“Did the two of you know each other?”
“Of course, what do you think? But I hadn't seen him for three years and he's grown. He looks a lot like Kedmi, tubby but bright. He has an eye for things and knows how to express himself. He's just a bit on the sad side, a bit ... somber. Kedmi doesn't make life easy for anyone, although he does love the boy, that's evident. And you, Asa, how good it was of you to send your wife to fetch me! It was an excellent idea. We had a chance to get acquainted ... we sat for a while in a café...”
“So that's where you were. I've been wondering what took you so long.”
“What are all these new buildings? Is everything here one big development?”
We cross the street and pass the open supermarket.
“You two go on and I'll run in here.”
“Maybe we should come with you.'' Asi is anxious not to lose control.
“No, you go ahead. Can't you see your father is tired? I'll manage by myself.”
They walk ahead. No longer touching grown distant conversing Asi must be explaining the neighborhood to him his father halts from time to time to look around. Did she really want to kill him? Truly? God give me strength.
Yea the hand of the Lord was upon me and He brought me forth in the spirit of the Lord ...
The supermarket is crowded. It's a busy time of day people go berserk before each holiday at last I find a wagon and begin cruising the long shelves. Pardon me pardon me wagons bump together pass each other front back right and left. I stick my frail hands into piles of fruit and vegetables in line by the scales I remember my pad wearily uninspiredly automatically I write in it a few words.
On her head a man's hat. Happiness gone m(b?)ad. An orange peel. Son sniffs father.
“You're next.” A large woman peers tiredly over my shoulder.
I push my wagon down an aisle of wine bottles the sunbeams light the glowing liquid. I run my hand over them and take an expensively wrapped one down off a shelf
Old Judean Dessert Nectar
says the label in antique rabbinic script. Six hundred eighty pounds. Suitably impressed I put it in my wagon. Everyone around me is snatching items off the shelves you'd think the whole country was about to close down on Passover. I get into the spirit of it grabbing cheeses bread eggs canned foods a jar of olives frozen meats heading with the stream for the check-out counter. Here and there someone joins me on my way with his wagon trailing slowly after me among the aisles staring at me then drifting away.
“Dina!”
An old classmate by the name of Yehiel holding a sweet blue-eyed baby with a tiny skullcap on his head beside him a woman with a wagon full of food. He comes up to me all excited aglow already a bit gone to seed with a tummy a perspiring paterfamilias but the baby is soft and sweet. He tells me about himself with bumpkinish delight he's almost finished law school maybe they'll move to a new settlement on the West Bank he can work as its legal adviser. His wife a pale shrew a tight coif on her head examines me hostilely. “This is Dina,” he says. “From my class ... Once I told you about her...”
“You have a little boy already?” I can't get over it. Something suddenly draws me to the little tot. “Can I hold him for a minute?” I ask. Happily proudly he hands him to me while his wife's eyes widen with alarm. He too fell hard for me once.
The glory of Israel is slain upon high places how the mighty have fallen
a long long line of them the baby is light and warm all at once I'm overcome by desire I stroke his silken hair he clings to me watching me quietly reaching up for his skullcap with his small hand and giving it to me I smile at him I kiss him and hand him back replacing the skullcap I kiss him once more. He doesn't mind me at all I say softly to them. And all this while Yehiel chatters excitedly on about old classmates of ours whom I've forgotten he even writes his name and phone number on a piece of paper he informs me that once he met my husband. He teaches in the university, doesn't he?
A whole hour has passed by the time the supermarket's disgorged me. And with a lethal bill. Father and mother were right. At least I've been given an Arab boy to push the shopping wagon home for me. A fresh warm wind is blowing outside a coppery twilight buses pull up from downtown releasing their human beehives. The gay shrieks of children. I walk in from: the wagon rumbling after me. Arab boys come back the other way with empty wagons they call out to my boy and clap him on the back. He smiles uncomfortably he steals a look at me is my beauty clear to them too? By a lamppost in the busy street I make up my mind to stop a strong hand massages my heart. Here it comes. I take out my already worn pad and leaf through it to a fresh page.
The plot begins in a supermarket. Age thirty-plus. An intellectual unsuccessful type. Once briefly married before. She steals the child from a wagon by the door of the store. The time is dusk, people pass in the street, coppery twilight. The boy is eight, nine months old. In the end she'll have to return him!!!! She wears glasses, her hair is clipped short Deep down she doesn't know what she's doing. A description of the warm bursting forth of spring. Nature means a great deal to her. Only her mother is still alive. A heavy smoker.
The Arab boy watches me good-humoredly his foot on the wheel of the wagon. I stick the pad excitedly back in my bag. Why on earth a heavy smoker?
At home I find Asi sitting with his father in the dark living room tensely talking smoke drifting between them. His father wears a checked shirt his tie is pulled loose. I've noticed that he dresses in good taste he knows how to choose his clothes. I walk in the Arab boy after me with the large cartons. Asi jumps up. Have you gone out of your mind? Where have you been? The boy cringes and looks at the floor. What got into you? What have you bought here? He begins poking through
everything.
We already have cheese! He throws the box of it aside. What's all this for? Who's going to eat it? Where did you get the money from? I'm so mad I could kill him. The boy brings in the rest of it stealthily watching us with wide eyes. How dare he. Be quiet I hiss how dare you in front of your father. Go back inside. Already I hear the hoarse musical voice from the terrace.
“I'm a Tel Avivian, and with all due respect to Jerusalem, when evening comes on here I feel a slight metaphysical angst. I always tried to get back to the coast before it, to the scent of the orange groves. In Jerusalem I feel afraid that some prophet will come to haunt me in my sleep, ha ha ... You do have a grand view here, though. Just don't let anyone build on that empty lot in front of you. What are those lights over there on the hillside?”
I join him and stand by his side.
“Someone once told me, but I forget. It's some place in the West Bank.”
The smell of his sweat. Asi is still rummaging through my purchases in the kitchen. He's taller and broader than Asi. He leans powerfully on the balcony his checked flannel shirt stirring slightly in the breeze.
As the grass that hath dried as the blossom that hath faded as the shadow that hath passed as the cloud that hath fled as the wind that hath blown as the dust that hath scattered as the dream that hath vanished forever.
I touch him lightly on the shoulder.
“You have regards from Ehud Levin.”
“Which Levin? The author?”
“He said he was once a student of yours.”
“That's right, he was. I've got them scattered all over.”
“What was he like?”
“Oh, I don't know. Bright enough ... rather sure of himself ... always surrounded by girls ...”
“He still is.” I laugh.
Asi gloomily joins us.
“Where do you know him from?”
“Asi sent me to show him some things that I'd written.”
“Do you write, then?” He eyes me with a warm smile.
“I try to.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He made a few comments.”
“But the gist of it.” That's Asi no-nonsense impatient.
“He was somewhat encouraging.”
Silence. I wish they'd drop the subject.
“He said that you gave him a lot as a teacher. That you meant a great deal to him.”
He turns to look at me glowing in the dark.
“What, Levin? Really? I don't believe it. He actually said that?”
“I swear. He spoke of you with great respect.”
He's bewildered he smiles and wants to say something but is so taken aback that the words stick in his throat.
He takes out a handkerchief and mops his brow.
“Suppose you get around to making supper,” says Asi brutally.
“Are you hungry?”
“Of course.”
“All right. In a minute.”
I lean on the balcony grinding my stomach hard against the grillwork bending down toward the street below. Digging in.
“Come on, Dina, let's go. You certainly bought enough food.”
His father watches from the side assessing us.
“Is there anything I can do to help? I've learned to cook in America ... Connie actually depends on me to ...”
“No, nothing, father.”
“Why isn't there? You could teach us some new recipe. Asi likes to fool around in the kitchen too, he's just too embarrassed to admit it.”
I steer them both into the kitchen. I hand Asi a knife and some vegetables. His father rolls up his sleeves opens the refrigerator and sticks his head in to ferret out what's there. Finally he spiritedly suggests making some special egg dish. Do you have any rice? Not much. Where do you keep your spices Dina? And already he's in the pantry going through old containers sniffing at bags tasting things. He asks me to light the stove he takes a bowl and cracks egg after egg he begins to scramble them. Asi stands darkly in the corner watching resentfully but I'm utterly charmed First you bathed Ya'el's baby now you're making us supper what will you do for Tsvi sew new buttons on his shirts?
He laughs rubbing his hands.
“Connie isn't much for housework, she's always held down a job. And I'm at home a lot these days, â¹specially in the winter when you can't go out. I don't teach many hours at the college, so I have time to be in the kitchen.”
He stirs forcefully trying to resuscitate the spices. I watch his long agile precise movements understanding all at once how he drove that bulky woman crazy feeling fear I leave the kitchen and begin to set the table halfway through I leave that too I have the need to write again I can't hold it in the words press on some tender bladder bobbing taut and smooth in
my
chest I
go
to the bedroom I kick off my shoes I shut the door I take off my pants I undo the hook on my bra I throw back the covers baring the white sheets I jump into bed and cover, myself with a blanket my pad in my hand the pen gliding between my fingers my eyes are moist I warm up the paper with a torrent of remembered words...
Thou my strength thee the length of my days I shall praise thee implore all the more as I knock on thy door to thee sigh when I cry as each day goeth by and I pray yea I say O keep me from harm's way.
A baby carriage by the entrance to the supermarket. The baby's hair the color of honey. A description of his mother through her eyes. Worn-looking, talkative, her third child The candy has been prepared in advance. She follows her through the aisles. Her first planned hiding place. A dark stairwell. Describe precisely the run-down entrance, the peeling plaster. A broom and a bucket in one corner. The objects with realistic verisimilitude to balance her great excitement when she picks up the baby with the candy stuck wonderingly in its mouth. At first all it shows is surprise. A passive collaborator.
Asi comes in and sees me bundled in the blanket. I hide the pad immediately.
“What are you doing there? Have you gone out of your mind?”
“I'm just resting for a minute. I'm bushed today.”
“But you haven't done anything!”
“I've had a lot of excitement. That's work too. First the morning with you, then your father. I'll be up in a jiffy.”
“What is he doing in there? Is he done cooking? I swear, he's too much! Go set the table. At least do that.”
“In a minute. I already set part of it. He's an unusual person, your father. Did he cook for you when you were little too?”
Asi doesn't answer he looks at me grimly he goes to the closet.
“What are you looking for?”
“For a towel for him.''
“Take the red one.”
His father stands smiling in the doorway peering jovially in.
“Are you resting?”
“Yes. Just for a minute.”
“I'm going to wash up. Don't touch the pot. Let it simmer.”
Asi gives him the towel and he shuts himself up in the bathroom.
“You know, he's a good-looking man. It's no wonder that he found a young wife over there. He's better-looking than you are.” Asi makes a face at me. “You aren't so good-looking, but you're sweet. Just don't be so gloomy. In the end you'll go crazy from all that tension and gloom. I can't stand how tense you are. Come, give me a kiss. Lie down for a minute. Let's take time out from the punishment.”
“What punishment? What are you talking about?”
“You haven't touched me for two weeks. Come, give me one teeny kiss. Tonight we'll sleep together in honor of your father. You can do what you want with me. What needs to be done. You're right. It struck me today how crazy we've been. My fear of you, your fear of my fear ... it's no way to have a child. Come, let me kiss you. I'll do anything.”
It's as though he wants to step toward me but won't let himself hanging his head. I hear singing and water running in the bathroom.
“Are you lying to me now?”
“Why would I lie to you? You can see that it's you who's avoiding it. That it's you who can't.”
“Me?” He twitches scornfully.