The Devil's Pet

Chapter 11

Tuesday June 23, 2008

Walking down the concrete stairs reminded Sean of his days as an altar boy when they would gather in the church basement prior to the services. Sounds of a bustling crowd filtered up the long row of steps becoming louder as he descended. Upon entering the large room, the bingo board was the first thing to come into sight, followed by the hundred or so people gathered for their weekly ritual.

The game had not yet begun so the attendees, mostly older women, chattered along with each other. As far back as he could remember, bingo night at St. Anthony’s had been a staple with the ladies of the Parish allowing them to get out of the house, mingle and maybe win a little extra mad money. Beyond that, the weekly competition had a distinctly personal flavor to it (“Marge, I don’t know why you wear that lucky shirt every week, I always beat you anyway.”). It had grown popular enough as a social event to begin drawing some of the younger mothers as well.

Poised at the edge of the windowless room, Sean surveyed the scene for something, anything that might hold a clue as to why he had been told to come here. He was bewildered, but slightly amused, watching the newly arrived ladies jostle for positions and lucky seats.

The room was an example of stark efficiency, no attempt had been made to add color or decorate. Long rows of institutional folding tables sporting white paper covers paired with metal chairs formed straight lines in regular intervals. All this was framed by white cinderblock walls and shiny polished concrete floors lit by long rows of fluorescent lights. Sean thought these are probably the same women that, in their home lives likely flog their men for having no imagination when it comes to decorating the house. It looked like men had arranged it for a club meeting. The only difference he could tell, besides the room being populated with women, was that it was spotlessly clean with a faint aroma of cleaning supplies.

As he walked farther along toward the back of the room, it occurred to him that although he was a stranger, no one seemed to notice him in their midst. He saw a tall priest standing at the head of the room by the board and microphone. Sean wondered if he could he be the one. All the tables and chairs were arranged with the board as the focal point of the room, except for an oversized doorway at the back that led to the kitchen area, which was quite large in itself.

The kitchen had room for a full set of appliances plus seating for twenty or more people. The front row of kitchen tables were adorned with homemade trays filled with cookies, cakes, finger sandwiches, veggie trays and other assorted goodies brought to share among the Bingo crowd. Sean was hungry and eyed the food as he filled a cup of coffee from the spigot of an industrial size warmer placed strategically by the cookies and cakes. While filling his cup he noticed it had grown noticeably quieter, and then he heard the first numbers of the night being called out. Everyone knew that when the game began, conversation went to a minimum. It was poor etiquette to talk over the Bingo numbers.

“Why don’t you help yourself to some food dear?”  A voice said from behind him.

Sean turned to see an old woman holding a cane smiling at him. Gripping the cane lightly, it seemed more like something she held out of habit rather than necessity. She was thin, but appeared healthy, with long soft gray hair bordering on white, pulled neatly across her back. A plain white summer dress fit perfectly on her frame and carried down to the tops of her shoes. Even though she looked to be in her eighties it was apparent that she had been an attractive woman in her day. Green eyes sparkled at Sean as she awaited a response. He thought it odd that she was in the kitchen when the game had just begun.

Sean was hungry but didn’t want to be rude, “I didn’t bring a dish to pass, to be honest with you I wasn’t sure I would be here tonight.”