The Biography

It didn’t come as too much of a surprise when I was notified by my publisher that my mentor and close friend had agreed to allow me to write his biography. We were already great friends and had been for some considerable time. I had first met him when I had been studying law and he had been the youngest Professor in the history of the College and had given the lectures that everyone just had to attend, whether they were studying law or not.

My mind then was eager for knowledge and understanding and he had noticed me as the quiet and thoughtful one who didn’t say much in the lectures but who wrote essays that he found of great interest, as he told me later. We had discussed the intricacies of law for hours and on one occasion for such a length that darkness had fallen and it was so late that he had invited me to his home for dinner. I accepted without hesitation and found myself driving through the gates of a most impressive size which led to an even more impressively sized mansion. It had been in the family for centuries and when I entered it simply pulsated with an ageless wonder.

We became friends. There was not a great difference in our ages and we had the same tastes in most things. He became more like an older brother to me and he seemed to reciprocate this connection by treating me very much like a younger sister, he had never been fortunate enough to have. I graduated and decided to continue my studies. He became my advisor as I completed my Ph.D. and was instrumental in my obtaining a teaching post at the College.

Time flew by and when he retired I was fortunate enough to take on his responsibilities and position. He was happy in his retirement and the years went by, as they do, quicker and quicker. One evening I mentioned to him about writing his biography and he seemed reticent at first, but eventually, after some persuasion he relented and agreed to my suggestion. Nobody else knew him like I did so it was obvious who was best situated to write his life story and so my work began.

My teaching was of course my priority so it took somewhat longer than I had anticipated. He had asked me if I would show him my progress but I declined as I wanted him to read the finished article and not just parts of the whole. He was now living quite a sedentary life at home with a noticeable decline in his memory and cognitive ability. For me it was difficult to watch as I had known him at his peak. To see a great mind deteriorate is far worse than watching the human body decline in vigor and strength.

After two years it was finished and I decided that it was now ready to show him. I arrived one evening and placed it on his desk. He was not in his usual place sitting in his study, reading. So I left the manuscript on his desk and decided to return the following evening to find out what he thought about my biography of him.

The next day I returned. He was sitting at his desk with the manuscript in his hand with a very odd look on his face. It was a look that I had seen many times before and one I am glad I will never have to see again.

‘What is the meaning of this?!’’ he shouted at me. I was taken aback and quite frightened by his demeanor. ‘‘It’s your … and my story. Your life and my life. Why? What’s the matter?’’ I asked.

He carried on shouting, ‘‘But this is not me. This is not who I am. Who is this person? Is this a bad joke?’’

He violently threw the manuscript at me and stood there shaking in rage. But now he was too old and sick to hurt me. I picked it up and find myself laughing at him, ‘‘Oh but this is you. This is the real you. The one I know very, very, well.’’

He continued to shout at me, ‘‘My biography? How can that be? You have finished it with my murder? But I am still alive.’’ He laughed. ‘‘It is an absurdity. You have failed me!’’

I picked up the glass paperweight from his desk and hit him. It was a heavy blow to the head. He fell. I turned away and as I left I could hear him crying for help. But this time there was no one left to help him. As I shut the door behind me, for the last time, his cries had stopped. It was finally over. My biography of him was now, finally, completed. I had no doubt now, that it would be a great success and I laughed with joy.