Free Bingo's Run by James A. Levine

the stairs with Beth. After a few minutes, Blonde shouted down, “Send the first one up.” About every five minutes, one boy went up and one came down. I calculated that since there were 147 of us, if she called for us all it would take more than twelve hours. After the fourteenth boy returned, Plain Brunette called out, “Bingo.” I took a quick look into Beth’s Valley of Hope and went upstairs.

Chapter 17
.
The Interview
    Upstairs, Mrs. Steele and Father Matthew were in the large eating room. Blonde announced, from the door, “This is Bingo,” and I went in. The three long empty wooden tables stretched away from me. They had been cleaned with the same green liquid as we had been. The windows were open and let in the noise from the street. The room was hot. The scars on my face itched.
    Mrs. Steele sat next to the priest at the far end of the middle table. “Hello, Bingo,” Mrs. Steele said as I approached her. Her lips were crimson, and there was sweat between her breasts.
    Father Matthew said, “Bingo, Mrs. Steele is a famous art dealer from America. It is truly a miracle that she has come to St. Michael’s. It is God’s will.”
    I thought of Thomas Hunsa. “I’z an art deala, too,” I said.
    Mrs. Steele, our miracle, laughed.
    Father Matthew told me to sit. I sat opposite him and Mrs. Steele. The only thing on the table between us was her small black purse and a plastic bottle of water. I hoped no one had spit in her water. Father Matthew shuffled next to her and his eyesshot worried glances at her handbag. He looked afraid that it might run away.
    I said, “Mrs. Steele, ma’am, you’z very beautiful.” I read her dark green eyes; she liked that.
    She said, “Why thank you, Bingo, and you are very handsome.”
    â€œOh, Fadda,” I said to Father Matthew. “Dis fell out of ya pockit as ya walk up tha stairs.” I reached across the table and gave Father Matthew a small folded piece of paper.
    Mrs. Steele said, “Now tell me, Bingo, how did you come to be at St. Michael’s?” The interview had started, and I was ready.
    I began my performance. “Mrs. Steele, I’z jus’ a chil’ from tha country, ya. Mize Fatha waz a poor farma in tha East. He worked hard to buy his own land. I waz with him when he battered tha stakes into tha ground when he bought tha land. Fatha, he farm every day. We was poor but Mudda, she took care of everyting.”
    Father Matthew stared at me. The sheet he held read “Divinity Class” at the top. I had torn it from his small yellow notebook; it was the page on which Boss Jonni had been crossed out and Wolf’s name written in. Father Matthew looked at me in a new way, as if I was not just a speck of dust.
    â€œYa,” I said, and paused. “Mudda took care of everyting—me, mize four bruddas an’ three sistas. That was until tha day it all happen, ya.” I wiped my nose and looked at the floor.
    â€œWhat happened?” Mrs. Steele asked.
    I waited a bit.
    â€œFatha was in tha field one day and while he waz workin’—mindin’ hiz own bizness—he saw tha gang boys drive up to Mista Defrio, in tha field next ta hiz. They came to get tha monay for tha drugs from Mista Defrio, but Mista Defrio have no monay; so they shot ’im … 
bang!
Jus’ like that.”
    Mrs. Steele and Father Matthew jumped.
    I went on. “My fatha run to help ’im. But then Mista Defrio dead; he waz back in tha mud. My fatha can na’ help ’im no more so he laid in tha ground an’ hide until tha gang boys go away. Then Fatha runned back to our house, an’ to Mama an’ my bruddas and sistas. Fatha waz almos’ cryin’ an’ Fatha neva cry. He shouted at Mudda,
‘I saw dem shoot ’im—tha gang boyz shot Mista Defrio!
I hide in tha field.’ Mudda grab Fatha and shouted,