Beside me, slouching on their stools in a way that made me want to warn them about curvature of the spine (the teacher again), two guys with terrified expressions were talking about AIDS. They were citing indiscriminately newspapers, TV, conversations they’d had or heard, articles in American magazines, their mothers who “knew” and were tearing their hair out, their fathers who didn’t know and called it “divine punishment” . . . I could sense from the tone of their remarks some genuine fear, even terror, the kind that stops you cold and prevents you from functioning. One said he hadn’t had sex for weeks now, claiming he was constantly obsessed by the thought of making love and ­having the most erotic dreams he’d ever experienced. The other said he’d gone to see some porn films at the Cinéma du Village to remind himself of the good old days of ­anything goes, when the only dangers waiting for you were benign gonorrhea and boring old syphilis.

When I caught my first dose I’d nearly died of shame but then, at the sight of the lewd smirk on the doctor who ­treated me, one that said, “Look at this little stud, so young and already going with women,” I decided I wouldn’t let it ruin my life, otherwise the experiences that were coming my way would be nothing but anxiety and terror. I’ve had my share of minor venereal disorders, but nothing too ­dramatic.

AIDS, of course, is something else. As long as the disease was foreign to us, a strange condition that only struck a few super-specialized ghettos in New York or San Francisco, I didn’t give it too much thought. It was something like ­herpes a few years ago: everybody was talking about it, everybody was afraid of it, but nobody in Montreal knew of a really serious case, and we ended up treating it as a joke. Whereas AIDS . . . Slowly, guys were dying, even in Montreal: a couple of acquaintances, a former journalist at Le Devoir. . .

I finished my beer in one gulp as I do when I’m pre­occupied or when I’m naive enough to think that alcohol will bring forgetfulness. I’m terrified of AIDS too, but I’ve resolved to think about it as little as possible. I’m not hiding my head in the sand, I just want to get on with my life. The chances of catching it are still negligible and I refuse to turn my life upside down for such a hypothetical risk. At least that’s what I tell myself on nights like the one in question, when I’m on the lookout in a bar or on the street, my ­manner convincingly laid-back, my smile winning.