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“N40.”
We both stamp for this one.
Ian wants the kind of love my mom has been searching for her whole life. I’ve watched her fall in and out of relationships looking for this kind of thing, but if I let myself have feelings for him, it will end poorly. Ian is going to end up disappointed, and I don’t want to be the one who disappoints him if I can help it.
Do I think he and I will kiss again? I hope so. And I hope it goes further. But I’m keeping my feelings separate from those activities.
“Getting involved with him now is setting him up for heartbreak when I inevitably leave because he wants more than I can give.”
Jessie doesn’t respond to this, but I know she’s got a retort on the tip of her tongue.
“Plus, we both know I won’t get married. Who wants to kiss the same lips forever?” I say, taking the conversation to a lighter place.
“B13.”
“AGAIN? NO, THANKS!” we all shout.
Jessie and I both stamp our cards. Gertrude doesn’t even blink. A group of newbies giggles so loud that multiple bingo veterans around them glare and shush them. They stop immediately.
I fucking love bingo. I’m all over the board, nowhere close to winning, but the energy here is unmatched.
“So is Mac proposing soon?” I ask. It’ll make her squirm, and even though it’s kind of a bitchy thing to do, we’ve talked enough about my feelings that I’m uncomfortable, so now she can be uncomfortable with me.
“I don’t know! We haven’t talked about it.”
“Since last month.”
“That was one time,” Jessie says, her voice loud enough that the redhead swivels in their seat again, giving us a nasty look. Jessie mouths an apology, but I flip them off again.
“I27,” Gertrude calls, and I stamp my card. Jessie doesn’t.
“Don’t you want to get married to him?” I ask.
“I mean, maybe. Probably. I don’t know. I have to think about grad school first, and what if we go to different schools? And what if our relationship doesn’t make it, going to two different schools? What if he finally realizes how neurotic I am?”
“Oh, honey, he already knows. It’s why he loves you.”
Jessie blushes.
“I31.”
Jessie marks, but I can’t.
“Plus, you know he’d follow you to whatever school you wanted to attend,” I say.
“I know, but I don’t want to stop him from his dreams.”
I fake-gag, and in defiance Jessie presses her bingo marker on the back of my hand, leaving a bright pink circle against my skin.
“Rude,” she says.
“You’re rude,” I say and press my hand against hers. The still-wet ink transfers to her hand, and now we both have pink circles stamped on us.
“He wants to go to UC Berkley?—”
“G16.”
Neither Jessie nor I have this one.
