She stopped me and took my hand in hers. "We'd better just say good night this way, Charlie. We can't let this get personal. Not yet."
And before I could protest, or ask what she meant by not yet, she started inside.
"Good night, Charlie, and thank you again for a lovely... lovely time." And closed the door.
I was furious at her, myself, and the world, but by the time I got home, I realized she was right.
Now, I don't know whether she cares for me or if she was just being kind.
What could she possibly see in me? What makes it so awkward is that I've never experienced anything like this before.
How does a person go about learning how to act toward another person? How does a man learn how to behave toward a woman?
The books don't help much. But next time, I'm going to kiss her good night.
May 3 — One of the things that confuses me is never really knowing when something comes up from my past,
whether it really happened that way, or if that was the way it seemed to be at the time, or if I'm inventing it.
I'm like a man who's been half-asleep all his life, trying to find out what he was like before he woke up.
Everything is strangely slow-motion and blurred. I had a nightmare last night, and when I woke up I remembered something.
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