Interference Read Online Free

laughs.
    â€œWork it out, guys,” Tom shouts back, looking nervously from the man to his daughter. As if he has to impress the scar-faced man. His daughter’s cleanliness, her strangeness, compared to his scar-face. Tom starts to walk across the road to mediate the argument. When he turns back he sees the man standing near the bottom of his porch, holding a rake in one hand, a pile of leaves pressed against his chest in the other. The man is staring up at Tom’s house, up at the second-floor balcony, up to where Becky’s room is. He is tense, stiff, still — like the leaves, like the died-down wind, like the autumn air around him. Tom shivers. It’s a warm Saturday afternoon in early November but Tom senses winter is near.
    Becky and Rachel make up. Rachel wipes her hands on her shirt and this, for some reason, is good enough for Becky. They sit on the curb on their sweaters and watch the scar-faced man work. He works on the bags, filling them. Becky’s hair shines bright in the diminishing sun. Nothing like the new neighbour’s gold California hair, Tom thinks, but still, it’s pretty. Tom watches her as he helps the man bag the last leaves. His daughter is so pretty. Twelve years old and already a heartbreaker. Tom’s heart breaks every time he looks at her, every time he can see her, his vision of childhood being what it is.
    Maria opens the front door. She signals to Tom, crooks her pointing finger. The dog barks from inside the kitchen. Tom can see him down the hall. He doesn’t rush at the front door anymore, like he used to, but he still likes to bark. He likes to let himself be known. He likes to prove to everyone that he is still useful even though they’ve been yelling at him for years not to bark.
    â€œWhat are you going to pay him with? Do you think he’ll take a cheque?”
    â€œNot sure,” Tom says. “I could go to the store and get cash. It would only take me a minute.”
    Maria studies the man on the front lawn. “I’m not sure I feel comfortable with you going,” she says. Her hands are crossed across her chest. “What about if I go and get money? I should have done that before, when I got the bags. You should have told me to get money. I just never carry money around anymore.”
    Tom nods. Maria pulls on her coat and heads out to her car again. “I’m just going to the store,” she tells the scar-faced man. “I’ll just go get something at the store.”
    The man nods. Maria makes her nervousness obvious. She doesn’t need to justify everything she is doing to this man. Just go to the store, Tom thinks. And then come back. Pay the man.
    â€œI’m just going to get you some money. You’ve been such a help today.”
    â€œNo,” the man says. “I can come back tomorrow or another time. You don’t have to go now to get money.”
    â€œIt’s no problem, really,” Maria says. “Just to the store. The cash machine. No problem at all.” She climbs in her car.
    â€œMom,” Becky calls out from across the street. “Where are you going?”
    â€œJust to the store,” Maria says, her window open to the warm air. “I’ll be back soon.”
    The man has finished the leaves and he sits on the bottom step of the porch, watching Maria drive away for the second time that day. Tom drags the last bag to the sidewalk and wipes his hands on his jeans. With Maria gone the day seems awfully sad suddenly. As if she has driven out of their lives. Tom looks at Becky, who is standing at the base of the basketball net, across the street, clutching the ball to her chest as if it’s her child. Rachel is running in circles around Becky, poking her with a stick.
    â€œThe rain held off,” Tom says.
    â€œWas it supposed to rain?”
    â€œThat’s what they said.” Tom studies his lawn. It’s almost perfect. Not a leaf anywhere. His