But that is the quiet lesson underneath this whole story, and I have come to believe it is worth more than any dramatic confrontation.

Julian dealt in words, in performance, in the confident reframing of reality.

I dealt in records.

And when the two finally met, in a driveway at nine o’clock at night, it was not close.

The performance evaporated.

The records remained.

They always do.

By early evening, Arthur called me back.