—No ... just a minute ... but maybe you’re trying to milk me for...
—Inside information. Hold on. Just tell me. I don’t care. I never said I wouldn’t give it to you. Just tell me if that’s what you’re after. I don’t care. I’ll tell you everything, whatever you ask for...
—No. I beg your pardon. Just a minute...
—Yes, shhh ... excuse me, I’ll lower my voice ... but what do you need all that for? I can get you a good job in one of our branches. You wouldn’t start with a high salary, but you’d be well placed and I’d see to it that you were promoted. I’d take terrific care of you from high up. Stick with me and I’ll look after you like my own son ... because that’s how I feel about you ... as though you were ... you’re the right age, after all ... but there I go again...
—Yes. I’m going right away.
—No. I’m going. I’ve already ruined your night. My dearest ... my love ... my desire ... oh God, look how I’m ranting at the mouth. I don’t know what’s happening to me, running around like this in the middle of the night—me, who used to be in bed at nine-thirty, after the evening news, and in my pajamas by eight. I can’t go on like this. I beg your pardon, I swore I’d never cry in front of you and here I am doing it again ... I’m on the verge of tears all the time ... Hold it, don’t move!
—Don’t move! He’s really there.
—I just saw him!
—The mouse ha ha ha.
—Yes. He ran behind you, by the stove. I swear he stopped to look at us. You were right.
—Hold it, don’t move! Don’t frighten him. By God, he’s a big one. Maybe it’s a rat. Or a very old mouse. He was looking at me...
—He’s in the stove, or behind it, ha ha ha.
—Why do I find it so funny...?
—You thought he was in the closet. But they like stoves.
—I guess the heat doesn’t bother them.
—You need a trap and a piece of cheese.
—Leave it to me.
—Me too. But it’s the killing that I mind, not the catching. I’ll come to spend a night here and catch him for you. It’s a real mouse ha ha...
—A really big one. I don’t know why it makes me laugh. Ha ha ha ha. A mouse...
—Yes, shhh ... I’ll be going now. What would you say before that though to a little ... it would suit my desperate mood splendidly ... I could really go for it now ... we’ll make it quick and quiet...
—Your father? Yes ... but...
—I understand.
—Quietly ... it would just take a minute or two...
—I understand. But suppose we closed the door. He’s fast asleep.
—No. I understand. All right.
—I could do it by myself. If you’d just let me do it by myself ... you can even fall asleep beside me. All I need is your hand...
—It won’t take me long. I’ll be quiet. I need it so badly now ... What?
—You just have to let me lie next to you. I only need to see you ... even in your pajamas ... you needn’t undress ... you won’t even feel me ... I’ll be like a bird. This whole night has given me the most awful passion ... I have it so bad ... I feel all shook up by it. What a terrible age to be! It’s like you’re feeling the beginning of the end. There’s an impatience with things ... I can understand your father so well. And it’s not just physical. It’s an actual psychological need ... what do you say?
—I don’t want to pressure you.
—Never mind. You’re killing me. You’ll kill me in the end, but never mind. In the end I’ll come down with some terrible illness ... I can feel it in my bones ... or else I’ll end up like your mother...
—All right. All right. You’ve been putting me off for a week now. And afterwards you’ll be tied up with your father.
—I’ll live. I just thought...
—It’s been at her brother’s house for the last thirty years. The whole family gets together. I’m petrified that they’ll guess right away that something is wrong. I can see already that it’s going to be a very hard seder for me. And I’ll have to sing too. It gets longer and longer every year, because her brother keeps getting more religious. Well, never mind...
—Right.
—Yes...
—Never mind.
—I’ve been one my whole life, haven’t I?
—My whole life ... never mind...
—No. I mean that I’ve been a good fellow all my life. I’ve been a decent husband, a wonderful father, a devoted uncle, a conscientious member of the clan—and now that I want a small time-out for myself, everyone is furious with me. Tsvi? You’re asleep...
—Yes, you are.
—It’s almost three. Get into bed. I’ll take a rain check. I’ll just stay on a while longer with that ha ha ha mouse of yours. Maybe I’ll discover where his hole is. It looks like he’s moved in with you. Get into bed, tum out the light ... I’ll sit by myself in the dark...
—What?
—At the bank. Why do you ask?
—Phone me at the bank. And if you want those shares, just let me know. I’ll take out an option for you.
—Fine. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I mean today. Don’t forget that it’s Friday. I quit work at one.
—When?
—You want me to wait for you downstairs? I know where it is.
—No problem.
—Let’s leave it open. I’m dying to know what you do with him. What you talk about. Is it ever about me?
—I understand. Do you think he could see me sometime too?
—All right. It’s something to think about. Try to find out.
—All day?
—When is he going back?
—No. To America.
—Shhh. How can you talk like that?
—Don’t expect me to believe you.
—What???
—How can you talk like that? Just the thought of it! If words could kill, there wouldn’t be a living soul left in this world. You’re groggy. Go to bed. I won’t be working on the day of the seder. If you’d like, I can drive you up north.
—That morning.
—Think it over. I’ll be glad to do it.
—All right. Now go to sleep. We’ll at least be in touch by phone. Thank you for having sat up with me. For being so patient. You’re so good to me. I swear, I knocked just like a little bird and you woke up right away...
—Go to sleep. You have some hard days ahead of you.
—Never mind, turn out the light. I have the key. I’ll lock up when I go. Don’t you remember giving it to me a month ago?
—I know I returned it. But I made myself a duplicate.
—In case you might be sick or something and couldn’t get out of bed.
—Let me keep it. It makes me feel better about you. I’ll never let myself in when you’re not here. You can have it back whenever you want.
—Yes.
—No.
—Maybe.
—Fine.
—Don’t worry. I won’t touch you. Maybe sitting here and thinking will calm me down. I’ve become like a child again. I’m having a second childhood...
—Good night, my dear. Until tomorrow. Just let me give you one hug ... one kiss...
—It’s not Tsvi, Mr. Kaminka, but it’s all right.
—It’s all right, Mr. Kaminka. I’m a friend of his. Tsvi knows that I’m here.
—He’s asleep now, but it’s all right. We were just having a chat.
—No. Who’s Yosef? I’m Refa’el Calderon. He’s never mentioned me? We do business together.
—No. I work in a bank.
—I was just passing by and dropped in to chat.
—Refa’el Calderon. I dropped by to help him with something ... with a mouse...
—No, don’t be alarmed. There’s a mouse here ha ha ha. We just saw him a few minutes ago. Tsvi’s known about him for several days, but wasn’t sure where he was hiding. So I told him the best thing was to wait for him at night, in the dark. He’s
a little squeamish, and I don’t mind such things. I grew up in the old Jewish quarter of Jerusalem—we were used to mice there...
—Yes, a real mouse. It’s nothing to be scared of. If you ask me, it’s an old one that may have been living here for a long time. It’s odd, though, how it should have managed to get up here ... because you’re on the third floor...
—A dog?
—Ah, the dog we saw there. I remember him.
—In the hospital.
—I drove Tsvi up there on Tuesday.
—Calderon. Refa’el Calderon.
—No. I didn’t take part in their conversation. I was standing off to one side. It was then that I noticed the dog. A big fat one with a tawny coat.
—Yes. Exactly. I thought it was some hospital dog that she had gotten friendly with.
—It lived here? Then you couldn’t have had a mouse. A dog would have gotten it.
—Of course. How long has this apartment been yours, if I may be so free as...
—Well now, that’s quite a while. But please, don’t let me bother you. It’s very late, and there’s nothing to catch a mouse with now anyway.
—Nearly three o’clock.... How’s that?
—Your wife? In what way?
—No. I was off to the side and didn’t hear anything. I know nothing about it ... What’s that?
—Yes. Tsvi had spoken of it vaguely ... you’ve come to separate.
—Begging your pardon?
—Yes. To get divorced. Something of the sort. I didn’t really discuss it with him. I just drove him up there because the public transportation is so poor.
—In what way?
—I didn’t notice anything. She talked sensibly enough. In fact, at first I didn’t even know where I was taking Tsvi. I thought it was to some home for the elderly or something ... I don’t know the northern part of the country at all...
—Yes. Yes. In the end I realized that it was no home for the elderly.
—From a Jerusalem family. Third generation.
—Exactly. A thoroughbred Sephardi, you might say.
—She is? You don’t say. You don’t say.
—Half of one? On her mother’s side? How didn’t I sense it? I always do. I never would have thought ... she doesn’t look it in the least ... you don’t say!
—Come again?
—Abrabanel. Of course. It’s a well-known family.
—From Safed? But there was a branch of them in Jerusalem too. How curious. Tsvi never said a word about it. That explains to me something about myself. So Tsvi is also part ... very interesting! Most agreeable.
—Begging your pardon? No, I just...
—The way I talk? In what way?
—I never noticed.
—That’s odd. My girls also tell me that I sometimes talk strangely.
—Hebrew too. But not exclusively. I had one grandmother who spoke only Ladino.
—Just Hebrew. There are two girls.
—They’re grown up already. I don’t know why I keep calling them girls.
—Going on twenty-three. They’re twins. Beautiful, fair-skinned girls, you’d never know that they came from a Middle Eastern family. Almost blond...
—I’m sorry to say that I was never blessed with a son...
—Begging your pardon?
—A Sephardi expression? I didn’t know there was such a thing. I thought we all spoke the same Hebrew.
—In what way? I never noticed.
—Yes. We were always careful with our diction.
—A mixture? You may be right.
—I’ve never paid it much attention. Whatever comes to mind. One takes one’s words where one finds them. You’re right. Everything today is all mixed up. We live in a mixed-up age...
—Now that you mention it. I never thought of it before.
—Mostly newspapers. I have no time for books. Tsvi told me that your field is Hebrew language and style. That explains your ear for it.
—In the investment department of Barclay’s Bank. It’s an affiliate of the Israel Discount Bank. But I’m truly sorry for keeping you up. Very truly. Tsvi told me how tired out you were by the flight from America. I remember how he called his sister in Haifa several times on Sunday and kept being told that you were still asleep.
—Are you sure?
—For me it’s a lost night anyway. I couldn’t get any sleep. The later it gets, the more awake I become. But why should you have to stay up because of me...
—Yes. It’s a hot night. It’s suddenly gotten very hot, almost summery. To think that it rained just last night!
—Tea? Surely. I’ll put up some water.
—Yes, yes. I know my way around this kitchen. I already said to Tsvi tonight, you Russians like your tea in the middle of the night. We only drink it when we’re down with the flu. Black coffee is our brew.
—No, it’s no trouble. I’ll make it. I know where everything is. There are some chocolate cookies too that I bought yesterday. But perhaps you’d like to drink your tea alone. I’ll be on my way then ... it’s a shame for you to lose sleep...
—Not at all. It’s my pleasure to sit here with you.
—Thank you very much. I believe you’ve been here for nearly a week, haven’t you?
—Yes. I remember. Saturday night. I’m curious to know how you find this country now ... what you think of it...
—In what way?
—That’s very interesting. You may be right. When one lives here, one doesn’t notice the change.
—Really?
—Yes. All the filth ... of course...
—That too. But don’t forget that it’s only half a peace. People don’t put much credence in it. I myself know nothing about politics. Generally I support the government, whatever it is. I get annoyed when people try obstructing it...
—Yes, the one we have now too ... although I must say...
—Yes. A sense of gloom.
—Yes. But it’s mostly just talk. Believe me, people are rolling in money. I know them by what they have to invest, not by what they have to say. If it weren’t confidential, I could show you now with a pocket calculator what sums are in circulation in this country and who is doing the circulating. Some of them are listed as welfare cases. I get felafel vendors coming to me with wads of five-hundred-pound notes, still smelling of cooking oil. That’s why I’m not so critical...
—Yes. That’s so. There is a group that suffers.
—I hope not.
—We true, old-time Sephardim aren’t your troublemakers from North Africa. They really have a wild streak in them ... and sometimes we’re confused with them on TV ... but we’re actually a well-established middle class. You’ll find us mainly in the banks, the courts and the police—not at the very top, but in responsible positions. Wherever there’s still a semblance of law and order. It goes back to British and even Turkish times, when we were sought out for administrative posts. For desk jobs. That’s where we feel best. I once said to Tsvi, this business of a Jewish state, all of Zionism in fact, is really a little too much for us. It’s all too fast, too high-powered. We were used to the Turkish pace, to the British sense of decorum...
—Yes. I know I’m really talking nonsense. Every country is like that today. Even Turkey is coming apart at the seams—I’ve read about it in the newspapers. All the lights in Istanbul go out every evening. I suppose that only the English...
—The English too? You don’t say. Well, well, then there’s really no cause to complain...
—For about half a year. We met in the bank.
—Yes. It’s a sort of investment company.
—His boss’s name is Gilat. Have you ever met him?
—Yes, of course, you haven’t been in the country. I forgot. I’ve run into him once or twice. A young, energetic fellow who knows how to play the market. I just hope he doesn’t do anything foolish. For Tsvi’s sake. All these little firms take lots of risks, but sometimes they grow very nicely. Maybe this one will too, who knows?
It’s just that the market itself is so volatile these days...
—I think Tsvi has a good head for it. He’s ready to learn. He’s always asking me questions. He has imagination too, and that’s important. But one needs a great deal of experience and patience. One has to develop a sixth sense.
—Of course. There’s that too.
—No. It’s not a science. There’s probably nothing that’s less scientific. One needs to have a sixth sense. A feeling of what to hold on to and what to let go of, of where to step in and where to lay back. The Israeli market is a small one. Everyone has a finger in it. All kinds of amateurs have gone into it lately too, and that’s an extra headache. Inflation makes the profits seem large but in fact they’re on the small side. It’s not a big ball game. I don’t know how much you know about these things...
—In America it’s a different story. There you have real gamblers. Not the Jews. They’re all over, but strictly in a service capacity. But you’ll find some tough, cold-blooded Gentiles who’ll risk everything they have on one throw of the dice and calmly step out for a drink while they’re rolling. The market’s wide open there. A stock can hit bottom ... practically go below zero ... or take off all at once like a rocket. Here we’re more cautious. And the government interferes a lot too. It can suddenly feel sorry for some company because it has a plant in a depressed area or directors who are friends of a minister. And we’re a nervous people in general, we don’t know how to hold on to a stock. We’re afraid to go for the big gain, because we don’t really believe in it. All that will come, though ... things are just beginning to warm up ... Is the tea too strong for you?
—The sugar cubes? They’re here in the closet. Tsvi likes to suck on them too. Here, is this what you mean?
—No. But I’ve been here often ... and I’ve seen him drink tea like that, with a cube of sugar in his mouth. I suppose he learned from you.
—Yes. Yes. All in all he’s just like you. I’ve already told him that. I too came to look more and more like my father, rest his soul. All of a sudden the resemblance breaks out.
—Right.
—Exactly.
—Begging your pardon?
—Yes. Tsvi told me. It’s really a nice apartment. It must be worth quite a few million. The location is excellent, and there are people with money today who are coming back to the city and looking for places to renovate. How far can the ocean be from here? A hundred meters? It does need some work. When there’s no woman around, the little things go untended...
A Late Divorce Page 23