He paused and shook his head. Still in a soft voice, he said, Maybe this is all excuses, maybe I just wasn’t ready to deal with the past. Can you forgive me, Jiaqi?

I wiped the tears from my face and said, Are you ready to deal with it now?

He said, I’ve written about your father in my memoir, and said I was behind the anonymous letter. It wasn’t an emotional confession, I just wanted to look objectively at who I was back then, including all the mistakes I made. Everyone’s soul has dirty, ugly portions mixed in with the kind and good. There’s no way to cut them out, all we can do is acknowledge them. I’m writing this book for myself, and if it has any value, it’s as a way of dealing with my sins. For that, I thank you, Jiaqi. I’d never have written it if I hadn’t met you. The motivation came to me in those dark days after you vanished from my life. This may be the most complicated thing about being human: acknowledging our mistakes doesn’t mean drawing a line under them; as long as we’re still drawing breath, we’ll keep facing new tests, and we’ll have moments of weakness.

He wrapped his arms around me, pressing my face to his chest. He was swaying, the delayed effect of alcohol or something else. His heartbeat thudded against my eardrum, then grew quieter. It was very still. The air was warm and damp. Weariness came over me, as if I’d finally stopped after walking a very long way. For a while, I thought I was asleep. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. I was certain he’d been crying. I kissed him on the lips and he kissed me back. Then I pulled back and he withdrew his arms to his sides. It wasn’t alcohol, I now knew, the slow-acting substance was just time. After a moment, we looked at each other again. The sky was beginning to turn white, and birdsong came from high above us. My voice sounded like another me talking to another him, as time rushed past us. All these years, I’d wanted to find out exactly what kind of person my father was, but the more I found out, the blurrier he got. Each time I got closer, it was another farewell.

When we left the bar, the streets were silent and seemed wider than before. Sunlight gleamed on the road where it had been sprayed with water, a grayish light. When we parted, he said to me, This might have been the most special night of my life. Goodbye, Jiaqi.