A Tooth for A Tooth(Valerie Allen) A Tooth for a Tooth
by
Valerie Allen


“Good morning, Detective Frack.”

“Hello, Reverend Thompson. How's everything goin' in the Holy Land?”

The two men shook hands and sat across from each other in a booth at the back of a small cafe. Friends since childhood, they met each week to share their diametrical world views.

“Praise, Jesus, things are going well,” Lamar Thompson said with a big smile. “Although, Mitch, I did miss your smiling face in the congregation last Sunday.”

Mitchel Frack leaned across the table. “Well, Lamar, what can I say? It wasn't my turn.”

Lamar raised his eyebrows. “That's what you told me two Sundays ago.”

Mitchel looked at his pal. “That's because my ex-wife wanted another turn to go to church and you know there's still that pesky 'keep away' order on the books.”

“Which one of your ex-wives might that be?” Lamar asked.

Mitch frowned, which caused deep lines to form across his forehead. “Hmm.... I think it was number four.”

“Praying for your reform, no doubt.”

Mitchel gave a short laugh. “She believes in miracles.”

The waitress brought them each a mug of black coffee. Smoke swirled from the brim.

Lamar dipped a spoon into the dark liquid and began to stir. “Well, next Sunday I have a real humdinger of a sermon and you better be there to hear it.” He tapped the edge of the mug with his spoon.

“What's it about?”

“You.”

“Me?” Mitch straightened his shoulders, his eyes wide.

“Yes. My sermon's about bullying.”

“Bullying? What's bullying got to do with me?” Mitch asked?

“Isn't that what you do for a living, lock up the bullies?”

“That's putting it mildly. Those no-good bums are way beyond the bullying stage of their career by the time they cross paths with me.” Mitch lifted his coffee mug and cautiously took a sip.

“My point exactly,” Lamar said. “I started this youth group at the church. We meet at 10:00 PM every Friday. We talk about respect and decency; kindness and following the rules.”

Mitch nodded. “I like the part about 'following the rules'. Also, not a bad idea having it at prime-crime-time.”

Lamar smiled. “Can't sneak a thing past you can I?”

“Anything you can do to keep those kids off the streets and away from the druggies sounds good to me.” Mitch leaned toward his friend. “Of course, you don't want to be too good at it or you might put me out of work.”

Lamar laughed. “Don't I wish. Sorry to say, there's a long way to go before that happens.” His face turned somber. “I visit the prison once a month.” He shook his head. “That is one, cold, mean place.
“You got that right,” Mitch said.

Lamar spoke softly. “I look at those men and think they were born innocent and then bad things happened.”

“Innocent?” Mitch's voice rose. “Most of them brought those 'bad things' onto themselves and did a whole lot of 'bad things' to the people around them. They get no sympathy from me.”

“I have to admit, it's a tough crowd. Some days I look at them and think they're the bullies who kept going in the wrong direction; they never got themselves turned around.”

The waitress interrupted them, hefting plates from the serving tray onto their table. “Here ya go, gentlemen, the usual. Omelets all the way, bacon, home fried potatoes, toast, and a fill-up for your coffee.”

The men nodded, thanked her, and arranged their plates. They sprinkled generous amounts of salt, pepper, and hot sauce over the food.

“So, what's my connection to your upcoming Bully Sermon?”

“It's about how a bully can bring out the best in us.”

“Really? Sounds like you're writing fantasy into your sermons, Reverend.”

“No, not at all. Give it some thought; a bully can change your life.”

“No kidding.” Mitch leaned toward his friend. “Folks don't need a sermon to figure that out.”

“I mean in a good way. Think about it.”

“That would take a lot of thinking on my part,” Mitch said. “I'm more into that bit about 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth'.”

“Mitch, do you remember Roland Buckwell?”

Mitch stopped, fork midway to his mouth. “Do I remember him? That sorry sack of dirt? Of course, I remember him. Now there's a bully who should have been locked up the day he was born.”

“I've wondered about that myself. I've checked his name on the prison locator; no dice. I'm hoping he's one of the bullies who turned himself around.”

Mitch frowned. Two deep lines formed between his eyebrows. “Why would you care about that bum?”

“I want to thank him for all he did for me.”

Mitch looked at his friend in disbelief. “What he's done for you? Are you nuts?”

“No, not at all. I'd like to tell him how his bullying turned my life around.”
“You mean when he called you the 'N' word? When he hung that noose in your locker? When he chased you home every day with a baseball bat?”

Lamar shook his head. “What I also remember is he brought us together. We would never have been friends if Roland hadn't tried to kill us. We had to buddy up to stay alive.”

“Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you about that. Where were you when Buckwell smashed me in the face with my violin? He busted my lip, broke off my tooth, and flattened my nose onto the side of my face.”

“I remember that day.” Lamar gestured toward Mitch with his fork. “I was hiding in a church. By the way, if I haven't said it before, I'm sorry about that.

“Thanks for the belated apology–it was only about 30 years in the making. Some friend you were, hiding in a church. Praying to save your sorry ass.”

“No, actually I promised God if I made it home alive that day I'd never lie, cheat, or steal again.”

“Obviously, you made it home okay. How'd that promise to God work out?”

“Not bad, not bad at all. It's another reason I have to thank Roland Buckwell.”

Mitch looked puzzled. “You're serious. I don't get it.”

Lamar sat back. “You see, that was the day I met Reverend Jacob. I was shaking in my shoes with fear. He sat me down and we had a long talk. I told him what was going on—at home and at school. He said I could hide at his church anytime. After that, he asked me if I wanted a job. You know, we were only about 12 or so, too young to work legally, but the Reverend found jobs for me to do. He had me sweep the parking lot, take out the trash, clean the pews, put a bible and hymnal out before each service.”

Mitch let out a hearty laugh. “Sounds like the Reverend hoodwinked you into doing the grunt work.”

“He did. Yes, he did, but I also heard his sermons each Sunday. After a while, I actually listened to what he had to say. A lot of it started to make sense. Besides, my momma and my grandmother thought I had been saved.” A big grin crossed his face. “You know I played that up for all it was worth.”
“You were always a charmer with the ladies,” Mitch said.

“I earned some money. I learned the importance of honest labor and to strive for excellence even in small tasks. I took pride in what I did, and it built my confidence and self-esteem. Those church ladies were always praising my fine work when I weeded the garden.” Lamar smiled at the memory. “Gotta love those church ladies. They made the best fried chicken and warm cornbread ever. They put it out after the Sunday service.”

“Sure, and the Reverend told you the chicken and cornbread were just a fringe benefit of employment.”

“Something like that.”

“So did all this work in the name of the Lord stop Buckwell from kicking your ass?”

“No, it didn't, but I learned to run faster and because of that, I got a place on the track team in high school. Because of that, I got a scholarship to college. Because of that, I found my passion in serving the Lord, and hopefully, bringing an anti-bullying message to the youth I work with.”

Mitch pushed the food around on his plate and then looked up at Lamar. “So, you're giving all the credit for your success in life to that no-good rotten Roland Buckwell.”

“In a way, yes I am. I've been blessed to have a satisfying career—not to mention making my momma proud. It was on that very day I came home and told her I had found God.”

“A bit of an exaggeration, wasn't it?”

“Probably, but it made my momma smile with pride.”

“Happy to hear that day worked out so well for you. For me, it wasn't so good. I'll never forget the pain in my mother's eyes when she saw me. I was bloody as a slaughtered pig and my violin was totaled.”

“How'd she take seeing you like that?”

“Not so good. She reached out to hug me and I pushed her away. I threw the violin across the driveway with all my might. It was the first time I ever screamed at my mother. I started to swear. I told her I would never play a violin again.”

“How'd she take that news?”

Mitch's eyes watered at the memory. “It was the first time in my life my mother ever slapped me. It stung so bad, I thought I had another broken tooth.”

“Is that when you gave up the idea of being a musician?”

“No, but it was the day I decided to become a cop.”

“Now, see there, you have something to thank ol' Roland Buckwell for. He got you started on your career path.”

“Very funny. What he did was force my poor mother to get a third job.”

“That's right. I forgot, Miss Lillian was the 'milk and cookie lady' in the school cafeteria. What else did she do?”

“She cleaned offices at night. After the broken tooth and the crushed violin, she took in ironing. She worked more than a year to earn the money just to pay my dental bills. The violin was a goner. She pawned her pearl necklace to get me another one. That pearl necklace was the only nice thing my mother owned.”

“So you kept up with the violin lessons?”

“Sorta. I didn't want to disappoint my mother. I never took the violin to school again, but we agreed I'd practice on the weekends.”

“Hmm...I bet you could locate Buckwell if you wanted to.”

“Why would I want to?”

“I think you need to.”

Mitch narrowed his eyes. “You might be right. I have friends in high places and I'd love to make Roland Buckwell's life as miserable as possible.”

“See, that's where you're wrong. You and Roland Buckwell have a lot of unfinished business.”

* * *

“Good afternoon. I'm Detective Mitchel Frack. I'm here to see Dr. Buckwell.”

The young woman at the reception desk looked up from her computer. Her name tag read, 'Brenda'. “Do you have an appointment for a dental check-up?”

“No. I'm not here for a dental appointment. I want to speak with Dr. Buckwell for a few minutes.” Frack moved his suit jacket aside so his badge came into view.

Brenda stood. “I'll see if Dr. Buckwell is available.”

He leaned toward her. “You can tell Dr. Buckwell, he'll be available or we can take a drive downtown and we can talk there.” He handed her his card.

Brenda glanced at the information on his card and hurried down a hallway. Frack could hear a swish in the distance as a door opened and closed. Within a few seconds, he heard the rush of pounding footsteps coming toward him.

Frack squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and stared menacingly into the eyes of Dr. Roland Buckwell. He didn't offer his hand. “Hello, Roland, remember me?”

Roland Buckwell narrowed his eyes and searched the face of the man standing before him. Almost imperceptibly, he moved his head from side to side. He looked at the business card Brenda had handed him. Detective Mitchel Frack. “No, Detective, I don't think I do. Obviously, you know who I am, so you have the advantage here.”

“Let's go into your office and see if we can get reacquainted. Maybe I'll be able to refresh your memory.”

Dr. Buckwell glanced at his receptionist. “It's alright, Brenda. Why don't you start your appointment confirmation calls, while I meet with Detective Frack?”

The woman's eyes widened as she glanced from Buckwell to Frack. She took a deep breath and hesitantly returned to her desk.

Frack and Buckwell headed toward the dentist's office. Frack closed the door. “Let's both have a seat Roland, this may take a while.”

Puzzled, Roland Buckwell seated himself behind his desk. Frack sat facing him.

“How can I help you, Detective Frack?”

“You can call me Mitch. No need to be formal.”

Roland Buckwell cocked his head to one side. Something flickered at the edge of his memory. Mitchel Frack. Mitch Frack. “Your name sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it.”

“Do you recall a kid named Lamar Thompson?”

“Lamar Thompson. Lamar Thompson,” Buckwell said softly. He looked off into the distance. “I knew a kid named Lamar Thompson. We went to school together for a year or so. I think it was right before we started high school.” He rubbed his hand across his chin. “Is Lamar Thompson the reason you're here?”

“You could say that. Actually, he wanted me to find you.”

“Lamar Thompson. I haven't seen him in 30 years or so. Has something happened to him?”

“No. He's still going strong. He's an ordained minister. He's the pastor of that big church on Strawbridge Avenue, near downtown.”

“Wow. I'm impressed. That's some size congregation. My in-laws attend that church. Can't say I go on a regular basis, but they often quote his sermons over family dinners.”

“Reverend Thompson asked me to invite you to his sermon next Sunday. His topic is bullying.”

Buckwell paled. He sat back in his chair and let out a deep breath. He stared across the desk. “Mitchel Frack. Mitchel 'The Pickle' Frack. Now I remember. You were the kid with the violin.”

“That's me, Mitchel 'The Pickle' Frack, the kid with the violin.”

“Mitchel Frack.” Buckwell started at him intently. “Do you know how many times I've thought about you over the years? I'm a dentist because of you.”

“Because of me?”

Buckwell straightened. “I don't know if you remember, but I'm the kid who knocked your tooth out and destroyed your violin.”

“Oh, I remember alright. You didn't knock my tooth out, but it chipped almost to the gum line. Never could repair the violin.”

Buckwell bowed his head. He rubbed his eyelids with his fingertips. “I know it was a long time ago, but a day doesn't pass when I don't feel ashamed and guilty about how I bullied you and Lamar. You weren't the only two, either.”

Mitch nodded. “I've thought about it a lot myself. So has Lamar, but we have a different take on things.”

Buckwell looked up. “How so?”

“What I remember from that day was that I had to spend way too much time in the dentist's chair that year. My mother had to take on a third job to pay for it.”

“I remember your mother, Miss Lillian. Wasn't she the lunch room lady who worked the milk line?”
“Yep, she was the milk-line lady.”

“How is she doing now?”

“Now? Now she's at the Greenwood Nursing Home. Costs a fortune; her social security is about $2000.00 a month short. Of course, me being a rich and overpaid cop, I make it work.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. She was always kind to me. Slipped me an extra milk now and again.”

“She's still a great lady.”

Buckwell rubbed his hand across his lips. “The day I saw the blood squirting out of your mouth and nose, was the day I decided to become a dentist. I wanted to make it up to you somehow.”

“How did you think you were going to do that?”

“Truthfully, I didn't think I'd ever see you again, so once I became a dentist, I decided to run a free clinic on Fridays—cleanings, x-rays, fillings, whatever a kid needs, is what I do.”

“Good of you to do that.”

“Mitch, hundreds of kids can thank you for that. I want to tell you how sorry I am for what I did to you. I want to thank you for helping me straighten out my life.”

“Don't thank me.”

“I was a holy terror; downright mean and nasty to you and lots of other kids. It was the beginning of a bad time for me and my family. I was full of anger and hate.” Buckwell turned his face away from Mitch. “My father left us. Worse, rumor had it he had a boyfriend. My mother was crushed. She was broken-hearted and humiliated. We were broke without my father's paycheck. He didn't pay child support, of course. My mother took to her bed and faded away.”

Mitch moved uncomfortably in his chair. “Didn't know any of that.”

“Don't know if you remember my older sister, Liz. She had to drop out of school and get a job. I worked part time, but we still couldn't keep it together. My mother died that year—some say it was a suicide. We were taken in by my aunt and uncle. They didn't have the space or the money to take in two more kids. They did the best they could. My uncle fixed up the garage for us to stay in. I heard him complain more than once about having to park his car outside. I was hurting, and I wanted everyone else to feel as bad as I did. I wanted to give the whole world a black eye. I was a bully and I still find it hard to forgive myself.”

Mitch drew his fingers down the side of his face and along his jaw. He sat in stunned silence. Powerful emotions welled up inside him. He had hated this man for so long; now he felt empathy for him. This swirl of emotions embarrassed and confused him. He swallowed hard and tried to compose himself. “You know, Roland, we were kids. Life was hard for each of us. I guess we all have some unfinished business to deal with.”

# # #

Thank you for taking the time to read
A Tooth for a Tooth
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A Tooth for a Tooth
by
Valerie Allen

Copyright by Valerie Allen 2017
Amazon.com/ebook/dp/B075TG163J

All rights reserved
For More Information, please contact:
Valerie Allen
VAllenWriter@gmail.com
ValerieAllenWriter.com
Amazon.com/author/valerieallen

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author.

Short Stories by Valerie Allen

A Good Thing on a Bad Day
A License to Practice
A Marriage of Convenience
A Mother's Love
A Tooth for a Tooth
A True Miracle
Ad Hoc Committee
Best Wishes
Brotherly Love
Conditional Love
Doggie Tales
Father's Day
Fire Engine Red
Fireworks on the 4th
Fit for Life
Future Plans
Holiday House Rules
Holiday Traditions
Home for the Holidays
I Remember Momma
Just Be Cos
Ladies in Waiting
Leisureville
Love is in the Air
Match-maker
Mother Knows Best
No Goin' Home
Potty Talk
Puppy Love
Queen for a Day
Second Chance
Small Steps
Split Second Timing
Thank you, Mr. Jackson!
The Big Winner!
The Garden of Love
The Lonely Life of Amanda Miller
The Penalty Box
Words of Wisdom
Valentine's Day
Visiting Day

~ ~ ~

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