Page 35 - Philly Girl

Philly Girl 19

My Orthodontist

I gave a tea party for my 16-year-old friend Sofia. The women
who were there began to reminisce about a special time they
shared with their mothers when they were young girls. I
thought and thought, and suddenly it occurred to me: the
only one-on-one time I had with Esther was on our monthly
visits to the orthodontist.
Ernie Plotnick, Esther’s first cousin, was an orthodon-
tist. At my mother’s request, he agreed to put braces on my
teeth, and on my sister’s as well. He even gave us a discount!
Getting my braces tightened each visit was torture. But
what saved the day for me was the post-checkup ritual of
going to a luncheonette afterwards with Esther in downtown
Philadelphia. We both were excited to eat out in a restaurant.
The kosher restrictions stood, but the sugar restrictions were
loosened. I always ordered the same thing: tomato soup,
grilled cheese, and a chocolate milkshake. On those days
together, my mother seemed like everyone else’s mother I
knew—except for her unshaven legs. And on those days,
following those painful orthodontia visits, I almost didn’t
mind that. Not when we were having an outing!
Ernie Plotnick was handsome and smart and very gentle,
even though I despised the braces. Today, I serve tomato
soup in martini glasses with grilled cheese sticks for dipping.
We toast my straight teeth.