Husband and Wife

by Zeruya Shalev

  I drag my feet upstairs, open the door to Noga’s surprised face, what happened, she asks, and I mumble, nothing, and lie down on the sofa and burst into tears, actually something good happened, I was saved by a miracle, but she isn’t convinced, tell me everything, Mommy, I’m going to be ten tomorrow, you can tell me. I made a mistake with one of the girls at the shelter, I was afraid that I’d caused her to give up her baby, and now I saw her with him, and she looks at me in astonishment, almost in contempt, I don’t understand how you could blame yourself, even if she did give him up it couldn’t have been because of you, it’s such a big decision, no one person could have had such an influence on her, could anyone have persuaded you to give me up? And I sob, of course not, Nogi, but it’s not the same thing, I was older when you were born, and I had Daddy. And now that you don’t have Daddy would you give me up? she asks with brave, matter-of-fact seriousness, her face resolute, as if ready for any answer, and I say, are you crazy, without you my life wouldn’t be worth living.

  Was that the reason you left your job, she asks, and immediately announces happily, so now you can go back, and I shake my head, I don’t know, Nogi, I’m not sure at all, and she asks, where are the decorations for the cake, and I hold my empty hands out to her, I forgot, I was so confused that I forgot, and she puts her hands in mine, never mind, we can do without the decorations, and I hug her, crushing her in my arms, my darling Nogi, I love you so much, and she says, and I love you, I’m glad you didn’t give me up.

  I take the telephone into the bedroom and close the door behind me, a crisp, authoritative voice answers my call, what strength that woman has, even at the end of the day she’s brisk and energetic, and I sob, Hava, I wanted to thank you, I really appreciate what you did, you saved my life, and she says in surprise, Na’ama, I was just thinking about you, she doesn’t even ask what I’m thanking her for, and I understand that we’ll never speak of it again. What were you thinking about me, I ask, and she says, Hani just phoned to speak to you, she’s not in good shape, she can’t pull herself together, and I’m surprised that she should mention it at all, once the girls leave the shelter we always refer them to agencies in the area where they live for help, to distance them from us, from the living memory of what they have given up, and I remember Hani with sadness, the way she called me that night, the pink sweater unraveled in her hands, I didn’t keep my promise to her, I didn’t bring her a new sweater, and all of a sudden I feel an urgent need to see her, I have so many things to say to her, I should have been there for her after she parted from her baby, how can we send them on their way like that and never see them again, when the worst is still waiting for them, to live hour by hour in the shadow of the renunciation, we should help them, make sure that they don’t punish themselves for the rest of their lives through barrenness or unhappy marriages.

  So how are things at home, Hava asks, how’s your daughter, and I am surprised that she of all people, who is always so busy, wants to continue the conversation. My daughter’s all right, I reply, it’s her birthday tomorrow, and she says emphatically, congratulations, as if this is some great achievement, and immediately asks, and what about Udi, and I say, Udi’s gone abroad, I haven’t heard from him for a long time, and she says, remember, you’re allowed to look back only on the condition that your feet carry you forward, and I say, don’t worry, Hava, he won’t come back.

  That’s not the question, she scolds, the question is whether you’ll let yourself go back to the same kind of relationship, and I interrupt her, you may not believe it but I hardly ever think about it, it sometimes seems to me that I haven’t even reached my prime yet, and she sighs in satisfaction, I knew you were stronger than you thought, just remember that change is never completed, it’s a daily battle, not to let anyone take over your life, don’t forget it, she adds with pathos, as if she’s parting from me forever, and I feel a sharp beak of anxiety pecking at my head, Hava, are you okay, I ask, is everything all right?

  I’m going into the hospital tonight for surgery, she says calmly, I won’t be here for a few weeks, and I say in a near shout, is it anything serious? And she says, something curable, you mean? I don’t know, I’m always optimistic, and I press my lips to the receiver, I’m so sorry, Hava, I didn’t know you were sick, and she says, nobody knew, it’s been going on for a few years now, and I ask, is there anything I can do to help?

  Yes, she says, I want you to come back to us, Anat won’t be able to manage without you, we need your soul in the shelter, and I sigh dismissively, my soul has only brought me trouble, I’m trying to get rid of it, and she exclaims, don’t even think of it, you mustn’t despise a gift you’ve been given, even if it may sometimes seem a burden, and I say nothing, seeing before my eyes the beautiful, secret building, sad girls going up and down the stairs like angels, an extra heart beating next to theirs, how I’ve missed them, and I whisper hoarsely, I’ll come back, Hava, of course I will.

  In the morning I hear a strange rustling sound, as if dry bones are crumbling in my bed, and I see on the sheet next to me fragile yellow leaves that have blown in through the window, and I count them in excitement, unbelievable, exactly ten leaves, one for each year, because after all it’s my birthday too, the birthday of my motherhood, and I arrange them round me and contemplate them, filled with triumphant joy, as if I have defeated the summer with my own hands and crowned the autumn, not because I prefer autumn but because only this stubborn cycle of change can bring us consolation, and I answer the summons of the telephone eagerly, and hear Amos saying clearly that he’s going down to Eilat with his parents and won’t be able to come to the birthday party, and Ron and Asaf won’t be coming either because they’re gone abroad, and when Noga wakes up Nitzan calls to announce that she has the flu, and we pounce nervously on the balloons, filling them with hot, angry air, tying them together like gangs of dangerous prisoners.

  Noga is pale with tension and when she touches one of the balloons it bursts, and we both recoil in alarm as if a car bomb has exploded in our living room, and after another one bursts, all by itself, the brightly colored balloons become our enemies and we tread between them suspiciously, not daring to breathe. Noga takes a quick shower and allows me to comb her curls, and then she stands in front of the mirror, trying on one garment after the other, her entire wardrobe strewn on the floor, and then she comes to me imploring, her nipples opening in front of me like flowers awakened by the sun, I haven’t got anything to wear, she’s almost crying, did Daddy take all his clothes? It seems so, I sigh, look in our closet, and she kicks the doors angrily, how could he not have thought of me, how could he do this to me, she sits on the living room floor and cries, and I bend down to her, perhaps there’s still something pretty among your own clothes, I can’t believe that you’ve outgrown everything, but I immediately take myself back to the kitchen, I mustn’t be dressing her and giving her advice now, it’s her business. I only like wearing his clothes, she wails, kicking the sofa, which immediately responds with a thick cloud of dust, and I pretend to be busy, opening and closing the fridge, until silence falls and after nearly an hour she emerges from her room wearing a blue velvet blouse I once bought her, her wayward curls caught in a rubber band.

  You look lovely, I exclaim, see how the color brings out your eyes, and how beautiful you are when your hair’s off your face, and I can see that she’s pleased, together we make the rounds of the rooms for a final checkup, scissors and glue and colored paper and beads and modeling clay in every corner, in the fridge the undecorated black chocolate heart waits, eleven candles stuck in its chambers, surrounded by bottles of soft drinks like armed guards. Plates of snacks are dotted over the table and one of the discs is already playing loudly, almost drowning out the sound of the telephone, and I bite my lips, praying that it’s not another cancellation, and hear Noga saying in a dull voice, that’s okay, never mind, another time, as if she’s having another birthday party tomorrow. Marva has a soccer practice she can’t miss, she whispers, and
I think of the children who don’t even bother to call, and the closer the time comes the more I clench my lips, should I say something or not, lance the boil or let it fester, what would Hava do now, probably nothing, for there is nothing I can do to comfort her. She tries to look calm, but I can see how tense she is, blinking nervously, looking at her watch, and I go out to the porch with a cigarette, sit down next to the balustrade in spite of the heat, from there I can keep an eye on what’s happening, see everything a minute before she does.

  I hear laughter approaching and immediately look down, Shira and Merav her childhood friends are coming down the street chattering vivaciously, and I breathe a sigh of relief, at least they’re coming, but to my horror they walk past our building and continue on their way, and I almost shout after them, come to the birthday party, don’t ostracize her, but they disappear down the hill, perhaps they’re only going to buy a present and they’ll be back right away, I try to console myself, and again childish voices rise from the street, and I bend down to see better, just a bunch of little kids who aren’t going to save us, and I scold myself, what did you think, that a birthday wipes out the problems? It only underlines them, it’s been a year since anyone called to invite her anywhere, a year since anyone came to play with her, what did you think, that they would come out of pity, out of politeness? There’s no such thing with children, and perhaps it’s better that way, and I turn round and see her standing at the porch door, spying on me spying, no one’s coming, she whispers, so nobody will hear her shame, it’s already half past four.

  Why aren’t they coming, Noga? I send her a miserable smile, and she lowers her eyes, because they don’t like me, and I ask, but why? And she says, I don’t know, what interests them doesn’t interest me, what makes them laugh doesn’t make me laugh, and I go up to her, what makes you laugh, Nogi? And she says, this makes me laugh, pointing to the tidy house, the balloons swollen with anticipation, the plates of snacks and the activity corners, and her laughter turns into a dry, barking cough, and I hand her a glass of water, and help her to drink it because her hands are trembling, and she groans, I don’t feel well, I want to go and lie down. I lead her silently to her bed, lay her limbs between the scissors and the rolls of tape, kiss her high forehead, covered in sweat, and then there’s a knock at the door, and she shrinks, hiding herself under the blanket, don’t open the door, Mommy, she begs, I’d rather no one came than two or three to see that nobody but them turned up.

  I agree with all my heart, who has the strength now to put on a show of merriment for the sake of one or two children, but the knocking doesn’t stop, it gets louder, convinced that there’s someone at home, and I hold out my hand, let’s go and open the door, Nogi, we haven’t got a choice, you invited them, you can’t go back on it now, and she sits up apprehensively, tell them I’m sick, she urges me, say the party’s off and I didn’t have time to let them know, what do you care, but I insist, you tell them you’re sick, I can’t cover up for you.

  Hand in hand we march to the door, Noga opens it apprehensively, and the balloons tied to it peep in like a flock of curious children, their foreheads touching ours, and among them a narrow, sandy eye blinks at us, with a tense, sunburned face gradually forming around it, and she advances toward him slowly, warily, as if she’s afraid that like the balloons his face will suddenly explode into colored scraps, but then a smile appears on her lips, and gets broader and broader. I look at the narrow doorway filling up with his body, and beyond the hills of his sharp shoulders, beyond their long, silent embrace, solidifying before my eyes like a tableau of two wax dolls clutching each other, the simple light of a summer afternoon shines at me, a blessed, ordinary light, without glory, without expectations, bringing the message of the evening that is already on its way to us, with the cool night stirring the golden leaves of the poplar, and beyond all this there is nothing that can be known with certainty, and it seems that there is no longer any need for promises, neither from heaven nor earth, Daddy, she says in a steady, surprisingly mature voice, you remembered, I knew you would.