Read The City Below for Free Online Page A

cube, rectangle. Box. Bedroom.
    He looked to the side, just able to make out the form of his brother under a dark mound of blanket. Mushroom.
    "Come on, you dipstick."
    The mound stirred, but settled again.
    Nick had said so little at dinner. It had been a momentous day for him too, but Terry's announcement had usurped all the energy in the room. Their mother had stiffened with surprise, her fork suspended above her plate, a piece of potato stuck in the air. Her free hand had danced at her throat as the color came into it, the blood pulsing through her arteries, her hypertension, what always threatened to make her swoon.
    Ned Cronin had said, "What, what's that?"
    "I've been thinking about maybe a couple of years of college before going to the seminary. For the experience, you know? I'd still go, but not now, I mean."
    He had repeated the exact words twice. But before that, he had said them in his mind a hundred times, all the way down Winthrop Street from the monument, around the tidy Common across from the store and house.
    "But you're accepted already," Flo said. "You sent in your forms. I've started sewing name tags on your shirts. Monsignor already wrote the announcement for the bulletin." Her cheeks were aflame now. Her fingers had moved to her temple, which she was pressing.
    "But he didn't print it yet."
    "He bought you a present."
    Terry stared at his mother. She was forty years old, but looked fifty. Her hair was white. Everyone said she had the nicest smile, and it was true. She could go on about her blood clots—she discussed her medical condition as if it were a job—but she always ended by "offering it up," as she would say, "for my dear Terry," by which she meant the boys' father. With her purse full of pills and the white elastic stockings she wore for her varicose veins, she was regarded as one of the parish hypochondriacs, but the truth was that a clot had nearly killed her once. She expected it back, like a planet in a slow but certain orbit No wonder she was preoccupied. No wonder she wasn't practical. Her father had long since stopped using her help in the store. Instead, she was in charge of bringing flowers to St. Mary's. Every day she fussed over the altar as if the Blessed Mother were coming. If she wasn't feeling lightheaded, she could be counted on to help serve the meals that the parish offered after funerals to families too poor to provide their own. She needed nothing for herself, that was her theme. Except for one thing, one thing only had she allowed herself all these years to need. A son a priest Him.
    "What do you mean, college?" she asked now. "Who's going to pay for that?"
    Terry looked away, stunned. But Nick said, "That's not the point, Ma."
    Her voice was shrill. "We can't send you two to college. We can barely—"
    "Nobody's talking about me," Nick said. "Terry's the brain. He should go to college if he wants to. Money's not the point, is it, Gramps?"
    Old Cronin looked helplessly at his grandson. "You know how we operate in this family. What's good for one is good for the other."
    "Nobody ever said that when it was Terry going to the sem."
    Terry leaned toward his brother. "Nick, never mind. I'll—"
    "You have a right, okay?" Nick said "That's all I'm saying."
    Terry stared at his brother, too grateful to speak. The ocean in his chest had become an ocean of love for Nick.
    A killing silence descended on the table. Finally Flo stood, pressing her temples now with both hands. "I'll get seconds," she said. She put the corner of her apron in her mouth, sucking as she left the dining room. Terry knew she'd be taking a pill out there, along with a hefty swallow of her sherry.
    In her absence Cronin leaned toward Terry. "You shouldn't be agitating your mother. You know what the doctor says."
    "I didn't mean to, Gramps."
    "Well ..." Cronin looked from one boy to the other. "It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault"
    "But he can go to college, right?" Nick asked.
    Cronin covered his mouth