Abomination by Bradley Convissar Read Free Book Online

get the salad from the fridge.  The dressing is on the door.  And Steve, the brisket is in the oven.  Could you take it out and cut it?”
    Both son and husband went to work without question or complaint.  That was the power Leslie Whitman had over the men in the household; they did as they were asked because she had earned their respect by being a strong but fair mother and wife.
    Minutes later, the three of them were sitting at the table, enjoying the food and each other’s company.
    “So how was work, Jamie” Steve asked as he drenched his salad in a lite raspberry vinaigrette dressing, reiterating Leslie’s question from earlier.
    Jamie spent ten minutes telling his mother and Steve about his day and the motley collection of patients he had treated.  Or attempted to treat.  He told them about Khalif and Bunny, about the young woman who claimed that her babies had stolen the calcium from her teeth while in utero and the man who was receiving alien transmissions through his fillings. 
    But he didn’t mention Elena Ionesco.
    “Sounds like the Mad Hatter’s tea party,” Steve remarked.
    Leslie kicked him under the table, eliciting a yelp.  “I would expect a little more sympathy from a therapist,” she said, half smiling. 
    “Steve’s right, mom,” Jamie said.  “Sometimes I feel like I’m dealing with a bunch of lunatics at the clinic.  I think they do it on purpose, attract the weirdoes to prepare us for private practice.  If we can treat these people without killing them, we should be able to handle anyone we’ll treat in the real world.”
    “You know, Jamie,” Steve said, swallowing a lump of meat, “it’s been ten years.  Can’t you call me dad yet?”
    “You keep asking me that and I’ll start calling you Dr. Gorman again, like I did when you were my therapist.  How’d you like that?”  There was no anger or resentment in Jamie’s voice.  This was a little game he and Steve played once a month or so.  Steve felt that , after being married to his mother for so long, Jamie should call him dad, or even father.  Jamie simply wasn’t ready.  He didn’t know if he would ever be ready.  He liked Steve.  Loved him, even.  And that was exactly why he couldn’t bring himself to call him dad.  The only man he had ever called dad had been an abusive, sadistic monster, and the association between the concepts of father and monster was firmly etched in his mind.  Jamie felt that if he started to call Steve “dad”, he would begin to associate the horrible traits of his birth father with Steve, and that was something he didn’t want to do.
    Steve grunted in response and turned to his wife.  “And how was your day?”  Leslie was a school nurse at the local middle school and had enjoyed a quiet day off because the public schools were closed for the holiday weekend.  Steve, a psychiatrist who ran a private practice, was also off from work but had spent the afternoon in the office catching up on charts and billing.
    “Good,” Leslie said.  F or the next ten minutes, as everyone finished the exquisite Friday night feast, Jamie’s mother and step-father shared stories from their own days.  Once everyone had stuffed themselves to bursting with brisket and leftover turkey and salad and sweet potatoes sprinkled with brown sugar and cinnamon, Leslie retreated to the kitchen and returned moments later with her apple pie, a plate of sugar cookies and a tub of Breyers French Vanilla ice cream.  Jamie cleared the dishes and brought them to the kitchen while his mother laid out the dessert.  He dumped the plates into the sink and retrieved a freshly brewed carafe of coffee, three mugs, a canister of sugar and a carton of cream.  He poured everyone coffee then took his seat.
    The three consumed dessert with the same relish as the meal itself.  Jamie swore that his mother could transform garbage into a feast that was not only edible, but so titillating to the palate that one would