“It said DO NOT DISTURB. A threatening sketch completed the sign. The necessity for a sign of this nature had become clear, because last night Wentworth had come over four times. Finally, at this fourth interruption, Bingo had lost control. “Wentworth,” he had cried, “I’ve told you all I know about talking to girls. You talk to them like they’re perfectly normal, everyday human beings and then suddenly—and, Wentworth, I don’t know how this happens—but suddenly you’re talking a different language.... You’re saying one thing and you’re meaning another. There’s a lot of eye contact involved. You can’t do it looking down at your feet. You can’t do it over the phone. Well, I can, but you can’t. Now that is all I know!” Bingo had gone back to bed and the series of burning questions that had been troubling him. When I am a man, if something goes wrong with my life, one of those cruel U-turns of fate like my mom had, will I want to come home like my mom? Will I want to sleep in this bed?MoreLessRead More Read Less
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