Husband and Wife

by Zeruya Shalev

  And when I feel rapid breaths caressing my face in the middle of the night I repeat, he’s back, he’s back, and nevertheless I turn my face to the other side, I could never fall asleep when we were facing each other, examining each other with our eyes closed, but then I hear Noga whispering, I can’t sleep any more, I’ve slept so much, and I make room for her and she nestles up to me, the smell of sickness enveloping her even though her forehead is only lukewarm, and for a moment the earth seems to tremble, until I realize that her body pressed to mine is shaking in a storm of weeping, and I feel annoyed, why has she come to trouble me, where am I going to get the strength to calm her, but suddenly a strange, resigned serenity descends on me, perhaps it’s not my job to calm her, simply to be with her, and I coil my arms around her and my weeping coils round hers and we cry together, like two orphaned sisters who have survived a catastrophe.

  But we have a mother. In the morning we wake to the smell of strong coffee, fresh salad and omelets, and the two of us, after not eating for days, fall on the table, giggling like girlfriends who have spent the night confiding their deepest secrets to each other, and my mother looks at us in satisfaction, the way she sometimes looked at me and Yotam, Noga fawns on her and I see how much they resemble each other, not in their coloring but in the generous and noble cast of their faces, the high cheekbones, and the chiseled lips, how beautiful she is, in her bright pajamas, her curls tied in an untidy knot, how pleasant it is to be her sister, without the endless burden of motherhood, and after breakfast I fill the bathtub and sit on the toilet seat next to it, peeking at her changed body, the baby fat has melted in the fever and left her tall and slender, the new breasts rising from her chest stiff as cones, and she wets her hair until it reaches the middle of her back and says to me, come on, you get in too. No, I showered last night, I say, but I immediately take off my nightgown and get in, my body too is lighter, knees facing knees we sit, sunk in a pleasant embarrassment, barely touching, only the warm water conveying caresses and laughter and snatched kisses, her presence at my side fills me with an unfamiliar serenity, I’m not alone, I have a daughter, and this time the knowledge blunts the loneliness instead of intensifying it. I like feeling the currents of water stirring between us, responding to her movements, and in the kitchen my mother is washing the dishes, like on a Saturday morning in the old house, and in a minute she’ll wrap us in big towels, and I hear her answering the phone, yes, she’s better now, she says and comes into the bathroom with the phone in her hand, presents it to Noga with a flourish, and I sink into the water until it covers my head, I don’t want to gather the crumbs from their conversation, and her excited voice reaches me muffled, telling the tale of her illness like the recounting of some heroic exploit, magnified from moment to moment in the telling.

  So when will I see you Daddy, she asks in the end, as if in the expectation of well-deserved praise, and then she nods and passes me the wet telephone, and he says in a soft voice, Na’ama, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that she was sick, and I sigh in relief, it seems to me that this was all I wanted to hear, the certain knowledge that refutes all my suspicions, if he’d known he would have come, and I’m glad that he sounds so far away, that a wide expanse of land separates us, he hasn’t denied us, he simply wasn’t around, he wasn’t hiding from us in her house, perhaps he didn’t even leave for her, it was all my wild, dangerous imagination. The only thing that matters is that she’s well again, I say, and how about you, where are you, and he says, I’m still in the south, I’ll be back in a few days and I’ll come to see Noga, and I say, fine, no problem, smiling into the receiver, but suddenly I recoil and let it fall from my hand, watching it turn over like a little submarine at the bottom of the tub, because behind his soft voice, which stings me with a pang of loss, I seem to hear the distant, muffled crying of a baby.

  Eighteen

  And on the eighth day we rise from our mourning and go out into a world distorted beyond recognition, a steep crater has opened up almost beneath our feet, a giant maw frozen in a ghastly yawn, one step ahead of us wherever we go, one short step on our part and we’ll fall in and be swallowed by its depths. Hand in hand we descend the stairs, opposite the brazen face of the morning sun, my mother waves us good-bye with emotional, exaggerated movements, as if many years will pass before we meet again, and Noga leans on me, weak and tottering, the only shirt he left her flapping round her like a black flag, signaling a stern warning with her every movement.

  Next to the school gate I say good-bye to her, embracing her with a pounding heart, as if she is six years old and this is her first day of school, and then I continue on my way, emptiness spreading inside me as I leave her behind, it seems that only the walls of my body have remained as they were, and between them is a desolate void. This is what the village pool looked like at the end of summer, after they emptied out the water, and once Yaron, the neighbors’ son, dived headfirst into the hard, deceptive void, and afterward he lay for a whole year without moving, his neck in a brace, and everybody said that it would take a miracle to make him walk again. On nights when the moon was full I would steal over there, climb the gate, and gaze down from its heights at the transfigured pool, like the ruins of an ancient Canaanite city it looked back at me, dug into the earth, surrounded by black cypresses, somber and majestic, as if it had forgotten the shouts and laughter of the children in the clear water, the golden glints between their fingers, the redness of the watermelons bursting with sweetness on its banks. So I too will forget the comforting murmurs of closeness before falling asleep, the pleasant relaxation of Saturday mornings, making family plans for the day, even the faintest of gestures, like the echo of the male pulse on the mattress, the presence of another, even if it was hostile, separating me from myself, and which boiled down to the knowledge, now unbearably precious, that if I slipped in the bathroom in the middle of the night there would be someone to hear the thud, all this will be forgotten in the course of time and I will turn into a cold, petrified monument to a little family of three that had once existed and was no longer there.

  A young woman runs past me, her hands behind her neck, her face sweating, and I try to guess if she has a man or not, for a moment it seems to me that a woman with a man is surrounded by a shining halo, like a royal crown, and I, who had no longer been conscious of the presence of this crown because it had become part of me, now feel its absence keenly, how it was torn from my hair, ripping off pieces of my scalp. With insulted fingers I feel my head, dragging my feet up the shelter steps, in a minute Hava will summon me and I’ll have to tell her, even if I don’t want to she’ll drag it out of me, and then she’ll use it against me, I have no doubt, she’ll have one more reason to look down on me, a woman rejected by her husband. Silent as a thief I steal into the elegant building, the girls are absorbed in their breakfast and pay no attention to me, some of them are unknown to me, one week in a place like this is a lifetime, Hani has left already and I am glad to see that so has Ilana, and when I remember them the shadow of that night pounces on me, the night when the pink sweater was unraveled and so was my life, and I nearly fall, hanging on to the banister, dragging myself up to the second floor, all I want is to hide in my office, not to see a living soul, but the sound of stifled weeping follows me, and I feel my lips to make sure that it’s not coming from me, the sound is so familiar that it seems to me I hear myself crying in the distance, wailing at the shadow of his back disappearing up the street. Embarrassed I peek into the rooms, opening door after door, until I see on a tangled bed, next to the window, bare limbs gathered sorrowfully around the sharp hill of a stomach, a bowed head covered with cropped red hair, the eyes of a wounded doe widening at me in surprise, and I sit down next to the bed and say in an agitated whisper, Yael, what are you doing here, when did you arrive, I had no idea that you were here.

  I arrived a week ago, she sobs, I’ve been going crazy here without you, I was afraid you’d never come back, and I hold her hand, I thought about you a lot, I whispe
r, I hoped that things had worked out with him, and she sighs, nothing worked out, he’s not prepared to leave home, and I can’t bring up the baby alone, I can’t be a single parent at the age of twenty-two, with nobody to help me, and suddenly I hear myself saying urgently, I’ll help you, Yael, I’ll help you raise it. She sits up slowly, staring at me in astonishment, and I smile back at her in embarrassment, it’s too late to go back, and there’s no reason to go back either, even Udi is bringing up a little baby now, so why shouldn’t I help this charming child, who captured my heart as soon as I saw her, and already I imagine how excited Noga will be, and how we’ll all mobilize for the sake of this baby, take it for walks in its carriage, warm the house for it in winter, put it down in the middle of the living room carpet, where it will smile and kick its little legs, and we won’t feel Udi’s absence anymore, we won’t even think about him, because a tiny life will grow before our eyes and console us, sing, O barren, that thou didst not bear, break forth into singing and cry aloud, for thou shall forget the shame of thy youth and shall not remember the reproach of thy widowhood anymore, but she falls back onto the bed in confusion just as Hava’s authoritative voice conquers the corridor, and I stand up hastily and say, I have to go to a meeting, I’ll see you later.

  At the conference table I am as wary and silent as a double agent, listening tensely to the evaluations of her situation and capacities, of the future of the inconsiderate fetus, it seems that the two courses of its future are running the length of the table like two parallel railway lines, who can tell which train will reach its destination quicker, and my finger wanders restlessly over the table, how come nobody thinks of the middle way, it doesn’t occur to anybody that I could raise it with her, with them everything is extreme and hopeless, like the choice between a fatal disease and a traffic accident. My finger comes back to me clean, not even a speck of dust in Hava’s domain, and she turns to me unexpectedly and asks, what do you think, Na’ama, and I stammer, it’s too soon to say, I’ll work with her until she gives birth and then we’ll see, trying to speak calmly even though I feel as if I’ve suddenly gone mad, or else that I was mad before and now I’m sane, but Hava keeps her eyes fixed on me, she sees everything, are you all right, she asks impatiently and immediately adds, I want to see you after the meeting.

  With clamped lips I follow her, determined not to cry, to maintain my dignity, and she asks, so what happened, you’ve been through a difficult experience, and I say, Noga was sick, we were afraid it was meningitis, I say “we” on purpose, even though the word rebels in my mouth, sticks between my teeth, as if I have dared to use an aristocratic title which has already been stripped from me, but she waves her hand in dismissal, what else happened, Na’ama?

  Udi left home, I say, and to my surprise I don’t cry, as if I have said the heat wave’s over, and she rises solemnly from the chair she’s just sat down on, congratulations, she says warmly and shakes my hand as if I’ve just announced that I’m getting married, it’s the best thing that could have happened to you, it’s the best thing that can happen to any woman, but especially to you, I was afraid he wouldn’t have the guts, it’s more than I expected of him, I must say, she concludes calmly and resumes her seat on the shaky beach chair, steadying it with her weight, and I stare at her in confusion, she isn’t considerate enough to put on this show simply in order to cheer me up, she must really believe in what she’s saying, and I ask weakly, what’s so good about it, and she says, can’t you see? At last you’ll be able to look after yourself, to put yourself at the center, for years you’ve been revolving around him, considering him, taking his problems on yourself, it’s high time to put an end to it.

  But what am I, Hava? My voice trembles between the walls, how can I feel good with myself when even he left me, how can I put myself at the center when I feel rejected, humiliated, pathetic? She waves her hand dismissively, you’re adapting yourself to his yardstick again, and even that without a drop of sophistication, if he left that means you’re worthless? Maybe it’s just the opposite? Maybe he isn’t able to contain your full value, maybe he feels guilty and defective next to you, maybe he lives in the constant fear that you’ll leave him? It’s so simplistic, the way women interpret men leaving them, he left so it means he doesn’t love me anymore and I’m not worth anything, while the reality is much more complex, and you know that I’m not trying to comfort you, I have no problem with saying harsh things when necessary.

  With my heart pounding I look at her face which is no longer young and was never beautiful, how dear she suddenly is to me, perhaps she’s right, I hope she’s right, she’s usually right, clever, unexpected Hava, I was sure I would leave her office a hundred times more humiliated, and now I feel almost proud, making for my office with a light step, even if I believe it one minute a day it will be a revolution, and perhaps it will grow and flourish, this little seed she’s planted inside me, until I believe in it all day, and maybe even all night, and then I’ll be happy. And already I imagine myself happy, before my eyes a vague memory dances like a butterfly, all I have to do is put out my hand and catch it and it will never escape from me again, and a broad smile splits my face from ear to ear, and it stays there when I hear a knock on the door and before my astonished eyes a strange man appears on the threshold. Very few men ever put in an appearance here, brokenhearted fathers, or frantic, hurt young husbands, but no one like this has ever been seen in the shelter before, with his neatly combed black hair and fashionable shirt, and I try to wipe the silly smile off my face but it refuses to go away, he probably thinks he sees before him a happy woman, sitting alone in her room, full of herself, and I have to correct this mistake, but it immediately transpires that a more comprehensive mistake has been made here, because he examines me in embarrassment and says, you’re Hava, at which my smile turns into actual laughter, it seems so amusing to me that anyone could think I was her, and I gurgle, I wish I were Hava, all my life I’ve wanted to be Hava, and he says with surprising gentleness, I’m sure Hava would like to be you.

  You couldn’t be more mistaken, I protest with relish, you’ll see how wrong you are when you meet her, she’s very satisfied with herself, she doesn’t want to be anybody else, and he says, if you tell me where to find her I promise to look into it, and I accompany him excitedly to her door, stealing a sidelong glance at his face as I do so, he’s not so handsome in profile, there’s something disturbingly aquiline about the tip of his nose and chin, but nevertheless I don’t go back to my room but hurry to the bathroom instead, and look tensely in the mirror, where I get a pleasant surprise, the red knit flatters me, lends my pale face a delicate, milky radiance, and the hair I shampooed this morning glitters like strands of gold. Maybe Hava’s right, maybe it really is the best thing that could have happened to me, I already look a lot better than I did a week ago, and then I remember, she’s sitting opposite him now, what does she want with him, what does he want with her, he’s too young to be the father of a pregnant daughter, what can he be looking for in this sad place, but he seemed sad too, ashamed, he’s not here for nothing, and I return to my office, where I leave the door open, so I’ll see him on his way out, maybe I’ll be able to delay him, and I sit there in suspense, reluctantly contemplating the papers that have accumulated on my desk in my absence, until I hear him leave Hava’s office. He walks past my door, a little stooped, his eagle’s profile gloomy, as if he’s just heard bad news, but his face softens as he turns to me and says with a faint smile, I still prefer you, and I thank him with exaggerated enthusiasm, as if I have never received a greater compliment than this, and immediately rush to her defense, she’s a hard woman but a wise one, I stick to the subject since as yet we have no other, just one common acquaintance whom he met for the first time today, who knows in what context.