Dead Stock
an excerpt

I dialed the number and, to my surprise, my mother answered. “Hi honey! How’s it going!” she said enthusiastically, then went on without waiting for my reply. “So you did get my message. I wasn’t sure I had the right place. I find it frustrating actually when people’s machines just say ‘you have reached 555-etc. etc.’ and don’t identify themselves. It’s so inconvenient. So, were you out tonight?”
“Yeah,” I said, “I actually went to a church social.”
“Oh! Well, I hope you had a nice time,” she said. “Don’t get embroiled in any cult, now, though.”
“It seemed pretty safe,” I said. “How are you? How’s Dad and Kate?”
“Oh, you know, busy-busy,” she said. “I spent the day on hospital rounds–it was a nightmare. Your father is at that ortho conference today; he was giving a seminar this afternoon and then there was a dinner tonight. He’ll probably be quite late. There was a medical association thing tonight too; why that got scheduled the same day as this conference God only knows. So I went to that for a while but it was”–she yawned loudly–“a waste of time. Oh and Kate–I haven’t seen her since I got home, she’s probably overnight at Madison’s again. And on top of all this, the clothes-washer went belly-up. Sascha was here yesterday–I know yesterday’s not her normal day but she had to come yesterday instead of today because of some appointment or other–and she put a load in, and nothing. That is just what I need right now.”
I leaned against the countertop, tracing one finger in a zigzag pattern around the square tiles. Mrs. Dogma was coming in and out and looked quizzically at me each time because I wasn’t saying anything. Eventually my mother paused and said, “So anyway Mike, how are things going with you?”
“Well, it’s pretty interesting,” I said. “My boss is a kind of eccentric character”–I made sure Mrs. Dogma was not within earshot when I said this–“but then most people around here seem to be. And I think the job will be a neat experience. Actually, what’s really interesting is I met a girl here who was in a class of mine this past year--”
There was a beep and then, “Oh, God, Mike, sorry, honey, I really need to go,” my mother said. “Actually I had someone on the other line when you called so I let her go, but she’s calling back and I really need to talk to her. Can I call you back again in fift– in half an hour or so?”
I stared at the countertop tiles. One part of my mind was categorizing them, “blue-yellow-blue-yellow,” in mindless repetition. I suddenly felt very tired. “Uh, no, Mom,” I said, “I think I’ll likely be in bed by then.”
“Oh, when did you ever go to bed early?” she said. “Oh well, I’ll call you again soon. Sorry, honey, I’d better pick Sandra up here...” and with that, she was gone.