Tooth Fairy
by A. E. Kerry
Isa fidgeted restlessly in her bed. The night air was thick with suffocating heat. Summer nights in Aruba were almost as brutal as the days, but that was not why she couldn’t sleep tonight. She was at that terribly awful age when a child still believes that there could be monsters lurking in the shadows or outside her window, but had no blankets nor knew any lullabies to keep them away. Half-formed anxieties crowded her young mind. Her tongue worried and twisted at a loose molar. She felt it loosen in her mouth until she could almost wiggle it out.
Isa always did things in her own time, that’s what they said. She knew that her father had wondered why it was taking so long for her milk teeth to fall out. Maybe that was why she felt the need to worry and fidget over the molar. None of the kids at school compared the gaps in their teeth anymore, long since filled with shiny new ones. At recess, they didn’t tell silly stories about the tooth fairy, that little white rat who came in the night to buy your teeth. That story was for little kids, and little kids only. What was the rat’s name? What had they called him?
As tends to happen whenever a child does something a little later or earlier than expected, there had been talk and head-shaking from the adults. This is true on the islands, and probably just about everywhere else, too. The talk didn’t end until the doctor finally said that it was no big issue; her teeth would come when they were ready.
Well, this year they had started to come in. Isa did things in her own time, but when she finally got around to doing something, she really did it. It seemed like she was losing a tooth every other week, each replaced by a new tooth almost immediately. Her father was mildly relieved, and the doctor had simply nodded his head with that “told you so” expression. Pop. Out came the tooth. She put it on her bedside table next to three others.
The teeth, the doctor, the kids at school, the rat. Tandenfee, la petite souris, Ratón Pérez, that was what they called him. All these things swirled and melted together in her restless mind. Eventually though, she plunged into an uneasy sleep, where a nightmare found her, the kind that strikes you like a bullet and leaves you with a lingering, queasy unease. In her dream she’d babbled and drooled with soft gums, unable to find where she’d left her teeth.
* * *
Isa woke in a cold sweat, unable to recall where she was at first. Glancing around, she slowly came to her senses. The faint starlight coming in through the window was enough to cast familiar shadows in her room. She was in her own bed. Her tongue felt its way around her mouth, reassuring her that she still had the proper amount of teeth. Allowing herself to relax, she leaned back into her pillow. An indeterminable space of time went by before a sickening awareness took hold of her.
Afterwards, she couldn’t have said what tipped her off. A prickling behind the ears, sweat on the back of her neck. Quickening heartbeat. The symptoms of fear. She didn’t question why it was that she first felt it, because there wasn’t even a hint of doubt that she was being watched. The fear paralyzed her, hot iron arms holding her in place.
For what felt like hours she lay there immobile, until she could stay still no longer. She turned her head slowly, dreading what she might see, refusing to look it in the eye. But she did, and her glassy brown eyes latched onto his — its — two red ones. Her face twisted in horror as she took in its features. Not very little. Its fur was coarse and white, torn whiskers stuck out of the scarred and twisted face like bristles on an old brush. And that nose! Twitching wetly, seeking, searching, tasting eagerly. Its beady eyes glinted with what felt like hellfire, like malice, like hunger.
The rat seemed to grow closer to her without moving, its massive head stretching toward her like something out of a dream. Oh, she wished this was a dream, that she could squeeze her eyes shut and open them in a safe room, but she knew better than to close her eyes.
The rat turned its head suddenly and dove for her bedside table. It rooted around like a hog until it found her teeth. She watched its slimy, ulcerated tongue wrap around each one and place it delicately inside its mouth. It ate all four teeth eagerly, as though it were savoring some sweet nuts. And maybe they were sweet nuts, and maybe this was a dream, she thought vaguely. Looking into its glowing eyes was mesmerizing, and her eyelids suddenly became very heavy.
* * *
She awoke that morning to the sounds of birds and the rattle of insects outside her window. The air was sweet and humid, not yet sweltering under the sun. Stretching out her sore limbs, she wondered if the mosquitoes had been biting again. Her body felt fatigued, vaguely feverish. They say mosquitoes can smell if you come from a different island, that they prefer the taste.
She dimly remembered her strange dream and might have forgotten it entirely except for the fact that her teeth were missing from the bedstand. A pair of shiny coins were on the desk. She blinked in surprise. It can’t be, Ratón Pérez isn’t real. But something had left those coins, these very tangible coins, on her bedside table. Thinking the teeth might have fallen and rolled under some furniture, she checked under the bedside table and under the bed. No dice.
At breakfast, she ate slowly, still exhausted from the night before. Her father noticed, and asked how her sleep was. He was looking at her with the cautious expression that she saw so frequently since they had moved from Curaçao. She told him she’d lost another tooth, and he nodded his acknowledgement.
A tentative concern crept into his face that had nothing to do with the teeth, not really. She was growing up, precocious height lending an illusion of maturity to her sleight frame. It troubled him to realize that his daughter was getting older, that the years went by a bit too quickly. She was aware of this, but couldn’t quite grasp the anxieties that her blossoming had awakened within him. All fathers ultimately fear it, the day that their child grows up. And his silent prayer was written on his face: Please stay small, please be my baby a little longer. Don’t grow up yet. Not yet, not yet. But they didn’t talk about it; instead, he kissed her on the top of the head and went to get his toolbox from the hall closet.
Isa went to school and tried to focus on her studies. At recess she tried to steer the conversation to the tooth fairy without having to mention her experience the night before. The childish topic irritated Roseline, a quiet Dominican girl who had bonded with Isa over their shared expatriate status. Neither she nor any of their classmates wanted talk about the little rat with his little coins and gifts, or maybe they no longer remembered. Like the others, Isa had relegated the story to the realm of childhood fables, just as fake as Sinterklaas, but she couldn’t quite recall why. She realized that the only reason she’d even seen it was that she had woken up, and even then the memory was fading.
Isa made a trip to the school library where she read all she could about the tooth fairy. Most of them were about the American tooth fairy, a cheery woman who seemed to have more in common with Tinker Bell than Isa’s nocturnal visitor. Isa disregarded these immediately, but the stories she could find about Ratón Pérez were only slightly more recognizable. Colorful drawings of friendly mice grinned at her from dog-eared children’s books. None of them seemed to say why he took the teeth, or what he did with him. The librarian, helpful though she tried to be, was unable to satisfy the young girl’s searing curiosity. Isa went home, slightly dejected and with no more information than she had before.
* * *
The dreams, if that’s what they were, did not return for a month. When a tooth came loose, she placed it on the table, with no thought of the terrible nightmare. Then one night she woke from a restless sleep again, unable to move. Struggling against the terrible déjà vu, she turned her head again with the muted horror and resignation of one who finds herself in a recurring nightmare. There it was. She saw its terrible eyes and nose exactly as she remembered it. Again it ate the teeth, and again she fell asleep before she could see it leave.
The next morning there were a handful of brightly wrapped candies on her bedside table. Their glinting, colorful foils caught her eye and shone like jewels. The rest could have been a vivid nightmare, brought on by heat or fevered mosquito bites, but how to explain the candy or the coins? There was no doubt left in her mind now that the tooth fairy was real. She had felt his hunger.
She didn’t dare tell her father, couldn’t stand the patronizing comfort and reassurances he would surely offer. She did ask him to put out more rat poison, which killed several dark-eyed mice but no tooth fairies. For reasons she could not identify, she felt a sense of dread at the prospect of the rat returning. This tooth fairy looked nothing like the cute little rat described in stories, but that didn’t mean it was malevolent, did it?
As summer burned on, she became used to the half-remembered routine. The teeth, the fairy, the payments, all of it. Every month she waited for it, collecting the money or baubles it left in the morning. Usually she had only one tooth to give, sometimes two. But on this night, she lay worried. All month she had felt no loose teeth in her mouth. Her tongue probed the inside of her mouth, finding only a few firmly rooted baby molars crowding new adult teeth. What would happen? Maybe it wouldn’t come after all. But maybe it would come. Maybe it would search fruitlessly around her bed. How would it react when it realized there was no offering? She didn’t want to think about that. Rolling over, she squeezed her eyelids together and prayed.
She must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes the shadows had shifted in her room. Feeling that fearful sensation now so familiar, she rolled onto her side and saw it there. It looked back at her and — oh God — it smiled! It smiled with her teeth. Mouth stretched in an impossibly wide grin that reached behind its ears, it approached. She could see that it had almost a complete set, just a few gaps in the back of its mouth.
A growling sound came from somewhere within its form, deep and indistinct. At first she didn’t even perceive it as a growl. It could have been the engine of a distant car, or the rumble of an incoming storm. The anger, the demanding rage was so palpable, she could almost hear its thoughts. Teeth. Teeth. Give me the teeth. Give me the rest. You’ve had them too long. GIVE THEM TO ME NOW. She understood that if she didn’t give it her teeth, if she couldn’t offer up one last gift, it would take them. It would rip and tear until satisfied.
Her mind raced. Could she run? And if she did, where would she go? She thought of her father’s toolbox, if she could make it to the closet. But why did that occur to her? Was there something in it she could use? As if hearing her thoughts, the rat suddenly leaped at her. She grabbed it by the scruff as it lunged for her face, her teeth. Its claws scratched and pulled at her arms, leaving bloody furrows as she pushed its gnashing teeth away. With a great effort, she pushed it off of her and sent it flying backwards with a kick.
Scrambling to her feet, she sprinted to the hall and yanked the closet door open. Behind, she could hear the rat chasing after her, its heavy claws scrabbling across the tile. Its body slammed into the door as she was closing it, and it pounded against the door in a rage. An irrational thought popped into her mind as she rifled through the toolbox. She hoped her father would sleep through the commotion, he had to wake up early to work in the morning.
With no time to spare, she got to work. The pliers were large and heavy, but with some difficulty she was able to grasp one of her molars with them. A sharp yank, followed by a sickening pop. Ow! And it was out. Only two more to go. The thudding against the closet door continued, threatening to take the closet door off its hinges. She twisted and pulled until the bloody fruit was in her palm.
Bending down, she rolled the teeth under the door. Suddenly the banging stopped. A nose sniffed around the space between the door and the floor, whiskers trembling. Silence. It seemed an eternity until light began to creep under the door. Gingerly opening the door, she peeked into the hallway. Empty. A handful of coins were scattered on the floor. It wasn’t quite dawn yet, so she crept back into her bedroom and crawled into bed.
The next few hours of sleep remaining were the most restful she’d had in months. The memory of the last night was nearly forgotten by the time she woke. Only a faint throbbing pain in her gums and a few scratches on her arms remained.
Copyright © 2022 by A. E. Kerry
