Creatures Of A Day: And Other Tales Of Psychotherapy - Plot & Excerpts
A lovely, saddened, well-spoken woman, Helena came to talk about her friend Billy and cried three times during our talk. Billy, who had died three months earlier, loomed large in her life. Their worlds had been different—he swirling in the Soho gay world, she ensconced in a fifteen-year bourgeois marriage—but they had been lifelong friends, meeting in the second grade and living together during their twenties in a Brooklyn commune. She was poor, he rich; she cautious, he devil-may-care; she awkward, he brimming with savoir faire. He was blond and beautiful and taught her to drive a motorcycle. “Once,” she reminisced with sparkle in her eyes, “we motorcycled for six months throughout South America with nothing but small packs on our back. That trip was the zenith of my life. Billy used to say, ‘Let’s experience everything; let’s leave no regrets; let’s use up all there is and leave death nothing to claim.’ And then, suddenly, four months ago, brain cancer, and my poor Billy was dead in a few weeks.”
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