Dart hopes Dot will recognize the Peterson apartment when she arrives. The kitchen and dining room are scrubbed and painted and his bedroom has had some work done, too. “Maybe now that I don’t have to duck my head to keep the cobwebs out of my eyes, I’ll have more incentive to keep the room clean.”
He’s learned that the opera Phyll is coming to see is actually being performed on May 3. Does Dot think the girls could come both weekends and catch both the play “Janie” and the opera? She should talk it over with Phyll and let him know. Also, Phyll is more than welcome to stay at their place. He’s sure they have a cot somewhere. He surely hopes his mother is home by then to make things a little more “legal.”
He and Al went bowling yesterday and his scores ranged from 93 to 127. Al’s high was 197, way out of Dart’s league. They ran into Bill Mather who was filled with the usual gossip of who’s going with whom, who’s nuts about whom, and who’s slept with whom. That seems to have put Dart into a funk as he thinks about the differences between him and so many of his acquaintances. “While it’s fun to talk and laugh with Bill Mather, he leaves me depressed. I have no proof that these people are wrong. I wish it wouldn’t bother me that way. The thing is that I am proud – too proud to stand idly by and let people make fun of me because I do not sin as they do. (I may sin in other ways, but not those.) I wonder if, having gone the limit with almost every person they date, those people will ever know true love. The problem’s too big for me to solve, except for myself.”
This evening, he, Al and Homer saw My Reputation with Barbara Stanwyck. It was a so-so movie, but there were lots of lines between married couples that made Dart think of Dot.
How could she ask if she would be a bother, coming to his house this weekend? “NO! Why else do you think we live? If it weren’t for your visit, we’d have nothing to look forward to, and would wilt away fast!”
Dot’s recent letter on the subject proves that they are in equal despair over their wedding. If only it were this June instead of next, and if only they could be sure it would be next. Right now it all seems vague and unreal. If they keep thinking about the problem, they may accidentally stumble across a solution.
He appreciates her frank response to his idea of living in the Burke house. He’s not at all sure it would work, with the aunts’ “maiden-lady” personalities. He wishes he knew someone else with an attic.
In his discouraged mood, he thinks it better that he write no more tonight.