“What do you do?”

“Write, man. That’s what I’m saying. If there’s one thing I can thank John for, it’s turning me on to your stuff. He had all your books. I started reading them when I was like, ten. I read your shit and I thought, this is what I want to do. Write like this.”

“I’m flattered. Thank you.” Nothing more to say. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, John’s son. I’m sorry your father’s not well. I’ll stop by again tomorrow. Good luck with your work.” I moved toward my car.

“Thanks! It was great meeting you, man.”

“Same here.” I resisted saying, “Feel free to…” Didn’t matter. Theo was one step ahead of me.

“Maybe we can catch each other in the city? I’ll buy you a coffee? I know you like coffee. ’Gitte told me.”

This was the child of my own hero. Couldn’t blow him off. “’Gitte has my number. Call me anytime.” And I left him standing in the parking lot.

I drove back to ’Gitte’s. Is there an inevitablity to life we just can’t detect? Isn’t ’Gitte why I came up here in the first place? Not to see John. Once upon a time, thirty years ago, I met a woman who was everything a woman should be. Was I wrong to want to see her one more time? Talk to her? Maybe touch her hand again for a second or two? Life is short.

The dogs didn’t bark this time. When I entered the kitchen, she was rinsing parsley. I pulled a chair up to the table and ’Gitte fetched me a cold beer. As she handed it to me, she paused. However it was communicated, it was communicated. I drew her toward me and I kissed her.

She took me by the hand, led me up the dimly lit stairs and into the bedroom where she undressed me. We kissed again. This time it was a real kiss, unsymbolic, forceful, aggressive. We separated and she undressed, almost shyly, like a girl. Trembling with anticipation, I touched her breasts, every part of her, kissed the nape of her neck, her ribs. She lay back and invited me into her. The word “fucking” doesn’t describe what we did. More like an old-fashioned dance. As we swayed in and out of one another, I saw myself, my young self, in bed with young ’Gitte.

All things come to those who wait. Very softly she whispered into my ear, “Richard.” And that was it. I came. If this were twenty years ago, that would have been the beginning of a long winding road. Elizabeth would bring that out in me. Could never get enough of her, was surprised by my own appetite. We would fall asleep at dawn, as if we were on a long voyage and the sex act was our vessel.

But this was not that. This was expectation fulfilled, plain and simple.