Outcast by Susan Oloier

aunt’s, held it to his pink lips, and kissed it. The host patiently waited for the formalities to end, then pushed in both of our chairs as we took our seats.
    “This is Noelle. Noelle this is Doctor Douglas Hogan.”
    “You can call me Doctor Doug,” he interceded.
    Just what I needed, another nickname to have to call someone. Who was this guy, anyway? I listened to their small talk: glad to see you , what have you been up to lately? while faking interest in the menu. If Aunt P wasn’t going to enlighten me, maybe I could glean some information from their conversation.
    “So what kind of doctor are you?” I swirled the maraschino cherries in my Shirley Temple, completely breaking their train of thought with my question.
    “I’m an orthodontist.” It was as though he threw his words into a lottery barrel and spun them around.
    That explained the fluorescent teeth. The two of them looked at each other then at me.
    “That’s all I wanted to know. You can continue your conversation.”
    “We’ve been leaving you out, haven’t we, Noelle?”
    I tipped my chin into my hand. “No, I’m fine,” I lied.
    They started in on their discussion again, picking up where they left off. “Remember Maui ,” my aunt reminisced, “and the sea urchin story?” She laughed.
    “That was some urchin,” Doug smirked. “Did we even set foot in the ocean that day or were we too busy—”
    P nudged him while making eyes at me.
    “Right,” he said.
    “So how long have you known each other?” I finally asked.
    The awkwardness returned. Porcelain Teeth looked to my aunt to answer the question. She fished through her head for answers.
    “We’re old college buddies.” She winked at Doug, assuming that the gesture was lost on me.
    “Yes, we’ve been friends for a long time.”
    The whole situation felt awkward. I wanted this trip to be woman-to-woman time with my Aunt P, not woman-to-man-to-unwanted girl time with Doctor Doug and Claire.
    “I don’t feel so well.” I pulled the ‘ole lunchtime routine from school.
    “What seems to be the trouble?” Doctor Doug made an attempt to be a real doctor.
    “My stomach. My head,” I added for extra measure. I wanted to make sure he couldn’t easily cure me.
    “Why don’t you drink some water? That should make you feel better.”
    He returned to Claire without further regard for me. My stunt didn’t pay off. I was forced to sit through another hour of dinner and boring conversation while I picked at my pasta, head in hand. Then, Claire and Doug decided to interlace their fingers from across the table. God!
    The meal finally ended, and we were able to leave. We stepped into the icy chill of night. When we entered the cab, I was more than ready to return to the hotel, crawl into bed, and watch television. Regrettably, that didn’t happen. My head spun, watching the Marriot disappear in the rear view mirror as we headed toward Lakeshore Drive . Maybe it was just an errand. Hopefully for aspirin and antacids. The whole scene had certainly made me ill.
    The errand turned out to be a visit to Porcelain Teeth’s downtown condominium. He and Claire still held hands as the three of us quietly rode the elevator to the thirteenth floor. All I knew was that he must have been one hell of an orthodontist to live there. The place was decorated in black leather and abstract art. His view overlooked Lakeshore Drive .
    “Noelle, have a seat. We need to go over some—paperwork. We won’t be long,” Aunt P showered me with sweetness.
    “Want anything to drink?” Doug added.
    I ignored him, addressing P instead. “Is it going to take long? I’m really tired.”
    Doug, who had already removed his jacket, opened a wooden case and pulled out the remote control to the television.
    “Here’s the clicker . We’ll try to move through it quickly.” They exchanged smiles and then left. I decided not to use the clicker as Doug called it. Instead, I waited in silence, examining the many