Mohawk

teeth.
    Back in his apartment, Dallas commenced a thorough search of the premises, though he knew in advance it would be futile. He was thinking more clearly now and the former certainty that his teeth had been stolen began to seem rash. His two-room flat was easy to search. Once he examined the sink and shower, stripped the sofa sleeper and plunged his hands down along the seams, he was more or less finished. His quest was not without its immediate rewards, however, for he found, among other things, his nail clippers, a dollar and a half in change, and a paperback Mickey Spillane, its spine broken and pages falling out. But nothing even vaguely porcelain. He gathered up the Spillane and put it in the trash, figuring that if the urge to finish the book ever became unbearable he could pick up another copy. This particular edition had disappeared months ago without his noticing, so that was unlikely. In the long run he would probably worry more about how his unfinished dream was supposed to come out. In the closet by the hall door he went through the pockets of all his clothes, clean and dirty, finding a number of interesting things but not what he was looking for. Giving up, he put on the only clean workshirt in the closet—this one happened to have
Cal
stitched in script over the pocket—and made a mental note that it was time to do his laundry. The last two days he had worn shirts with other people’s names on them, and that was a sure sign he was running low on everything.
    Actually, the loss of his teeth was not tragic this time, since he had displayed uncustomary foresight in ordering a spare set the last time he woke up toothless. The spares he found in their pink case in the medicinecabinet where he had stashed them behind the bottle of Old Spice someone had given him two Christmases ago and which he’d been meaning to use. He slipped the bridge in place and it fit perfectly, even better than the old one. Instead of angry and embarrassed, he began to feel pleased with himself for the way he had providently provided against mischance.
    Since he was already late for work, he decided to stop and see his brother’s widow, remembering, for some reason, that today was his niece’s birthday. Mother and daughter lived in a small, square house on the outskirts of town near Mohawk Sand and Gravel. Dallas parked at the curb, since the driveway was strewn with children’s toys. Although they had been married in their teens, Loraine and Dallas’s younger brother David didn’t have their child until they were in their late twenties, after they had just about given up. David was so excited about the baby that he spent every spare penny on his daughter, not that there were so many pennies to spare. When Dawn was one and he discovered he had cancer, David went a little crazy, taking out a substantial loan so he could buy the little girl twenty years’ worth of presents. They filled up the walk-in closet of the spare bedroom, each package wrapped and dated: Merry Christmas 1985; Happy Birthday 1987. Loraine had shown Dallas the closet the day after David’s funeral, and he remembered the way she had stared blankly at all the brightly wrapped gifts, still awed, perhaps, by her husband’s great need to enter and enrich his daughter’s life over the long years from the grave.
    Dallas found Dawn swinging in the back yard, her white-sneakered feet straight out in front of her. She didn’t quite have the hang of pumping but was doingthe best she could. When she saw her uncle, the little girl scuffed to a stop and ran up to meet him. “Pow!” she said, poking him in the forehead with her index finger when he picked her up.
    “How old are you?” he said.
    “Two old.”
    “I’m the one that’s too old, you knucklehead. Besides, you’re three old today. Don’t you know your own birthday?”
    Loraine then appeared at the screen door and studied her brother-in-law wearily. She was still in her bathrobe. Actually, it looked like it might have been David’s. “You again,” she said, holding the door open for Dallas to come in without having to set his niece down.
    “That’s a nice hello after you don’t see me for a month.”
    Loraine cocked her head and frowned at him suspiciously. “You were here last night in case you forgot. Three in the morning.”
    Dallas did not know whether to believe her or not. He had no recollection of visiting his sister-in-law last night, but then he had next to no recollection of