Bingo Brown, Gypsy Lover

by Betsy Byars

  There were too many clothes for one washer, so Bingo crammed what he could in one washer, crammed the rest in the next washer. Still too many, so he put the remaining diapers into a third washer and slammed down the lids. His heart was pounding.

  He made quick work of the change machine and soon the machines were rumbling happily. Bingo went outside for some badly needed fresh air.

  While he was standing there, fanning himself with a box of Rinso, he found himself thinking about life—about how in the old days when a boy asked his mom for a new challenge, she sent him to the Crusades or out West to look for gold or on a whaling ship bound for northern climes or—

  “Hey, Worm Brain.” A voice broke harshly into his thoughts.

  Bingo saw with displeasure that Billy Wentworth was standing in front of him. He sighed. “What do you want, Wentworth?”

  Wentworth was chewing gum and he paused to blow a small purple bubble about the size of a Ping-Pong ball. That done, he said, “I just saw that girl.”

  “What girl?”

  “The girl that used to be in our room. The one you used to like.”

  Bingo’s heart began to thud against the Rinso box, which he had wrapped in both arms. Actually there had been many girls in Bingo’s life—the future President of the United States, the would-be orchestra conductor, Cici, Boots—but his only true love had been Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde, known to everyone else as Melissa.

  Obviously Wentworth couldn’t know that, because Melissa was miles away in Bixby, Oklahoma. Still, the thought of her was enough to make Bingo’s imprisoned heart attempt to burst right out of his chest, through the box of Rinso, and fly nonstop to Bixby.

  This—Bingo knew—was why chests were made so strong. Ribs were designed for one thing. They were prison bars to keep hearts from doing anything foolish. Bingo had been grateful for ribs many times in his life, and particularly now.

  Bingo said in a controlled voice, “What girl would that be, Wentworth?”

  “Melissa.”

  Bingo dropped the Rinso box with a thud.

  “M-Melissa.”

  “Yeah, M-Melissa.”

  “But Melissa’s in Oklahoma.”

  Wentworth paused long enough to create another purple bubble. “No, she’s not. She’s in Winn Dixie.”

  “W-Winn Dixie?”

  “Yes, W-Winn Dixie.”

  “But she couldn’t be. She’s in Bixby, Oklahoma.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “So … check it out.”

  Bingo turned at once toward the grocery store and then stopped. Wentworth would enjoy seeing him rush into the store like a heartsick fool.

  “Where, exactly, was she in the store?”

  “She and this other girl had gotten a cart with a bad wheel, and they were trying to get it through Produce.”

  “What makes you think the girl was Melissa?”

  “I got eyes.”

  Still Bingo hesitated.

  “Look,” Wentworth said, “you don’t believe me, check it out.”

  “That’s what I intend to do.”

  “Be my guest.” Wentworth pulled down his camouflage T-shirt in a forceful manner.

  Bingo’s heart was pounding so hard it was as if tom-tom drums were being beaten inside the grocery store, deafening him.

  “Hey, Worm Brain.”

  Bingo heard that. He turned.

  “You forgot your R-Rinso!”

  Bingo returned to the Rinso box and the small pile of blue flakes that had leaked out. It was amazing, the amount of dignity required to pick up a box of Rinso with Wentworth sneering. Bingo felt he did as well as anyone could.

  He even managed to say thanks without stuttering.

  Then he headed manfully for whatever awaited him amid the groceries.

  Through the Sliding Doors

  BINGO APPROACHED THE SLIDING doors of Winn Dixie with caution, but they flew open anyway. Bingo stepped back quickly. Two shoppers passed him with curious looks, but Bingo remained against the side of the building.

  When the doors had once again shut, Bingo moved forward. Without touching the floor mats, he peered inside.

  Bingo had recently been fitted for glasses. He had wanted glasses for years—not because he couldn’t see well, but because he liked the idea of himself in glasses. He was the type for glasses.

  Finally he had convinced his parents of his need, and now—the very moment when he really needed glasses to see into the depths of Winn Dixie—they were still at the eye doctor’s, being ground to prescription.

  Even without his glasses, he could see that Melissa was not in sight.

  Bingo was tempted to turn around immediately, retrieve the family’s laundry, and mark the whole thing up to a cruel trick of Wentworth’s. Certainly Wentworth was capable of that sort of cruelty, but Wentworth wasn’t sensitive enough to sense the depth of Bingo’s longing for Melissa and take advantage of it.

  Bingo cracked his knuckles in a manly fashion. He would have spit on his hands but they were already wet with sweat. Bingo prided himself on his manly gestures and hoped, sometime in the future, to get the mature feelings that went along with them.

  “You going in, Worm Brain, you gotta open the doors, like this.”

  Wentworth stepped around Bingo onto the mat, and the doors opened. Without looking at Wentworth, Bingo entered.

  He took a cart—he hadn’t intended to do that, and behind him Wentworth gave a snort of disgust. Bingo put his box of Rinso in the baby’s seat and set off. The cart wanted to turn immediately into a display of paper towels, but Bingo wrestled it to Produce.

  Bingo moved slowly through Produce. He watched the mirrors at the end of the fruit-and-vegetable aisle to see if Billy Wentworth had followed him into the store.

  Bingo seemed to be in everyone’s way, so he muttered beneath his breath, “Grapefruit … lettuce … kumquats … we have those … celery … parsnips … not quite fresh enough …”

  This took him to the bakery department.

  He went quickly past the loaves of bread and brought his cart to an abrupt stop. He peered around a pyramid of macaroni-and-cheese dinners. Billy Wentworth was still outside the store. Now he could devote his full attention to finding Melissa.

  He proceeded more slowly now, giving each aisle the caution a hunter would give the jungle. He did not think Melissa would be in Baby Supplies and, of course, she wasn’t, but he paused there to put a box of disposable diapers in his cart. That, he thought, gave him the look of a serious shopper. If he did run into Melissa, that would make a good impression.

  He continued. Of course she would not be in Pet Products, but he gave that aisle the same caution as the others.

  He was gaining in confidence now. There were only two aisles left—Soft Drinks and Health Supplies.

  By now, Bingo thought he knew what had happened. Wentworth had seen someone who looked like Melissa—after all, there were other girls with incredibly beautiful, beribboned hair and jazzy lips, girls whose eyes had a little squint that would make a man’s heart beat faster.

  Wentworth might even have said, “Hi, Melissa,” and the girl hadn’t bothered to say, “I’m not Melissa,” and this had reinforced the mistaken identification. Therefore Wentworth genuinely believed he had seen the real Melissa and reported it as the truth.

  This explanation made Bingo feel better. Melissa was still safely in Bixby, Oklahoma.

  And, Bingo went on as his spirits began to lift, this would give him an excuse to write an amusing letter. “Today, I almost saw you in the grocery store. Billy Wentworth thought he saw you, and I, of course, rushed into the store and …”

  And he definitely would not Xerox the letter when he finished—no matter how perfect it was!

  The soft drink aisle was empty, and Bingo pushed his cart directly into Health Supplies. One of the cart wheels stuck, and Bingo came to an abrupt halt. He glanced down and saw the trouble. A leaf of lettuce was jammed
into the wheel.

  He knelt, dislodged the leaf of lettuce, and looked up.

  There she was!

  Melissa was in Health Supplies!

  Melissa and a friend were picking out a box of health supplies!

  Fortunately Bingo was on his knees, so he was able to duck-walk backwards, pulling the cart with him, into the safety of Soft Drinks.

  Here, after a few tense moments, he was able to straighten up.

  Melissa—if it was Melissa—had been reading the directions on a box, and her head had been bent—so maybe it wasn’t Melissa at all. Maybe it was a girl so like Melissa that he had made the same mistake as Billy Wentworth.

  Bingo found that he was badly shaken and short of breath. The shock of thinking he had seen Melissa was as great as if he had seen Melissa. He was glad for the support of the grocery cart.

  There was a convex mirror at the end of the aisle to keep people from stealing health supplies. Bingo had read only this week that the most frequently stolen product was Preparation H, so this mirror was a must.

  In this mirror he had a good look at the girl who looked exactly like Melissa, and he found that it was Melissa.

  No other girl had that hair, those eyes. No other girl had that T-shirt with the Declaration of Independence on it.

  Bingo had only seen that T-shirt one other time, on the day of the T-shirt wear-in, but he had never forgotten it. It had been her mom’s shirt and was very, very large on her. Now, however, the shirt was not so large. Either the shirt had shrunk or Melissa had enlarged.

  He checked the mirror.

  The shirt had not shrunk.

  Therefore Melissa had enlarged.

  He checked again.

  The phrase “bigger than life” came to his mind and stayed there. Melissa was bigger than life.

  He had a brief but troubling picture of her seeing him and holding out her arms. He would hold out his arms, too, of course, anything else would be unthinkable, but—and this is where the picture got troubling—when they met, where would their arms go? He knew where the arms went if the boy was taller, but now he was shorter.

  Bingo’s arms began to twitch nervously, as if they wanted to reach out and hold back at the same time. He understood his arms’ reluctance. If his arms misjudged her size and reached out too low or too high, it might be embarrassing. Well, perhaps if one arm reached high and the other low, they could sort of meet around her without actually touching anything. That is, unless she reached out low-high, too, and her high arm hit his high arm and her low—

  He forced himself to look at the situation rationally.

  Problem #2. Girl Larger than Usual.

  Suppose that you have not seen a girl for a long, long time. And the last time you saw this girl was on the front porch of her house. Suppose that even though her mother was watching, you kissed her good-bye because she was moving to a place like Bixby, Oklahoma, and you might never have this opportunity again. And so you leaned down—because she was smaller than you—and kissed her. Suppose months pass, and the next time you see this girl she has grown enough so that you will no longer be the one who has to bend down for the kiss. Should this deter you?

  Bingo’s Answer: No, but other things might deter you, like the fact that she didn’t answer your letter or let you know she was coming to town and was more interested in securing health supplies than in seeing you. Those things are far, far more important than height, which is—after all—only a statistic.

  Bingo had now worked out the situation to his satisfaction, and he pushed his cart boldly into Health Supplies.

  Melissa was gone.

  Melissa’s Clone

  “EXCUSE ME.”

  “What?”

  “I’d like to get by, please.” It was a woman with a grocery cart.

  “Of course,” Bingo said.

  He discovered he was still blocking the aisle of health supplies. He pushed his cart quickly against the deodorants.

  As Bingo waited for the lady to pass he checked the convex mirror. He didn’t see Melissa, as he had hoped. He saw something he had hoped not to see—Billy Wentworth.

  Wentworth was in the meat department, moving as if by radar straight to Health Supplies. Bingo U-turned his cart and moved to the front of the store.

  Again no Melissa, but he sensed Wentworth was now moving to the front of the store, too.

  Bingo abandoned his cart and began darting through the aisles, looking for Melissa. He had to see her again. He had to.

  And he had to do this without Wentworth witnessing the meeting. He needed time to get his arms under control, to say nothing of his face, his thoughts, and the rest of himself. He stopped.

  Melissa was at the end of Pet Products. Bingo rushed down the aisle and stopped behind a pyramid of Kibbles ’n Bits.

  Melissa and her friend passed directly in front of him—not five feet away—on their way to the checkout counters.

  The girl with Melissa glanced in his direction—the pyramid wasn’t high enough to hide him completely—and she said something to Melissa. Bingo waited with his heart in his throat for Melissa to turn, to meet his eyes, to speak.

  But Melissa did none of those things. She was concentrating on getting a place in the express lane.

  Melissa was saying, “I can give the best home perms of anybody. My mom says I could be a beautician. This—my hair—”

  She shook her head, and her hair flew out with such vigor Bingo could feel the breeze from it against his pale face.

  Her earrings jangled. And these were not the tasteful gypsy earrings Bingo had given her last Christmas. These earrings were as big as handcuffs.

  “—this is a home perm, but I don’t broadcast the fact. Most people think it’s natural.”

  “It sure looks natural.”

  Melissa turned the box over and checked the instructions. “Do you want body, waves, or curls?” She glanced sideways at her friend, but Bingo thought she looked beyond to where he stood behind Kibbles ’n Bits.

  “What do you have?”

  “Can’t you tell? Curls, obviously.”

  “I want curls, too.”

  This exchange caused Bingo’s doubts to return. Melissa—his Melissa—had naturally curly hair, didn’t she? He had seen it up close. Maybe there was some mousse involved, but …

  And! This Melissa didn’t sound like his Melissa. She sounded like somebody from out of state. It could be something she had picked up in Oklahoma, but Bingo didn’t know what an Oklahoman sounded like.

  Bingo thought he had caught the faint scent of ginger-snaps as she fluffed out her hair, however, and if so, then it was Melissa. No other girl smelled like gingersnaps.

  Bingo didn’t know what to believe. Burning questions rose as bitter as indigestion.

  Was it Melissa or a Melissa clone? Would Melissa come to town to buy health supplies without telling him? Could one girl have gotten that big in a year? Had he gotten bigger, too? And if he had gotten bigger, then how had she gotten even bigger? And—

  “Yo, Melissa!”

  It was Wentworth.

  Melissa turned. “Oh, hi.”

  “Remember that kid who used to be in our room at school?” Wentworth asked.

  “Which one?”

  “Named Bingo … had a lot of freckles?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “Well, he came in the store looking for you.”

  “Did he? Well, he didn’t find me.” She smiled.

  Bingo’s heart leapt in his chest. It was Melissa. Those were her teeth, and no matter how the rest of her had grown, her teeth had remained blessedly the same.

  “I’ll check around if you want to see him,” Wentworth offered.

  Bingo got ready to step out.

  “Don’t bother.”

  Bingo found that he had already stepped out, but no one noticed. Melissa and her friend went through the checkout line and left the store. Wentworth followed.

  Bingo had to follow. He didn’t want to. He
had to. Then he remembered his mom’s box of Rinso.

  As if he were being fast-forwarded, he made his way back to Health Supplies, got the Rinso, and returned to the express register.

  He gasped to the checkout girl, “I brought this box of soap into the store. See, I thought a girl I knew was in here and since I hadn’t seen the girl in a while—her name is Melissa—I was in a hurry to see her and I rushed in and I had just been to the laundromat, which is why I have this half-empty box of soap. Do you need to call security?”

  “Not really.”

  “Thank you.”

  She waved him on with a bored shrug.

  Bingo rushed out into the parking lot, but Melissa and her friend were not in sight. Neither was Wentworth. Bingo stood for a moment clutching his box of Rinso.

  He knew he didn’t have a moment to waste. He had to get his bike and immediately set out after them.

  He spun around, trying to remember where he had left his bicycle.

  Then he remembered the laundry. He gave a cry of anguish. If he didn’t start after Melissa immediately, he would be a troubled person for the rest of his life, always wondering why Melissa had come to town to buy health supplies, always dangling, suspended in the atmosphere of life, never able to get his feet on the ground.

  He saw this as the crossroads of life. If he took the road that led to Melissa, he would find the answer to life’s questions and happiness. If he took the road that led to the laundromat, he would find wet clothes.

  Bingo sighed.

  Slowly, painfully, he made his way to the King Koin. The only thing he had to be grateful for was that Wentworth had not waited to jeer at him.

  In the laundromat, he emptied the first washing machines he came to and put the clumps of wet clothes into the basket on his bicycle. Then he pedaled through the doors.

  He found himself pedaling faster as he crossed the parking lot.

  Maybe all was not lost. Maybe there was still a chance. He could ride up Main Street and, if she wasn’t there, take an immediate left onto Madison.