/ BARAK / 65 unreasonable guess, since both of us were grinning throughout. Others concluded that because each of us was trying to nudge the other to go in first, it was a sign of underlying conflict: neither of us wanted to allow the other the privilege of appearing to be polite. Still others, bizarrely, said that it was an ornate Middle Eastern power play, with the aim of demonstrating that / was ultimately in control of proceedings. In fact, it would turn out to be a singularly apt image of what happened in the days that followed: a reluctant Arafat, an engaged and expectant Prime Minister of Israel, a smiling and hopeful Clinton. We did begin on a note of optimism. In my opening statement, I said: ““Now is the time for us to make a peace of the brave, to find a way to live together side by side with mutual respect, and to create a better future for our children.” Arafat said he hoped that the peace Begin and Sadat had made at Camp David would prove an auspicious example. “With the help of President Clinton, we could reach a deal that is good for both sides.” But it was going to take more than noble words. The details of a peace treaty, or even a framework agreement, were going to require negotiation. Both Arafat and I arrived fully aware of the shape of the “hard decisions” I’d referred to months earlier when we met in Oslo. On his side, it would come down to whether he was prepared for a comprehensive, final peace. A true “end of conflict,” with no get-out clauses, no strings left untied, no further claims on either side. In concrete terms, this would mean abandoning his claim for a notional hundreds of thousands of Palestinian refugees to resettle inside the pre-1967 borders of the State of Israel. And what were Israel’s difficult decisions? In return for the end of conflict, I would have to deal away the maximum possible part of the West Bank, certainly well above the 80 percent I’d quoted Shimon Peres as suggesting when I’d first met with President Clinton