February 7, 2020, morning
The next day, McArdle cracked the door without knocking and heard “Please come in, Sam” from the kitchen. He walked in, and Miss Jasmine had just put Whale’s food bowl on the floor. Whale saw Sam and the bowl at the same time. She ran over to Sam’s feet and barked once while looking up, then turned around and ran to engage with her food.
Miss Jasmine said, “People like my food, and dogs like my food. And Whale still has an appetite, old as she is. That’s always a good sign. I have less and less. Eventually, Kenneth or Larry can tell you Whale’s story. By the way, where is that jackass Larry?”
“Oh, I’m here. I’ve been sitting over on the couch reading. Nobody noticed my six-two self. I’m ready when y’all are.”
They took their usual places. Larry moved from the couch to the dining table with Kenneth. McArdle sat on one end of the sofa and Miss Jasmine on the other. Whale put her nose on one of Miss Jasmine’s feet and snuggled in for the story.
“I already told you I missed all of World War II and a lot more. So, the next part of the story isn’t until 1950. I’m still staying with Mrs. Atkins. We called her Mrs. Atkins, and there never seemed to be a Mr. Atkins. She was ten years older than me. She had been to college at some fancy school up north. Her parents had both died shortly after she graduated and left her a nice house and a new car.
“She took me in, gave me a nice room, fed me, bought me clothes, and we would go for walks together. Basically, she became my ward. I could still feed myself, dress myself, bathe myself and go to the bathroom myself. I remembered how to cook, and she let me do that most of the time, I guess to give me something to do. I wouldn’t wash clothes or go near the clothesline. Mrs. Atkins washed clothes for me. A bit of a role reversal.
“But after I recovered, she told me I never showed any kind of expression or emotion. People would sometimes try to talk to me, but I wouldn’t respond. Eventually everybody knew my condition. In public they would just be polite with Mrs. Atkins while I stood by blankly by her side.
“It’s 1950, we go to the market and are standing in front of the apples. And this black man says, ‘Jasmine? You are Jasmine, right?’
“Miss Atkins will tell you that everybody called me ‘Miss’ Jasmine. Nobody called me plain Jasmine. So that got her attention. She was looking at me and then she said to the man, ‘She just nodded yes to you. Did you see that?’
“‘Barely,’ said the man. ‘But I’ll take a yes when I can get one. By the way, my name is Leopold. I used to be Jasmine’s Latin teacher in high school—isn’t that right, Jasmine?’”
“I nodded a faint yes.
“‘I am not believing this!’ said Mrs. Atkins. ‘She’s responding to you. Can you ask her something else?’
“‘May I ask you a question first, Mrs. Atkins?’
“‘Please, go ahead.’
“‘May I ask Jasmine to dinner?’
“Mrs. Atkins almost fell over.
“‘Well, that would be wonderful, but I don’t think…’
“Leopold interrupted: ‘I think you’re going to say you don’t think she should go out in public. May I suggest I come to your house and have dinner? Nothing fancy—whatever you usually eat. The food is not the point; it’s the company.’
“‘Well, Mr. Leopold…’
“‘Just Leopold, please. No Mr.’
“‘Well then, Leopold, you please ask her.’
“Leopold looked at me, and I raised my head up a little bit. Not totally meeting his gaze but not looking away.
“‘Jasmine, may I come for dinner? Whatever you want to cook would be fine.’
“They said I smiled a faint smile. Mrs. Akins jumped and clapped her hands with excitement.
“‘What about tonight?’ said Mrs. Atkins. ‘Can you be there at six? We usually eat around six.’
“‘Six o’clock would be perfect. I’ll see you then.’