My novel is becoming more and more complex. A woman, another woman, yet another woman. Like that preacher’s parable. As for the man whose actions I am recounting, he is lost in thought that doesn’t lead to action. I am eager to know what we will gain from this man and what more there is to tell. Having taken it upon myself to tell the story, I will shoulder the burden and continue.
Chapter twenty
A young woman arrived from the kvutza, bringing good news. The news came as a surprise. For Henrietta there could be no better news. Zahara had given birth to a boy. A boy was born to Zahara. Henrietta knew her daughter was about to give birth. Still, when the news came, it came as a surprise.
Henrietta moves through the house, but her mind is with Zahara. From the moment Henrietta received word that Zahara’s son was born, she has been walking from room to room. At times, her heart is light; at others, it is heavy. In either case, the walls of her house are constricting. They keep her from flying off to Zahara. In spite of this, she is totally with Zahara. In a thousand ways that begin in the imagination and then become real, she is with Zahara, even though one of them is in Afula and the other in Jerusalem; one is in a valley, the other in a glen. Let it be known that this is how it is. She sees Zahara in bed, her face radiant with light from her firstborn. Zahara’s son lies at her side, wrapped in the tiny garments she gave Zahara for him. Henrietta picks him up and hands him to Zahara, so she can feed him. It would be good for Zahara to drink malt beer every day, for it stimulates the milk. But, with so many new mothers there, who has time to think about Zahara’s needs? If her own mother were there, Zahara would lack nothing.
All of which suggests that she isn’t there. In truth, she is still in Jerusalem. Why? Because it’s a three-and-a-half-hour trip from Jerusalem to Afula. If you have a car for the trip. If you have no car, then it’s truly a problem. There are people with servants who call and order a car, and, when it comes, they let it wait as long as they like. Henrietta and Manfred, even now, when they are so eager to see their daughter, have to go to the telephone office and look up “Car Services” in the directory. If the directory is intact, it’s simple. Otherwise, they have to run to another office. There they find what they are looking for and ask about car service to Afula — when it leaves, whether there is room for two. By the time they get an answer, the car has left. They ask about the next one. A clerk answers, “Hey, take it easy.” They decide to try the bus. But the bus station isn’t listed in the directory. Why? Because two competing companies have suddenly merged into one and adopted a new name. They go into town to look for the bus and don’t find it. Even if they do find it, they don’t find the driver. They find the driver, but he doesn’t know when he’ll be leaving. Why? Because the road is closed. Why? Because of Arabs who are demonstrating against Jewish immigration. Until the speeches are over, the roads will be closed. They go to the office of the car service, because sometimes what can’t be dealt with on the telephone can be dealt with in person. The clerk in charge yawns in their faces and doesn’t dignify them with a straight answer, because he doesn’t need any more passengers, all the cars having already left. As for tomorrow, he lacks the imagination to think that far ahead, and, besides, it’s too much trouble.
Herbst, who had undertaken the search alone this time, was on the verge of despair when a passerby noticed him. He said, “Dr. Herbst, what are you doing here in town? I see you are about to take a trip. Are you, perhaps, leaving us forever? Just between us, I would run away too. If not because of the Arabs, then because of the English. If not because of both of them, then because of our leaders. Our orientation, Dr. Herbst, our orientation is truly — how shall I say? — defective. And it would be a waste of breath to say more.” Rather than waste his breath, he turned to other, more worthwhile, subjects. What did he say, what did he not say? Whom did Herbst’s daughter marry, and are both parents equally pleased? Often, the father is pleased and the mother isn’t, or the other way around. Sometimes both parents are pleased, but not the daughter. He stopped in mid-conversation. Why? Because a fly fell into his mouth because the city was full of flies because the streets were full of garbage, and, when garbage cans were placed on the streets, their lids were stolen. Before Herbst could escape, the man swallowed the fly and resumed his monologue, in the course of which he suggested taking the bus. But first, they had to find the bus stop, as the Mandate police favor the Arabs and are hostile toward us and our buses, so they move the bus stops on a whim.
While Herbst was engaged in his struggles, Henrietta was busy packing. As she put their things in the suitcases, her mind drifted back to Zahara. Again, the two of them are together. One is in bed; one is near the bed. Why not on a chair? Because the chair is occupied. A young man has come to be with his wife, and he sits on the chair, paying no attention to Henrietta but hearing everything she says to Zahara. This prevents Henrietta from telling Zahara some of the things she would tell her if no one else were there.
While Herbst was struggling to turn up a strip of space for himself and his wife, a new car drove by, with a man and woman inside. He was middle-aged; she was young. He was a Zionist official; she was his secretary. They were touring the Emek settlements, because he was going off to the lands of our dispersion to report on the accomplishments of our young men and women in the Emek. But first he was going to the Emek, taking his secretary along. He was traveling in a special car, so he could get back for a round of farewells tomorrow afternoon in Jerusalem and tomorrow evening in Tel Aviv. Or was it the reverse — Jerusalem in the evening and Tel Aviv in the afternoon? His secretary, of course, deserved the credit for writing things down and reminding him of everything in due time.
Back to the Herbsts. I’ll leave Herbst outside, struggling to arrange transportation, and turn to his wife, who is busy packing. Henrietta used to go off for several days without much preparation, without luggage. Now, a day trip requires great preparation.
While Henrietta considers every dress — whether to take it or not — her daughter Sarah clutches at her mother’s skirt and doesn’t let go. The mother studies this child of her old age — how she has grown, how much she needs her mother. She picks her up, as if to test her weight, as if that will determine whether she can leave her behind and go to Zahara. She can’t be left with Tamara, who is busy teaching the girls in Mekor Hayim writing and language. If Tamara takes time off, that will be the end of it. Even though she isn’t paid, she has many competitors, teachers in training who need experience. Henrietta can’t leave the child with Firadeus, because her mother doesn’t allow her to sleep away from home.