Part IV: Spin – (Chapter 75)
“Babe,
Sal wants to talk with you, something about hitting the casino this evening.”
He’ll never know how grateful I am that he’s rescued me from Dan.
I don’t want to hear or even remember anything else.
“Excuse me,” I say to Dan.
“It’s okay.” He nods toward the big screen TV. “Game’s about
to start anyway.” He nods to Shel. “Orioles and Rangers.”
Baltimore Orioles at home: the doomed Memorial Stadium.
“Should be a good one,” Shel says absently.
“I’ve got 50 bucks riding on the Rangers,” Dan says.
Shel and I join Sal on the other side of the venue.
“Oh good, you’re here.” Then whispering in my ear, Sal says,
“We were just talking about slipping across the way to the casino. You game?”
I shrug. “Why the hell not?”
Sal loves playing the slots ‒ maybe
she believes that she possesses a special karma which keeps her from losing a
bundle. But Uncle Phil doesn’t think too much of the whole deal and views
gambling of any kind as a bore and a waste of money.
I wonder how much dough my aunt has lost over the years.
I watch as Sal fumbles with her fanny pack ‒ counting
out $20.00 and giving the rest to Shel to hold.
“My pissing away money,” she says, stuffing bills into the
purse.
Later on, she’ll beg me to lend her “just another $10.00,” and
I’ll give in because she always pays me back. Many times, she’ll win a large
jackpot on my money, but that’s okay. I don’t get jealous over money.
For me, gambling is an occasional thing ‒ I go in
knowing I’ll probably lose. That’s not to say that I don’t get caught up in the
action ‒ I do. So
much so sometimes that Shel panics on the spot.
But I’ll go back to Pennsylvania and won’t think about
gambling for the rest of the year...
The three of us slip away from the reunion to the walkway leading
to the casino.
Sometimes, I feel sorry for Sal.
When Mother died, her death sapped something from her younger
sister. Every now and then, I see sadness in her eyes, hear the waver in her
voice as she says, “Rosie would have loved your Sheldon” or “Rosie would have
loved Nicole’s smart mouth.”
She seems to view life in terms of before and after Mother’s
death.
And for all her big talk, Sal leads an ordinary life ‒ kids,
dogs, husband, the same husband she started out with.
None of this doing dope and screwing around and trading in
husbands.
Gambling is her outlet.
Sal is 15 years older than I ‒ I’m
about Sal’s age when Mother died, the age I’ll be when Nana finally goes.
Sal looks younger than her 55 years, and she’s thin ‒ everyone
in the Mallory clan is thin, except me. She wears her blonde hair cropped in a
wash and wear style. “I don’t have time to be messing with my hair,” she says.
If she’s unhappy with her life, she hides it well ‒ she
seems to approach life with a zest and humor generally uncharacteristic of this
family.
She doesn’t need much of an excuse to pick up and go, whether
it’s just a short trip to the Goodwill or a long weekend in Omaha.
And, like me, she’s a restless spirit, but her restlessness is
outer, not inward like mine; Sal’s a doer, I’m a thinker, a mooner.
I can only imagine the mantra that must run through her mind:
“I must keep on moving, I must not stop, I must not think about what I’m doing,
if I analyze too much, I’ll go crazy ‒”
I, on the other hand, am willing to risk insanity.
*
The Winnehaha casino looks just like the ones in Las Vegas and Atlantic City: blackjack, keno, poker, roulette, craps, slots, and wheels of fortune.
We stay for nearly two hours, enough time for Sal to lose her
$20.00 stake and win back $500 from the $5.00 I have lent her.
As usual, I have lost my $10.00 stake.
Just before we leave, Sheldon surprises me by plunking down a
twenty on the wheel of fortune, on the 20 to 1 square. He winks at me. “I have
a feeling about this one, Sammy,” he says.
The barker spins the wheel, it goes around and round, I swear
it’s never going to stop, it will keep spinning until our flesh dies and we are
nothing but skeletons, and Sheldon’s money will still be there when archaeologists
discover the ruins‒
And then: “Even odds win!”
Sheldon shrugs. “Well, I thought
I had a feeling. But it’s only money.”
I wonder what has gotten into my husband.
*
When we
return, the uncles ‒ Phil, Joe, Jim, and Charles ‒ and the
cousins ‒ Dan,
Jim, Joey, Jr., Lonnie, and Dave ‒ are
crouched in front of the TV, whooping and cheering at the picture.
“Who’s ahead?” Shel asks.
“The O’s by one,” Joe says. “Top of the ninth.”
“YES!” Uncle Phil shouts. “OR-I-IIIII-OOO-OLES!”
“Two outs, full count, Rangers up, Juan González at bat!” Jim
says.
“In the bag!” Phil says.
And then a “Thwack!”
The uncles and cousins freeze, their mouths open, eyes
following the ball as it arcs more than 405 feet –
Way over the fat part of the outfield fence.
“All right!” Dan yells.
“Damn!” Phil slaps his knee.
Dan stands up and straightens his collar. “Well, you know what
they say: ‘It ain’t over ‘til the fat lady’ ‒” Dan pauses and looks at me. “Well, you all
know what I mean.”
“I understand,” I say, spinning around.
Nana must need me for something ‒ anything.