“I’m very happy to meet you,” Ephraim said. He extended his hand. After a pause slightly too long to go unnoticed, Harrison shook it.
“Yes,” he said again.
“Actually, I had my Harvard interview in this exact room,” Ephraim tried again, clearly grasping.
“I certainly hope it doesn’t hold a lingering unhappiness for you.”
“What? Oh. No! I mean, I got into Harvard.”
Harrison’s mouth tightened. Lewyn and I, on the other hand, were trying not to laugh out loud.
“Okay, Harrison,” said Lewyn, “you finally got a smart brother. Be happy.”
“I never said you weren’t smart,” Harrison said to Lewyn.
“Oh no, just every day in every way. C’mon, we’re not here to talk about that.”
There was a knock on the door, and a waiter in a crimson uniform entered with the coffee.
“Well, you’ve been busy,” Harrison said once he had left.
He meant Ephraim, obviously.
“Yes, but I’m going back to school this afternoon. I think it’s over, at least until your friend decides to come out of hiding. I wonder if he will.”
“It’s up to him.” Harrison stirred his coffee but showed no sign of actually drinking it.
“Certainly,” Ephraim said.
“He doesn’t owe anything to anyone.”
“You think?” I said, with a laugh. I had to admit, I was completely loving this.
“I’m not sure any of our lives could withstand the kind of attention you’ve brought to bear on Eli.”
“May I ask you something?” said Ephraim. “I’m sincerely interested. Fascinated, actually. What is it about him that earns your loyalty?”
Harrison glared at Ephraim. He glared at Lewyn, then at me. Then he seemed to recall that we were there to attempt some sort of progress.
“Eli is brilliant. An autodidact. A prodigy. And an original and important writer. He has been brave enough to take on some very difficult and complex issues. He personally represents a repudiation of ideas that are currently popular. He has also been immensely supportive of me since we were eighteen years old.”
Ephraim was nodding. “All right. First, as I think you may have already accepted, or you’re at least considering, his name is not Eli. He is not an autodidact. There may be bravery involved in what he’s done; I’m open to that argument. But he can’t personally be representing anything because his identity is a construct built on falsehoods. He’s lied to every person who read his books, every person who has interviewed him, honored him, bought a ticket to one of his talks. And you. It may also be true that he’s supported you as a friend. I can’t speak to that. But if he was my friend, I’d be deeply discouraged and confused to find that I’d been lied to about so many things for such a long time.”
Harrison shook his head. “Self-invention is a thoroughly American virtue. It always has been. We’re a country of fabulists and seekers.”
“Fabulists and seekers!” said Lewyn. “Why don’t you just say fakes and charlatans? It’s nothing to be proud of. Look,” he attempted a conciliatory tone, “I can imagine you find this humiliating.”
“I would imagine no such thing,” Harrison snapped. “And let me clarify that just now I’m not thinking about myself at all. I’m thinking about my friend.”
All four of us were quiet. Harrison aggressively stirred his coffee.
“Did you ever have any doubts?” said Ephraim.