Free Abomination by Bradley Convissar

father beat her that final time. 
    Jamie knew his mother would come out of this okay, and probably stronger for the adversity, but still, he worried about her.   Worried about the strain it could place on her relationship with Steve if she closed herself off too much for too long.
    As Steve pulled the last of the luggage from the Chevy, and before he could slam the trunk closed, Jamie sidled over to him.  He looked up at his stepfather and said, “This isn’t going to be easy for her, you know.”  It seemed silly, telling this to a therapist who knew the woman in question on a very intimate level, but he felt the need to voice his concerns anyway.
    “I know.”  He exhaled deeply.  “She had a bad night last night.”  He paused, as if debating whether or not to expound on the issue, but added no further details.  “But she’ll get through it.  It’s going to take some time, but your mom’s a strong woman.  She’ll be okay in the end.”
    Jamie nodded sagely.  His own thoughts exactly. “Take care of her, please.”
    “You know I will,” Steve returned, his voice somber.  “She’s like a wife to me.”  He offered a wan smile.
    Jamie returned the smile, took his key card from Steve, and grabbed his bookbag and his single piece of checked luggage and started towards the stairs which would lead him to his room.
     
    Chapter 6
     
    The motel room was standard motel fare: bland beige wallpaper adorned with a pair of cheap still-life prints, a twin bed with a patterned comforter that appeared to be stolen from the seventies, a nightstand with a single drawer, a ten dollar alarm clock, a phone, and a scarred, wooden two-drawer dresser with a nineteen inch television perched atop it.   A combination heater/air conditioner unit stretched beneath the room’s single large window, which was currently shrouded by a thick, rough looking curtain.   A small closet with an ironing board tucked in the back and a bathroom adorned with pink tiles completed the room. 
    Jamie placed his suitcase on the bed and removed the rolled-up suit, which he unrolled and hung in the closet.  There were a handful of creases in both the pants and the jacket; he considered ironing them out but decided that, having not used an iron in many years, he was more likely to damage the fabric than remove any wrinkles.  Besides, he knew the humidity tomorrow would quickly and more efficiently erase the creases in a matter of minutes.  No reason to waste his time and risk disaster.  The suit out, he unpacked nothing else at the moment, tossing the still-laden piece of luggage on the floor. 
    He found the remote control to the television on the end table and turned on the TV.  After consulting the channel listing next to the phone, he flipped to ESPN.   The Sports Center pundits were currently breaking down the following day’s NFL matchups.  Jamie wanted to watch, wanted to pour his full attention into the world of football and forget everything that happened in the past twenty four hours.  He wanted to, but there was work to be done. 
    From his bookbag, Jamie pulled out a notebook and a pen.  He settled himself onto the stiff mattress and leaned his back against the headboard.  It was uncomfortable, but that was okay. He flipped the notebook open, shuffled through until he found a blank page, then clicked the pen’s head out.  He looked at the blank page, twirled the pen in his right hand, but did not bring the two together.  He knew that he had to write something, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  He had spent the ride from McDonald’s to the motel thinking about what he wanted to say, about what sentiments he wanted to express.  He had composed his tribute in his mind, but now that he actually had to put his thoughts to paper, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  He wanted to be doing anything but this. 
    It was as if he were in dental school again.  There were many days he would spend the fifteen