What We Talk About When We Talk About Love: Stories

feel lucky tonight."
    "Don't you pay it any attention," she said. "They're not hurting anybody. They're just young, that's all."
    He said, "This is regular Friday night bingo for the people of this community."
    She said, "It's a free country."
    She handed back the stack of cards. He put them on the
    After the Denim
    other side of the table. Then they served themselves from the bowl of beans.
    JAMES peeled a dollar bill from the roll of bills he kept for bingo nights. He put the dollar next to his cards. One of the clubwomen, a thin woman with bluish hair and a spot on her neck—the Packers knew her only as Alice—would presently come by with a coffee can. She would collect the coins and bills, making change from the can. It was this woman or another woman who paid off the wins.
    The woman on the stage called "1-25," and someone in the hall yelled, "Bingo!"
    Alice made her way between the tables. She took up the winning card and held it in her hand as the woman on the stage read out the winning numbers.
    "It's a bingo," Alice confirmed.
    "That bingo, ladies and gentlemen, is worth twelve dollars!" the woman on the stage announced. "Congratulations to the winner!"
    THE Packers played another five games to no effect. James came close once on one of his cards. But then five numbers were called in succession, none of them his, the fifth a number that produced a bingo on somebody else's card.
    "You almost had it that time," Edith said. "I was watching your card."
    "She was teasing me," James said.
    He tilted the card and let the beans slide into his hand. He closed his hand and made a fist. He shook the beans in his
    What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
    fist. Something came to him about a boy who'd thrown some beans out a window. The memory reached to him from a long way off, and it made him feel lonely.
    "Change cards, maybe," Edith said.
    "It isn't my night," James said.
    He looked over at the young couple again. They were laughing at something the fellow had said. James could see they weren't paying attention to anyone ehe in the hall.
    ALICE came around collecting money for the next game, and just after the first number had been called, James saw the fellow in the denims put down a bean on a card he hadn't paid for. Another number was called, and James saw the fellow do it again. James was amazed. He could not concentrate on his own cards. He kept looking up to see what the fellow in denim was doing.
    "James, look at your cards," Edith said. "You missed N-34. Pay attention."
    "That fellow over there who has our place is cheating. I can't believe my eyes," James said.
    "How is he cheating?" Edith said.
    "He's playing a card that he hasn't paid for," James said. "Somebody ought to report him."
    "Not you, dear," Edith said. She spoke slowly and tried to keep her eyes on her cards. She dropped a bean on a number.
    "The fellow is cheating," James said.
    She extracted a bean from her palm and placed it on a number. "Play your cards," Edith said.
    After the Denim
    He looked back at his cards. But he knew he might as well write this game off. There was no telling how many numbers he had missed, how far behind he had fallen. He squeezed the beans in his fist.
    The woman on the stage called, "G-60."
    Someone yelled, "Bingo!"
    "Christ," James Packer said.
    A TEN-MINUTE break was announced. The game after the break would be a Blackout, one dollar a card, winner takes all, this week's jackpot ninety-eight dollars.
    There was whistling and clapping.
    James looked at the couple. The fellow was touching the ring in his ear and staring up at the ceiling. The girl had her hand on his leg.
    "I have to go to the bathroom," Edith said. "Give me your cigarettes."
    James said, "And I'll get us some raisin cookies and coffee."
    "Ill go to the bathroom," Edith said.
    But James Packer did not go to get cookies and coffee. Instead, he went to stand behind the chair of the fellow in denim.
    "I see what you're doing," James said.
    The man turned around. "Pardon me?" he said and stared. "What am I doing?"
    "You know," James said.
    The girl held her cookie in mid-bite.
    "A word to the wise," James said.
    He walked back to his table. He was trembling.
    When Edith came back, she handed him the cigarettes
    What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
    and sat down, not talking, not being her jovial self.
    James looked at her closely. He said, "Edith, has something happened?"
    "I'm spotting again," she said.
    "Spotting?" he said. But he knew what