The Dog That Whispered by Jim Kraus Read Free Book Online Page A

table, looking out to a mostly unused courtyard that was filled with trees on the verge of green and gold.
    Gretna liked the spring. Rebirth. Renewal. New life.
    And she could sneak outside from time to time and smoke a cigarette.
    She had a pack of Lucky Strikes that was now a year old, and only three cigarettes remained in it.
    I wonder if the Giant Eagle still sells them? I don’t see them at the checkout counter anymore. Maybe I could get that nosey cabdriver to buy me some. I certainly couldn’t ask Wilson. He’d have me locked up, for sure.
    A few minutes later, as the slow tide of old folks ebbed into the dining area, one of Gretna’s hallmates wrinkled her face like a raisin, squinting with great effort.
    “Gretna?”
    “Yes,” she replied. “Sit down, Mavis. I’m friendly today. Won’t bite…much.”
    Mavis laughed and waved her hand, as if dismissing Gretna’s semi-brittle greeting. They often shared a table at lunch.
    Mavis took several minutes maneuvering her walker into exactly the correct position, then sort of launched herself at the chair, causing it to slide a few inches from the hard landing. She then set about attempting to fold her walker, complete with angry muttering in Yiddish under her breath. One leg of the walker folded in easily, but one leg remained obstinate and erect. After more than a few minutes, Mavis’s Yiddish became more inflammatory, and even though Gretna did not understand much of the language, she could easily guess the meaning from the harsh, angry tone and brittle inflection.
    In the end, Mavis shoved at the walker with a Yiddish curse, and it fell to its side. Then she kicked it once and dragged it closer to her chair, making sure that the walkway around the table was clear.
    “And a good day to you too, Mavis.”
    Mavis waved off the sarcasm with a weary sigh.
    “A pain in the tuches, this getting old is.”
    Gretna nodded, then realized that Mavis might not see the nod, so she added loudly, “It certainly is. Getting old, I mean. A pain.”
    “In the tuches,” Mavis added, grinning.
    “Among other places,” Gretna replied.
    The server—a twig of a young girl from the Philippines, Gretna had heard—came up with glasses of water and the xeroxed lunch menu.
    Mavis squinted.
    “What they got today?” she asked, holding the menu upside down and peering over at Gretna.
    “Get the chicken soup. And the tuna salad sandwich.”
    Mavis replied with a practiced scowl, “That means the other choice is either Salisbury steak or chicken à la king.”
    “The first one. It’s probably left over from last week.”
    The pair sat in silence for a long moment, Gretna peering about the dining room, Mavis fiddling with her necklace, which had become tangled.
    Suddenly, Gretna brightened.
    “Did you hear the news?” she asked.
    “What news? They fired the cook?”
    “No,” Gretna replied, then paused. “They did?”
    “Did what?”
    “Fired the cook?”
    Mavis waved her hand again in dismissal. It was a familiar gesture. “No. I was just guessing. But they should.”
    “Oh. No, that wasn’t it,” Gretna said, a smile returning to her face. “I’m going to become a grandmother.”
    “Really?”
    “Yep. After all these years.”
    “I didn’t know your son was married.”
    “Oh. He isn’t.”
    Mavis leaned back, trying not to appear judgmental. When one squinted most of the day, it was difficult not to look judgmental.
    “So…is he getting married?” she asked.
    “I don’t know,” Gretna replied. “I don’t think so.”
    Mavis leaned back as the young Filipina server placed a bowl of soup in front of her.
    “But he might? There must be a woman, yes?”
    “No.”
    “So then…how…” Mavis asked, apparently not sure of exactly what she was asking.
    “I don’t know. But I know.”
    “But…how…?”
    “Oh…how do I know?”
    Mavis shrugged and nodded.
    “Thurman told me. Just before he left.”
    “Thurman?”
    “Yes,” Gretna replied,