That was all that was missing, I heard the name and at once my head opened. The card with my name had been hanging there on the bed all the time and I, foolish woman, had not seen it. Now I knew who I was and I remembered other things too. All at once I understood everything. I felt dizzy with all the knowledge returning to me. Mother, Father, Hemdah and Gabriel, the State of Israel, Golda, the house, the bay, Galilee, Nixon. My neighbour Mrs. Goldberg, Yediot Aharonot, my little Morris, the Jewish people. It all flooded over me. One thing only I did not know, what is this lovely place in which I am lying, the white room and the beds, the orchard outside, and who are these charming girls who walk around me? Surely I’m not dead, this isn’t the world to come.
Quickly I got out of bed and asked for my clothes and a little nurse brought them. And two old women in gowns came into the room and when they saw me dressing they almost screamed. I frightened them. They realized that something had happened to me. Later they described the change — the light had returned to my eyes. Every look of mine was different.
How happy I was! Freedom and joy, I was dressing myself and singing. And everything around me interested me. The names of the old ladies who introduced themselves. An old copy of Ma’ariv lying on the chair. I wanted to devour it. At once I began to read. For I am well known as an avid reader of newspapers. I saw new and wonderful things, the world has not been slumbering in the meantime.
My head was spinning –
The news of my awakening had spread quickly. The matron and the secretary came hurrying into the room, very excited, they hugged me, led me straight to the matron’s office. They called the doctor to come and examine me. They were laughing and I laughed too. “That’s it, I’ve woken up,” I said. “Now tell me everything.”
And they told me, a frightening story. How they brought me here nearly a year ago, unconscious, they lost all hope for me. For ten months perhaps I had been lying there like a stone, like a vegetable, like a mindless animal, not knowing anyone, not even myself. Talking like a baby, nonsense, dreams, all meaningless.
On the table there was a pack of cigarettes and I remembered that I used to smoke and that I used to enjoy it very much and I asked permission to take a cigarette and so I sat facing them in the armchair, smoking cigarette after cigarette, a real resurrection from the dead. Hearing the confused stories about myself and the country. First of all — the war. I did not know that there had been another war and that the bastards surprised us on Yom Kippur. And they enjoyed telling me about the war, one interrupting the other and the doctor too adding his bit. Describing the suffering, terrible things, the treacherous government too, to think that all this happened while I lay senseless in bed. More stories, more sorrows, more deaths, I take them all in. Not yet satisfied, and the smell of cigarettes blending with the smell of gunpowder. The news that I had come to life had taken wing. Nurses, cleaners and clerks peered at me through the door, smiling at me pleasantly, some of them introducing themselves, shaking hands like old friends. People who had known me all the time, who had washed me, who had fed me, I knew nothing about them. Friendly and devoted people. And I all the time discovering more facts, even though they were beginning to tire of me. Now I was asking them about prices. How much had prices risen. How much did a kilo of tomatoes cost, for example, how much must you pay for good eggplants. What the war did to the market.
And so passed two days of happiness and awakening. I embraced the whole world in the joy of my second birth. Walking about the wards, making new friends, old men and old women, doctors and nurses. Asking questions and getting answers. Gossiping all the time, as if I have an empty sack to fill. And at night too I used to wander about, chatting to the attendants and the night nurses. I hardly slept, just dozing for a while and waking with a start, for I was afraid of losing consciousness again.
The doctors scolded me, but smiled –
And already they were hinting that I might go home –
Then they took out my file and hesitantly, cautiously began to tell me about him. My grandson — Gabriel. I did not know that he had suddenly returned to Israel. A month after they brought me here he apeared. Oh, God, for what?
My head felt weak. It seems I went pale as well. They gave me a sedative, even wanted to put me to bed.
Gabriel has returned! For ten years now he’s been wandering around the world not wanting to return, and suddenly he is back. I just lose consciousness and here he is. Even bringing a doctor, an expert on comas, to examine me, bringing a lawyer to take instructions from me. Conferring beside my bed. A consultation. It seems he’s interested in the legacy, my poor bewildered grandson.
Now I am going crazy. The details aren’t clear, it’s as if they have all lost consciousness. Everything is so confused. At first he used to come here every week. Sitting beside my bed, trying hard to talk to me, waiting for the doctor’s visit, glancing at the medical reports and going. Then he came seldom and for short visits, he did not even come to my bed but used to go straight to the office, take out the file himself, look at it grimly and disappear. But since the war he has not been here at all, he has disappeared. He got scared and fled.
There had been a phone call to check if there had been any change in my condition, but they didn’t know if it was him or someone else. Just a few weeks ago another man appeared, older, with a big beard, they all remembered his beard. (But who was it? Who was it?) He said he was related to me, he spoke hesitantly, he stood beside my bed and looked at me for a long time, he wanted to know if Gabriel had been here. More than caring about me he was looking for Gabriel.
A detective story –
They’ll make a film of it yet –
Suddenly I’m sad. No longer the joy of awakening of the first few days but worry and depression. The newspapers full of dark news. Now I realize how hard the war was. Gabriel came back from Paris and I didn’t know him and it seems he lost hope and went away. Now I must think about returning home, paying my bills, going out into the world again, I must vacate my bed, there are other old people going into comas all the time, and not only old people. I phone my house but the line’s been disconnected. Phone my lawyer but he’s away on army service. I order a taxi and drive home, a terrible fog outside, rain and mud and darkness. I arrive at my house and the heavy door is closed. My neighbour Mrs. Goldberg, the Ashkenazi bitch, comes out to see who it is, almost faints when she sees me.
I go into her apartment and hear her story. It was she who found me unconscious, sitting at the table, a plate in front of me, motionless as a stone. She called a doctor who took me to the hospital. She looked through my papers and found Gabriel’s address in Paris and wrote to him telling him about my illness, told him that I was dying. And a few weeks later the young man actually appeared, and stayed in the house until the war. But on the first day he disappeared and hadn’t been seen since. Some time later a man with a beard came, that beard chasing me again, he came looking for Gabriel, wanted to get inside the apartment, to break down the door, but she threatened to call the police, she stood on guard, she even moved her bed closer to the door, to hear him if he came.
I had to call a locksmith to break down the door of my apartment. For I had no key, neither did Mrs. Goldberg, Gabriel took them all. He worked for a quarter of an hour and charged a hundred pounds, thief. But at least I was able to get inside. A neglected house, full of spiders, in the kitchen dirty dishes and filthy scraps of mouldy food. Tins of preserves everywhere. And a lot of pans. He’s taken all the cutlery out of the cupboards so as not to have to wash up every day. Beetles scuttled about under my feet, as if I’m the intruder. And a little mouse that was born in the rubbish there stares at me insolently from a corner, making no attempt to run away.