Read Online The Life and Times of Benny Alvarez by Peter Johnson - Free Book Online Page B

a Patriots calendar, a clock on the wall. Then I grab a box containing pictures of ten kinds of birds, and they aren’t the easiest ones to recognize. My father told me researchers discovered that sometimes stroke patients recover faster by challenging their brains, moving from harder pictures and words to easier ones instead of vice versa. Grandpa does great today on the birds, though ostriches and pigeons always throw him. I tell him that whenever he sees a pigeon, he should think of crap, because that’s all they do. He laughs loudly and says, “How’s Crap doing, anyway?”
    â€œIt’s Crash, Grandpa.”
    â€œThat’s what I said.”
    â€œThe hawk hasn’t come back, so he’s just being his usual nasty self.”
    â€œYeah, he’s a piece of work, but I guess all Alvarez boys are.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWe’re all pains in the butt.” Then he lowers his voice and looks around. “I don’t want her”—meaning Gloria—“to hear that. I want her to think she married a Greek god.”
    Not much chance of that happening, I think. “You know, my mom says I’m negative.”
    â€œA wonderful woman, your mom. Two chances, and I couldn’t get one like her.” Gloria’s sitting in the other room, watching some religious TV show, so I ask Grandpa to lower his voice. That’s another Alvarez trait. You always know when we’re around.
    â€œShe’s great, Grandpa, but all that ‘don’t sweat the small stuff’ garbage and those lists she posts all over the house wear me down.”
    â€œWhat lists?” And then I remember Grandpa hasn’t been able to read the newest ones.
    â€œMostly quotes from famous people saying life’s wonderful. I don’t need a dumb movie star to tell me that.”
    â€œReal nonsense, huh?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œYou think the world’s a lousy place, Benny?”
    â€œDon’t you ever watch TV, Grandpa, or pay attention to how people treat one another?”
    â€œHmmmm,” he says.
    â€œThe way I see it, it’s best to think of the worst that can happen. Then you’re never disappointed. Whatever goes down is better than what you expected.”
    He squints at me. “Never get hurt that way, do you?”
    â€œYou bet,” I say, proud that Grandpa sees the genius of my approach.
    â€œDon’t really live, though, either.”
    Because he can be as contrary as the rest of us, I wonder if he’s teasing me with that comment, so I don’t answer. Instead, we move to another word game, then go to the living room, where we putt balls into a Dixie cup for about a half hour, every once in a while moving the cup farther away. Gloria has fallen asleep on the couch, so we turn off the TV right as some guy with greasy black hair combed back like Dracula and wearing a shiny gray suit and red tie explains that the Devil is everywhere, even at your local bowling alley.
    â€œA bunch of screwballs,” Grandpa says. “Devils don’t bowl. Like your dad says, they live in Washington and make laws.”
    That’s the weird thing about Grandpa. One minute he can’t tell you what an ostrich is, the next minute he makes complete sense.
    â€œDon’t talk so loud,” I say, “or you’ll wake up Gloria.”
    â€œYou could shoot a gun next to that woman and she wouldn’t wake up.”
    â€œProbably not a good idea, Grandpa.”
    â€œYou’re a real card, Benny. You’re going to be famous someday.”
    Personally, I just want to make it through Becky Walters’s party without getting insulted by Claudine or having to dance.

Zombies
    T he next day I talk to Jocko and Beanie about my grandfather’s stroke.
    â€œI wouldn’t want to deal with that,” Beanie says. “My pops”—that’s what he calls his grandfather—“has cancer,