‘What Roth was saying is that placing great faith in human beings is not only impossible, it’s downright foolish. Everything we touch as humans is stained. Roth saw modern man falling into the same rut as Abraham—creating and serving lesser gods—false idols that neither redeem nor save us.’

‘What does any of that have to do with me?’

‘Think about it, Samuel. Look at what you’ve become. You were born the false idol, a mythical twin worshiped by the masses. You successfully escaped to a different identity, but like some insecure Hollywood actor, you still covet the spotlight. It’s like you’re afraid to let go, afraid to disappoint. None of this attention is real, son. Fame is fleeting. The only thing that counts is what’s on the inside.’

Gene looks up at the moon. ‘You know, I’ll never forget the night you and your brother were born. Such a crazy time. Sylvia and I watched the whole thing on TV. There must have been ten thousand people surrounding the hospital. Rabbi Steinberg told me the air literally seemed charged with electricity. And everyone inside—the doctors and nurses, President Chaney, all those nosey reporters and the armed guards—all were anticipating this wondrous miracle. Your poor mother, she was exhausted and in pain, but she hung in there, refusing any drugs … so afraid it might affect the birth. Anyway, the blessed event happened, and they finally showed footage of your mother holding you in her arms. I remember looking at you, so innocent, wrapped up in that tiny blanket, and I thought to myself—this is a special child, a gift from God, but from here on out, it’s downhill all the way. Because how on Earth could any child, or any adult for that matter, live up to the expectations humanity seemed to be placing on you and your brother?’

Sam sits up. ‘It always played with Jake’s head—all those crazy expectations. I think he was trying to become something everyone wanted him to be. Somewhere along the line, he just lost it mentally.’

‘And isn’t that the reason you wanted out of that life, to escape all that craziness?’

‘Yes.’

‘Looks to me like you jumped from the frying pan into the fire. Samuel “the Mule” Agler—everyone’s all-American hero. To do Tikkun Midot means to overcome our less worthy instincts, not to succumb to peer pressure.’

Gene Agler stands, brushing away the sand. ‘When I was eleven, two boys at school beat me up pretty bad, just because I was Jewish. For a long time after that I remember feeling ashamed of who I was. One afternoon my father gave me a card and inside was a poem. “Be your own soul, learn to live; And if some men hate you, take no heed. If some men curse you, take no care. Sing your song, dream your dream, hope your hope, pray your prayer.” ’