But no one was waiting on the steps, and when I opened the door and he came over to hug me, the only smell coming from him, from his shirt, was the smell of the club: cigarettes, sweat, loneliness, and a new element I didn’t know what to call. I didn’t say anything about the smell because I remembered how he responded the last time I did that. I gave him a quick, cursory hug, and he said, what’s this, a brief military hug, and I said, that’s all there is. Then I was sorry for the tone, for the content and the timing, and reached out to stroke his cheek in compensation, but it was too late.
*
I didn’t shave. I always shave before I go to the club, even if there’s no more shaving cream, but this time it completely slipped my mind. I realised it on the Mevasseret bridge, but I thought that if I went back I’d be late. So I kept driving, running my fingers over the stubble, and then I started having other thoughts. No one at the club said anything about the stubble. Nava gave me a very significant look, as usual. Shmuel greeted me enthusiastically, as if a week ago he hadn’t accused me of causing him pain, and the devotees of the crossword puzzle group asked me impatiently when we could start.
We started quickly. That conversation with Shmuel still stung me, and hanging the crossword on the wall and escaping to the definitions was just what I needed.
Two down, five letters. The capital of Ecuador.
Quito. That’s right, Gideon.
One across, four letters. The symbol of peace.
Dove. Right.
Five across, four letters. The opposite of despair.
Hope. Very good, Malka. What did you say, Gideon? Love? But love is with a ‘v’, and our third letter is ‘p’.
Gideon got up. What difference does it make, he suddenly yelled, what difference does it make if it’s a ‘v’ or a ‘p’? Just write what I tell you. The group waited tensely for what I would say. If I’d been feeling myself, it would have ended there. I would have given in and fixed it later. But I was having one of those days when the ground was splitting open under me. So I insisted.
I won’t write love here, I told Gideon, because it’s wrong and it’ll mess up the rest of the puzzle.
He got up, walked around me contemptuously and tore the card off the wall. Who are you to tell us what’s right and what’s wrong? He threw the puzzle on to the floor. Look at what you look like! Not shaved, a stain on your shirt. You look like a crazy man, so where do you get off pretending to be normal, huh?
I rubbed my stubble in embarrassment and looked at the members of the group, hoping they’d come to my rescue. But they thought the whole scene was entertaining. They grinned admiringly at Gideon and he, encouraged by their support, stamped on the puzzle, covering the card with the imprint of his soles and screamed: we don’t want your puzzles! We don’t want you. Get out of here!
I looked at the door — maybe Shmuel would hear the screaming and come to defend me. Maybe he’d stand at my side with his cracked glasses. But Nava came in instead.
Is everything all right? she asked, looking from me to Gideon to the crushed puzzle on the floor.
Nothing’s all right, Gideon answered her. The quality of the students gets lower every year, and this year it’s the lowest. You brought us a crazy student. Look at him, look at the way he looks. Not shaved. He should be a member of this club, not an instructor.
Murmurs of agreement came from the group. Traitors, I thought. I’d sat with every one of them for hours. I’d listened to Malka’s hatred of her sister, to Amatzia the vacillator’s sexual fantasies, to Joe’s paranoia about the General Security Service. And the minute I need them, they turn their backs on me.
These students invest a great deal of time in you, I heard Nava say to Gideon in an authoritative voice, and what you are doing now is completely unfair. Gideon shrank into himself, rebuked. I suggest that we disperse the demonstration, Nava said, looking at me. I don’t see much point in continuing with the group at the moment. I gave a slight, confirming nod. The members of the group filed out of the room. On the way out, each one of them gave me a look, as if they still expected the coup de grâce I was supposed to give to Gideon, but it stuck in my throat.