Squint ‘86

Excerpt from in-progress novel

Photo by novia wu on Unsplash

The Mayor opened Saint Pantelimon Hospital in 1886. Saint Pantelimon of Nicomedia was a doctor, for the poor, sick and needy, who never took a penny from the poor. The same can’t be said for the doctors, nurses or cleaners of Hospital 1. It was renamed by the Communists. They weren’t big fans of saints.

“Go and brush your teeth, Nicu,” said Mama.

“I did!”

“You can’t go to see the doctor without having brushed your teeth. You know that. Go and brush them.”

Nicu didn’t say that the doctor was going to look at his eyes not his teeth. He went to the bathroom, squeezed a dollop of toothpaste onto his very own toothbrush and then finished in ten seconds. Still, ten seconds was enough to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He was reminded of the mocking jibes in the park. Half an hour playing football and his eyes would go funny, one here, one there. A cross-eyed fool with nowhere to hide.

One of the boys, Daniel, would belt out, “What are you looking at, Nicu?”

His friend, Tibi, a tiny sparrow of a boy, would say, “Where’s he looking? Where? Where? Where?”

An older boy, David, who was only watching, would point and laugh. David wouldn’t have to say anything. The joke was self-explanatory.