Free Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead by Saralee Rosenberg

tongue. She and Artie had wondered what Aaron would call him, but Art wasn’t on the list. No one called him that. To his parents he was Arthur, to his brother, Ira, he was still Tank, a throwback to his former fat days when he was as big as a Sherman tank, and what she called him depended on how big a favor she needed.
    “I’m not saying you couldn’t handle it.” Artie looked crushed.
    “It’s just that we’re all excited that you’re here. We’d like to hang with you, too.”
    Stacie snickered, always amused when her dad tried to sound cool.
    Little Ricky, a most intuitive child, came to the rescue. “I wished you could meet my dog, Costco.”
    “Costco?” Aaron drummed on his thigh. “Ya mean like the store?”
    “Yeah, but he went on vacation and didn’t come back yet.”
    “Your dog went on vacation? Cool.”
    “It’s a New York thing.” Artie winked while the girls rolled their eyes. Sadly, it remained a mystery how their beloved Shih Tzu had escaped the backyard.
    “Mommy, what if Costco comes back when we’re on the cruise?”
    “Oh. Um. Maybe we could leave his bowl outside by the kitchen door.”
    “Yeah. He’d like that.” A satisfied Ricky turned to Aaron. “Are you really my brother?”
    “That’s what they tell me.”
    “’Cause my dad said you are.”
    62
    Saralee Rosenberg
    “Do you want me to be . . . ‘ Oh, brother, brother, brother, I know you’ve been layin’ back a long time.’”
    Ricky ignored the song. “I dunno. Do you like the Mets?”
    “Baseball’s okay.”
    “I have Mike Piazza’s rookie card. It’s worth a million dollars.”
    “Cool.”
    “Does it hurt to get a tattoo?”
    “Yeah. A little.”
    “Do you smoke, ’cause it’s really bad for you and my teacher said you’ll die if you do.”
    “You’ll die anyway, man.” Aaron shrugged. “But no, I quit . . .
    cigs were costin’ me too much.”
    “Do you like to go on cruises?”
    “Don’t know,” Aaron shrugged. “Never been.”
    “Me either. But you like Disney, right?”
    “Not sure,” he hesitated. “Never been.”
    “Mom! He’s never been to Disney. . . . When we come back can we take him? Can we?”
    “ Um, well, not this year . . . but hey, we could definitely take him to the circus.”
    “Yeah, yeah! The greatest show on earth,” he squealed. “Do you like the circus?”
    “Not anymore.” Aaron looked away.
    “Could you teach me how to play the guitar?” Jamie said, blushing.
    “How old are you?” He strummed an invisible instrument.
    “Almost eleven.”
    “That’s about how old I was when I learned. Who do you like?”
    Her eyes lit up. “Justin Timberlake!”
    “Then no.” He stopped. “Can’t teach you. That’s not real music.”
    “What Aaron means, honey,” Artie said, “is that he’s more into the classics, like Hendrix and Clapton and—”
    Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead
    63
    “I think you look like Stacie,” Jamie blurted.
    “You know,” Mindy nodded, “you do. I was thinking the same thing.”
    “Okay, we do not look alike.” Stacie groaned, but studied him to see if they were right.
    “No really,” Mindy said. “You both have the same big brown eyes, the same coloring, and that cute dimple on your chin.”
    “Oh my God, shut up Mom.” She buried her face in a pillow.
    “Duh, Mommy,” Ricky said. “Aaron’s a boy. He can’t look like Stacie. I think he looks like me. . . . Do you want to sleep in my room ’cause we all sleep with my mommy and daddy?”
    “You are so freakin’ gay!” Stacie threw the pillow at him and Mindy laughed. Artie, however, reacted differently.
    “Uh-oh.” Mindy saw his tears. “Here we go . . . Your dad gets a little emotional.”
    “Sorry.” Artie waved an apology. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s just so great, seeing all my kids together, everyone talking and having fun. . . . I prayed for this day for so long and I was starting to think it would never happen . . . but see? You can’t