Muriel shrugged and waved her off. Bertha had a straight line of four 7-Ups at the top of her table area and offered me one. “You want a 7 and 7, Barbie? Water bottle’s got Seagram’s for you to mix it with. Gotta disguise it because some of the uptight board members decided Bingo night should be alcohol free.”
Muriel snickered. “Tell her why they made that rule, Bertha.”
Bertha gulped from her red cup. “My pants were too tight. I opened them while I was sitting here and forgot to snap them back up before I got up. These people all act like they’ve never seen a little ass before.”
Muriel added, “First, it hasn’t been a little ass since 1953. And second, she’s leaving out the part where she tried to walk with her pants down around her ankles, tripped and fell, and pushed Mr. Barthman on her way down. He cracked a tooth when he landed.”
“It was a denture, not a real tooth.”
Muriel and Bertha then proceeded to bicker over me, both leaning in to yell in a different ear. When I looked up, Carter was watching from the front of the room and cracking up. He held up one finger, and then plugged in his microphone and tapped it before speaking. “How are all my Bingo Babes doing tonight?”
The women around the room hooted and hollered.
“Is everyone ready? We’re going to kick off tonight with a favorite that I’d like to dedicate to my guest here with me this evening. The first game will be any horizontal line. Just mark off any five spaces across your card to win.” He looked directly to me as he continued and winked. “Any which way you want to lie down horizontally will earn you a prize from me.”
I rolled my eyes. Bertha gave me one of her cards, a stamper, and slid one of her fuzzy-haired, freaky trolls in front of me wishing me luck before the games started.
Carter stood at the front of the room behind a folding table that held a wire cage filled with small white balls. He cranked a lever at the side, which started the balls jumping round. Stopping it, he reached in and pulled out the first ball. “Today we’re starting off with one little duck.”
The room quieted, and everyone picked up their stampers and began stamping. I had no idea what was going on, but Muriel seemed to be stamping the number two. When she saw I was confused, she explained. “One little duck…it’s a bingo term, it means the number two. The two looks like a duck.”
I didn’t have a two on my card, but I watched as Carter’s eyes scanned the room. He was making sure everyone had enough time to stamp their dozens of cards. Eventually, he cranked the lever again. This time, when he pulled out the ball he said, Grandma’s getting frisky into the microphone.
Muriel translated again, “G60. Frisky rhymes with sixty.”
Again everyone went to work at stamping their cards. It seemed I was the only one who needed a bingo lingo dictionary. While they were all busy checking their cards, Carter began to hum into the microphone. I recognized the tune, but couldn’t put my finger on it.
A few more calls later, Carter looked down at the ball and then winked at me, “Anyway up. A favorite of mine.”
I didn’t need Muriel to translate Carter had just called O69. Throughout the night he continued to hum that same song. I’d initially assumed it was the Beatles, but then when he began to sing the first line about knowing when to throw in the cards, I recognized it as Kenny Rogers, The Gambler.
Curious, I asked Muriel. “Does he sing Beatles songs while he’s up there ever?”
“He used to. Until we took him to the Kenny Rogers concert for his birthday.”
“You took him to see Kenny Rogers?”
“Yep. Most of us hadn’t celebrated our birthdays anymore until Carter moved in. But now, we look forward to them. On his birthday, we chip in and introduce him to something from our generation. On our birthday, he surprises us with something from his.”
I was blown away at how deeply connected Carter was with these people. “What did he give you for your birthday?” I asked Muriel.
Her eyes lit up, and she turned, lifting her foot to show me her shoes. “Reebok Pumps. My back was killing me when I went out for my daily walk. You pump these crazy sneakers he got me up…no more back pain.”
“I didn’t even know they still made them.”
By the end of the night, I realized I’d had a great time. Muriel had written down the recipe for Carter’s favorite meal, and Bertha, who was halfway sloshed, told me dozens of dirty jokes all centered around pilots. There I was, sitting in a Bingo hall full of people the same age as my grandparents, and there was nowhere else that I wanted to be. It was in that moment, as I watched from afar while Carter cleaned up and talked to a few of the other residents, that I realized how hard I’d already fallen. Muriel noticed me in deep contemplation.