Look for Me

by Edeet Ravel

  “I always liked doing that sort of thing, as you know.”

  “I don’t know anything about you, apparently.”

  “Do you want a different kind of tea? Or maybe some hummus?”

  “No thanks.” I got up from the table and began inspecting my surroundings. The bed was covered with an elaborate embroidered bedspread.

  “Where did you get the bedspread?”

  “It was a gift from the mother of one of the kids I taught.”

  I examined the CDs and books and videos on his shelves. He had all the latest music, along with his old favorites. He had the most recent novels, too.

  There were a few books in Arabic. “Was Arabic hard to learn?”

  “Pretty hard.”

  “Ella said you’re a teacher now.”

  “I teach at the local school.”

  “Well, you always were brainy. I guess you designed this house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who built it?”

  “Local builders.”

  “Did they think it was weird?”

  “No, they liked it. This house isn’t mine, technically. I rent the land, and I rent the house. But the plot was vacant, so I designed the house myself. The owners got a good deal.”

  “How could you afford it?”

  “My mother sold Granny’s flat and sent me the money. She figured I’d need it, wherever I was.”

  “I can’t believe she never told me she was writing to you.”

  “One of the things she mentioned in her letters was that you’d stopped going over to see them, or answering their calls. So she probably never had a chance to tell you.”

  “How could you not answer her letters?”

  “She never asked for an answer. She always wrote, I know that you’re receiving my letters, and that’s enough for me.”

  “Yes, that’s why I was so angry at your family—they thought it should be enough for me, too.”

  “No, they knew perfectly well that it wasn’t. My mother chided me quite a bit about that.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you pick up the letters I wrote you at the start? Do you have any idea how much that hurt me?”

  “You would have been even angrier if the letters had been picked up and you never got an answer. But you kept me informed through your interviews.”

  “That’s what Ella said. Well, it would have been a lot easier to write to you! Did you see my ads?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you get the people here to trust you right in the middle of the riots? How come they didn’t kill you?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Tell me.” I leaned against the wall, my arms still folded. Daniel remained sitting at the table, drinking his tea.

  “I didn’t come here to move in. I got into a taxi outside the hospital and I told the driver to take me to an isolated part of the coast. He lived in a coastal settlement, as it happened. It was just a fluke. He dropped me off at their beach, a little reluctantly, and I walked along the shore, southward. I guess I knew it was dangerous, but I didn’t care. Finally I got tired and I sat on the sand, trying to figure out what to do with my life. Some people passed by, but when they saw me they got scared and ran away. I had a bottle of Valium I’d stolen from the hospital and I finally decided that the best thing would be to swallow all the pills. So that’s what I did. But some Palestinians found me, maybe the ones who had run away, and they took me home with them. Well, you know how the Palestinians are. They had no idea what was wrong with me, so they just put me to bed, and three days later I woke up. I still don’t understand why I didn’t die.”

  “People don’t die from too much Valium. It’s not toxic enough. I used to volunteer at a suicide hotline, they taught us that stuff.”

  “Well, anyhow, I woke up, and they were really happy. The family had a retarded boy and I taught him to eat by himself. Then after about two weeks a group of men came to visit me. They were very friendly, apologetic, but they said they needed to know what my plans were. I told them I’d like to stay. It seemed to me that if I had to remain alive, this would be the best place. No one knew me here—I could have a new identity. They wanted to know how I’d been injured, and what my political views were, and what I thought of their struggle and whether I knew any Palestinians. I told them about Isa, the architect who had his keys taken away in that place I worked at, remember him? By coincidence, they knew him—he has some relatives in one of the camps. They spoke to him and I guess he gave me a good reference. I told them I wanted to stay and learn Arabic and that I could be a teacher and help out. I’m making it a lot shorter than it was. It really took longer, and it was more complicated, but that’s the essence. After all these years, the people here are still a bit of a mystery to me. Sometimes they all start laughing, and you have no idea what the joke is. They have some sort of collective understanding about things, and you have no idea how they reached it. They rely less on words than we do—they often communicate in more subtle ways. So I don’t exactly know why they decided to accept me. Maybe it was just luck.”

  “Why, Daniel? Why did you leave me? Why?”

  “I heard what you told Alex. You thought I was asleep but I wasn’t.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “In the hospital room, when you thought I was sleeping.”

  “I was never in that room. They wouldn’t let me in.”

  “But I heard you, Dana. You said you were in love with another man, and you had planned to tell me when I came back from reserve duty, but now that I looked like a monster you couldn’t do it, and you’d stay with me. I even know the man’s name. Leopold.”

  “Leopold! The only Leopold I know is King Leopold. Or Leopold Bloom. Daniel, you dreamed it. Or you were hallucinating. I can’t believe you thought that was real.”

  “I remember it so vividly.”

  “Do you think I’d say something like that in your presence? Do you think I’d come when you were asleep but not when you were awake? Daniel, if this is why you left, because of some crazy dream you had, that is the saddest, most ridiculous thing I ever heard in my life. It’s like something out of Wuthering Heights.”

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter whether it was or wasn’t a dream. It would never have worked out between us. If it was a dream, then that’s what the dream was telling me.”

  “What do you mean, ‘if’? You think I’m lying to you?”

  “I think you might want to protect me, or you might be embarrassed.”

  “I never lied to you.”

  “How can I know that?”

  “Did you ever catch me lying?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “About what?”

  “Well, small things.”

  “Like what?”

  “You said you couldn’t find the healthy kind of cat food.”

  “Cat food! Well, there’s a life-and-death issue. Can you have sex, by the way?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you?”

  “Who with? There’s no casual sex here, you know.”

  “I’m even angrier with you now. Angry and insulted. You obviously don’t have a shred of trust. And I’ve waited eleven years to stand here and be called a liar by someone who can’t even tell a dream from reality.”

  “Your tea’s getting cold. And you must be hungry.”

  “I don’t want to have tea with someone who has such a low opinion of me.”

  I continued my inspection of the room. I touched objects, looked inside the wardrobe, opened drawers. I touched his clothes, his sandals. I noticed a few small bowls filled with water on the kitchen floor. “Do you have a cat?”

  “Three cats.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Hiding. They’re not used to visitors.”

  “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “Downstairs.”

  “What’s upstairs?”

  “My workshop and the c
omputer.”

  “Do you have friends?”

  “People are friendly to me.”

  “Are you lonely?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Do you watch TV?”

  “All the time.”

  “Do you watch Torture TV?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ella said you had cable.”

  “I did, but it doesn’t work now. Everything’s messed up here, as you know.”

  “I brought you a present. Not that you deserve it.” I pulled the dressing gown out of my bag. It was creased from being scrunched up all day.

  He came over and took the bundle from my hand. “What is this?”

  “A dressing gown. It’s silk. I bought it for you the day before I was supposed to see you at the hospital. Well, I saved it for you, even though you don’t need it anymore. It only got creased today—it was in perfect condition until now. I kept it in plastic.”

  He unraveled the bundle, held up the gown. “It’s beautiful, Dana. Thank you.” He slipped it on over his clothes.

  “You have to steam it to get the creases out. Is it true that you saw me from your window when I came to photograph?”

  “Yes, once. I can only see a tiny part of the beach from my upstairs window, but suddenly there you were. I was sure you were here because you’d found me. But you never came. Then I found out you’d come to take pictures. I have your book of photographs.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I saw the review in the paper and I ordered a copy.”

  “Hard to believe that it was once easy to come down here, that things were peaceful for a while.”

  “It was never really peaceful. That was just an illusion everyone was happy to maintain for a short time.”

  “Actually … I do remember a Leopold. Daniel, think. You knew him too. Think for a minute.”

  “I have thought. I’ve thought about it a million times, of course.”

  “Remember the Italian restaurant where we used to eat? Near the embassy? There was a waiter there, his name was Leopold. He had long dark hair, he wore it in a ponytail.”

  “I think I vaguely remember that waiter. I’m sure I never knew his name.”

  “You did. We joked about it. That’s where that part of your dream came from.”

  “You did flirt with that waiter, as I recall.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “You flirted with everyone, Dana. Not deliberately, maybe not even consciously, but you were always flirting. And those sexy clothes …”

  “Okay, that’s it. I’m going. This is obviously hopeless. I’m not going to sit here and be insulted in every possible way you can think of. Go ahead and reinvent the past. I’m leaving.”

  “Don’t go. Please stay a little longer. We can’t leave things hanging like this.”

  “Daniel, you wanted me to wear sexy clothes. I did it for you, for us. So you’d be proud of me, so you’d be turned on, and also so I’d be turned on. I haven’t worn anything except jeans since you left. Why didn’t you ever tell me all these things?”

  “You never had anything with that waiter?”

  “Of course not. I don’t know anything about him except his name and that he had crooked teeth, as I remember. And he was nice. He was probably gay.”

  “How’s Alex?”

  “What do you care? You left all of us. You hurt your family, Alex, me. All the people you loved, supposedly, and who loved you.”

  “I had nothing to offer anyone.”

  “Why? You’re not even handicapped. So what’s the big deal?”

  “You’re just pretending, Dana.”

  “You know, I never realized what a superficial person you were. I used to say you had a narrow view of aesthetics and I was right. You don’t know anything about beauty and you obviously never will. I don’t know what I ever saw in you. You’re vain, shallow, suspicious, cruel. I don’t know why I waited for you all these years.”

  “When you walked in here, I could tell you had seen me before. Because everyone reacts. And you didn’t. You must have seen me in the hospital.”

  “All I see when I see you is Daniel. I’m sorry if that’s not enough for you. Leopold. I can’t believe it. Leopold, the phantom lover. At least you could have asked me.”

  “How could I ask you when I heard you tell Alex you were going to lie to me, that you were going to stay with me out of pity? My mother was there too, and she was crying.”

  “Well, that proves it! Your mother was in Greece!”

  “Didn’t she come back when she heard?”

  “We couldn’t track your parents down. Didn’t you know that?”

  “No.”

  “Did you think I was just putting on a big act when I put all those ads in the paper?”

  “I thought you felt guilty.”

  “Daniel, I want to touch you.”

  “I’m out of practice.”

  “Well, it’s like riding a bike. You don’t really forget.”

  “I think we have to talk first about what you want and what I want and where we go from here.”

  “No, I think we have to touch first, and then talk.”

  “It’s too overwhelming for me.”

  “Tough. You think you can control everything. Well, for once I’m deciding.” I pulled off my clothes and lay naked on the embroidered bedspread.

  “Just like that first time,” he said.

  “Has my body changed?”

  “No. Incredibly, it’s exactly the same. Your arm is bruised, though.”

  I looked at my arm. He was right, my upper arm had turned copper brown and blue. “It’s that schmuck who hit me. It looks worse than it is, it doesn’t hurt.”

  “Everyone’s gone crazy. There’s no sanity left. Poor Dana.”

  “He was angry about other things, and he was letting it out on me … Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “At least sit next to me.”

  He walked over to the bed, sat down at the edge, and looked at me, but he didn’t touch me.

  I took his hand and put it on my midriff. His eyes filled with tears.

  “What have you got to cry about?” I said. “I’m the one who should be crying.”

  “You had your turn, now it’s mine. I’m not ready for this,” Daniel said. “You’re going too fast.”

  “Maybe because I’ve waited such a long time. Maybe it makes me impatient.”

  “A few minutes ago you were ready to strangle me.”

  “Remember our fights?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I used to get so mad. What did we fight about, apart from the mess?”

  “About nothing, really. Once I laughed at something in a movie and you got mad. Sometimes you hated my jokes. Once I woke you in the middle of the night to ask you to remind me to pay some bill or other. It was just an excuse, I wanted to wake you because I missed you. You were pretty mad. Another time we argued about that television interviewer, I didn’t like her, you did, or maybe it was the other way around. After your miscarriage we argued about whether I should have been so rude to the hospital staff. You felt it backfired, I was convinced you would have died otherwise. We argued about cat food. That’s all I remember, though I’m sure there were a few more I’ve forgotten. We didn’t argue much, if you consider that we were together seven years and two months.”

  “We always made up pretty fast.”

  “Not this fast. And anyhow, have we made up?”

  “No. I’m still pissed off at you.”

  “We should wait until you aren’t pissed off.”

  “You’re just looking for an excuse.”

  “You’re forcing yourself to overlook how you feel.”

  “You don’t know anything about me or how I feel. You used to be so in tune with me. Why don’t you just touch me if you don’t believe me?”

  I took his hand and placed it between my legs.

  “Yes, you’re wet.”

 
; “You sound surprised.”

  “I am surprised.” He started moving his hand the way I liked, he remembered exactly what I liked. Then suddenly he stopped, got up, and moved away.

  “I can’t,” he said.

  I didn’t say anything. I lay on the bed, naked and miserable. I pulled off the bedspread and blankets, and slid under the sheets and shut my eyes. In a few minutes I was asleep.

  I slept for an hour. I woke up to the sound of purring; there was a black-and-white cat lying at my feet. Daniel was gone. He’d left a note on the table: Went to buy food, back very soon. Don’t go out, it’s dangerous. He underlined Don’t go out several times and added a tiny drawing to the note, the way he used to do when we lived together. His style had changed a little—it was more abstract. He’d drawn me sleeping and dreaming of a cat pyramid.

  I found a dark green T-shirt in one of his drawers and I put it on; it reached my thighs. Then I climbed the spiral stairs to the upper story of the house. The walls of his workshop were covered with postcards, clippings from magazines, cartoons from newspapers. I remembered some of the cartoons, and I remembered thinking that Daniel would like them. One showed a camp counselor who was all dressed up for hiking telling campers in a bunk, Today, children, we’re going to the balcony. In another, two storekeepers in a mall were laughing hysterically at a robber who was holding them up with a gun. A mock headline about an actual poisoning incident read ARAB POISONED HIMSELF, CUT INTO PIECES, COVERED WITH BREAD CRUMBS, SOLD PIECES TO JEWS. The headline was taped to a fashion advertisement showing a sexy woman suggestively checking another woman for bombs at the entrance to a store. Daniel had drawn a mustache on one of the women.

  I went down to the ground floor and looked at the sculptures. Some were exactly my size, and some were very small, set on tables that matched the kitchen table upstairs. I was shown in various poses, naked or wearing outfits I had once owned. The small clay figures were painted in startling, witty ways. There were at least fifty sculptures in the room. I also found a stack of notebooks Daniel was in the middle of correcting. Student notebooks, compositions in English. My name is Marwan. I am boy. I go school. Last week I jump from window and break toe. In the end only it was paper bag went boom.