Hurry.
Not really dusk yet it’s the clash of clouds and sun that’s ground the light to smithereens. Already you’re on the hospital grounds you know your way from here. Your fourth time in ten days. Once more into the breach. Collect yourself. The right to change your mind. The clump of trees. The rubber hose snakes upon the ground someone is standing there and slowly hoeing a small dead bush it’s that mute giant hard at work. I pass close by him but he doesn’t see me. Be quick. Ask her for the waiver and destroy it have the lawyer cancel it in Tel Aviv. I jam my hat down on my head. The library door is open the puddles of mud have dried to hard earth. No one here. Silence. Soft light of fear. Born-again balminess of the spring evening. Here’s her cottage. Three years ago when I first came to visit it was pouring cats and dogs she sat layered in clothes by the kerosene stove listening to me tell her about the snow in America. It was then that I promised to write her.
Stealthily I enter the cottage ready for anything. The beds in rows some made some not a small overly tailored lady of about forty sitting on a chair by a window next to a very big suitcase reading a woman’s magazine. She glances up at me her face twitches quickly. I take of my hat and nod.
“Excuse me. Perhaps you could tell me which bed is Naomi Kaminka’s.’’
“I’m sorry but I just got here myself. I don’t know anyone.”
But I’ve already found it by the broad straw hat upon it. I hurry to her locker here are her dresses her red robe the shawl that Ya’el brought her for me. I open the drawer and go through it rattling the dog’s chain. Bottles of perfume salves bags full of medicines here are some papers a packet of letters from me the parchment divorce a peaceful white dove the waiver on the house a copy of the power of attorney for Asa. I fold the last two and stick them in my pocket I turn to leave passing by the small lady again she hasn’t stopped looking at me.
“Excuse me...”
“Yes?”
“How were you allowed in here?”
I smile. “What do you mean, how was I allowed? That’s my wife’s bed over there...”
“But didn’t you need special permission?”
“Not at all.”
“Men are allowed in here?”
“Of course.”
“Because my husband said he wasn’t. Perhaps they misinformed him, or else he misunderstood...”
“He must have misunderstood.”
“Because suddenly he left me ...”
She rises and comes over to me perfumed rather scared suddenly she whispers:
“Do you happen to know by any chance if this is a religious institution?”
“A religious institution? What gave you that idea?”
“We came here so quickly. I had a sort of breakdown at the seder, and the doctor from the health plan sent us here. But I think... I’m afraid ... that they sent us to a religious institution. My husband is an army officer and knows nothing about these things ...”
“But what makes you think that it’s religious?”
“It looks like it is. The walls ... these beds ...”
“Well, it isn’t. Some of the patients may be observant, but...”
“And the management? How about the management?”
“No. There’s no reason to think ... it’s a government hospital, after all, it’s run by the department of health ... it’s not a private institution at all...”
She smiles sadly reassured.
“Excuse me,” I say. “Do you happen to know what time it is?”
“Half past five.”
I nod goodbye to her I tip and wave my hat she sits down again in her chair reaching out to touch her suitcase hesitantly sticking her thumb in her mouth. Dusk now. I head back toward the front gate the giant still standing there without moving limply holding a pitchfork waiting for something. He’s recognized me. I retrace my steps cutting back through the ward with its rows of beds smiling pleasantly to the tailored lady who watches me bare legs pertly crossed hesitantly taking her thumb from her mouth. I enter the small kitchen at the far end of the ward and slip out through the back door. A new perspective. The sound of surf. Dogs bark. The green cottage of the library seen from behind. The bench in the garden beneath the tall eucalyptus trees where we stood. Nearby another cottage with bars a dim light shining inside. The gathering darkness. I make a leisurely detour around the lawn to my left no need to run I bend down and pluck a leaf chewing it inhaling its fresh green smell. I reach the southern end of the fence and cut back eastward plunging into the bushes planted alongside it the barking growing louder one dog is howling now as though it were hurt I never was afraid of dogs but this is an eerie sound. The concrete wall ends. Here must be the hole I head toward it through the bushes but I’m wrong it’s the barbed wire again the sealed gap some hairy mangy thing is thrashing about in its loops and kicking up dust. Beyond the bushes more dogs bark. And human voices too. It’s ’Ratio he’s caught in there he’s howling pawing up earth. All of a sudden I feel my heart break for our old dog.
“’Ratio!” I shout. “’Ratio! Horatio!”
He stops what he’s doing and looks up at me. Our eyes meet. He wags his tail madly. From beyond the bushes I hear Tsvi calling him too.
“Horatio! Horatio!...He’s stuck in there, mother.”
And Naomi’s voice from afar:
“Where?”
Dogs bark in a frenzy.
“Git!” shouts Asi furiously.
I crouch and hide behind a bush hearing them struggle in the red sunset.
“He’s over there! He must have smelled him.”
“Father??”
“He’s stuck in there, pull him back this way!”
Above the branches I glimpse Naomi’s white hair.
“Grab his chain!”
“He’s gone crazy! How did he ever get in there?”
I don’t move at all seeing the road far away the black taxi waiting by the railroad tracks facing east toward the main road a line of cars turning in there toward the hospital. They’re shouting outside the fence and I’m hiding inside what a reversal of roles.
Now! I take the documents from my pocket I read them quickly and tear them into little pieces I dig a small hole in the ground and stick them in it covering them with stones and earth. A sense of inner peace. I’ll have to call the lawyer from the airport. Divorce yes. The house no. My inalienable rights. I disappointed you? What did I ever promise? I rise and head back the way I’ve come doubled over. Hide-and-seek. I’ll leave by the sea side. Soul colors in the fiery pageant of sunset far away. What time is it? Time enough. Time enough. I finger my ticket and my passport in my pocket. Cars enter the hospital bringing back patients from their seder day at home. A noisy bustle of people lights go on in the wards. I cross the lawns again the giant’s still there poking his pitchfork at the dead bush. Dumbfounded to see me. I smile at him. Amazingly he has a big watch on. “What time is it?” I ask. He looks at me in a trance not answering. I tip my hat and walk on.
Your head is spinning but inside you you’re at peace. A bit much though all that tipping of your hat. You enter the ward again the tailored lady hurries toward you.
“Oh, it’s you,” she says. “I’m glad you’re back. I can’t seem to turn on the light.”
I flick the switch but nothing happens.
“There must be a short,” I explain. “Someone will come to fix it soon.”
No fantasy then. What you love is what you kill the spirit listeth where it will. And supposing I did disappoint? Divorce yes. The house no. We’ll bargain again. Two women. No less. Maybe you’d like to kill me again please. I fling myself on Naomi’s bed. Saber-sharp thought. I push aside her straw hat and stretch out on her bedclothes. The last rays of the sun glint on the white sheets. I’ll wait for them here. The wretched lady hovers by the bed.
“Excuse me, Mr....”
“Kaminka.”
“I don’t remember what you said about supper.”
“Supper?”
“Usually here on the ward, but because of the holiday it’s in the big dining room tonight.”
She nods wringing her hands.
“I feel so lost here. I can’t even get myself to unpack my suitcase. This whole place makes me sick ... they didn’t allow my husband in, and so he left me ... he’s an officer, he’s always in a hurry ... he has to get back to his regiment...”
“You’ll get used to it.” I nod back with my head on the pillow my mind somewhere else. “You’ll see that you will.”
“But how?” she asks hopelessly. “How?”
“You’ll see. They’ll take good care of you.”
“I certainly hope so.” She smiles childishly. “Do you think they’ll let me swim in the ocean?...I like that so much...”
“Why shouldn’t they?”
She regards me sharply stricken with new anxiety.
“But where is your wife? Where is she?”
“She’ll be here any minute.”
“What kind of woman is she? Do you think that we’ll be friends?”
“Of course you will. She’s a very nice woman. You’ll get to know each other.”
Suddenly the sound of people running. I jump up instinctively and dash to the kitchen seeing Yehezkel hearing him call from the door:
“I tell you, that wasn’t him! You’re wrong.”
He runs to Naomi’s bed he opens the drawer he takes out the broken half of the dog’s chain he runs back out again.
I return to the bed. All things mesh together. The sun enmeshed in the middle of the square windowpane. The tailored lady sits there helplessly tears running down her cheeks.
All at once gripped by the thought.
“Why are you crying? What are you here for?”
“They thought I wanted to kill myself. But I didn’t. I only wanted to try it ... to frighten them ... and they thought I meant it...”
“There, there. Look, they’ll take good care of you here. And soon you’ll be able to leave.”
I can’t tear myself away from Naomi’s bed I don’t lie down on it though I just stand there looking at the straw hat on the pillows at the open drawer. Fragile inner workings of. Thinking of your regained half a house. Half a guest room half a bedroom half a kitchen half a bathroom the whole place halved by an imaginary line. Taking off my soft felt hat and putting on her straw one in its place. The lady in the corner looks at me but there’s no turning back now. I lift Naomi’s cotton dress I finger it crinkling the fabric I sniff it she’s lost her old smell these last five years and gotten a new one. I can’t put down the dress. Shaken annoyed at myself I wriggle out of my jacket I hold up the dress and slip into it struggling with the fabric caught for a dark moment but then it falls freely over me stiff and clean. I see the little face in the corner fill with terror the lips are trying to speak.
“Oh, no ... why are you ... you’re frightening me ... oh, don’t! Don’t frighten me, please ... why didn’t you tell me you were sick too?”
I frown at her watching the dress swirl lightly around my legs bending to roll up my pants until my white ankles show. The sun sinks slowly beneath the square window I take the soft gray shawl and cast it over my shoulders looking for a mirror. The woman trembles bites her fingers sobs.
“Don’t ... don’t ... please...”
I walk to the door the giant is standing there limply holding his pitchfork listening. Cars keep coming down the road now Asi rushes up too. I run back to hide in the corner the woman watching every move white-faced falling apart eyes sputtering in the dark. Asi steps inside and gropes for the light switch. History as closure? No children there is always a way out. I freeze in my corner the hem of the dress flutters slightly while he steps warily into the dark room and finds my jacket on the bed.
“Father?” He halts calling softly. “Father ...”
He senses me for sure but doesn’t dare come closer he stops I’m ready now. Murder me. I am that I am. Let her rip. I’ve done all I could. Suddenly I dart from my place I spin around and race to the kitchen and out the back door. In the open again. I have plenty of time my ticket my passport my money. Plenty of it. And half the house mine again. The taxi is waiting. I hurry down the path by cars unloading patients more depressed than ever after a day with their families. In female garb I slip past them an unaccustomed draft around my ankles suddenly a flood of lunar light. The dogs are still barking faintly but the howling has stopped. ’Ratio must have been freed he’s galloping toward me I mustn’t miss the hole in the fence.
I head straight for it the outline of my plump woman’s shadow trailing clearly after me. A cool wind. Scudding clouds. All symbols. I know and smile to myself. And supposing that the pleasure that it gives me does destroy my very self?
All at once I see him before me the giant mute colossus of a man just standing there moving in slow motion as though remote-controlled he faces me on the little path blocking my way staring at me hard. They call him by some Arab name Musa I think that must be it but I’m sure that he’s a Jew. Well what’s on your mind? Have I disappointed you too? “Naomi...” he mutters. “Naomi...” Meaning you or trying to warn her? Can he really have confused us? He mutters some more or rather groans it’s all too much for him I’d better calm him down he’s humorless that’s your original your unilateral your unadulterated form of madness. I take off the shawl and toss it on the ground I unbutton the dress but it just puts him into a Neanderthal rage. He’s actually growling now. The main thing’s not to panic not to touch them they’re like dogs fear only makes it worse. Perhaps he needs to be scolded. A fateful man. Better to humor him. But now he’s waving his arms he doesn’t even know he’s got a pitchfork in them. What a predicament. Suddenly you’re in a dreadful mess.
Visit www.hmhbooks.com to find more books by A. B. Yehoshua.
About the Author
A. B. YEHOSHUA is one of Israel’s preeminent writers. His novels include Journey to the End of the Millenium, The Liberated Bride, and A Woman in Jerusalem, which was awarded the Los Angeles Times Book Prize in 2007. He lives in Haifa.
A Late Divorce Page 42