Bingo's Run by James A. Levine

Author:James A. Levine [Levine, James A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-58836-947-5
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-01-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 34.

A Day by the Pool

Me and Mrs. Steele spent the day by the pool. No one had sex in it, which proves that not everything in porn is true. It also explained why I needed the swimming trunks. I did not get into the water; I just sat on the edge and wet my feet. Mrs. Steele swam up and down the pool. She was excellent in her black bikini. Her breasts floated.

The pool area was almost empty, and we had our own corner. The deal was that for every Bloody Mary Mrs. Steele ordered I got a Tusker. I cheated once. Mrs. Steele was halfway through her third Bloody Mary when she went to the bathroom. Right away, I took two gulps of her drink. She had no idea I did this, and when she came back she ordered a fourth Bloody Mary. I drained my Tusker and reminded her of the deal. We ate hamburgers. She took as much ketchup as me.

We had some things in common. Her family was not rich and, like me, her father was rubbish and left when she was small. “Ya mind?” I asked her. She thought and said, “Bingo, actually I did. I wanted a dad a bit like you want America. You’ve seen it on TV, but you’ve never been there.”

Mrs. Steele asked, “How about you, Bingo, did you mind growing up without a dad?”

I said, “I’z do not rememba much about him.” It was true, mostly. He was a gambler and a drinker. The only good he did was teach me numbers. I counted cards and beers for him. I did times tables when he doubled his bets, and I did taking-away when he gambled Senior Father’s crop money. I remembered how many cowries Father owed this one or that one. The day Father left with Senior Mother’s iron cook pot, he lost our last ox on a 7 of Clubs “double or nothing.” But I did not tell Mrs. Steele any of this. I stuck with the story I’d told her at my St. Michael’s interview. I said, “I was sad when the gang boyz kill Fatha.” That is the problem with lying—you have to remember. That is why the best lie is truth. Mrs. Steele listened. Someone dived into the pool. I said to her, “But I rememba Mama. She was special, ya.” I do not know why I said that; my mouth sometimes speaks for itself.

Mrs. Steele said, “I bet she was.” She smiled at me in a certain way and my heart stopped, not as if I was dead but as if I was asleep. I smelled Mama’s shawl then. I was quiet for a second—a peaceful, empty quiet until my heart started up again. Mrs. Steele watched and listened.

I wanted to talk about something else. I said, “Do you like being rich?” Mrs. Steele leaned back on the deck chair, put on her sunglasses, smiled at the sun, and said, “Yes.”

But as we reached drink No.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.