His ingratitude fills me with revulsion, and I stride indignantly to the telephone, where’s her number, it was here on the fridge, I think I remember it by heart, and I dial the number hesitantly, Zohara, it’s Na’ama, and she replies, how are you, but her voice is clipped, frozen, perhaps she’s offended that I didn’t call before. We’re fine, I announce emotionally, I wanted to thank you, Udi’s back to his old self again, and immediately I’m sure that she will say, he needs to change, not to go back to his old self, but she doesn’t say anything, it’s clear she has no interest in continuing the conversation, but I persevere, I don’t want to lose her. How’s the baby, I ask, and she says, fine, and I suggest shyly, why don’t you bring her round one day, you promised to come for supper, and she cuts me short, she doesn’t even wait for the end of the invitation, all right, one of these days, and I put the receiver down in disappointment, not knowing how to interpret her coolness.
I told you there was no point in calling her, Udi snaps, and I retort crossly, you’re not exactly my model in the field of human relations, I felt the need to thank her, and if it made her uncomfortable that’s her affair, not mine, and I open the fridge angrily, the vegetables are finished again, he lies round the house all day and it never occurs to him to fill up the fridge, I have to do everything when I come home from work, and I grumble, why didn’t you do the shopping, once you were already roaming round for hours, there’s nothing for supper, and he says, I’m not hungry anyway, and I burst out, terrific, so you’re not hungry, what about us? You can’t only think of yourself, you’re part of a family, whether you like it or not, and he says in pretended innocence, so do I have to be hungry when you’re hungry?
You have to think about everyone’s needs, I yell, in the evening people have supper, it’s not so complicated, and he grumbles, you and your bourgeois ideas, and by now I’m almost screaming, you raise a family on other ideas, children need to eat supper, people who work all day get hungry, and he shouts back, so eat your fucking suppers, am I stopping you from eating? And he rushes out of the house, slamming the door behind him, and I sit down in the kitchen, stunned, what did I say, is it so much to ask, hoping that Noga didn’t hear us, her door is closed, the television is on full volume. Now I don’t feel like eating either, I can do without supper, I can do without vegetables, without bread, I can do without him too, and I lean against the fridge, the motor chugging noisily behind my back, how long have I got before she bursts into the kitchen and demands, when’s supper, not much, but I need the time just to sit down, to listen quietly to the chugging of the fridge, and when he comes in a few minutes later with shopping bags, I am as moved as if I have received a magnificent gift, ready to make peace on the spot, he isn’t so bad after all, something else must have upset him, maybe the conversation with Zohara, he didn’t want me to talk to her, there’s no point in even asking why, the main thing is that he’s already chopping vegetables, instead of apologizing. I’m glad that he came back, I’m glad that I won’t have to sit alone opposite the glum Noga, but she’s still glum, for some reason, and he’s still tense, his jaws go up and down as he chews, making a disagreeable creaking noise, and I can’t wait for the two of them to go to bed, they weigh on me so heavily, then I can sit on the porch among the fragrant washing, here and there an empty sleeve will caress me, because he crams his winter clothes into the machine as well, long-sleeved shirts and corduroy trousers, and a few sweaters.
Among the damp vapors I breathe a sigh of relief, how pleasant this empty silence is in the night, with nothing to be disappointed in anymore, and suddenly I see a shirt and a pair of pants advancing toward me, as if they’re grown arms and legs, they are arms and legs, he’s inside his clothes, I’ve grown so used to seeing empty clothes at this hour of night that I stare at him in wonder, as at some prodigy of nature, and at that moment the phone rings, before I have a chance to ask him why he isn’t in bed, and childish crying rises from the earpiece, Na’ama, she sobs, and I ask, Hani, what is it? And she moans, I’ve given birth, they took me to the hospital after you went home, and I exclaim, mazal tov, how did the birth go? But she takes no notice, as if this is of no importance, the sweater’s ruined, she sobs, Ilana unraveled it. Are you sure, I demand, appalled, how do you know? And she says, I took it out of my bag to put it on my baby, and it was all unraveled, just bits of wool, that’s all that’s left of it, I’ll kill her, she’s a monster, and I say, Hani, calm down, tomorrow I’ll bring you one just like it, I’ll search the shops until I find one just like it, and she screams, there’s nothing like it, I knitted it myself, I’m not handing over my baby without the sweater, I’m not giving her up, in all my life I’ve never had anything of my own, I’m not going to give her up, and I plead with her, calm down, Hani, I’ll come right away and we’ll talk about it, we’ll find a solution, the important thing is that you’re well, that it all went smoothly. I look in embarrassment at Udi standing opposite me, one of the girls unraveled a sweater the other one knitted for her baby, I try to sum up the drama for him, that llana, I knew she had to be watched, and I stand up quickly, I have to go to the maternity ward, I say, but he stands in front of me barring my way, he smells nice, don’t go, he says, I have to talk to you.
Happiness takes me by surprise, it approaches me with hesitant steps, he has to talk to me, he still has something to say to me, I felt so extraneous sitting here every evening opposite his closed door, perhaps we’ll sit on the porch together like we used to, smoking and drinking cold beer, and he’ll stroke my thigh, steal cool fingers under my dress, and I’ll kiss his beautiful forehead, the green oases in his eyes, I missed you Udi, I’ll whisper into his mouth, and the words will sweeten his tongue, and return to me wetly, so did I, so did I, and nevertheless I say, I have to go, I’ll be back in less than an hour, but he stands his ground, I’m going soon, and I say, then we’ll talk when you come back, I’ll wait up for you, and he says quietly, but I’m not coming back.
Why, I ask in innocent surprise, has some war broken out that people don’t come back from? I look at him like a little girl whose father has been called up in the middle of the night, and he says, Na’ama, I’m leaving, and I stare at him, still not understanding, who are you leaving? And he says, I’m leaving home, I’m leaving you, I can’t go on like this, and apparently I start to tremble, because he grips me firmly by the shoulders and says, calm down, Na’ama, it will be better for you too, you’ll see, we both suffer being together, and I stammer, but why, is it because of the vegetables? Because of supper? Then we don’t have to have supper anymore. It’s not because of the vegetables, he says, pulling up a plastic chair and sitting down on it, for a moment it seems that he is trembling too, but no, he looks composed, pale but determined, I’ve never seen this face before, I’ve known him for over twenty years and I’ve never seen this face before, refined and at the same time vicious, the face of a particularly dangerous criminal, his jaws creak when he talks, what is he saying, I can hardly hear, he’s delivering a prepared speech, he must have been working on it for a long time, practicing opposite the mirror in the closed room, but I sink into the cloud of the cruelly unraveled sweater, the strands of wool coil round my neck, how could she have done that to her, she worked on it for weeks, weaving all her unhappiness into the pink wool, and now it was all unraveled, beyond repair, beyond repair, and he shouts, can you hear me, listen to me, Na’ama, and I try to look at him but my head sags crookedly as if my neck is broken, it droops down, all I can see are my kneecaps, huge round nuts, pressed together. What difference does it make to him if I’m listening or not, let him go and make his speech to someone else, let him go into the empty streets and prophesy to the trees and stones, and he says, listen Na’ama, I have to make a change, he raises my chin gently, my head is full of steel nails, how can his slender hands lift it up, I know that this illness is a sign, he says, I’ve been given a warning which has a deep meaning, it took me a long time to understand it but now I have no doubt, I have to make a ch
ange in my life.
But how do you know what change, I whisper, it seems to me that I’m whispering but he says, don’t shout, and lets go of my chin, which immediately drops, and I mumble to my white knees, why this change, perhaps you should do precisely the opposite, and he says, I’ve been thinking about it for months, I know there’s no alternative, this framework of ours is sick, all there is between us is tension, negative feelings, I can’t go on living in an atmosphere like this, I keep on disappointing you, disappointing Noga, I can’t go on like this, I’m not prepared to live for another forty years in the shadow of your anger, and I raise my head abruptly as if a spring in my neck has been stretched and yell, so in order not to disappoint us you’re leaving? That’s what you do instead of trying to mend matters? Is that how you cope with problems?
Some things are beyond repair, he says, you have to face it, we’re not talking about an unraveled sweater that can be knitted again, there’s something profoundly wrong between us that we haven’t succeeded in putting right, I’m not blaming you, we’re equally to blame, but you can go on like this and I can’t, and suddenly he opens his mouth wide in a yawn, exposing teeth as sharp as barbed wire, and I look at the movements of his mouth grinding up my life, and of all things it’s this yawn that makes me start to cry, how can he yawn now, showing me my place in his life with this insulting gesture, after I’ve been the center of his life for twenty-five years, a quarter of a century. You don’t love me anymore, I sob, and he says, I don’t love our life, I don’t love my life, I have to make a change, and I say, but what about me, what about your love for me? And he whispers, I don’t feel it, ever since I got sick I don’t feel it, and I weep, what will I do without his love, how will I be able to live without it, I’m not prepared to give it up, I have to try to awaken it again. But why necessarily this change, why do you have to leave, why can’t the three of us go away together, leave everything behind us, try to make a fresh start somewhere else, that’s the change you need, Udigi, we’ll sell this apartment and go away, you won’t have to go on guiding tours, you’ll be able to finish your doctorate without any interference, and already I plunge into this happy vision, encouraging myself, he won’t refuse, I’ll succeed in persuading him. Udi, you don’t understand, I say firmly, almost coolly, it’s like prophecy, you hear voices inside you, you don’t know who to believe, you don’t know which path to take, it’s only after the fact that we can tell the true prophet from the false one, it’s true that we have problems, but how can you imagine that this is the solution, to leave everything and go, to run away from the problems, what kind of miserable solution is that? How can you even think that you’re free to go? I’ve never felt free, I’ve never even considered the possibility, it was clear to me that things could only be put right from the inside, and you’ll see that this is what you have to do, this is what will make you well. You’ve never faced what happened to you with Noga, I continue enthusiastically, more and more convinced of the justice of my words, you preferred to wallow in the mire of guilt and accusations instead of rebuilding your relationship with her, and with me, that’s what you have to do now, Udi, believe me, I know you better than anybody, don’t be tempted to take the path of destruction, it could lead to tragedy, Noga won’t be able to cope with it, I’m afraid to even think of what will happen to her, and I hold his hand with all my fingers, I don’t care if I have to beg, to humiliate myself. Udi, it’s so clear to me that you’re making a mistake, try my way, the change has to come from within the family, give it a few months, you can always leave, and he shakes my fingers off his hand, his composure is melting away, you see why I can’t go on living with you, he bursts out, I can’t stand your bossiness, you’re the only one who knows what to do, you always think you’re right and everybody else is wrong, so maybe I’m wrong, he yells, but it’s my mistake, and I’ll pay the price.
You’ll pay? I yell, if only you would pay the price alone, what about me, what about Noga? You still don’t understand what it means to be a family, everyone pays a price, everyone is connected, you think you can cut off the connection? And he says, stop educating me all the time, stop using Noga to punish me, you won’t tie me to you with bonds of guilt, I’m not prepared to sacrifice my life for this greedy goddess called a family, no one benefits from the fact that I’m suffering, certainly not you or Noga. I feel that my life’s in danger, I have to save it, why do you think I got sick? Nothing happens by accident. It was my anger at you that made me sick, because I didn’t dare be angry with you I was angry with myself, I punished myself because how could anyone be angry with a saint like you? And I simply can’t believe my ears, you’re angry with me? You’ve still got the nerve to be angry with me? I gave my life for you and for Noga, for years I’ve been covering up for your deficiencies, if it was anger that made people sick I’d have been dead long ago. I never asked you to cover up for me, he yells, I never asked you to make sacrifices for me, and you won’t force me to sacrifice whatever remains of my life for you, to rot here in a prison of guilt, I have to get away from here, to cut myself off, if it goes on like this I’ll die, and I scream with a hoarse throat, cut yourself off? How can you cut yourself off from your daughter? And he says, it’s been years since I had any communication with my daughter, and it’s all your fault, you’re always supervising me, testing me, you have no idea how much damage you’ve done to my relationship with her, and I shout, I’ve done damage? All I tried to do was salvage something.
I’m not doubting your intentions, he sighs, but it turned out badly, and I don’t know how to put it right, Noga’s a big girl now, she doesn’t need me on a day-to-day basis, I need time to think about what to do with her, and I stare at him tensely, suddenly I have nothing to say but I’m afraid of keeping quiet in case he gets up and leaves, as long as he’s here there’s still hope, I have to wear him out with words and then he’ll stay to sleep, and I’ll lie next to him and hold him tight, and perhaps in his sleep I’ll succeed in getting him to make love to me, like when we came home from the hospital, and in the morning he’ll understand that he has to stay with us, that this is his place. His irises dart round restlessly in the narrow prison of his eyes, his pale lips are tightly clamped together, I’ve succeeded in sowing doubts in him, I note with satisfaction, but then he stands up and begins hastily pulling the washing off the line, and I am encouraged by this act of domesticity, leave it, I say, we’ll do it tomorrow, it’s not dry yet, and then I see, it’s only his own things that he’s taking down, the sweaters and the long-sleeved shirts, preparing himself for winter, he isn’t coming back, and I feel my face flooded with blood, dense and violent as lava, it seems as if my eyes, my cheeks, my lips, my nose are all quivering inside blazing red lakes, and I tear down the still-damp clothes and fling them in his face, now I understand, I scream, I don’t care if all the neighbors hear, you waited until I finished washing your clothes and now you’re going, you dirty swine, you miserable coward, I washed your entire wardrobe and now that I’ve finished you’re leaving, and he says through clenched teeth, shut up already, you petty bitch, that’s what you’re worried about now, the wear and tear on the washing machine? I’m worried about the wear and tear on me, all the years I’ve wasted on you, from the age of twelve we’ve been together, and now you decide to leave, when I’m almost forty? When I was still young and attractive you didn’t dare, and now you’re brave? Egoist, exploiter, I yell, tearing more and more washing off the line, trampling on whatever falls from my hands, how can you do this to me, by what right, suddenly you feel like having a new life? You think this is a holiday resort, where everyone does what he likes, you know how many things I wanted to do and didn’t, you know what I’ve given up for this family?
So now you’ve got the chance, he says in a whisper, and I scream, now? Thanks a lot! For me it’s too late, I haven’t got the strength to start a new life now, and you won’t start one without me, you hear, up to now we’ve done everything together, you can’t begin again without me,
and now my hands are on his shoulders, closing in on his throat, I could strangle him, in my fury I’m capable of anything, but he pushes my hands away, calm down, he says coldly, and I know that this outburst repels him but I don’t care, I suppose I should have sat with my legs crossed and listened to his prepared speech and parted from him nobly, perhaps that would have made him want to return, but I rage like an animal, kicking, cursing, exactly like the girls at the shelter when their babies are taken away, he’s mine, he’s mine, they scream, and I scream too, you’re my husband, you can’t leave me, and suddenly among the flying sparks of my screams a mute picture shines at me, yellowing with age, of two crop-haired children holding hands in a little room, and I remember how I used to write my name on the lobes of his ears, and when the letters blurred I would go over them again, with a blue pen, and he would laugh, you don’t need that, Noam, presenting his ear to the brand of the pen, I’m yours forever.
Husband and Wife Page 21