Chapter Eleven
And so it was . . . and I could not forget that face, though it seemed to melt the close-to thousand years that separated us; I returned to that dark room in the club in Brooklyn. There I was, now cavorting with Billy O’ Geech, in the midst of revelry and music so loud that it pierced my eardrums after the quiet of the forest, where I had gone in that strange bend of time that was, itself, like our path through the woods.
It, too, doubled back.
And now I was with kind of cute, naked Billy O’ Geech, who had suddenly stopped sucking my c**k. He looked up at me. “You!”—he laughed with that funny hee-haw laugh—“You look like you been a million miles away. And you ain’t even doin’ big-time drugs.”
“It’s true,” I confessed. “I was a long way off.” I looked around at the strang
