“Yes, absolutely. But next time could you choose an easier route? You’re forgetting I’m two years younger than you, after all.”
“For God’s sake, Aya, that excuse won’t hold up forever, will it? Anyhow, Hagar’s even younger and yet she was steaming ahead of us on her bike.”
“Why compare? It’s a little unfair to compare me with Hagar, she was born sporty.”
“One always compares. Everyone compares. Until eventually they stop comparing.”
“Yes, you’re right, Yaron. Well, it’s getting late, you’ve got quite a journey ahead of you. And I have to start getting organised here, move out and start looking for Uri.”
“Good, I’m off. Be seeing you, Aya’le.”
We hugged. I laid my head on his shoulder, and he stroked my braid. It felt so good to have his hand on my back.
And we smiled.
“Be seeing you, Yaron. Why couldn’t we part like that then. Life would have been so much better.”
The woman with the laptop
An epilogue on the life of a writer
“Maybe you can be with me now?” he whispered to me on a Saturday morning. The kids were off doing their own thing. I was resting next to him, so tranquil, a smile on my face.
“Yes,” I murmured, unable to answer.
“Where are you...?” he whispered in my ear. “Why not take a rest, let your mind rest a bit,” he said, his hand stroking my hair.
“Yes, in a second,” I snuggled close to him to smell him, and to wrest another minute for myself.
“Who are you with, what are you thinking about?” he asked, smiling, his quiet words in my ears.
“Guess,” I said, a little playfully, dragging it out, stretching out the seconds like elastic. On page one Aya says that to Yaron as well: “Guess,” she tells him. “Guess,” I said, happiness diffused throughout my body. He did feel the happiness, but still couldn’t guess. He hasn’t yet got the knack of identifying the new presences that have stepped into our lives.
“Come on, tell me, who are you with?” He pressed even closer to me, and me to him. Whoever they are, their time will be limited on a Saturday morning, inside our room.
“I was with Uri,” I smiled, trying to latch onto an idea that has suddenly materialized and wrap it up; bring it to its destination, to the written words, before it vanishes into thin air. “I was with Uri, and Aya. And Yaron was there too,” I said.
I put the three of them down and turned to him.
***
Thanks
This book would not have come into being without a few dear and talented people, who came to the aid of the characters and helped me create their minds and lives. And others, who accompanied me through the fascinating world of translation. They have left their invisible fingertips all over the pages. My heartfelt thanks go to:
The gifted writers:
Gail Hareven – for her professionalism, overwhelming knowledge, and brilliant thinking; for witnessing such a joyful working experience.
Judith Rotem — for her breadth of heart and depth of thought; for the warmth, generosity, and inspiration.
Rachel Penn, for the Hebrew publishing and editing.
Yair Shapira, for his unforgettable help, over and over again. For stormy debates about piquant details alongside life’s greatest questions.
Aloma Halter, for revealing to me, word by word, the wonders of translation.
Julie Phelps, for brilliant linguistic editing and advice.
Elda Guy, for years of encouragement and enthusiasm.
Pamela and Bernard Canetti, Dana Drillings, Roni Eran, Yoav Nitzan and Lea Dovrat.
To the editor, Dorit Ofek. It is impossible to describe the intensity of our work together, day and night, trying to materialize ideas, turning words into prose. Her inspiration and creativity gave me an unforgettable and overwhelming experience.
And to my beloved family, Yaakov, Dor, Tom, and Lia. Perhaps, at long last, I’ll get up from the computer.
Or perhaps not.
Rama Marinov-Cohen
Ein Sarid, Israel
August 2015
* * *
[1]Around September there is a period of three weeks of holidays, referred as High Holidays, starting with the Jewish New Year, followed by Sukkot. A time when people are off from work and school, spending time with their families. It is a custom for people to greet each other for Happy New Year and Happy Holidays.
[2]Gal – Hebrew for ‘wave’.
[3]In Israel, eighteen-year-olds are required to serve in the army for two to three years. One option is to serve on a kibbutz - a lifestyle based on the ideology of the commune. The soldiers live on the kibbutz and work alongside the kibbutz members, undertaking farming, kitchen duties, laundry, daycare and so on.
[4]A holiday, it is a custom for children to dress up (like at Halloween)
[5]So the sun stood still, and the moon stopped, till the nation avenged itself on its enemies, as it is written in the Book of Joshua . The sun stopped in the middle of the sky and delayed going down for almost a full day. There has never been a day like it before or since. (Joshua 10:13-14)
[6]Little Switzerland – a natural beauty spot south of Haifa, on the Carmel Mountain range
[7]From The Lady and the Peddler, by S.Y. Agnon, Israel’s Nobel Prize Winner for Literature, 1966
[8]Passover is one of the major holidays of the year, symbolizing freedom and the beginning of spring. In many homes the weeks before the holiday are characterized by intensive house-cleaning. As in Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year), it is customary to call relatives and friends to wish them a happy holiday. And like Rosh Hashanah Eve, Passover Eve is celebrated at a festive dinner with the members of the extended family. One of the customs of the holiday is to hide a matzah. The child who finds it wins a gift according to his wish.
[9]Against Therapy, by Jeffrey Masson.
So We Said Goodbye: A Contemporary Fiction Novel Page 20