The Wisdom of Perversity Read Online Free PDF

“Do you know what I mean?”
    â€œYeah, you mean he doesn’t have any idea who I am.” Zack noisily shoved his chair away from the table, the legs gouging her sanded, stained oak floorboards. She didn’t waste a complaint; the battle to maintain her floor’s purity had been lost a decade ago. When declaiming to dinner guests Gary liked to tip back in his chair, each oration leaving its scar in wood. Julie had tried to protect it by putting a rug under the table, but after a week she had to remove it. During a dinner party to impress new contacts in the world of talk television, Gary had leaned back to make a point in grand style about the three knocks Kato Kaelin heard on his air-conditioner; his chair legs slid on the rug and Gary toppled backward onto his ass. Luckily, although his head whacked hard on the floor, he came away with no worse than a small lump. The amazing part was that Gary resumed his oration case while being helped off the floor, passively lifted like a statue in the fallen chair, all the while not missing a beat. “Your husband has amazing concentration,” the CNN legal reporter commented to Julie. Julie was thinking,
He’s become a monster.
    â€œZack—” she tried to delay her son.
    â€œI’ve got rehearsal,” he said, meaning Trinity High School’s production of
Romeo and Juliet;
much to her delight he had landed the part of Romeo, a compliment to him, since he wasn’t a senior and leads were supposed to be reserved for them. (Gary hadn’t approved. “With your grades? Taking all that time away from studying? That smart? I mean, you’re not going to be the next George Clooney.”) Zack left for his bedroom, presumably to fetch his school backpack. She was alone with the breakfast plates. She had cooked and now before going to her job she was supposed to clean up. Yeah, she sure was living in a feminist paradise.
    She gathered silverware and plates, put them in the sink, returning to fetch coffee mugs, butter dish, maple syrup jar. It was an effort to leave the kitchen a mess even briefly, but doing nothing to clean up the quarrel between father and son was even more unbearable. Teeth clenched, she forced herself to not immediately load the dishwasher. She couldn’t allow yet another ugly outburst to pass without comment.
    Julie’s determination hiccupped as she reached the shut door to Gary’s study. Here her prized floorboards were striped with white gouges from Zack’s preteen love affair with roller blades. Gary had managed to belittle that interest and eventually discourage it through shaming and indifference, rarely indulging Zack with excursions to Riverside Park and only then with sufficient grumpiness and belittling observations to forestall new requests.
I love my family,
Julie chanted silently for courage.
I love my men and I want them to love each other.
    She knocked.
    â€œWhat!” Gary barked.
    She stepped into his lair. Gary was in an unusual pose, perched on the windowsill, staring out at the restless Hudson River. No cigarette smell, but he had the window open as far as it could go. The February air was raw; goose bumps tickled her bare arms. She longed to return to the kitchen, to the satisfaction of cleaning.
    â€œWhat?” Gary demanded, still facing away. Julie shut the door behind her to be certain Zack wouldn’t overhear. “What. Is. It.” Gary telegraphed irritation, continuing to give her his back.
    Her throat constricted. She was frightened to ask her husband to show their child love. “I’m scared.” It was the whole truth.
    Gary immediately shut the window. He hurried over to her, wearing a worried frown and a searching gaze. “What is it, sweetie?” Abruptly he was a loving puppy, placing both paws on her shoulders, facing her nose to nose with affectionate curiosity. He had been patient and sweet like that when her mother died soon after they