Free Bingo Brown and the Language of Love by Betsy Byars Page B

Dog Surprise, although Bingo knew the hot dogs weren’t going to be much of a surprise, since they were now sticking up through the grated cheese.
    When Bingo’s dad had proposed taking the flowers to his mom, Bingo had been so exhilarated by his new eyebrow that he had not questioned the wisdom of the plan. He had rushed directly into the kitchen, whipped open The Three Ingredient Cookbook, thrown together Hot Dog Surprise, and gone out on the front steps.
    He had sat on the steps, smiling in anticipation of their triumph.
    Now, gazing down at the small unappealing casserole, Bingo realized how doomed the plan was.
    Burning questions plagued him as they sped toward his grandmother’s condo.
    Was this his role in life, to accompany the less fortunate on doomed missions of the heart? First Wentworth, now his own father? Was he himself doomed to share the stupidity of others forever? Was this the price one paid for skill in the language of love? Was—
    They pulled up in front of the condo. Bingo could see his face in the side mirror as he got out of the car. His face was so flushed he could not see his freckles, but he knew they were there. “Freckles are forever,” his father had told him once.
    Even his new eyebrow seemed to have lost some of its power. It just looked like a shortened version of his other eyebrow.
    Bingo and his father made their way up the walk. His dad was holding the box of roses over his arm like a bridesmaid would. Bingo held his casserole in front of him.
    Bingo’s dad rang the bell.
    “They’re not here,” Bingo said immediately.
    “Give them a chance.”
    His father rang again. His grandmother’s doorbell was one of those cheerful, uplifting ding-dong ones, but Bingo was neither cheered nor uplifted.
    They waited in silence. Bingo shifted his weight to one hip.
    “We look stupid,” Bingo said bluntly.
    “Sometimes you have to risk looking stupid to get what you want,” his father answered in a mild way. “More people have lost out on more good things because they were afraid of looking stupid. …”
    He rang the bell twice. Ding dong! Ding dong!
    Bingo passed the time alternately hoping that his mother would come to the door and that she wouldn’t. He wanted to see her and he didn’t want to see her. He found he couldn’t remember exactly what she looked like.
    Bingo shifted his weight to the other hip. He sighed. He felt that an unfortunate pattern was being established in his life.
    “Is this what it’s like when you go on dates?”
    “What?”
    “Is this what it’s like to go on dates? You know, standing out here and not knowing if she’s coming to the door, not knowing if you even want her to come, wondering if you’ll recognize her, wondering if she’s hiding in the closet, waiting for you to leave, wondering if you’ve got time to run and hide in the bushes.”
    “At first, I guess.”
    “Then I shall never go on dates.”
    “You’ll change your mind when you fall in love,” his father said, punching the bell again.
    Bingo rolled his eyes up into his head at this parental blindness.
    “Actually, it was worse in college.”
    Bingo glanced quickly at his dad. “How could it be any worse than this?”
    “Well, they had a loudspeaker system at Catawba. So they’d call up to your date’s floor and say, ‘Sam Brown to see so-and-so,’ and you’d be standing there all dressed up, obviously expecting to go out, and the loudspeaker would come back with, ‘Sorry! So-and-so’s not here.’”
    “How cruel!”
    “Even if it didn’t happen to you, you were always aware it could.”
    “Maybe I won’t go to Catawba College after all,” Bingo added thoughtfully. “Did Mom ever do that to you?”
    “No, your mom was in love with me. Half the time she’d be waiting for me outside on the steps.”
    Melissa would have been waiting for me like that, Bingo thought regretfully, that is, if my love had lasted till college.
    His father rang the bell for what Bingo