“No, I’m just … well, little Lewyn. I can’t say I’m not a mite surprised.”
“You don’t need to say it. Because who could possibly be interested in me, am I right?”
Harrison smiled. They were passing the airport. A private plane was gliding in to land.
“Is that how you feel about yourself?”
Lewyn set his jaw. He could catch Harrison off guard, for some fleeting advantage, but he could never outmaneuver his brother. Not in the long game.
“You’re such a charmer, Harrison.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean, who else could say something like ‘a mite surprised’？”
“Who else indeed,” Harrison agreed, grinning at the road ahead.
“And your own love life, if I might inquire?”
“Well, I had some very pleasant evenings with one of the young ladies at the center in Virginia.”
（This was a considerable exaggeration. Harrison had indeed flirted with a cute Sweet Briar junior named Maddie, an intern in the director’s office. He had even considered asking her out on a date, but there wasn’t a single evening of presentations or even unscheduled conversation—especially unscheduled conversation—that he had been willing to miss. So he’d let it go.）
“Well, that sounds … a mite pleasant indeed.”
“Yes. But no. This is not so much on my radar right now. I’m more concerned with the cerebral. And as you’re well aware, I got an earlier start on this type of thing.”
The light changed. They turned toward home.
“I believe it has been mentioned,” said Lewyn. “What was it, sixth grade?”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“And she provided the condom.”
“That is hardly the salient fact,” said Harrison, taking obvious pleasure in not denying this. “Please don’t think I’m unhappy that you’ve caught up a bit. I’m relieved, actually.”
“Well,” Lewyn shook his head, “I’m sorry to have worried you.”
（It was here that our parents’ Volvo sped past them in the other direction.）
“Not worried,” Harrison said. “But of course I was ever so slightly concerned about you both. You ripped your heart out over that airhead actress at Walden. What was her name?”
Of course Harrison knew her name. The girl, by then, had starred in two independent films and been on the cover of New York magazine. Not even Harrison could miss that. Besides, she hadn’t been an airhead, more’s the pity.
“And Sally of course. I worry about Sally. She’s never even had a boy ask her out.”
Lewyn’s antennae rose. It was right there. Right there. And he was helpless against it. And the words hammered away inside him, howling for release—say it, say it. It wasn’t a question of whether it was right. He knew it wasn’t right. But he was operating on a far more primitive level. Say it, say it, say it. So he did. What else was he capable of doing, really?
“I wouldn’t read much into that, Harrison. Sally’s a lesbian.”
Silence. More explosive than anything even Harrison could have thought up to say, and Lewyn listened to that, feeling the pleasure rush, rush, all through his body. Speechless, both of them. Lewyn sensed the tightness in his cheeks and knew he was smiling. No, grinning. Madly.
“How do you know that?” said his brother through clenched teeth.
“My girlfriend told me.” This was a grace note, a twist of the dagger, with a flourish!