Chapter 24 "Too Much Time on My Hands" Third Week in November 1983

(Song suggestion- "Too Much Time on My Hands" by Styx)

Dr. Egon Spengler

For my birthday, my parents bought me a ticket for a flight home to Cleveland to visit because it had been over a year and a half since I had seen them. I flew home the day afterward despite the fact that I was obsessed with working on three important experiments, and they had consumed me for the weeks after I returned from Albany. Between clients and writing articles for scholarly magazines, I constantly labored on them. Sleep had eluded me for the most part too except a two or three hours a night, but it wasn't intentionally done.

"Egon Spengler, you have dark circles and bags underneath your eyes!" My Mom exclaimed after hugging me in the airport. She and my Uncle Floyd met me at the gate when my flight arrived. They appeared to me the same albeit a little tired themselves.

"Are you sleeping, Iggy?" Floyd questioned, observing my face curiously.

"Not too much, I have been working day and night on a few experiments and hypotheses I have on the burner," I admitted, as my Mother disapprovingly shook her head.

"Haven't I warned you about that, son? You are just like me when I was younger, but without two young sons to raise at home. Egon, please take care of yourself," she begged, her brown eyes widened.

" I will, Mother, I promise. Believe it or not, I was quite distracted about six weeks ago," I disclosed, and followed my family members out of the airport.

"With what?" Floyd and Mom simultaneously bursted out in surprise, and stopped walking.

"Nothing that matters any more," I quietly informed, and I didn't want to recognize the real reason I was so involved with my work right now to them or myself- the cute redheaded secretary from Brooklyn, Janine Melnitz. I had relearned how to discount her presence in my life other than as an employee of Ghostbusters, Inc.

Mother's right eyebrow raised in a question, but she remained silent. She and my Uncle exchanged a concerned look, but I changed the subject to their respective research projects.

"Egon, you are still too skinny. Are you eating?" Mom questioned as Floyd described in detail his latest project. She had been scrutinizing me like she always did because sometimes in the past, I forgot to eat when I was preoccupied with research. I managed to tune out Mom's good intentioned nagging, and focused on my Uncle.

Later that night, I discovered a small blue wrapped box in my bag with Janine's handwriting on it when I was about to change into my pajamas for the night. I put down them, and I examined the present There was a paper attached to it that said,

"Egon, I made this for you before I came down with the stomach flu. Happy Belated Birthday! I hope that you enjoy it! Sincerely, Janine."

My heart dropped to my stomach as I wondered what it was, knowing that I had been neglecting her for two weeks since I came back from Albany, all to control my emotions and work on my research. I felt very guilty and incredibly undeserving of Janine's generous gift. Therefore I put the present back in my dark brown suitcase because I did not want to think about Janine. I removed a book from my suitcase, and sat down on my bed to read it afterward. The sassy lady materialized in my mind several times while I tried to focus so I shut the book, and I decided to stand up and stretch.

One of my shiny awards that sat on my awards shelf caught my eye, and I strode to view it more closely.

"First place winner, ages twelve to fourteen, 1960"- Egon Spengler. The award was a gold plated medal with Galileo on it, and one of my favorites for that reason.

Methodically, I scrutinized my old room when I was growing up, and I realized it was like an odd relic of history frozen in time. I remembered all of the time I spent in my room reading my science and engineering books, writing journals full of notes, and using the lab kits and equipment for children of differing ages. It made me realize that all I had were books and science equipment here, and I felt a frown appear on my face as I unbuttoned my shirt. Sliding it off, I put it on the bed and retrieved my blue and green striped flannel PJs in my bag. I noticed that I felt remorseful about my old room's lack of memories.

"Shouldn't I have memories of interacting with others?" I thought out loud as I went to another book case where the models of trains, a model T car, a TWA plane from the 1960s, a replica of the Empire State Building, and another of the Golden Gate Bridge sat.

The next shelf contained my first microscope, a slide ruler, and other tools, and finally, the bottom included pictures. The first picture frame contained a photo of my great Uncle Egon, when he worked for the defense department in the 1920s, and I gingerly picked it up.

"What would you say about this Ghostbusting business," I questioned his picture and struggled to come up with a response. After I contemplated it for a long while, I put it down. I observed my photographs of my heroes Albert Einstein, Sir Isaac Newton, Aristotle, and Galileo on the next shelf. The next one contained family pictures, one of the Spengler family from a reunion in 1962, another of the Lehman family (my Mother's family) from 1964, and finally, a picture of Michael, me, Mother and Father in 1966.

"Why do I have so many impersonal pictures?" I thought to myself.

Viewing my brother's old room from the doorway, I noticed that it was very different from my own. Mom chose to repurpose Michael's space after he left for college as a guest room but it still contained a plethora of pictures of his high school years.

"Is something wrong with me," I wondered out loud, and I wished I could talk to Janine. She would listen to me in her kind-hearted way, making eye contact with me and smiling at me to encourage me to continue when I couldn't get the words out. I felt downhearted that I spurned the Brooklynite because I genuinely missed her, not just now but since I left for Albany.

"This line of thinking is not helping," I said, dismissing the thoughts as I unbuttoned my slacks, removed them and put on my PJ bottoms. Folding them, I next put my slacks on a hanger I found in my old closet.

My thoughts returned to Janine.

"Why did I have these problems about letting another person in my life? And the possibility of balancing work and a girlfriend?" I vexedly thought, "Not that Janine was my girlfriend, and she probably didn't want to be with my poor treatment of her lately. I realized that I wanted her to be my girlfriend, though."

I went to get Janine's present from my suitcase. Carefully, I unwrapped the blue paper and then discovered a cassette tape. Throwing the wrapping paper away, I raised my right eyebrow and studied the form inside of the cassette.

"Oh, Janine," I noisily gasped while I read the song list. I immediately wanted to listen to it and I remembered that there was a tape player in Michael's room. Swiftly, I went in there again to hear her present and sit on the bed. Janine's thoughtful gift touched my heart as I began listening to the tape cassette.

1. Keep on Loving You- REO Speedwagon

2. Just What I Needed- the Cars

3. Happy Just to Dance with you- the Beatles

4. Baby, I love your way- Peter Frampton

5. Somebody's Baby- Jackson Browne

6. Leave a Tender Moment Alone-Billy Joel

7. Judy is a Punk- the Ramones

8. Lean on me- Bill Withers

9. More Than This- Roxy Music

As I read the list, I observed various songs from my time knowing Janine, from the beginning of our relationship to the present.

"Oh sh—," I remarked, trying to get a hold of myself as the songs pulled my heartstrings on the list. A few tears came from my eyes unexpectedly. I found myself looking at my watch and I noted that it was only nine-forty five in the evening. Swiftly, I picked up the phone in the room to dial her number.

"Hello, Wendy. This is Uhm… Egon ...Spengler. Ahem...May I please speak to Janine?" I introduced myself nervously.

"Oh, hi, Egon! Here she is," Wendy greeted, happily and I waited nervously, feeling my pulse quicken straightway as I did, and my hands began to sweat. Unfortunately, I felt an emotion of impending doom in my heart as I awaited her, and I almost felt myself panic. Meanwhile, my heart pounded thunderously in my chest until I heard her sweet voice say,

"Hello?"

"Janine, it's...Uhm... Egon," I stammered, expecting her to hang up or tell me off immediately.

"Egon? Aren't you in Cleveland?"

"Yes, but I found your gift and wanted to thank you before it was too late to call. It's very considerate, and I am listening to it right now. I…Uhm...love it," I sincerely informed her, with affection in my voice.

"You are welcome, Egon. I'm glad you like it," she remarked, pleased. Janine's voice held a hint of shock in it.

"I'm glad you put a Ramones song on it. Isn't that one of the songs you were singing with Wendy that night at the bar," I questioned.

"How do you remember that," Janine demanded suspiciously.

"I remember that night like it was yesterday," I revealed earnestly, adding, "it was one of the best times I 'went out' so to speak."

"I'm glad you like it, really," the kind lady warily replied. Her tone transformed from happy or surprised to hear from me to nonplussed, and it was mystifying me. My hands began to sweat as the conversation reached a lull for a moment.

"Are you well, Janine?" I inquired after her health as I had forgotten that she was rightfully mad at me.

"Pretty well, thank you. Just startled that you called me since we haven't spoken in a few weeks at work or even outside of it," Janine remarked brazenly.

"I deserved that," I thought, frowning, and I felt a painful ache in my heart when she made her comment. Obviously, Janine hadn't forgotten my ill treatment of her, and I felt extremely guilty for it.

"I'm sorry for acting so inconsiderately, Janine. Truthfully, I know I treated you... Uhm...poorly," I shakily apologized, "I realize that doesn't make up for the way I have treated you, though."

"No, it doesn't, Egon," she answered firmly, and I knew that she raised her chin stubbornly in the air by the tone of her voice. There was silence for a moment, then Janine sternly stated,

"I think I know where you are going with this conversation, but I would rather complete it in person."

"I only called to thank you for the present and to tell you that I love it ," I commented, genuinely perplexed.

"What conversation?" I thought crossly to myself.

"The one where you inform me that you don't want to see me anymore socially," Janine angrily responded.

"Honestly, I called to thank you, and because I missed talking to you since the convention. Additionally, I owed you an apology," I said, dismayed. Now it was Janine's turn to be soundless for a while.

"Oh."

"I have missed speaking to you too, Egon, outside of work, I mean, but it's been onerous not talking to you at the firehouse, too," Janine wistfully revealed after a short pause, and there was a touch of injury in her voice.

"I agree, but I know that is my fault as well. I am genuinely sorry, Janine, " I confessed quietly and wondered if maybe that it was a mistake to call her as it had become awkward.

Fortunately, Janine knew how to maneuver the discussion and realized that something was on my mind by saying, "What's going on, Egon?"

"You know me well, Janine," I answered, smiling, feeling a wave of relief wash over my body by her admission and the easing of tension in the discussion.

"Yes, out with it, Spengler, spill it. Long-distance calling isn't cheap," she teased me then giggled, and I grinned widely as I pictured her face. I loved seeing or hearing Janine happy and disliked it immensely that I caused her pain with my actions and insensitivity.

"I was looking at my room, the one I grew up in, and realized that it was all science on my shelves. Bookshelves of awards from science fairs, pictures of my favorite scientists, Nobel prize nominees, models that I built, and science equipment that I used, but not of people," I described them I wandered in Michael's room.

"Wow," she exclaimed, "I'd love to see it sometime. But why is that a problem?"

I felt myself chuckle involuntarily because of her eagerness, then inquired, self consciously, "Is something wrong with me for dedicating my life to science? I mean, shouldn't I have pictures of friends and social events?"

"No, not at all. If what you are doing makes you happy, why would you question it? Do you regret your decisions growing up," Janine questioned.

"I don't think so. When I view my room now, it looks the same as when I left it in 1966, and I feel a little sadness now," I revealed.

"Am I overall content with my decisions as I grew up," I wondered to myself, and then the more significant question hit me, "Am I happy with my life and decisions?"

Ergo, I didn't have time to meditate on the questions now, though as Janine replied, "It is probably because of the tremendous amount of growth you have made since that time. How old were you then?"

"Eighteen. I graduated with my engineering degree and I was about to attend graduate school at MIT," I remarked absentmindedly, looking around Michael's old room.

"Are you kidding me? You earned your first degree at eighteen! I could barely drive a stick shift on a car," she declared excitedly.

"Please don't tease me, Janine. It's not that big of a deal. How old were you in 1966," I replied abashedly.

"We aren't talking about me, Egon. Yes, it is a significant achievement at any age, especially at such a young one. You are a brilliant man...don't regret your decisions growing up. You will create something that will change all of our lives one day. I know it. I...really admire... you," Janine confessed, sincerely.

I felt warmth spread in my heart that only the Angel from Brooklyn could provide, and I grinned widely.

"That means so much to me, and I want you to know that," I admitted gratefully, "your confidence in me."

"I recall a time in July that you had to assist me with my career choices, and since then, I have completed another two classes in a couple of weeks," she reminded me, with a smile in her sweet voice.

"I'd do it again, in a second, to make you feel better," I remarked truthfully.

"Aww, Egon, that's sweet," Janine squealed.

"By the way, how is your current class going?"

Janine described her class in a few minutes, and then I teased her again by asking, "How old were you in 1966?"

"Maybe she was right. I shouldn't regret my past choices while growing up," I thought.

"Egon," she goodnaturedly sighed, "I was 12 and in middle school while you were walking the stage to receive your first degree. What song are you on?"

"Peter Frampton," I answered, smiling.

"One of my favorites. I can't believe you sang that to me outside of the gala, and it was so very romantic," Janine responded dreamily.

"If it made you joyful, it was worth it. I would do it again just like that," I remarked, truthfully, snapping my fingers, and she simpered. I loved that sound and recalled watching her beautiful face as she did so from my memory banks.

There was a tranquil silence for a minute or two.

"I have to go in a second, Janine, but I wanted to know...ahem...if...you were too furious to...Uhm..have lunch with me on Sunday. I return to New York at eight p.m. the previous night," I questioned nervously.

"If I were incensed, I would have hung up. Besides, I would say I was more disappointed and mad. However, you did well by making this phone call, and that is a step in the right direction. I'll let you make it up to me by taking me to lunch and maybe a movie that day," she flirted with me, causing me to grin.

"Ok, I'll be at your apartment at noon," I happily promised Janine.

"Can't wait."

"Sweet dreams, Janine," I said, wishing I could kiss her good night.

"Night, Egon."

As I lay on my brother's bed, I sat there listening to the tape that Janine made for me euphorically. I recalled every interaction, every kiss, every hug, and secret glance we had given each other in the nine months I had known her. My heart felt full of love for her, and I fell asleep dreaming about holding her in my arms after kissing her goodnight, just like I did on her sofa after the gala. I cherished that cassette tape that she gave me like a prized possession because it was almost as excellent as winning an award, or was it even better? Before drifting off to sleep, I felt my heart acknowledge that question by shrieking the second choice sonorously.

Janine's gift was heavenly, like her.

Two Days Later

Almost immediately when I awoke, the other side of my brain fought with my decision to take out Janine. My thoughts attacked it by repeating the following statements perpetually while I took a shower:

"You only have time for science to receive Nobel recognition,"

"Janine distracts you from your research,"

"You're in control of your emotions at all times,"

"Your feelings for Janine are holding you back from meeting your career goals, and she can't possibly understand the depth of your dedication,"

"You aren't cut out for love,"

"Janine is the reason you were so unprepared at the convention,"

"Janine would eventually tire of your dedication to it and stop caring about you."

Following my shower, my wristwatch beeped in a high-pitched tone, announcing it was now seven a.m. the day after Thanksgiving, and my thoughts caused me severe agitation as I prepared to shave my face. I shook the Barbasol can with my right hand and applied pressure to the bottom with my left, causing a foamy substance to come out. After placing it on my face, I picked up my razor and shaved it deliberately.

There was a knock on my bedroom door as I did so, and I called, "come in."

My Father entered the room in solid red flannel pajamas, and asked if I wanted breakfast.

Nodding, I examined my face and saw that I hadn't disregarded any parts, so I ran the water to rinse my stubble from the previous day off my razor and put it back in its case. We walked into the kitchen,

"How are things going with the business," he asked, turning on the lights to the kitchen, so I answered in length. My Father's face seemed a little more lined then when I had last saw him, and his hair a little frayer.

As we talked, I helped him retrieve the items he needed to make his signature breakfast, a fried spam sandwich with cheese, even though Dad wasn't supposed to have any because he had high blood pressure, and he still snuck one once in a while.

"No coffee," I questioned him, searching for it in the cabinets. Shaking his head, Dad filled up the kettle with water and put it on the stove, turning up the heat all of the ways. I sighed at the thought of another day without coffee as I was addicted to the liquid, but I reached in the cupboard looking for tea.

"What kind," I asked, looking at the many diverse boxes of flavors of teas, and raised an eyebrow, in question, at the sheer number of them.

"Earl Grey," Dad answered, " How is everything else in the Big Apple?"

"Janine drank lavender tea before bed, " I thought when he responded, and her glowing, youthful face popped up in my head before I could halt them. As a result, I took two Earl Grey tea bags out and slammed the cupboard door shut with a bang, without realizing it, then repeated to myself, peeved, "

"Newton's first law states that every object will remain at rest or in uniform motion in a straight line unless compelled to change its state by the action of an external force."

"Shh, Egon, your mother's sleeping," Dad reprimanded gently, looking at me with bewilderment. Sheepishly, I apologized and repeated Newton's second law while muttering to myself while waiting for the tea water to boil,

"Newton's second law of motion can be formally stated as follows: The acceleration of an object as produced by a net force is directly proportional to the magnitude of the net force, in the same direction as the net force, and inversely proportional to the mass of the object."

"Is something wrong, Iggy, " my Dad probed observantly, putting butter on one of the four slices of wheat bread with a knife. He glanced up at me with his brown eyes examining mine before he searched for a frying pan.

"No."

Stillness entered the air for a few minutes as he glanced up at me and observed, "You have the same look that your Mom did when she first informed me that she was in love."

"That's a pretty specific memory," I responded dubiously, with a shrug, removing the whistling kettle from the hot burner, "how do you remember that?"

"There are some things you remember for the rest of your life, Egon. Like when you fall in love, or when your children are born," he said.

"Damn," I whispered, wincing with the thought of twirling the exquisite goddess Janine around in that elegant cream-colored frock, amazed with her beauty before the gala, then shook my head side to side to erase it from my memory vehemently. The kettle started to whistle and required my attention.

"Would that be one," I wondered to myself.

"Mmmmm," Dad replied, knowingly, facing me as the kettle whistled, and I removed it from the hot burner then turned the knob off, " why are you repeating Newton's second law of motion?"

"Oh, I don't know," I remarked, lying as I poured the hot water in the cups and watched the tea bags steep, distractedly.

My Dad gave me a very skeptical look; However, he refocused on his task at hand, which was making those delicious sandwiches. As a chemist, Father was a brilliant man, but more in tune with his emotional side than my Mother and I, who kept our feelings more inside. He was a romantic, but eventually, she realized its charm. Dad explained that it took Mother a while to initially get used to his romantic gestures, not because she didn't like them, just because her thinking was logical and black and white. My own was extraordinarily similar, but I found with Janine I seemed to have a romantic side, too.

Father caught me up on his research projects and things with the family as he fried our greasy sandwiches. After I retrieved the miracle whip and cheese from the refrigerator for him when he asked for it, he took a bit of cheese on the spam in the frying pan with a spatula and then put it on one piece of the bread. I watched Dad put cheese on top of the meat and then spread the miracle whip on the other part of the bread. The smell of the sandwiches made my mouth water, and my stomach growl, although I ate a vast amount of food at dinner since Mom made me pot roast. I removed the tea bags and placed them on a spoon next to the kettle by the counter. Carefully, I carried the two steaming cups of tea to the table.

"Who is she, Egon?"

Dad brought the sandwiches to the table and handed me a plate. Purposely, I ignored his question by taking a bite of the sandwich, but all I saw was a picture of Janine, this time dancing at the bar to the Ramones in that short black and white striped dress. We ate in silence.

"I don't think I have had one of these sandwiches in ten years. I forgot how good these things are," I commented, changing the subject.

Raising his left eyebrow, Dad gave me a bemused glance and then replied, "Uh oh, son."

I didn't make eye contact with him and began talking to him about a new invention that I had in mind and kept my mind off her.

"Egon, you are uncomfortable with a woman and do you want to talk about it " Father quizzed me after a brief silence after an animated conversation about my new idea. Afterward, I got up to reheat the tea water as mine had gotten cold but mumbled a "no."

We sat in silence, and my dad stared at me shaking his head.

"You might as well tell me, son. I can read you like a book like your mother."

"Her name is Janine Melnitz; she's our secretary/accountant. She is from Brooklyn and is working on a degree in computer systems. I called her last night because I've missed talking to her and to thank her for the gift she stashed in my bag without me knowing it" I started but then quit in frustration.

He prodded me to continue with a nod of his head. Before I knew it, I had told him everything that I had learned about Janine, down to her biting her lip when she was nervous to the fact that her smile could light a thousand candles. I felt surprisingly relieved afterward, and I focused on my coffee mug.

Sighing, I didn't relish a lengthy lecture from my Father about my social life. He often encouraged me to obtain a social life or a tiny part of one. Dad thought that when I became friends with Venkman, that would help, and it did a little.

I recalled the entertainment I had with Janine dancing, getting ice cream, visiting the Arboretum, eating dinner on the roof, and attending the Gala. Quickly, my brain shut down those thoughts as I had practiced..

Rolling my eyes, I said, honestly, "I thought I was in love with Leslie, but now I realize I wasn't."

Drinking my tea, I felt the warm liquid go down my throat, comforting me.

"It's crystal clear to me that you "care" about Janine. I admit, she sounds amazing," Father said, emphasizing the word care for some reason.

I nodded curtly, unsure what to say, and he inquired if Janine felt the same way.

"She did...but we haven't spoken since I went to Albany for a convention, then she had the stomach flu for a week. I have made some mistakes with her because of my control issues," I described and then paused to take another bite of the sandwich.

"What happened at the convention," Dad questioned.

"For the first time in my life, I was ill-prepared for my presentation, and I looked foolish and unprofessional," I answered gravely.

"Why?"

"I forgot to prepare my presentations. The last two weeks, I have spent my free time with Janine after I threw Peter against the wall.."

Still in disbelief of my previous actions with Venkman, I explained the whole thing to my Father. The look of surprise on his face was evident, and he again prompted me to describe my interactions with Janine.

Next, I discerned the date underneath the stars, taking her out to the Arboretum on her birthday and attending the gala the following Saturday.

"You must enjoy spending time with Janine," he commented with a cunning grin.

"Yes, but I forgot about convention and my presentations, Dad," I reminded.

"Is that Janine's fault? Did she know about it," he probed.

"Why do people ask me that?" I questioned exasperatedly and then added a long dramatic pause, "No."

"What's stopping you from progressing with Janine," he finally inquired.

"Several things, I think. First, I am scared of how intensely I feel about her; my feelings and emotions are out of control when I am with Janine and my... Uhm ...desires, too. I don't know what will happen with her- she is a gray area, and I don't like to be out of control. However, I don't want to be apart when I am with her. Thirdly, I don't know how to manage my career, Janine, and my desire for a Nobel," I complained exasperatedly. Viewing my frustration, he asked how I could receive the peace prize for my work, so I explained it.

"This could give you recognition then, and that is fantastic, Egon," he exclaimed eagerly, causing me to smile brightly at him. We spoke about the possibilities for a few minutes until he questioned me, baffled, " But, how does this affect you and Janine?"

Dad finished his sandwich first and then met my eyes before I gave him an example, "It already has. Would you believe it if I, your sensible son, told you that Janine persuaded me to dance to a punk rock band at a bar and that I enjoyed it immensely? Not even just liking it, I look back at that time and realize I loved it. I would do it all again just to be with her without any questions asked."

"That's love, son," he stated with a chuckle, softly, meeting my eye line, " I have been afraid that you might never experience it because of your stubbornness with your work that you get from both sides of the family. Plus, you fear losing control of your life like your Mom before we married. Now you have accomplished many things at thirty-five, and I am extraordinarily proud of you. Egon, it sounds like you are in love with her."

"Yes," I finally revealed. Although it felt strange admitting it to myself finally, it removed a heavy weight from my shoulders, metaphorically, and I grinned happily.

"And what happened when you talked to her last night?"

"We spoke about my fear of regretting the choices I made when I was growing up, and later, I asked if I could take her out on Sunday to make up for my ill-treatment of her. When I talk to her, Dad...she's an amazing listener...and when I am with her, whether it's on a date or just talking to her during the day, it feels so right. I don't know why, but it just does. This morning I woke up, and my brain began to repeat all control issues. It's so annoying," I groaned, vexed, holding my head in my hands.

Dad offered some advice that I should trust my heart, reminding him that Mother had done the same thing when she fell in love with him because she was afraid she wouldn't achieve her dreams of obtaining a doctorate in Chemistry.

"One more thing, Egon, before we change the subject. I know you have dreamt of obtaining the peace prize for so many years, as did your Mom, Floyd, and I did, but sometimes, a person decides the things that are truly important in life aren't what they thought they were at first. Your Mom and I both believed that our family was more important even though we weren't outstanding parents by any stretch of the imagination, and possibly even neglectful, both of which are regretful. We are taking a more active role in our grandkids' lives as a result, and as soon as you want to start that journey, we are ready to spoil them," he joked, laughing.

" I am an extraordinarily long way from that if I can barely handle these powerful feelings for Janine and my problems. Besides, Mother reminds me of the fact that she wants more grandkids every time I speak to her on the phone," I answered, drily, with a smirk.

"Do I even want children," I questioned out loud, taking a sip of the delicious tea? My face turned pink out of embarrassment because that was supposed to be an inward thought. Father chuckled then advised wisely,

"In life, there isn't a way to avoid feeling remorseful about your actions, but as you age, you decide the most significant things, and they change over time."

After that, we talked about less essential topics.