Read Online You Could Be Home by Now by Tracy Manaster - Free Book Online Page B

it, the more he knew he wasn’t.
    â€œI’m sorry. I know this isn’t going well.”
    â€œHow has Mona Rosko been as a neighbor?” The cameraman stepped back. He at least knew a dud when he saw one.
    â€œQuiet. Nice enough, I suppose. People are always having barbecues and things like that, but she doesn’t show up all that much.” He sounded like every neighbor, ever, describing every serial killer, ever, on the news. At least he knew better than to express that particular thought. “That makes sense now, knowing about her grandson. It’s a pretty big secret to keep.”
    â€œAnd how do you feel about that?”
    â€œBad luck all around. For the kid that he doesn’t have anyone else, at least if what you lot are saying is true. For Mona, too, stuck until her place sells. I don’t know what they’re going to do.”
    â€œWhat about personally? How do you feel about this? As a neighbor or as a—do you have grandchildren?”
    â€œNo.” A sore twang beneath his breastbone: the truer answer was none that he knew of. “No,” he said again, because you didn’t admit that you had no earthly idea to a stranger. You didn’t cop to the daydream: Tara and some kindly boy in a shelter—not something crueler, and not something she did to survive—the shock of it waking them to responsibility, to her parents at the ready to help them along.
    â€œOkay then,” said Emily. “Thank you for your time.”
    â€œWait,” Ben said. Mona Rosko had them all fawning to help her, a full cast of marionettes. And then not a peep. There was pride, he got that, had plenty of it, had allowed it to make a mess of him time and again. There was pride, and then there was the sweat and dirt of the world they actually lived in. Time was, he and Veronica would have liquidated their portfolios if it could have bought this kind of attention. And Mona flounced off. “Wait, please.” Tara was gone, probably forever. Rand said so. Veronica, drunk, once even said the words aloud. But if she was out there, she might be near a TV. Tara might see him. It wasn’t likely, but it was likelier than Barcelona. “I have something to say.” Ben shut his eyes and thought of a newsreel bomb falling in black and white. The bigger the blast the wider its radius.
    The cameraman stepped closer.
    Emily Rourke nodded for him to continue. His mind went kaleidoscopic with everything he should have said in his life but hadn’t.
    Marvin and Ed paid no attention at all.
    Ben wasn’t nervous. A debate scholarship had helped put him through college and his ex said he was the only man alive who actually thought in bullet points. He took a breath and looked straight at the camera.
    â€œThat Mona Rosko is a vinegary old cunt.”

THE OPPOSITE OF SHALLOW
    I T WAS WAY TOO EARLY for SAT words, so when Gran said, “I believe you have a swain,” the best Lily could manage was a slurred huh? and a series of thick blinks.
    â€œThat young man.” Gran indicated the window. “I doubt he’s here for me.” Her weird accent was back and she brought a hand theatrically to her heart. “Clearly smitten. He must’ve spotted you from afar.” If Mom ever spied a lingerer she’d be dialing nine-one-one and saying stalker. Dad, too. The parentals had some highly detailed theories about what happened to little girls who played on the Internet.
    Lily said, “If he’s here for me and he’s a he, he’s out of luck.”
    â€œPoor fellow.” Gran tapped the window. Sure enough, the guy stood smack in the middle of the street like an out-of-uniform traffic cop. And not just any guy. Rocky. Rocky Ludlow. Sierra’s Rocky. Holy Little Black Dress.
    â€œI know him,” Lily said, running scenarios, all of which hovered around the Gouda level of extreme cheese. A pregnancy test, positive, Sierra’s. They