by Asaf Schurr
“I was a boy, you understand? I didn’t think he’d be so insulted. I thought, all told, we’d laugh a little.”
(And in the shed, in a crate, after their death she’ll find the doll, the curtains, and will remember that she had wonderful parents. Wonderful.)
“So I went there and apologized to him, I nearly kissed his black feet. And even today it bothers me, burns me here in my heart, because I work in a prison, you know, and every day hear about horrible, ugly acts, but this ugly act of mine, I swear, up till today, I still don’t forgive myself for it.”
“Uh huh,” says Motti.
“Yeah, well,” the Guard clears his throat. “That’s how it was. Hard to believe, huh?”
“Uh huh.”
“You wouldn’t believe the sorts of things that happened afterward,” says Guard B and hesitates. “You wouldn’t believe them, I’m telling you. But I’ve got to go now, excuse me,” he’s embarrassed. “Remind me sometime, I’ll tell you everything,” he says, as if trying to salvage his dignity, to cover up the insult, for he’s tried to put his life in someone else’s hands, and was refused.
46
Daddy, Daddy, Galit will say when they stand on the porch and raise their arms to sky, or David will say, if it’s a boy. Daddy, Daddy, the stars are so high! And Motti will say, right. They’re way up high. And Galit or David will say, yes! Way up high! And will add in a serious and responsible voice, way up high! But not allowed without Daddy and Mommy!
He and Ariella will smile at each other above the head of the boy or the girl. Right, they’ll say. But not allowed without Daddy and Mommy. And they’ll hug and raise him or her up into the air, hup, hup, and give them a big, exciting spin around and around.
He’ll never sit alone in his home with weak arms, veins drawn out under his skin in terminal blue, and hearing the door open ask, alarmed, who is it, who is it, I’m calling the police, who’s there, who? Not like that. Because if the door is opened, when it’s opened, certainly it will only be to admit people dear to his heart. He’ll never fall in the street, trip over a stone sticking out in the sidewalk (someone, man or woman, will hold his hand, they’ll walk with him calmly, they won’t be impatient, won’t make an issue of their ability to still move freely, won’t make an issue of their still-flexible limbs). He won’t sit alone—immersed in the shadows of his fading vision—on a street bench, longing for some passerby to ask him, need some help, Gramps? He won’t sit there, fearing the rough voice, the rough hands that will grab his bag, that will rummage through his clothes to take his wallet. Won’t try to string together a hopeless conversation with a nurse at the HMO office, a clerk at the post office or the national insurance, a receptionist, a telemarketer. If he suddenly wants to talk, to tell about his memories even (to leave them in someone’s hands, so they won’t be lost when he dies), if this is what he’ll want, his loved ones will be with him to listen, to chat, to talk about things that happened, to ask his advice, perhaps even to laugh together. Way up high! he’ll remember and tell them and they’ll smile together. Way up high! But not allowed without Daddy and Mommy!
He toils over his love as others toil over the construction of a ship in a bottle. They have a whole table with lots of tweezers and small glue bottles and fine brushes. And the tweezers, this one is for the boards of the deck and this one is for the little sail, this one is to pull tight the ropes that will raise the sails and then the ship will sail, but where will it sail to, sealed in a bottle, that’s not a problem, just seal it with a cork and throw it into the sea, such adventures await there.
47
I took them yesterday, said Menachem.
Fine fine, said Edna, who’s already late for work. So take them today, too. You already know the way.
Very funny, said Menachem and didn’t laugh. It’s your turn today, c’mon. I’m late too.
What’s this with my turn today? Edna got angry. This is a home here, not an amusement park. There’s no line for rides. And where are you late to anyway? I swear.
The way you talk, you’d think that I just sit around here all day, Menachem got angry. It’s going to take all day to finish this project. I’m already late anyway.
C’mon, said Edna, and I’m not late?
(Daddy, Daddy, said Avi. Look what I painted! Very nice, sweetie, said Menachem without looking.)
Edna repeated again, And I’m not late, Menachem?
If you got up early you wouldn’t be late now. Menachem was annoyed. My day is organized to the minute. You know that. You’d think that I…
I’d think that you what? asked Edna. And Menachem answered, you’d think that I do this for the fun of it. I’m trying to support us here.
And what am I doing, excuse me? Edna asked angrily.
Don’t start with me now, said Menachem. You know very well what I meant. And when we organized the days for driving…
When we organized the days for driving, Edna interrupted him, we organized them like that so it would be convenient for the both of us. And today isn’t convenient for me. This isn’t a contract with a lawyer here, Menachem, she said and swept her keys, wallet, and cell phone into her purse.
What a shame, said Menachem.
Really a shame, Edna said angrily. Because then I would insert a clause, the signee is prohibited from being a lazy ass who isn’t even willing to take his children to daycare.
Don’t make this into more than what it is, said Menachem.
I’m not making this into anything whatsoever, said Edna. They’re your children too, you know. You’re always complaining that you don’t spend enough time with them, so here, you got more time. Now just do me a favor and take them and that’s all, okay?
Fine, fine, said Menachem and got up from the table, finishing the rest of his coffee in one gulp and then making a face because of the grounds. But you owe me.
Sure thing, said Edna. Okay, I’m off.
Give us a kiss, said Menachem.
She gave.
Daddy, asked one of the children, are we going already?
We’re going already, answered Menachem, who was still getting dressed in the bedroom.
Daddy, can you make me a sandwich?
We’re already late, said Menachem, who returned to the kitchen and tied his shoes.
But I’m hungry.
We’ll buy you something on the way, said Menachem. Let’s go, let’s go, late already.
Daddy, can we do piggyback to the car?
Not today, said Menachem and grabbed the keys. It’s already very late.
They got into the car and drove off.
Daddy, his son Avi asked him when they arrived at daycare, do you miss Grandpa?
Of course, said Menachem.
I miss him too, said Avi.
That’s great, said Menachem and closed the car door.
And after he left the kids at daycare, after he returned home and peeked into the secret box and sat down to work, he didn’t know that, in another ten years (ten years from now), his daughter would come home hurt and with filthy pants, and straight from the shower would get into bed, and wouldn’t leave it for maybe two days, and regardless, now he was wasting time answering emails and surfing back and forth between news sites, and in spite of this he still managed to finish the project, his insufficient time was nevertheless enough, and he forgot to go out with Laika, but she held on until evening. Good girl.
48
And this is how you teach a dog to heel:
First, make the dog like you and gain his confidence. This is easy: one can inundate him with treats. One can play with him, pet him, scratch him behind the ears, go to scary places and protect him there.
Now attach a leash to his collar. There are those who use a choke collar. They use them immediately, with every dog, whether it’s needed or not, just to cause pain. We won’t concern ourselves with such people. Right away they pull forcefully, so the dog will obey out of fear. This is certainly the easy, faster way. Results right away—thoug
h others will pay the price. We have no interest in this.
Go out with your leash. With your dog at its end. And treats, of course. Especially treats. And teach him, the dog, to come to you. Call him joyfully, almost ecstatically. Come here! Good dog! Come, come, come! Wanna come here? Come here, good dog! Good dog!
Call him with longing. And when he comes (before this you can give a light tug on the leash—just to get his attention, not to cause pain), praise and pet him. And again a treat. Lots of treats. The dog doesn’t understand where they come from. Just enjoys the taste, the smell, our giving. Inundate them, this is a key word. Inundate.
Afterward, walk. And the dog walks as well. The leash is slack. And when the dog goes in another direction, when he walks away from us, pull the leash. Turn your back to him, tug on the leash, and quickly let go. Don’t hurt him. It’s unpleasant nevertheless. Turn your back to him so he won’t know that we’re pulling. So he won’t connect the pulling to us, and if he makes the connection, he won’t see your hand giving it away. He’ll only connect it to his walking away from us. And when he comes close, when he gets to us, another treat. Good dog! What a good dog! We’re surprised he came to us. He’s not surprised by our surprise. He doesn’t know that we pulled.
And likewise in this manner, again and again. And then—heel. Sit him down right next to your leg. It’s not hard to teach him to sit. Part of a treat next to his nose, lift it up (sit!), and when his eyes follow it his head is pulled, following his gaze, upward. It’s not comfortable to stand this way, and he sits down. Good dog! Again, good dog!
Sit him right next to your leg, say heel, then start walking. Heel! Heel! Good dog. And if he turns his eyes or walks away, again a quick tug on the leash. Let go immediately. Never any tension in the leash. Leave it almost always slack. And when he’s with us again, right next to your leg, good dog! Good dog! Heel, good dog! Like that, in a cheerful voice, so he’ll be happy. Good dog! Good dog!
And continue to walk. From time to time a treat (you can also hold it in front of his snout, tucked inside your hand for example, so the dog will follow it, good dog!). And like that again and again. And petting, a lot of petting and praise. And when he turns his head or walks away—the leash. Walk in straight lines. Turn at right angles and say, heel. And the leash. And treats as well. And praise. A lot of praise. So walking next to us will be a positive experience, the promise of wonderful things.
Rest from time to time. The dog loses focus. Resting too is a prize: when he walks well, close to us and absolutely attentive, surprise him with, Go on, boy! Run free! Good dog! And play, jump and play, rest together, get something to drink. And back to work. Work together. And if the dog gets very tired, that’s the time to teach him to lie down. It’s very hard for them to learn this. They learn quickly, but with great effort. There is some internal resistance: lying down is a position of great submissiveness. Therefore, if they refuse at some point after already learning it, tug on the leash again. A sharp tug, so they’ll lie down immediately. And let go quickly. But not this time. Not yet. Now we’re still waiting for exhaustion. Exhaustion is on our side. The desire to rest will already be associated with the desire to satisfy, with treats, with praise. Good dog! Good dog! Run free, good dog!
49
Hey man, Menachem said on the phone.
Hi, said Motti.
Laika’s fine, said Menachem. It’s a little unpleasant for Menachem, remembering the way he behaved last time. On the one hand, two in the morning is just not the time to make a call. On the other, the man is rotting in jail for him, and to be woken up by a phone call, well, it’s not exactly comparable, that debt and this one. What’s more, Motti (Menachem thinks) has plenty of justification for acting a bit strange. What, it’s not strange to go to prison for someone? Strange.
Yes, continued Menachem. Plays with the kids and all. You have nothing to worry about, okay? We’re taking good care of her for you.
That’s great, said Motti. Thanks a lot. Say hi to Edna, too.
Of course, of course, said Menachem. Listen, why am I calling? Because I just wanted to apologize, because today’s Wednesday and I’m not coming.
That’s all right, said Motti. You told me last week. You have a family and all, I know that it doesn’t always work out.
Don’t make me laugh, man, said Menachem. You know you’re number one with me, right? Just don’t tell Edna. You’re number one. In any case, what did I want to tell you?
I don’t know, said Motti. You still haven’t said.
Exactly, said Menachem. I wanted to say that I’m not coming today, because tomorrow we’re going on a vacation for a few days with the kids, it’s Edna who insisted, women, you know how it is.
Of course, of course, said Motti, though he didn’t know at all.
Yeah, confirmed Menachem. But next week I’m there on time, okay? And don’t worry about the dog. She’s staying here at the house, but the neighbors’ son will come to play with her every day and take her on a walk, too. He’s a good kid, you can trust him. I’m paying him, just so you know.
As long as he’ll be careful with her, said Motti and his heart sunk a bit. Nothing will happen to her, right?
I told you that I trust him, said Menachem. He’s a good kid, I’m telling you.
But he’ll be careful with her, repeated Motti.
Of course he’ll be careful, of course, said Menachem, and anyone listening closely would have perhaps recognized a slight hint of impatience in his voice, because my God, him and his stupid dog, I mean really.
So okay, said Motti. Have a good time there, say hi to the kids too.
Of course, of course, said Menachem. What’s with you? You managing?
Of course, Motti said too. There’s a, uh, there’s a pretty good library here. They bring us movies, too.
Right on, you got a real film festival there, huh, said Menachem. Having fun, huh? You keep it up like that and I’ll stop showing up at all, he joked.
50
And then he put down the phone and returned to the table. Who was that, asked Edna. No one, he answered.
Tomorrow I’ll bring the kids to daycare, Edna said. And he said, thanks.
And Edna left the room, maybe she went to fry up eggs for the kids, maybe a frittata.
What are you looking at, he asked Laika, who was curled up next to his chair. She didn’t answer.
He started working, but his concentration wasn’t the best.
What are you making, he yelled to the kitchen.
An omelet, she called.
Make me one too?
Edna didn’t answer.
Make me one too?
Of course, of course, said Edna. You don’t have to ask for everything twice.
Okay, okay, answered Menachem, but very quietly. What are you so mad about.
Can you come help me for a second, Edna called.
Just a sec, said Menachem.
Never mind, said Edna a moment later. And another moment later said, come on, the food’s ready.
Start without me, said Menachem. I’m busy with something.
It’s getting cold, Edna said.
So I’ll eat it cold, said Menachem. Go ahead and eat. I’m coming in a second.
Should I bring it to you there, asked Edna.
No need, said Menachem. Thanks.
I’ll cover it up for you, said Edna.
And after some time Menachem took a break from whatever it was that he was busy with, came to the empty table, and ate a cold omelet. And a slice of bread. And then returned to his desk. There’s a lot to do.
The kids want to say goodnight to you, Edna called out.
I’ll be there in a sec, said Menachem.
And after a few minutes, maybe twenty, Edna came to him. Okay, they’re already sleeping, she said. Everything all right with you?
Of course it’s all right, said Menachem. Why wouldn’t it be all right?
Don’t know, said Edna. No reason.
And she left t
he room. Probably went to watch TV. After some time the phone rang, and she answered in the other room, and after two or three minutes came back in to Menachem. Your dad’s on the phone, she said. Answer quick, it’s a collect call.
Tell him I’m not home, said Menachem and turned back to the desk.
He’s calling from South America, reminded Edna.
Tell him I’m not home, repeated Menachem.
He knows you’re here, I told him. C’mon, what’s with you, she asked.
So tell him I’m in the bathroom, said Menachem impatiently.
Edna shrugged. Have it your way, she said.
She left, and after a time returned, and asked, you coming to bed?
In just a moment I’ll be done here, said Menachem.
Okay, said Edna. I’m already exhausted.
Don’t wait up for me, said Menachem. It’ll take me a little more time here.
Goodnight, said Edna.
Goodnight, said Menachem.
51
And the routine as well. Oh, the wondrous routine, thinks Motti, who’s already nodding off on his thin mattress, on the tightly stretched bedding, he turns onto his side and forces his way up against the cold wall. He’ll leave for work in the morning, maybe he’ll go back to being a teacher, Ariella will be a meteorologist even or a receptionist or a plastic surgeon. He’ll have to leave for work in the morning, before then he’ll wake up (he’s almost asleep now), he’ll wake up a few minutes before her and bring her a cup of coffee in bed, every morning he’ll bring her a cup of coffee in bed, they’ll barely exchange a word, they won’t be morning people, they’ll just wander around the space of their house gathering up their bags, wallets, children even, they’ll wander around still half asleep, they’ll grab a little something to eat, before this he’ll wait next to the bathroom door for her to finish getting ready, he’ll go in to shower, to get dressed, Ariella, he’ll yell to her, did you see my shoes, and she’ll say, silly, you left them next to the sofa in front of the TV, you fell asleep like a rock last night, I could barely wake you to get you to bed, and he’ll trudge over to the living room and indeed, there are his shoes, he’ll mumble something, yeah, here they are, and they’ll both leave for work. At lunch he’ll call her, hi sweetie, it’s me, did you get to work? Everything okay? And she’ll say, I’ve been here two hours already, silly, I already sewed up two patients or I forecasted a hurricane or scattered showers, and he’ll say, that’s wonderful, I’m running to class, we’ll talk later, see you at home. And they will, they’ll actually see each other at home, they’ll prepare dinner together, eat it at the table in the kitchen, it’s covered in Formica, or in the living room watching television, they’ll watch the news and she’ll say, that’s terrible, that’s terrible, and he’ll hug her and say, but our lives are good, right? And it’s because of you that our lives are good. And on holidays they’ll take trips abroad, and at night she’ll say, it’s fun like this, just you and me, like it used to be, before the kids. And he’ll say, yes, yes, he’ll say it and look into her eyes by the light of the candle on the table of the small restaurant, across the checkered tablecloth, the empty plates, the nearly empty bottle of wine, he’ll say yes, yes, and enter her, they’re in bed in a clean but not pricey hotel, and they’ll fall asleep hugging afterward, no, she’ll fall asleep and he’ll stay awake a few more minutes, as he does every night, to look at her and caress her hair, and she’ll murmur adorably in her sleep, and then he’ll fall asleep, too.