Interference Read Online Free Page B

happened when he was just a boy. Maybe Becky’s age.
    â€œStill,” Maria says. “I can’t imagine.” She touches her face thoughtfully. She stands there in front of the door, blocking it.
    â€œI have to get past you,” Tom says. “Give him his drink and the money.”
    â€œHe isn’t outside,” Maria says. “He’s not out there. I thought he might be in here with you. Maybe he’s using the washroom?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Tom pushes around Maria, almost spilling the Coke, and looks out the screen door. The scar-faced man isn’t on the bottom step anymore. Tom goes outside and looks up and down the street. He walks around the house and looks in the backyard. There is no one in sight. It’s strange for anyone to leave before getting paid. The man worked hard. He knew Maria was getting money for him. He didn’t slack off once today. Why would anyone work like that for nothing? And why would he leave without saying goodbye? Maybe he will come back tomorrow. Maybe he’ll come back tomorrow and get money from Tom and Maria and they can ask him what happened to his face and wish him well. Tom wants to know about his face. Tom wants to say something to him. He doesn’t know what, but this kind of leaving isn’t right.
    â€œTom.” Maria is calling from the front door. Tom heads back to the front, still holding the glass of Coke. “Tom.” Her voice is insistent and shrill. “Tom?”
    â€œWhat? Is he there?”
    â€œTom?” Maria is standing on the front porch, looking out across the street. She is holding herself just like the scar-faced man held himself when Tom asked what the stains on his coveralls were, hugging, arms wrapped around her chest as if she were holding her ribs in. She is holding herself just like Becky held the ball. Tom suddenly notices the silence. No ball bouncing, no bickering girls. “Tom, where’s Becky? Where is Becky? Did she go with Rachel’s family when they left? They were going out for dinner, Tom. Did they take Becky? Tom? Where’s Becky?”
    Tom just stands there, holding the glass of Coke, looking at the empty basketball net in the driveway of Rachel’s house. Listening to the stillness. He counts the bags of leaves on his front sidewalk as if reassuring himself they are all there. Eighteen bags. Then he turns towards his wife, his mouth ajar, and even though he is not religious, he offers up a silent prayer. Please, Tom offers up, please.
    â€œTom,” Maria cries again. She is shaking. “Where is Becky?”
    â€œI’m here,” Becky says, thumping out the door and onto the front porch. Chewing gum. Snapping it in her mouth. The smell of sweet watermelon follows her from inside. The dog sneaks out with her and stands tall, tail wagging, sniffing the air.
    â€œOh god,” Maria says. She puts her hand on her chest and laughs. The laugh is like a bark. The dog looks up at her and woofs softly.
    â€œWhat’s going on? What happened?”
    Maria grabs Becky and hugs her. “Where were you?”
    â€œRachel left,” Becky says from the centre of Maria’s chest, her voice muffled. “I came inside. Let go. You’re squishing me.”
    As Becky scrabbles out of her mother’s grasp the wind picks up and Tom turns away from his family to watch, his heart still beating furiously, as all his neighbour’s leaves fly towards him in mini-cyclones. Sometimes, Tom thinks as the dog chases the leaves, thrilled to be free, you think the world surprises you when, in fact, it’s not the world, it’s you. You who surprise yourself. And then Tom stops thinking because thinking gets him nowhere and instead he puts down the Coke and picks up his rake to start again on the leaves and the bags in the cold autumn air.

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    MYTHS ABOUT BREAST CANCER:
    MYTH: Abortion and miscarriage cause breast cancer.
    MYTH: