Nobody's Fool by Richard Russo Page B

talking into the phone. “Ma. He there yet?” A brief pause. “No, I’m at the old lady’s downstairs. I don’t think she’s too thrilled about us going up there.”
    Miss Beryl could hear the tinny voice of whoever she was talking to, but not clearly enough to make out any words. She still couldn’t take her eyes off the child, who stood patiently at her mother’s side, facing Miss Beryl. The child’s good eye was taking her in, Miss Beryl decided.
    â€œThe more I think about it, the more I doubt he’s even coming, Ma. He’s just pulling your chain. How the hell should I know? He probably guessed. He’s probably threatening everybody. That’s the way he does things. Threaten everybody. That way you’re sure. You want to know how I know? Because if he was coming here like he said, he’d have to give up a day of deer hunting. No, he won’t. You don’t know him like I do. Besides, if he was coming, he wouldn’t call to warn us, he’d just be here.” Another pause. “No, you’re wrong. He’s out in the woods, is where he is. He’s out there laughing at you for believing him. Believe me, he’s out in the middle of the woods. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll get lost and freeze to death out there. That’d be a break, huh?”
    To Miss Beryl’s way of thinking, the most objectionable thing about this objectionable conversation was the fact that the child was listening to it. Since the little girl was still staring at her, Miss Beryl picked up her red, two-headed Foo dog from the coffee table and showed it to the little girl. The dog had the same grinning head on both ends of its body.
    â€œSee my Foo dog?” she said, offering the stuffed animal to the child,who made no move to take it. Miss Beryl rotated the dog so that the child could see its two heads, that it was the same at both ends. If the little girl noticed this unusual feature, she gave no sign, though she studied the animal dully.
    â€œYou know what a Foo dog says?” Miss Beryl asked.
    The child’s good eye found her again.
    â€œFoo on you,” Miss Beryl said, hoping for a smile.
    The little girl’s eye again found the animal, again studied it seriously, as if to determine whether the dog in question would say such a thing.
    â€œI call him Sully,” Miss Beryl said, “because he doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.”
    This time when she offered the animal, the child took it, without enthusiasm, almost as if she were doing Miss Beryl a favor.
    â€œYeah … yeah … yeah,” the child’s mother was saying. “Okay, I’ll go upstairs if I can talk her into letting me. Call me up there in half an hour. You should see the phone I’m talking into. It must’ve been made during the Civil War.… Okay.… Go back to work.… Yeah, okay.”
    When she hung up the phone, the young woman picked the little girl up and rubbed noses with her. “False alarm, Birdbrain. Daddy pulled a fast one on Grandma. He’s probably real proud of himself too. Daddy doesn’t get to outsmart people very often.” Then, to Miss Beryl, “You gonna let us go upstairs, or what?”
    â€œI guess if you know Mr. Sullivan, he won’t mind,” Miss Beryl said.
    â€œYeah, well, I don’t know him,” said the young woman on her way to the door. “He’s been balling my mother for about twenty years, though. She’s the one who knows him.”
    Once again, Miss Beryl was speechless. She watched her visitors go, watched the door close behind them, watched it open again. “Here’s your dog back,” the young woman said, setting the Foo dog back on the table. “And thanks again for the phone.” She cast a half-amused, half-contemptuous glance around Miss Beryl’s flat. “You’re missing the boat. You should