“That night. When your car got smashed up. I came to tow you in …”
“Ah, you’re his assistant?”
“Yes.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“Waiting for him.”
Shwartzy seems satisfied, walking about the room, examining the table and the cutlery, behaving as if he’s in school. I could shoot the man. Tears spring to my eyes.
“Tell your mother to contact me.”
I don’t answer.
“All right?”
I don’t answer.
“I’ll tell her,” Na’im chips in.
Shwartzy smiles to himself. And I nearly faint.
And she goes to open the door and I hear a familiar voice. It takes me a while to remember who it is, that old man, we towed his car in the night before last, he’s talking to Dafi at the door. And Dafi answers him rudely, again I’m impressed, she really has nerve. He asks her about her mother and father and she answers him with a lot of nerve. And the man gets really up-tight, starts talking sort of poisonously, in that soft voice of his. In the end he forces his way into the house, she’s got him really worked up. Walking about with a cane, he sees me and grabs me. I’m terrified, I don’t know why this old man with the white bandage on his head should scare me.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Na’im,” I say right away.
He catches hold of me roughly.
“I know you from somewhere … where have we met?”
He doesn’t recognize me.
“That night, when your car got smashed up. I came to tow you in.”
“Ah, you’re his assistant?”
“Yes.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“Waiting for him.”
And then he walks around the room a bit, like it’s his house, taking a look at the plates on the table, smiling to himself a bit. Then he says to Dafi, “Tell your mother to contact me.”
But she doesn’t answer.
“All right?”
She still doesn’t answer. Answer for God’s sake. Why is she provoking him like this? But she doesn’t answer, and he isn’t going to budge.
“I’ll tell her,” I say, just to get rid of him.
And he went. Leaving the door wide open. I went to close it. Dafi didn’t move, standing there staring at the wall. I went to her, touched her.
“But who was that?”
And she didn’t answer, just stared at the wall, pale. He made a good job of scaring us. And suddenly she turned to me, I think she grabbed me and then I grabbed her, embraced her I mean, and then we kissed, I don’t know who was first, I think it was both of us together, at first we fumbled a bit, but then we kissed full on the mouth, with the tongue, like in movies, only in movies there’s no taste, and I tasted the coffee and the cake on her lips, and a deeper smell, and it was a long kiss and suddenly I saw that I couldn’t stand it any longer, I’d die if I stayed in that kiss, and I fell on my knees and started kissing her feet, for so long I’d been wanting to do that, but she lifted me up and pulled me into the bedroom, and she was almost naked, and then she tore off my shirt and said, “Come and be my lover.”
And then Na’im came to me, miserable and broken and said, “Who was that?”
And I didn’t answer. I felt so sorry for him. The way that bastard interrogated him, and the way he co-operated, so humbly, so wretchedly. And I grabbed him because I was afraid he’d leave me and he hugged me and suddenly we were kissing, I don’t know how it happened, who was the first, I think it was both of us together. And a deep sort of kiss, like in movies, and the taste of pineapple and chocolate on his lips, sucking at my tongue. And suddenly he let go of me and fell down on his knees and started kissing my feet, like a madman. And I saw he was afraid to stand up and he wanted to stay there on his knees, so I lifted him up and he pulled me into the bedroom and opened my dressing gown and pyjama top and then I tore off his shirt so he wouldn’t still be in his clothes when I was almost naked.
It’s wonderful. Already, so quick. But is this all? I’m really doing it, God, this, this is it, this is the real thing. These little tits, like hard apples. A little girl. And that cry. What am I doing? Inside, really inside. Inside her. Just like I thought it would be but different too. Her eyes are closed. Why doesn’t she say something? This is happiness this is the highest happiness there’s nothing greater than this there couldn’t be … and then I start sighing terribly…
I said, “Come and be my lover,” because I didn’t want him to hurt me. But he did hurt me. There was no stopping him. Enough, stop now, it’s so sweet, oh God. There’s no stopping him. This is it. I’m sure I’m the first of all the girls. If only Osnat and Tali knew. That it’s good, it’s like a dream. Na’im inside me, awesome, this smooth movement. All terribly serious. And suddenly he starts to sigh, like an old man, like somebody else inside him. Sighing in Arabic … from pleasure or pain there’s no way of telling.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’m just not thinking.”
“That’s impossible, you must be thinking about something.”
“Good for the old woman.”
“What about the old woman?”
“She must be dead by now.”
“How old is she?”
“Over ninety. I wish I could live that many years.”
“Did he offend you?”
“Who?”
“The headmaster …”
“That was the headmaster … No, why, what is there to be offended about? I was just scared.”
“Were you scared?”
“Yes, he really scared me …”
“When did Daddy give you the key to the house?”
“He didn’t.”
“But you had the key today.”
“It’s my key…”
“Yours?”
“I got a duplicate of the key he gave me, that time he sent me here to fetch his case … when I saw you …”
“So long ago …”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I just wanted to have a key to this house.”
“But why?”
“I just did …”
“Because of me?”
“Because of you too.”
“Because of who else?”
“All right, only because of you.”
“But they can put you in jail for that.”
“Let them … Somebody’s coming into the house.”
“No!”
“Listen … people coming in …”
“Then get dressed … hurry… I’ll hide you … it’s Daddy and Mommy and I think there’s somebody else.”
ADAM
Stretched out weakly, dozing on the broad bed, his head on a heap of pillows that he’s put together, the strong light of a Jerusalem morning filling the room. The music still playing, a lively march. She clutches at me, she stumbles in the doorway. I didn’t expect her to be so shocked at the sight of his black beard, his long side curls, the tassels straggling carelessly from his clothes, and the hat of tawny fox fur that lies menacingly on the table, beside the telephone.
“What happened?” she whispers.
He opens his eyes, looking at us, still lying there, a thin smile appearing on his face, as if he’s enjoying her astonishment, as if the whole sequence of his actions has been aimed at this moment.
“How are you? Mrs. …”
And she can’t even answer, the words stick in her mouth, is she afraid that the lover is no longer a lover, that the lover has gone mad?
The love of an ageing woman –
“But why?”
He rises slowly, sitting up, still smiling with a sort of happiness.
“They wanted to kill me, I had to escape. Praise the Lord, what matters is that I’m alive.”
And he starts pacing about the room, going to the window to look at the wall of the Old City, its towers and turrets. She watches him as if every one of his movements has a deep significance. Still afraid to approach him, still nervous of him.