness. People don’t notice you, they don’t care what you do. They’re in their own heads.”

I am struck by this connection with the hygienist. “It’s actually freeing,” I am about to say. “People worry too much. I worry too much.”

But she speaks first. Her hands are in my mouth. “Teeth,” she says again, like it is a lyric to a catchy song.

“How can they not notice teeth?”