Bingo by Rita Mae Brown

Author:Rita Mae Brown [Brown, Rita Mae]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-79404-8
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2011-05-03T16:00:00+00:00

24

RENEGADE BINGO

FRIDAY … 17 APRIL

Winter gave us a backhanded slap. A cutting wind under dull skies reminded me that we weren’t out of the woods yet. As it was Good Friday, the weather added to the dolorous nature of the day. I have never understood the Christian fascination with suffering and death. The crucifix makes me ill and I find it painful even to contemplate a mutilated man, much less worship one.

Mother, devout in her off-center way, would be singed if I told her my thoughts. Aunt Louise would light so many candles for me she’d burn down Saint Rose’s. Silence on the issues that concerned me the most was becoming my modus operandi. Regina was right. I was reaching the point where I began to fear I couldn’t open myself up to anyone.

This is not to say that I don’t love Jesus Christ or his message; I do. I don’t love what’s sprung up around him, and in the office we received rumblings of strange goings-on in the PTL Club. Roger and I dubbed it Pass the Loot, but the official name is Praise the Lord. If I made as much nontaxable income as those TV preachers, I’d be praising the Lord too. Since when does Jesus need a press agent? If God is so smart, you’d think he’d hire better help.

Good Friday services start at two o’clock but I dashed into church for an early morning service, as I knew I’d be in the bullpen today. It was my turn to cover for everyone else when they went to service. Not much crackled on the AP wire.

Mother called to tell me about her date. She and Ed drove over to Emmitsburg for a good dinner. She said he reminded her of Dad. He didn’t remind me of Dad. She said to be sure to come to her house tonight for renegade bingo. Saint Rose of Lima’s did not run the bingo game or any other form of festivity or fund-raising on Good Friday. Mother’s rationale was that as Jesus died at three in the afternoon, what we did at night was our own business. Also, she felt it her civic responsibility to keep people off the streets. I allowed as how I would come this evening, armed with dab-a-dots.

After that conversation I began thinking about The Last Supper. I bet it was fettucine Alfredo.

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