* * *
"B-4.”The announcer coughs into the microphone. “B-4."
Hope has about ten bingo cards spread out in front of her, the little stamper hovering over them as she searches for the place on her board. Smiling, she pounds it over one of the cards. "That's right. I just made B-4 my bitch."
Doris glances over at me, grinning as she lifts her flask to her mouth. "I like her."
I nod. "Hope’s something, that's for sure."
"Aw, I'm a little fond of you, too, Doris." Hope eyes the flask. "What's in there?"
"Whiskey,” Doris says, then passes the flask to Hope.
"Spirit animals, Doris, we are spirit animals." She tips the flask back just as the announcer calls out another space.
"G-45. G-45."
I stamp the spot on my card. And the next thing I know, the silver flask is shaking right in front of my face. I glance over at Hope. "You're sad," she says. "Whiskey makes people happy."
"So, basically, you want me to be a drunk?"
"No. Just be like an Irishman."
"Again, a drunk?"
"Look, I'm pretty sure the Irish have the lowest rate of depression in the world."
"They do not."
"Sure, they do. You can't be sad when you're drunk."
I stare at Hope, shaking my head. "You're crazy, you know that?"
"The next space is N-12. N-12."
Hope jumps up from the table, knocking over her chair and scaring awake the elderly woman who nodded off on the other side of her. "Bingo!" She waves one of her cards around before placing a foot on the metal folding chair and grinding the air as she sings out: "Bingo. B-I-N-fucking-G-O."
Everyone stares, Doris claps, and I just sink into my chair and cover my face with my hands.
"Damn, that was the last game," Doris says, tipping the flask back again.
"All right." I gather the bingo cards and stack them together. "Well, thanks for inviting us, Doris."
She nods.
Hope grins. "Yep, I think I've found a new hobby."
"Great, so your list is drinking, screwing, and bingo?"
"Basically. Sounds legit."
My phone dings with a text. I pull it from my purse while Hope walks to the front of the room to collect her prize: A heated neck massager.
I stare at the text, my chest going all tight.I told you you'd hate me. Sorry, poss.
Like a child, he's ignored my texts and calls for the past day. And then he sends me this crap. Brandon is an emotional rollercoaster, one storm after another, and even though that should be enough to make me run in the opposite direction, it hasn’t.
"A heated neck massager. Amazing!" Hope holds the bright pink object up and smiles. "Perfect for a rainy day, huh?"