Tel Aviv Noir

by Etgar Keret

  Danielle tosses her cigarette to the ground and steps on it. “Wow, I’m tired.” She yawns.

  They sit down on a bench, not saying a word. Now that they’ve told each other about themselves, they have nothing more to talk about. It’s awkward, but also pleasant. Daniel raises his arm clumsily and puts it on Danielle’s back. When he rubs her shoulder she can feel that his fingers are sweating.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asks.

  They kiss, mostly with their tongues and a little with their lips.

  “Danielle, where are you?”

  They hear Essy calling and stop kissing immediately. Danielle jumps up. Essy walks toward her, holding her purse tightly. Danielle can tell she’s pissed off.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Essy orders.

  “Why? What’s going on?” Danielle is annoyed.

  “Come on, let’s get in the car.” She grabs Danielle’s hand and pulls her up. Daniel stands there and watches them, saying nothing. Danielle turns back to him. He has exactly three seconds to ask for her number or her last name. But he just puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs.

  They get in the car. Essy slams the door and buckles her seat belt nervously. Danielle hasn’t even had a chance to get her bearings after that sweet kiss.

  God, she’s so jealous, she just can’t handle it if not every guy wants her, going insane over her, unable to keep his hands off her. Bitch.

  Essy pulls the pack of Parliament Lights from her purse, opens the window, and lights a cigarette.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Danielle shouts. Essy knows she can’t smoke in her mother’s car. “Put that out right now, Essy!”

  Her friend ignores her, blowing smoke out the window.

  “Essy, come on.”

  Suddenly Essy turns her back to her, and Danielle sees her skin through that flower-shaped opening in the back, and the skin is scratched and bleeding. Then Essy brushes her hair from the back of her neck and Danielle sees the dress is torn. She slows down and pulls over by an open field. The road is empty and silent. The air is black. They get out of the car and sit outside, smoking, not talking. Danielle feels sick. She takes deep breaths to stop herself from throwing up. And it’s not the booze.

  Essy gets up, turns around. It’s four in the morning. The only light comes from the moon and a few streetlamps. She breathes deeply to stop the tears, but it doesn’t work. She cries and cries. Danielle is sorry for anything bad she ever thought about Essy. She takes a few steps and then throws up. Maybe it was the booze after all.

  No More Mr. Nice Girl

  Essy doesn’t want to go home. She asks Danielle to hang out for a while. Danielle says yes. She says yes to everything. The sun is up, the streets are lit, but it’s very quiet. It’s Saturday and everyone is sleeping in and there are no buses. They wander the streets, barely talking. Essy chain-smokes, Danielle walks behind her, stepping on her heels. They enter a store and Essy buys a seventy-five-shekel bottle of Absolut Raspberry. Danielle doesn’t even try to stop her. They will drown together.

  Sweet Essy, little Essy, pretty Essy. Danielle is angry at the world. She slips a block of cheese into her bag. They’ll need something substantial to absorb all the vodka they’re going to drink. The supermarket employees are sleepy, they don’t even notice as Danielle puts whatever she wants in her bag. Standing in front of the wine shelf, she decides to up the ante. Cheese is nothing. She slips a bottle of sauvignon blanc into her bag.

  They sit down on the edge of the fountain in the square in front of the Opera Tower, by the beach, and drink, sharing the Absolut because they have no way of opening the wine bottle.

  The square is empty. They can hear the water rumbling in the fountain and the waves crashing onto the beach. Essy looks at the sea, Danielle looks at Essy who drinks the Absolut in big gulps. The repulsive flavor of the vodka doesn’t even make her squint as it meets her tongue.

  “Let’s take a stroll, I’m sick of sitting here.” Essy gets up and begins walking toward Allenby.

  “What do you feel like doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  Danielle decides this time there’s no way she’s telling her mother what happened to Essy. Forget it. Frankly, she isn’t exactly sure what happened to her friend. She only knows her back was scratched and her dress was ripped. Oh, and that Essy was bawling. She can imagine the rest.

  * * *

  When Danielle was outside with Daniel, Essy stayed inside the bar with Yoni. He bought her one shot after another and made her laugh. It’s easy to make her laugh. He kept telling her she was pretty. It’s easy to tell her she’s pretty. Then Essy tucked her hair behind her ear and bit her lip and he kissed her. Essy suggested they head outside, because people were really beginning to stare. They went to the back, by the kitchen, and he grabbed her neck and kissed her hard and slipped a hand under her white satin dress and Essy liked it. Then he lifted her and pushed her against the wall and got really, really close and Essy wrapped her arms and legs around him. He tried taking off her dress. He was gentle at first, but the small, smooth buttons kept slipping between his fingers. He managed to undo one, and then discovered there were three more. Essy didn’t help him or suggest doing it herself. He couldn’t really bear the thought of missing out on this opportunity, so he tore the buttons open, and Essy yelled, but he had her completely pinned to the wall. She pushed herself down to get away from him and her entire back got scratched on the rough wall. When she managed to shove him off her he said, “Come on, don’t be a tease.”

  * * *

  “Have you ever been to a strip club?” Essy asks.

  “No. You?”

  Essy and Danielle are standing outside a strip club on Allenby. Danielle imagines walls painted with palm trees, women dancing with flowers around their necks, Spanish music playing, fruity orange cocktails, and laughter. But when they walk in, they find the club dark, empty except for a man at a corner table and one dancing stripper. She has small breasts and a glow-in-the-dark thong. This is not at all what Danielle had expected. They worry that someone will kick them out, but at the same time Danielle can feel Essy calming down, softening, going back to her normal, mellow self. Danielle takes a few long sips of vodka and returns the bottle to her bag. The last thing they need is to be caught in a place like this sneaking in their own booze.

  They sit down on a black leather sofa and watch the stripper.

  “Do you think she’s pretty?” Danielle asks.

  “Kinda. I thought she’d have bigger tits.”

  “Disappointing, right?”

  They both laugh.

  The lone guy comes over and sits beside them. Essy lurches and clings to Danielle.

  He’s probably eighteen. Blue eyes, strange accent, black, dandruff-sprinkled hair. “What are your names?” he asks. The way he speaks, the way his tongue swallows each word: something isn’t quite right with him.

  “I’m Esther, and this is Danielle,” Danielle says.

  Essy smiles at her. “And what’s your name?” she asks.

  “I’m Aviram Maoz. I live at 24 Yehuda HaMaccabi Street, on the second floor.”

  The girls giggle quietly. His body language is strange, with exaggerated movements.

  “Is this your first time here?” Danielle asks.

  “No, I come here every Friday. It’s good for me to stop by. And I usually have friends here too. They aren’t here now but I always sit with them. They smoke a lot. I don’t like the smoking but it’s fine because they’re my friends.” His body shifts from side to side.

  “And what do you and your friends do?” Danielle asks, lighting a Noblesse for Essy and for herself.

  “We look at the girls, at their boobs.” He laughs.

  “And do you think they’re pretty?” Essy asks in her sweet, childish voice.

  “Very pretty. My friend Avi always jokes about how it’s too bad we can’t take them home and give them hell. I know what he means. It’s illegal.” He laughs nervously now.
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br />   “So if it’s illegal, what do you do instead?” Danielle leans toward him, waiting to trap him.

  He laughs yet again, embarrassed. “I go home late at night and I lie in bed and whack off and think about the girls from the strip club.”

  His honest response takes her by surprise. “Are you a virgin?”

  “My dad was the one who first brought me here. He said this could be a good place for me. I’m not a kid anymore but I still live with my parents, at 24 Yehuda HaMaccabi Street. You understand?”

  “Would you like to lose your virginity?” Danielle blows smoke into his eyes.

  He waves his hands to clear the smoke. “We’re not allowed to touch here. That’s what they told me. Anyone who tries to touch gets hell.”

  “Do you know where the bathroom is?” Danielle puts out her cigarette.

  Aviram points across the room.

  “Where exactly? Can you show me?”

  He stands up.

  “What are you doing?” asks Essy.

  Danielle smiles and Essy smiles back and sticks out her tongue.

  They laugh. They both think how great it is that they have each other.

  Aviram leads Danielle to the bathroom. He smiles, someone actually takes him seriously for once. The girls are nice, they ask him questions. His friends only make fun of him, calling him a horny retard. The girls haven’t even said anything about that. They can’t even tell that he’s a horny retard. “It’s right here.” He points at the bathroom door. “You want me to wait for you? I can wait for you.”

  Danielle breathes deeply and comes closer, too close.

  Aviram fidgets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He puts his hands behind his back.

  “Can I kiss you?” she asks. She can’t believe she just said that, it’s the bravest thing she’s ever done.

  “Why w-would you want to d-do that?” he stutters. His voice trembles, his upper lip is sweaty.

  She grabs his face and kisses him. He doesn’t move. His arms are at his sides, his tongue hidden deep inside his mouth.

  Danielle follows the rules, so she begins nicely. She likes being in control. She’s the one who decides where to move her tongue, what to do with her lips. She bites his lower lip and creates a puckered kissy sound.

  Danielle glimpses Essy out of the corner of her eye, with her white dress now completely trampled, her hair messy, and the remnants of lipstick that weren’t left on the beer glass back in the Mushroom Bar. When she sees Essy she begins kissing harder.

  No more Mr. Nice Girl, baby. Too bad, you’re actually a decent guy. You’ve probably never hurt a soul, but that doesn’t matter now.

  She grabs his cheeks and thrusts her tongue inside of him. It’s a disgusting, aggressive kiss. Aviram feels this and hopes she goes back to kissing him like before.

  “Ask if he’s a virgin,” Essy says, leaning now against the wall and smoking another cigarette. The pack is empty. She’ll wake up tomorrow and regret all those cigarettes, but it won’t help, the pain won’t go away, it’ll only transform into a sense of heaviness.

  “Are you a virgin? I asked you before, but you never answered. So tell me, are you?” Danielle says.

  “I, I don’t understand.” She’s standing so close, he can’t escape. He’s nervous.

  “Do you want to lose your virginity?”

  He’s burning inside. He dabs the sweat and moves the hair that sticks to his forehead, licks his lip. His arm is trembling. His right foot is numb. He shakes it.

  Danielle leans in and gives him another painful kiss.

  “Maybe you want to lose it with me?” Essy says before approaching. She kisses him now, not the way Danielle does. She’s soft and slow and her big lips feel so tender. Aviram prefers this. “What’s wrong? Do retards not like sex? I thought everyone did.” Essy runs her hand through his oily hair. He smiles, which makes her shudder with disgust. “Gross, look.” She giggles and points to Aviram’s pants. He has a visible hard-on.

  Danielle slaps him lightly. He snorts and the girls don’t try to hide their amusement anymore. Essy bends down and unzips him. She pulls down his jeans and underwear. His entire body is shaking, his head knocking against the wall.

  “Relax,” she says, stroking his cheek. She feels excitement between her legs. “You’ve never done this, right?” Essy looks at Danielle and points at Aviram’s penis.

  It’s not like Danielle’s a virgin. She’s had sex with two guys, but she’s never given anyone head. She’s always wanted to try it. At least that’s what she told Essy.

  “Come on, this is your chance.”

  Essy puts a hand on her shoulder. Her touch infuriates Danielle.

  “Don’t be scared. This is good, I can teach you now.” Essy pats her back and shoots her that smile. It’s the smile that drives Danielle crazy, because it makes her friend so beautiful. But right now Essy looks ugly to her.

  Danielle slips her bag off her shoulder, the liquor bottle knocking against the floor. She crouches down like she’s going to pee. She won’t let her knees touch this filthy floor. Now her face is right in front of his penis. Her mouth is so close, but Aviram isn’t trembling anymore. He’s paralyzed. There’s one thought that horrifies him: Don’t let me have an accident.

  Essy rubs his cheek and kisses him again, her lips fluttering against his face, his skin soft, like a child’s. “You’re pretty cute, you know that?”

  Danielle is already convinced that this will be good practice. She opens her mouth as wide as she can. She puts his dick in her mouth and then pulls it out. She does this several times.

  “Not like that. You have to kiss it. Suck in your cheeks,” Essy says, making a fish face.

  Danielle mimics her.

  “But do that after it’s already in your mouth.”

  She puts his dick in her mouth again, then sucks in her cheeks. She knows it’s impossible, but for a moment she worries about swallowing it.

  “Now roll your tongue around,” Essy says sweetly, gently, and Danielle obeys.

  After a moment, Danielle pulls Aviram’s dick out of her mouth. She needs a breather. The sensation surprises Aviram and his entire body trembles. He tries, but he can’t help it.

  Then Danielle screams, touching her pee-soaked hair. “You son of a bitch, you pervert!” She starts hitting him, harder and harder.

  Aviram doesn’t attempt to escape. He shakes his head, his eyes glued shut.

  “You sick retard!” Danielle slaps his face and his head hits the wall. “I wish you were dead!” She kicks him. He tries to pull up his pants but she won’t let him. She kicks him again.

  “Cut it out, he didn’t mean to do it,” Essy says, dragging her off him.

  Aviram uses this opportunity to pull up his pants and then runs away.

  Danielle continues to scream after him as her voice bounces against the club’s soundproof black walls.

  * * *

  A strong odor of detergent envelops Essy’s nostrils as they walk out. Allenby is busier now. The sun is beating down on it. The street reveals itself to the girls in all of its ugliness. Tel Aviv’s fumes stain each building—the smashed windows, the crumbling structures. Only the sign outside the supermarket reveals a sparkle of cypress green, a foreign green. They walk down toward Ben Yehuda in silence.

  Danielle’s mind is empty. As soon as a thought pops up, she cuts it off and clears her head again.

  Essy’s head feels like it might burst from all the vodka she put in her small body.

  “Horny retard who watches naked women and then jerks off thinking about them. Disgusting,” Danielle mutters.

  “I think you’ve traumatized him for life,” Essy says, giggling.

  Danielle looks her in the eye and without thinking, blurts out, “You’re stupid.”

  Essy stares back at her without a word, but her thoughts are visible through her eyes. She thinks that Danielle is evil, that she has no compassion. Then Essy quickly bounds across the street, escaping. Th
e 4 bus approaches. She raises her hand and waves at it. The bus stops and swallows her inside.

  Danielle walks toward the Opera Tower and down to the beach. The sand is warm, but not too warm. There are people here and there. She sits down on a quiet patch of sand and folds her knees against her chest. The sun shines in her eyes. She laughs out loud.

  PART III

  CORPSES

  THE TOUR GUIDE

  BY YOAV KATZ

  Neve Sha’anan

  You can’t tell by looking at the dead what was killing them when they were still alive. His thick body was seated, slumped to one side. His face was a bleeding steak, loose cheeks, and a shadow of stubble. My heart pounded. In his stand-up act, he used to say that back in the sixties he was as pretty as a little girl. The men who fucked him liked to run their fingers through his curly hair. What little hair he had left now clung to his forehead. The cart he took everywhere was lying at his side. He used to call it his Cadillac. I thought that was funny. I liked his Yiddish jokes too. I probably heard the story about the Nigerian diplomat with the humongous dick a hundred times, but each time he waved his hands and squealed, “Nem de schlong avek foon meer!” I’d crack up and translate it for those who didn’t know Yiddish—Sephardic or young listeners: “Get that dick away from me!” It made me feel good, giving him a stage, bringing in an audience. I felt useful. And now he was dead.

  At first the cops wouldn’t let the group come through, so I knew it was serious. I decided to take an early dinner break, sent the tour group to get some food, and walked into the alley, an improvised path along a construction site’s tin fence at the edge of Rothschild Boulevard.

  Police cars blocked the intersection with Herzl Street, blue and red lights shining across the wet road. Cups of coffee steamed below the Espresso Bar awning. Inside the café was a crowd of irritable people, denied their caffeine. A paramedic covered him with a blanket, preparing him to be hoisted onto the gurney.

  I had no time to process what was happening, because just then a uniformed figure appeared behind me. Hila Farkash, one hand clad in a latex glove, placed her other hand on my shoulder, as if she hadn’t begun her career as my junior employee. As if she really cared. Now she was a chief inspector. Time flies when you’re out of the loop.