May 2013 Lou hosted Bunko. She met me at the front door when I arrived and grabbed me by both shoulders.
“I didn’t think you’d be back.”
“Don’t know. Just figured we’d not see you again. Go on in and have a seat.”
Everyone gets settled at their game table. Lou has two tables in her kitchen and one in her living room. Sue rings the bell and we begin Round One.
Lou yells, “Stop.”
She has decided we all need to be in one room. The people in the living room, which includes me, are told to move to the kitchen. We always obey our matriarch. We carry our drinks, snacks, dice, table and chairs and set up in the kitchen. My back is against the refrigerator door.
Sue rings the bell again. Round One. Twelve women are playing at three tables in Lou’s small kitchen. Only three women can actually get up so they become the waitresses, grabbing drinks and snacks for the other nine. Excited players are screaming, “One, two, three”, “Bunko,” and “21”. A big fuzzy di is throw through the air to a player if she rolls a 1-2-3. She can hang onto it until someone else rolls 1-2-3. Whoever has the fuzzy di at the end of the night wins a $1 prize. Competition is fierce.
One lady hides the di in her bra, “My bra brings me luck, I put all kinds of things in there.”
A man walks into the kitchen. Lou frowns.
“Wow, looks like Vegas in here.” He’s staring around the room and hones in on me. Crap. Who is this male hunter with a pirate ship tattooed on one forearm and large feather on the other?
“You ladies having a good time?” his eyes have not left me. I’m closest to his age.
Lou looks like she wants to smack him.
Dean ignores her. I’m rolling dice and Dean’s bent over almost breathing in my ear. All the ladies are smiling, except Lou.
“Doing good.” he whispers. “You’d be a good luck charm in Vegas.”
I turn toward Dean and my drink is knocked over onto my lap.
Lou isn’t happy. “Dean, I said go away. Sorry Debi.”
Lou’s partners get her back into the game. I’m on my own.
Dean grabs a towel and tries to clean me up. I push his hands away from my legs toward the floor. After he smears coke all over the floor, he makes me a drink.
“What is this?” I ask him as he pushes the glass toward me.
“Whoa, are you picky?”
I take the drink.
Lou is getting up, “Dean, you leave this room right now.”
Lou admits Dean is her son. He’s living with her for a while. Clearly, she’s not happy about it. What 80-yr-old mother would be happy still needing to discipline a son?
Bunko must go on. We finish so we can determine the prize winners.
As we leave Lou’s, Dean follows us out to the driveway. “Which way do you live?” he asks me.
“Way down the street,” I reply motioning with my hand as if I live in another galaxy.
Everyone on the driveway knows I live a few doors down, but none say a word. I see a few raised eyebrows and a few smiles.
As we head down the driveway, MaryAnn whispers, “I’ll walk around the block with you. The last thing you need is Lou for a mother-in-law.”