Happy That It's Not True Read Online Free PDF

you?”              Luciano asked in a tone that said he really didn’t care what the answer was.
                  “Nothing.”
                  Alex walked into his room, knowing not to close the door. 
                  “What’s your problem, you don’t want to talk to me?  You better answer me.”
                  “I was outside running.  I’m out of breath.”   
                  “ Hembrit a —you should do something about your laziness— you’re such a geek—on the computer all the time.”  Luciano had said this just as Alex was powering up his laptop, and it made Alex hate him more.  He started to say something under his breath, but didn’t want Luciano to see his lips move. 
                  “When I was young,” Luciano continued prodding.  “I would be outside all the time getting into trouble—breaking windows, raising hell.  Kids nowadays are a bunch of sissies, staying indoors with all your girl toys.  You’ll never be a man — maricó n .  At least get a job, so mommy doesn’t have to give you lunch money.”
                  Luciano stood at the doorway to the room, badgering Alex with his presence and a stare that was burning the back of his head.  After a minute he spoke, his voice sounding more conciliatory.  “You don’t like me, fine—the hell with you.”
                  Luciano went into the kitchen to check the refrigerator and talk to himself.  “You’re dumb, just like your mother.”
    Alex’s jaw tightened with anger.  For a moment, he could picture his father fighting the Taliban and wondered why he hadn’t inherited his father’s courage—why he couldn’t stand up to Luciano.              
                  Luciano was watchin g SportsCente r through the pass-through in the kitchen, commenting on the day’s scores and highlights—cursing the unfortunate losses.  Alex browsed Wikipedia and searched for the word epigenetics.   My God, it’s so important to cure neuroses before they’re passed on to children...
                  A cat food commercial filled Luciano with a strange enthusiasm.  “ Mis gaticos !   They’re so cute.  Have you seen the kittens in the parking lot?”
    Alex said nothing.  Adriana came out of her bedroom looking exhausted, failing again to get enough sleep, her head pounding.  She was dressed and ready for work, rubbing lotion on her hands.
                  “There’s the dumb ass,” Luciano said.
                  A numb and hopeless Adriana ignored the remark—Alex devastated.  He searched for the wor d psychopat h , but was redirected to the wor d psychopath y .
                  “Alex, you haven’t heard from your father—wasn’t he coming today?” Adriana asked.
                  “He’s not coming,” Luciano jumped in.
                  Alex closed his eyes and lowered his head into his hands.  “No, I haven’t heard from Dad.”             
    “He doesn’t care about you,” Luciano said.
    Luciano carefully examined Alex’s face to see if the comment had stung.  He smirked when he thought he saw a pang of discouragement. 
                  “Luciano!” Adriana blurted out. 
    Luciano grinned as if inhaling a sweet aroma.  “Asshole.”
    Alex had never heard that word used to describe a woman, perhaps men, but not delicate flowers, not the gender of compassion and most definitely not his mother.  He was paralyzed with disbelief and disgust.  For a brief moment he thought about what household object would be most effective in beating such an enormous man unconscious, but then a realization came to him.  He was witnessing the final days of a marriage—surely it couldn’t get much worse than this.  In a few days it would be over.  All that was needed was to remain