I could have headed home right then and there, but I had to see John one more time. I had the tape of our last night together in Brooklyn. I had thrown it into my luggage at the last minute.

He listened to the old recording with suspicion. When the voices ran out and I clicked it off, he said, “Yeah, so?”

I said, “Do you remember that night?”

I was gazing into the mad eyes of the guy I knew thirty years ago. John knew me, he remembered. “Young scholar” indeed. Anxiety pulsed in my stomach. Obviously John saw right through me. He knew I’d been out to see ’Gitte. Knew that I had come only for that. How hard was it to figure out?

All of this passed in a moment. Then John lowered his head, turned away from me and snarled, “Too many people. No time to rest. However it ends, that’s the way it stays.”

Without a word, I left his room. He did not watch me leave. I’d fucked his wife while he was locked up. Can’t get any lower than that, right?

Regret is only a function of time. You can learn to regret anything. But also, in the moment, in the startling, brazen moment, anything is possible. Was I sorry? Fuck no.

October 20, 2006

It’s not over till it’s over. I checked out of my hotel only to find young Theo waiting for me in the parking lot. “I hate to bother you, man, but I had to take a bus up here and ’Gitte told me you were leaving today and I was just wondering if I could catch a ride back to the city with you.”

What choice did I have? My balls were probably still damp from sex with his mother, so there was an obligation, right? It’s only when I had thrown his stuff into the trunk of my car that I remembered that I was not planning to drive back to the city. I had planned to stay at the country house in Connecticut. Too late.

Do I have to describe the ride or the night Theo stayed in my house? Despite my reservations, Theo was a brilliant young man, and it was pleasant to spend time with him. He knew my work and the work of most of my contemporaries. He understood the context. He understood how the writing came together and what my part had been in it all.

The next morning, we picked up coffee and corn muffins at the minimart and drove into the city. By the time we got there, I had given an entire seminar on method. And recounted all the “John” stories I could think of. Theo hung on every word.

Theo confessed that since ’Gitte gave him my books to read, he had always known he would meet me one day. He was almost tearful with gratitude to have had the time together. He asked me if I would read his work. Of course I said yes.