I’m such a fabulous genius about conducting love affairs that the note I wrote her either got stolen right out of her car by one of the million heartless criminals that live on this street, either that, or the damn thing blew away. Anyway, I figure the whole matter set me back about a week. Which may be the hand of God, because on such short notice the note might have knocked her right off her pins and sent her into shock. I am determined to take this thing slow. A person that looks as young as I happen to look, which is lousy luck considering the fact that Abe Griswold shaved and had hair all over his goddam body when he was fourteen and had to go to school on Saturdays for remedial reading classes—hair and all!! Anyway, my point is, I could easily make a big fat ass of myself by getting carried away.

Echo had on orange slacks (tight) and a white kind of a knitted top made out of jersey or some insane material. I have had some second thoughts about whether or not they’re false. Not that I’ve absolutely made up my mind either. But the matter is now in abeyance. Besides, I don’t think it’s healthy to dwell on it too much.

The important thing is the way her eyes lit up when she saw me. They sparkled like wine. (Better re-do this later.)

She said, “There’s my guy!” and started to give me a little bitty kiss on the cheek, but I grabbed her and hugged hell out of her. She kept talking all the time so I didn’t kiss her right on the mouth, but I have no regrets. Except that she brought me a present, this very fountain pen, and I was too stupid to think of getting a present for her. Which is one of the puky details of this perfect day. Because now if I get her something—well, I’ll figure that out later. Anyway, I started to give her a thank-you kiss, when Annabel came running out at just the right psychological moment to make me wish I was an orphan, and then we all went in the house, the three of us, which was not the way I had the thing planned at all.

What I’d planned was to walk in with Echo, arm in arm, so that Berry-berry would get the picture without having to be shown a sixteen-millimeter movie of the situation. As it turned out, everything’s okay in that department, because later, when he went to the bathroom, I took the opportunity to follow him in there and acquaint him with the fact that I had certain designs, etc. And he was wonderful about it, and did not even look funny about her being somewhat older than me. I’ll bet it did not even cross his mind. Which convinces me that Berry-berry is probably the finest person I have ever met, except Echo.