“Let me carry your bag for you.”
“Don’t even think of it!”
“Then at least your coat and hat.”
“They’re no trouble. I’ll wear the hat.”
He puts it on smiling surveying his surroundings. The crowd presses against us sweeping us along toward Zion Square. We drift aimlessly with it.
“Where to now?”
“To the bus stop and home.”
“Maybe we should have something to drink first. Are you in a hurry?”
“Not at all. It’s just that Asi will be home soon.”
“It won’t kill him to wait. Come, I want to talk with you. Isn’t there some nice café around here? Let’s get out of this mob scene. Were there always such crowds in this place?”
He tucks his arm in mine and youthfully but with surprising brute force spins me around into a dark little street as though he had his bearings exactly he stops by the glass door of a bank walks on turns back crosses to the opposite sidewalk looks up and down and returns to me. “It’s become a bank,” he murmurs. “Let’s go to the Atara then. Is it still there?”
His speech is a quick clipped Hebrew with a slight musical Russian accent.
“When were you last in Jerusalem?”
“Long ago. I skipped over it on my last visit three years ago. That must make it five years or more. Over there, in America, I often wonder about this city. There’s a photograph of it in all the offices of the Jewish community centers and it’s always the same: the towers of the Old City, the Wailing Wall, the Israel Museum, all in the same pretty colors. No one ever photographs this shabby, gray, congested triangle of streets in which the real life of Jerusalem goes on and all those little bombs keep exploding.”
We elbow our way into the Atara Café people turn to stare at us we’re a curious-looking couple. We find a small table at the back and he takes off his hat. A waitress appears he orders coffee for us and gravely asks about the cakes he even decides to have a look at them he consults with the waitress smiling at me from afar. Finally he points a long finger at his choice and disappears into the men’s room. I take out my pad a wave of warm words in my gut.
She gives off warmth she kisses the old man generously. She opens patiently to him listening suspending judgment refusing to categorize. A crushed felt hat a little mustache a warm yet violent exterior. A touch of the hand. His lust for cake. Describe a cake. Between two worlds. His different father.
He sits down next to me his hair combed and slightly damp beads of water still on his brows looking quizzically at the writing pad as it slipped back into my bag.
“Now then. At last I can take a good look at you. Relate the reality to the picture. So here you are. It’s really you. Where did he find you?”
“Asi? In the university, where else.”
“They tried to prepare me for you in their letters. Asi wrote: ‘I think she’s very pretty but that’s not the main thing.’ Just what the main thing was, though, he never said. And Ya’el in her cut-and-dried manner: ‘We don’t know much about her. She’s retiring and doesn’t talk much. Her family is very religious but it doesn’t show on her. Extremely pretty.’ End quote. After the wedding Tsvi wrote me too: ‘The bride is beautiful.’ As if they wanted to give me over there something tangible to take hold of, inasmuch as no one seemed able to explain, not even to himself, why Asa was in such a hurry to get married or who the young woman was. But if she was beautiful, perhaps I’d understand and accept. To tell you the truth, though, it wasn’t much help to me. In fact, it only confused me more. Why, of all people, a religious beauty—those being the two things that everyone referred to? Either the combination was accidental or else it was supposed to tell me something. Was it mere caprice on his part? A misjudgment? Something temporary or a genuine decision? Because when I last saw him three years ago he had another girlfriend, a student from one of his classes. You must have heard of her. A girl with character, they had known each other since childhood. And then out of the blue I get an invitation to a wedding with a religious beauty! What was I to make of it? I’m not blaming anyone, but it was as though I wasn’t wanted. That kind little note that you added at the end didn’t amount to much either. You’ll forgive me, but I’m sensitive to language. As if it didn’t really matter whether I came or not. And there it was winter, in the middle of the academic year, and with no money set aside for the trip. Was I supposed to show up here just to stand arm in arm under the wedding canopy with the woman who tried to murder me while the rest of them stood by ... was that it, eh?”
Coffee and cake are brought I’m in a daze I feel dizzy from this fantastical outburst. This sudden show of frankness. This violence. He keeps his eyes on me they’re Asi’s that split-level look but in light brown. The musical direct uninhibited speech that flows so powerfully. They wanted to murder him? My God, what can he be talking about? Did I hear right? Then he must be ill too. What kind of family have I landed in? Delicious tremor of fright. He bends over to sniff his cake sensually. He takes out two greenish pills and swallows them.
“To wake me up. I’m still limping along seven hours behind you and I can’t seem to catch up. I’ve never suffered this way from jet lag before. I suppose I must be getting old, eh?”
He takes a bite of cake.
“I wanted to write a letter of apology to your parents, and of course to you too. I did manage to find out a bit about them through a friend of mine in Jerusalem. I understand that they own a grocery store. That they’re decent, unassuming people. Hungarians?”
He stops to sip his coffee cuts himself another piece of cake and crams it in his mouth wrinkled desire suffusing his face.
“But in the end you didn’t,” I almost whisper.
He seizes my hand.
“I wasn’t sure they’d understand ... and to have to start explaining it all ... with what they already knew about me ... after all, such people put great stress on family life. I wrote a page and threw it away ... but I told myself then that one day I still would explain myself. And now here I am alone with you ... and you are very lovely ... the way you stopped to kiss me with such feeling in the middle of the street, without giving it a second thought! You’re not only beautiful, you have character. And I’m glad that we’re alone and my first meeting with you is tête-à-tête, because Asa would have begun arguing right away. He’s spent his whole life arguing with me from the minute he was born, he already started in the cradle. Well, he’s got his students to argue with now, I suppose ...”
The speed of it the honesty the crankiness the torrent of talk is too much for me I’m shaking I’m blushing the sun is in my eyes there’s a hubbub of people around me. Soon Asi will be home. It’s all burst on me so suddenly. This vertigo. This deep emotion. He gulps down the last of his cake he drains his coffee with his eyes closed he smiles and looks around.
“But I don’t understand ... who tried to murder you?”
He stares at me. He takes out a cigarette lights it and snaps the burnt match with strong fingers.
“You really don’t know? No one ever told you? I see Asi has been protecting our good name. How long have you been married? Nearly two years, isn’t it? Well, if you haven’t left him until now, you won’t leave him because of this, ha ha ha...”
His sudden burst of depraved laughter astounds me.
“This?’’
“Never mind. If they didn’t tell you, it doesn’t matter. It’s all past history now.”
All at once though he changes his mind he leans toward me veiled in smoke he sticks his face close to mine and murmurs feverishly:
“Who did? She did, of course. Why do you think that she’s in there and I’m out here? You mean they never even referred to it in front of you? No, I suppose they didn’t.... Well, someday, years from now, when I’m dead and gone, Tsvi will tell you how he saw me with his own eyes wallowing in my blood in the hallway outside the kitchen...’’
He loosens his tie opens two buttons in his shirt a
nd displays a pink stripe through the gray hair a ragged scar like a scribble now I see it now I don’t. The sunbeams play over his face. He takes my hand again.
“Now where was I? Ah, why I didn’t come to your wedding. The question kept bothering me too. Here my son was getting married and I sat in some faraway city in the middle of a black winter trying to punish you when I was only punishing myself. What were they thinking back there about the missing father of the groom? What did the bride think? Someday, I told myself, I’ll explain it all to her. A few years from now I’ll go back and explain. When all the fuss is over I’ll sit with her in some café in Jerusalem—that’s exactly how I imagined it—and we’ll have an intimate talk. I didn’t have this particular place in mind; I was thinking of that nice little café that’s been turned into a bank. I and the religious beauty—because you really are beautiful, I can see now why they all made a point of it. Only who really are you? We’ll have to try to understand you, to get to know you better...”
Customers are staring at us. Next to us sits a couple holding hands but the man can’t take his eyes off me.
It’s clear to me now. A character for a story. Better yet, for a whole novel. If only he’d stay with us in Israel I’d put him to good use I’d take him apart and spread whole chunks of him on paper I’d copy down entire sentences unchanged. The ineptness of that Asi. I’ve asked him a thousand times what’s your father like and all he could offer me was a jaded stereotype. Why the man’s a human gold mine! The looks of him the thick brows the little mustache the flow of his talk candid and crafty at once. Strong. I grip the hot cup of coffee hard. A warm trickle in the dark gut. Asi hasn’t touched me for two weeks. Hie valise squeezed between my legs caressing my flesh. Customers walk back and forth brushing my hair. It’s getting warmer. All at once a strong scent of spring. I open a button of my blouse suddenly aroused. The pain of words. I can’t control myself I take the pad from my bag and quickly write wrinkled desire. A human gold mine. I close it and replace it. He smiles at me sagely.
“Found a phrase? When I was young I went around with a pad lik‹ that too.”
He’s already reaching out for it.
“We’d better go. It’s getting late. Asi will be upset.”
He asks for the bill. Five hundred pounds? He’s stunned then he smiles. You must have it good here if such crazy prices don’t faze you. He takes out his wallet and extracts a few American dollars but the waitress doesn’t want to take them. I pay instead firmly refusing the dollars he offers me. The only one in this family who knows the value of a dollar is Kedmi he says the taxi driver didn’t want any either Ya’el had to pay him for me and wouldn’t take them herself. I must go to a bank and change money. Asi will change some for you let’s not waste any time he’ll kill me for keeping you so long. We walk to the bus stop and join the throng waiting by the iron pole I try hailing a cab that doesn’t stop. He observes the hectic street amused. A bus comes the crowd surges toward the door. I take his hat to help him pushing him ahead of me he boards and disappears inside I get on too and pay for both of us. The whole bus is pushing and shoving. He’s swept to the back he even manages to find a seat there he borrows a newspaper from the person next to him and opens it winking at me. Where have I landed? He’s soft in the head himself he just pretends to be sane they want to force their madness down me drop by slimy drop. I don’t mean you 0 man of gloom. It’s not prudery it’s self-protection but I’ll write up your father to make up for it. My subject at last. Prose of course only prose will do there’ll be a child too I promise it can be done scientifically with anesthesia what thou hast made pure I have made impure and what thou hast made impure I have made pure what thou hast forbidden I have permitted and what thou hast permitted I have forbidden what thou hast loved I have hated and what thou hast hated I have loved what thou hast condoned I have condemned and what thou has condemned I have condoned what thou hast rejected I have accepted and what thou hast accepted I have rejected yet none of it to make thee wroth. What did he do to make them want to kill him the brilliant light and the sea I saw the fear the disgust right away in Asi’s eyes her fierce look the white cotton dress and the smell of old medicines the jar of jam that my mother gave Asi that I put at her feet on the grass he leaned toward her he said mother this is Dina we’ve come to invite you to the wedding that was the first time on a clear winter day she sat wrapped in a blanket in a chair by a tall tree she listened she asked questions she even smiled she seemed so normal until the sun went down then she tuned out what did he do to make her want to kill him so that’s the skeleton they’ve been hiding in the closet wallowing in his blood by the kitchen how horrid but there is a story here there’s got to be one and me so close to it if only I’m up to it one step at a time God give me strength I’ve married into 8 subject for at least a novella. The bus lurches forward the passengers topple on each other. A large man is thrown against me or maybe throws himself he’s all red doesn’t know what to do I’m draped by the warmth of his body I let it bear down on me the whole bus is shouting and laughing the human swarm.
At the university a mob of passengers tumbles out and another mob pours in. In line I spot Asi standing by himself in a plaid jacket and a thin intellectual tie careful not to touch or be touched looking angrily at the packed bus. I lean over toward the window banging my head against the bars. Asi! He hears me but can’t see me he springs forward and presses ahead with the crowd. The despairing shriek of the door trying vainly to shut. What’s happened to the buses today? Asi just makes it he’s thin and wiry the last one in with his back against the door his briefcase clutched to his chest searching the passengers for me irritated worried at last he spies me and makes a terrible face. I smile and nod reassuringly I put his father’s hat on my head the passengers near me grin broadly he gets it and looks for his father I point to the back of the bus. At Ramat Eshkol a large crowd gets off all at once. I shout to Asi’s father that it’s our stop Asi is already waiting by the rear door I step down first and go straight to his side waiting to see their reunion. His father staggers out holding his crushed coat Asi reaches for his bag the old man’s confused but sees Asi right away they embrace on the bus steps behind them people are still struggling to get out the doors shriek encouragement.
“Were you waiting for us here?”
“No, I was on the same bus you were. I got on a few stops back.”
“What’s with these buses? You don’t have a car, you don’t even have a telephone—what kind of university professor are you?”
“I’m only a lecturer.”
“It’s lunacy to travel in these buses, with these crowds. You need a car.”
“On my salary? Don’t you have any idea what life’s like here?”
“Then what has all your genius gotten us?”
The pushing continues the bus moves. All of a sudden we’re alone on the sidewalk at the large intersection.
“Fame.” Asi smiles his wonderfully wise ironic smile.
“Whose?”
“Yours too, father.”
They embrace and kiss again his father rumples his hair. And I how can I not be happy too clinging to Asi hugging him putting my arm through his seizing the chance to hold his thin wriggly body he shrinks back a bit then relents. A marvelous moment the neighborhood in such a gentle light. Asi at his worldliest cleverest best. Father and son release one another each takes a step back the father slightly the taller of the two. They grin at each other without words yet perhaps a slight antagonism already brewing a certain distance. I feel a hot flash. Where is my pad my muse is signaling again. The poetess throbs with inspiration.
“What happened to your finger? Did you cut it?”
Is Asi just trying to break the ice or is this a serious checkup?
“Oh, that.” He lifts up the finger with its gray bandage and laughs. “The day before yesterday I cut myself bathing Ya’el’s baby.”
“You bathed her? How come?”
“Ya’el went out sho
pping and I was still sleeping off the trip. Gaddi was taking care of Rakefet and couldn’t handle her. She made in bed and cried, so he woke me and we bathed her together...”
“Did the two of you know each other?”
“Of course, what do you think? But I hadn’t seen him for three years and he’s grown. He looks a lot like Kedmi, tubby but bright. He has an eye for things and knows how to express himself. He’s just a bit on the sad side, a bit ... somber. Kedmi doesn’t make life easy for anyone, although he does love the boy, that’s evident. And you, Asa, how good it was of you to send your wife to fetch me! It was an excellent idea. We had a chance to get acquainted ... we sat for a while in a café...”
“So that’s where you were. I’ve been wondering what took you so long.”
“What are all these new buildings? Is everything here one big development?”
We cross the street and pass the open supermarket.
“You two go on and I’ll run in here.”
“Maybe we should come with you.’’ Asi is anxious not to lose control.
“No, you go ahead. Can’t you see your father is tired? I’ll manage by myself.”
They walk ahead. No longer touching grown distant conversing Asi must be explaining the neighborhood to him his father halts from time to time to look around. Did she really want to kill him? Truly? God give me strength. Yea the hand of the Lord was upon me and He brought me forth in the spirit of the Lord ...
The supermarket is crowded. It’s a busy time of day people go berserk before each holiday at last I find a wagon and begin cruising the long shelves. Pardon me pardon me wagons bump together pass each other front back right and left. I stick my frail hands into piles of fruit and vegetables in line by the scales I remember my pad wearily uninspiredly automatically I write in it a few words. On her head a man’s hat. Happiness gone m(b?)ad. An orange peel. Son sniffs father.
A Late Divorce Page 11