The Reluctant Jesus: A Satirical Dark Comedy Read Free Page A

underlying tension. When I would spend time in the garage with Dad, I would inevitably end up playing with Aunt Marla. All three of us would sometimes go for Coca-Cola or even to a diner for secret lunches and ice cream sundaes. It was strange, and maybe even a little sad, that my best and fun childhood memories of my parents, when I was growing up, were not of them together.
    When I graduated from high school with excellent grades, it was time for me to escape from Mother’s smothering and flee the nest, or so I thought.
    Leaving home turned out to be extremely difficult and traumatic—not for me, but for her. I was offered places at several colleges. My preference was Yale and their School of Architecture, and it was their scholarship I took.
    Of course, I realize it was my private tutoring, which Mother had insisted on, that enabled me to graduate from high school top of every class and with across the board straight As, and I am grateful that, thanks to her and the extra education she pushed me to take, I was able to follow my chosen career.
    To my surprise, Mother offered no resistance to me finding a college two hours and ninety miles away. I felt it was a good compromise. I could travel home on weekends, and in an emergency, Yale was in easy reach of Borough Park. I had a plan, and that plan was to return home every weekend I was able for the first month I was at college, and then gradually reduce my returning to every two weeks, until eventually, I would only return home once or twice every semester. It, therefore, came as a horrendous surprise—no, scratch that, a horrific and abominable shock— when Mother announced she had rented us, meaning her and me, an apartment in downtown New Haven.
    I had hoped Dad would talk her out of this ridiculous idea, but my pleading to him was to no avail, and looking back, I realized why. As long as she was with me at Yale, then she was not with him in Borough Park. It gave him peace and a break from her. In a way, he sacrificed me and my fun-filled college years so he could smoke his pipe in peace, watch sports on TV, and enjoy life without Mother, and though initially I resented Dad for it, I understood why he allowed it. I would have done exactly the same if I had been married to Irma Miller.
    This horrific and sorry situation was as bad as it sounded. While other kids were able to party and enjoy their first sexual fumbling, I spent my weekday nights with Mother. Some weekends we would drive home to Father, much to his dismay; many was the time we would return on a Friday afternoon, unannounced, to catch Dad smoking his pipe in the den. I missed so much of college life. I was a laughing stock and the butt of many jokes. I never dated; I never had the chance to join a fraternity; I never experienced the joys of spring break, and once again, I found it almost impossible to make friends out of class thanks to Mother’s continual insistence on being with me twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
    Again, though, like high school, thanks to Mother’s ensuring that I kept out of trouble and concentrated on studying, I did graduate with full honors and top of my course. On graduating, I was headhunted by all the big firms. When Henry Peel offered me a position with his company the day I graduated, I jumped at the opportunity, and I have never looked back.
    Fortunately, Mother also knew it was time for her to let me go. It was she who helped me find my first apartment, not the one I am in now, but a smaller place in Turtle Bay. In a way, I supposed that was why I am the man I am today. I missed so much at college that I guess I was making up for it, but with money in my pocket. My relationship with Mother had definitely put me off commitment and marriage, and her championing of me as the great prodigy was why I insisted on being so run-of-the-mill and bland. Maybe what she did for me and the way she treated me as a kid was why, as a man, I had such a great time and why I loved