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“What did you do when you first got here?”

He had a look of remembering and said, “Got drunk a lot and went to parties.”

“See, sin.”

“There's something very Catholic about you.”

I stood there. I looked around the room. Everyone seemed okay. No one was happy, no one was miserable. It was cold outside and they were at a party. Maybe it wasn't so bad. Petra, Lyndi Wood and Sonia were standing by the chips. They were talking, smiling, having a pleasant time. Everything was pleasant. And if it wasn't they could always drink more alcohol.

At one point Lin came in. The woman I had spent time with last summer in New York. She looked cute. I wanted to talk to her. She walked around, spoke to people, but not to me. I wanted to kiss her and tell her something like I loved her, or would love her forever, or that she needed to have my baby. Which were all lies. But it would have been fun to lie. I saw people have fun lying all the time, why couldn't I? I didn't tell her anything though. Went over to Hu Chin and said, “Tell Lin it is okay to talk to me. I want to talk to her.”

Hu Chin went over to her. She was crying. Hu Chin was surprised. Hu Chin didn't act surprised, he maintained a neutral facial expression. Lin said, “I gotta go.” Lin didn't specify it was because of me, because she was a tough person. And tough people don't specify names in public.

Lin walked out the door. I went to the door and stood outside, it was cold. She was already down the street. I saw her walking down the sidewalk toward the subway, she was going to ride the subway alone, being sad, wishing she had never taken the subway to the stupid Melville House Christmas Party. Dennis Loy Johnson was standing next to the chips holding a glass of wine not knowing that his Christmas Party celebrating the birth of baby Jesus caused a young woman to cry. I yelled out for Lin, I yelled her name, “LIN!” She didn't respond. I don't know if she couldn't hear me or she didn't want to give a shit about me. I watched her turn right behind a building. Petra was inside convinced I was “in love” with her. I was outside pining over a woman named Lin who told me once in a bar while we were drinking mixed drinks that she loved Growth of the Soil by Knut Hamsun. Lin was gone: down a sidewalk onto a subway onto another sidewalk into her bed away from me. There was no commitment here. No long enduring anything. Everything happened on a Saturday and was turned into ashes by Tuesday.

Went back in to the party. Everyone was talking. What they were talking about, I don't know. I don't think it was books. I'm not even sure how to talk about books. Usually everyone just supplies a list of the last couple of books they read, says “wonderful” or “slow” and then the conversation ends.

Tom White and I put on our coats. Petra came over, she looked sad. Her face looked not so happy. I had a sad look on my face also. We both had sad looks on our faces like two people who had been having a good time and fucking for two days should have when parting from each other. We went outside in the cold, with snow fluttering down around us, landing on our coats and hair. Tom White walked ahead to give us personal space. Petra said, “I don't want you to go.”

I said, “I have to.”

We kissed. It was not a crazy mad passionate kiss. It was soft and polite, a respectable kiss. Petra started crying. I saw tears come from her eyes. I enjoyed the idea of a woman crying for me. She enjoyed having a reason to cry. We were both having a good time. We hugged one last time. And we walked in two different directions.

I caught up to Tom White and we made our way back to Manhattan. Tom said, “That looked pretty dramatic. You all right?”

“I guess. I mean, what else is to be done. I have to get on a bus. That's my fate.”

Tom didn't say anything. He gave me a minute to realign my senses and focus on what needed to be done. Tom and I needed to have a really good conversation before I left. I needed to give my confession before I got on the bus. Tom knew that. Tom knew he had been the one that talked before and now it was my turn.

We made it to the subway and I still hadn't talked. There was silence. Two men walking in silence together. We rode the subway in silence. As we walked up the stairs to Times Square I said, “There is no enlightenment.”

Tom knew I had begun. I continued, “There is no enlightenment….. I don't feel good at all….. I'm detached. I have no consideration for the results….. I am disciplined….. But still nothing….. The only thing that cheers me up is mint chocolate chip ice cream and horror movies….. A long list of predicates culminating — Real boredom….

Real boredom….

Real boredom….

Real boredom…..

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