Teeth and Birds

 

It was well past midnight. The beach had gone private—no tourists, no bonfires, just the slow exhale of the Pacific and the faint mineral smell of black. Alex lay flat on his back like a discarded angel, arms loose, ribs visible under his T-shirt, smiling at nothing in particular. The crescent moon hung low, the edges of the clouds around it bruised pink, like the sky had just been punched and was deciding whether to swell.

Quin sat a few feet away with his legs splayed, back braced against a coconut tree. Even at rest he looked built for collision—stocky, solid. He was methodically peeling leaves from a fallen coconut frond, braiding them into a rope

Alex chuckled softly, like he’d just remembered a joke he wasn’t sure existed.
“Ever notice,” he said, “how the moon smiles like the Cheshire Cat? And you’re like—damn. Even if I brushed and flossed every day, my teeth would never be that bright.”

Quin didn’t look up. “Can’t say I have,” he said, fingers working the braid. “But my two long-term relationships were like that.”

“Like… the moon?”

“No. Teeth and gums.”

Alex rolled his head toward him. “I’m sorry—what?”

“When I think about it,” Quin continued, completely sincere, “they were temperamentally different. Like teeth and gums are. Almost opposites.”

Alex laughed, a thin, wheezy laugh that turned into a cough. “Quin, I know you’re high, but your brain is connecting dots that do not exist.”

Quin tested the rope—about two feet long now—then smacked it against the base of the coconut tree. Thump.

 “Well, we’re all in long-term relationships with our mouths,” he said. “Namely, our teeth and gums.”

Alex propped himself up on his elbows. “Metaphorically, you’re saying… what?”

Quin finally glanced over, eyes glassy but focused. “Lucy and Linda were my two long-term partners. Linda was a bit of a nympho—like gums that need to be flossed at least three times a week or they get inflamed and cry bloody tears from neglect. They let you know when things are off, you pay with a bit of pain, but gums forgive you if you get back on the maintenance routine.”

Alex squinted. “Did you just compare Linda to your gums?”

“Yes.”

“This is wild,” Alex said, delighted. “But she was my favorite. Linda had an actual personality. Lucy was ice. Linda was spicy. Sensitive, sure—but alive.”

“Gums get inflamed if they’re not attended to,” Quin said. “When’s the last time you flossed?”

Alex winced. “Been a while.”

“Then they’re probably engorged and red instead of light pink and happy. And the minute you thread them, they’ll cry bloody tears.”

“Bleed,” Alex said. “They’ll bleed. Why ‘tears,’ you psycho?” He paused. “But I miss Linda. Where’d she go?”

“With Brad, but it was for the best.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” Quin said. Then he sighed. “Gums forgive you if you do the maintenance. Might take two weeks of nightly flossing to make them happy again. But Lucy?” Quin shook his head. “Lucy was like my teeth. Solid. Or so I thought—until we went to couples therapy.”

Alex smiled. “Dental exam.”

“Exactly. All these shadowy recesses I didn’t know about were brought into the light. And unlike Linda, there was no forgiveness for the slow erosion.”

Alex reached into his pocket, pulled out a crumpled joint, and held it up like an offering. “This feels like the right moment.”

Quin shrugged.

Alex lit it, the flame briefly illuminating his sharp cheekbones, then took a careful drag and passed it over. Quin inhaled like he was back in training camp, held it, exhaled toward the moon.

“We all have cavities in our hearts,” Alex said dreamily. “I want love. Not these shallow connections. Something deeper. I lost count, and I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

“If you want that root canal,” Quin said, “it’ll cost ya.” He took the joint back. “I had Lucy yanked like my back molar when she tried to take me to small-claims court for killing her parrot. You remember Enya?”

“The red macaw?” Alex groaned. “That thing was loud. I couldn’t believe you lived with it.”

“Enya had already attacked me once. So the second time, I swatted her down—but then Basil grabbed her and gave her three shakes. Killed her before I could do anything.”

Alex sighed. “Basil…”

“Lucy picks up the bird, leaves in tears. I tell Basil he really screwed the pooch. Two weeks later—bam. Court papers. Five grand.”

Alex laughed. “You represented yourself.”

“I watched some YouTubes. Used ChatGPT. Built a self-defense case.”

“The judge must have hated you.”

“Oh, for sure. But when I showed him the scar on my shoulder—”

“Didn’t you superglue it instead of stitches?”

“Yeah. Anyways, the judge ruled self-defense. Basil and I are off the hook, but I now have to muzzle him on walks.”

Alex blinked. “Do you?”

“Well, yeah. I wouldn’t put it past Lucy to record me without it.”

“You can’t live in fear.”

“Basil doesn’t mind,” Quin said softly. “It’s like he understands.”

“He is a good boy.”

“Everyone tells him that constantly.” Quin stared out at the water. “Wish I could just wag my tail and smile and get along.”

Alex grinned. “Sure. And occasionally defend your master from a killer macaw.”

Quin nodded. “Felt like it was going for my jugular that first time. Tilted my head as the beak raked down my neck before it could dig that hook of bone into my shoulder. Barely a scar now because skin heals. Everything heals except for teeth. There’s no forgiveness with teeth. Or Lucy.”

“And your gums ran off with another man.”

“Something like that.” Quin flicked ash into the sand. “I just want my skeleton to look nice. When the aliens dig us up to judge if we deserve reanimation, they’ll judge us by our teeth.”

Alex laughed. Waves sighed. The moon was shining through cobweb clouds, a bridal veil. An owl screeched. 

Alex said, “What if that’s Enya, reincarnated and about to come at you?”

“Bring it,” said Quin and snapped his coconut-leaf rope.