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CEDARVILLE
REVIEW
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This time was a little different—no water and the goal was to be as small as possible. Grinding my teeth
so that my left lateral incisor, which protrudes behind the rest of my teeth, made my tongue bleed.
“This is just the anesthetics. You’re going to feel a little pinch.”
Numbing cold raced through my limbs. I was only in the water for maybe five seconds, but the cold
penetrated cloth, skin, muscle, bone. Maybe it was the shock of it that made it so bad. Disorien-
tation as my inner ear struggled to find up. I remember hearing one time (on Discovery Channel
or Sesame Street or something) that crabs put little stones in their little ear-holes to keep them
grounded. Take the pebbles away and they’re incapable of keeping themselves upright, grounded. I
think I could use some pebbles sometimes.
I honestly don’t remember falling into that mountain stream along the Kancamangus Highway. We
have before and after shots but nothing to fill the gap. Pretty typical.
Before: Evan (my brother who wanted my mom to put me up for adoption) is crouching next to me
as I lay flat, reaching pale fingers out to the lifeblood of the mountain. “It’s so pure that you can
drink it!” my dad assured me.
After: me standing there in my mom’s oversized Mary Kay sweater, pumpkin hair plastered to my
large forehead. Smiling. I wouldn’t be warm for the rest of the afternoon.
If only anesthetics were that effective.
“I’m going to need you to hold extremely still.”
I once dated a guy for three and a half years. I was thirteen and a half when we started going out;
he was seventeen—three and a half years older than me. (In retrospect, I understand my parents’
frustrations.) An age-gap like that meant half-years made all the difference. This guy—Rob (real
name: Ridgely), was a member of the Sea Cadets. Kind of a junior varsity Navy. He planned to
participate in ROTC and spend his entire life in the military. And I planned to marry him.