Stephanie Says - Chapter 3(Smorgasborg)

Tuesdays were another bleak and unwelcomed chapter in Donna Halibut's miserly life. She awoke to the cacophonous shrill of the baby's voice, threw herself under the scalding water of the shower, and dragged the little bitch to the doctor's.

The process lasted three or so hours. There were screenings performed, immunizations administered, etc. An abortion wouldn't have been asking much. All the while, this thought recurred in her head. Ironically, she had been a staunch pro-life advocate in her college years, participating in campus protests, and reveling in her status as a radical teen. Things change when you take a billy club to the head, and Donna had certainly earned it when she halked a viscous lugee at a cop's face.

"Mrs. Halibut, right this way please". Karen was a 30 something nurse with a svelte frame and small breasts. Donna managed a smile and carried little Stephanie into the back where Dr. Eichmann waited.

"Mrs. Halibut, how ar' you? Good to see you again, and how's the little booger?" Eichmann was from a family of Orthodox Jews. He had grown up on Manhattan's east side, the youngest of seven siblings. After earning his PHD from Hopkins, he had decided to settle down in Washington, DC and open a private practice.

"Dr. Eichmann, good to see you, doing well, pretty well." There was no effort at enthusiasm, no signs of vigor or excitement that was so prevalent in the mother of a newly born child. Donna spoke in a monotone and wore a plastic smile.

"Well..." he continued. "We are going to run a brain scan today, the focus of which will be on the neurotransmitters".

Donna showed no signs of competence, as would be expected of someone with little medical education. Dr. Eichmann, realizing the need for a translation, quickly followed with:

"I got a little ahead of myself, I'm sorry. In laymen's terms, we are performing a simple analysis on Stephanie's brain today, looking for any chemical imbalances or abnormalities."

Donna shrugged indifferently. "Sounds good, Doc." With that, she handed off Stephanie to the closest nurse and sauntered back into the waiting room, ensconscing herself in a chair and beginning to peruse through a stack of outdated issues of Cosmopolitan and O.
***

Hank Halibut kicked off his mud-caked Timberlands and threw his feet up on the desk. He adjusted the blinds in the trailer, which served as his makeshift office. Five years prior, Hank had taken over his father's contracting business. He had orchestrated several major deals since the takeover and had turned Halibut Contracting Services into a lucrative enterprise. Just last week, Hank had secured the rights to build a new Safeway Superstore in Chevy Chase, an affluent neighborhood on the outskirts of D.C. The deal would bring in an estimated 4.6 million in revenue. After factoring in costs and taxes, Hank's share of the pie would amount to half a million. Not a bad chunk of change for a college dropout.

"Betsy...?"

"Yes Mr. Halibut". Betsy, the plump forty something secretary lumbered into his little office, struggling to squeeze her robust frame through the narrow door.

"Could you order me a Reueben from Woodside?"

"Of course Mr. Halibut, anything specific on the sandwich?"

"Light on the oil on vinegar, and tell them to load on the hot peppers. I'm feeling hot today!"

Betsy's boisterous laugh nearly shook the trailer.

"Yes sir...oh and Mr. Halibut, your wife called too...said it was urgent"

With that, she hobbled out of the room and back to her desk. Hank picked up yesterday's paper and scanned the front page. Disinterested, he picked up the phone and dialed his wife's cell. Three rings followed by a frantic and distraught voice on the other end.

"HANK, OH HANK, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO HANK, HANK HANK!"

"I'M HERE HONEY, CALM DOWN, TAKE IT DOWN A NOTCH WOULD YOU. WHAT HAPPENED, IS STEPHY ALRIGHT?"

"SHE'S FINE FOR THE MOMENT, BUT HANK, HANK, THE DOCTOR TOLD ME SHE COULD BE SCHIZOPHRENIC, AND BIPOLAR, AND...I DONT FUCKING KNOW, WHAT'S HAPPENING HANK? WHAT IS WRONG WITH OUR CHILD? THIS IS YOU, THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED!"

With that he slammed down the receiver and jumped up from his chair. A month ago, he could not have envisioned such madness. What the hell was happening. Had his seed produced some dysfunctional child. Or was it Donna? Was it that scheming, no good, dirty wife of his? She never wanted this child. Did she throw herself down the stairs, stick a coat hanger up her cunt? Try to give herself a self-administered abortion?

He grabbed his jacket off the chair and started for the door, nearly knocking down Betsy in the process.

"Mr. Halibut, is everything alright...what about your Reuben?" She shrilled.

"Eat it Betsy, feed it to the dogs, do whatever the fuck you want with it".

He jumped in his pickup and floored it through the construction sight, leaving an ominous storm of sand in his wake.

TO BE CONTINUED...