The dentist had never been a favorite of Frank Adessi. Growing up, he had always been one of those kids whose parents had to lure them to the dentist’s office. His mother always bribed him with the promise of a new toy after his appointment. For her, he had been good to the dentist and he was sure to cry as little as possible. However, Frank was now an adult and that meant that he had to do adult things, alone.

It wasn’t that he hated the dentist. He just much more preferred the environment of somewhere such as McDonald’s; he much more preferred the smell of burgers and salty French fries to antiseptics and mint. But he had to acknowledge the fact that he was currently sitting inside the lobby of a dentist’s office and not in a booth eating a double cheeseburger. Because he was now an adult and he cared more about his oral hygiene than his craving for cheeseburgers. At least, that was what he told his friends.

He would never admit to someone other than his mother that the real fear behind a simple visit to the dentist’s office was the fact that he was afraid of whole process. It didn’t sit well with him that there were random strangers sticking metal in his mouth, poking his teeth and his gums, trying to get him to say, “Ow.” It didn’t sit well with him that he had to lie in a chair and let picky, gloved fingers smearing fluoride over his teeth. He could sit all day brainstorming all the assets of the dentist that didn’t sit well with him, but there was one thing that was ever-present in his mind. He could never shake the thought of the water, the water they tell him the rinse with, gargle, and could potentially kill him with. His friends would never understand that, not without holding it against him.

Thinking about the water taking up every nook and cranny, every spot it could supply in his mouth took his mind three years back. Frank was nineteen, fresh out of his high school, and could finally enjoy his first summer of freedom. He was free from his teachers, the classmates that he had spent over four years with, and his parents’ wrath. To celebrate all of their freedoms, he and a few close friends vacationed in Florida. The beach had become their favorite leisure spots. That was true for Frank until the day he almost drowned.

He had been swimming, playing and splashing in the water happily. On his way back to shore, his foot slipped and suddenly, he was under the water. The same water that still haunted him to date. Occupying his taste buds with its salty warmth, blocking his hearing periodically, making it hard for him to breathe. It was the reason why he preferred showers to baths, any day. Abundances of water made him uncomfortable.

The sound of a woman’s laughter brought him back to present. She was on the phone, telling whomever on the receiving end that she had to cancel their get-together because she forgot she had a dentist’s appointment and remembered just where he was. He was told that he wait was only ten minutes, but it felt like forever. The thought of dying still occupied his mind. In the event that something was to go wrong, what would they do with him?  Would they cover up the scene? Would they call in the detectives and try to figure out the cause of death? Or would they simply call up his folks and have a formal funeral set up? He decided that he doesn’t want to know.

He attempted to paint a picture of life in his mind. He thought of wide smiles and clear skies after the rain. He thought of the way he felt attending concerts, zealous and live. He thought of the cinnamon taste of elephant ears and funnel cakes at the fair each year. He thought of his mother, his late father, his closest friends, and the sound of their voices. Their voices were what he’d become the most familiar with and he couldn’t imagine not being able to hear them, reassuring him, telling him that he would be alright.

If something were to happen, would people miss him? Who would miss him? He hoped to God that he wouldn’t be like Jay Gatsby and have not even a soul show up for him at his funeral. That would kill him, if he weren’t already dead. He at least wanted a bouquet of flowers, never mind the fact that they would mostly be the plastic bundle from Wal-Mart.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was a grown man and he needed to do things that grown-ups did.  His mother wasn’t there to hold his hand and well…that had to be okay. He was 22-years-old, for crying out loud! Besides, a little water never hurt anyone, right? There was no way it could hurt him. He was five foot eleven; he was taller than the water last time he checked.

He stood up, deciding to check out a few magazines. He had his hand on the corner of a Sports Illustrated magazine when a name caught his attention: “Frank Adessi.” Frank turned to see the dental assistant, a short, cheery brunette whose nametag read ‘Quinn.’ Her eyes scanned the room a second time and she repeated his name.

He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair, making his way toward her. “Yes, Miss, I’m here.”

“Great,” she responded, a wide smile on her face. “You ready?”

He couldn’t help but to crack a smile himself. “More than I’ve ever been.”