Riding Lies

by Eshkar Erblich-Brifman

  Why does the lighting have to be so strong that it blinds her, she wonders, blinking. She puts on the nightgown, brushes her teeth, combs her hair. How long can she stay in here? She thinks she may shower again, but she showered only a few hours ago. She takes a deep breath. She can do it, it’s not that bad. She’s been doing it for years, although it has been months since she’s allowed him to touch her. But he’s so eager, she doesn’t have the strength to contain his disappointment or his anger, and he’ll probably take it out on her if she refuses. No one is really forcing her, she knows, but she’ll do it because she’s a big girl, because they came this far for a certain purpose. She needs to try for her children’s sake. And she did promise Dror, and Ehud Hirsch; and Tzila and David; and Edna and Avner. She made a promise to them all, but not to herself.

  When she slips into bed, she tries to imagine that Koby is there her. But the smell is different and he has a different touch. Everything suddenly feels alien. How, in such a short time, did she manage to forget one man and get used to another? She tries to focus her gaze on the pastel water color painting hanging opposite the bed. She looks at the boat sitting on the flat sea. The painting, probably a reproduction, irritates her, and she looks away before closing her eyes, repulsed by the stranger touching her, kissing her. She feels nauseous. He rubs against her leg like a pitiful dog on heat. She spreads her legs and enables him to enter her. She wants it to end. It’s not rape, she keeps repeating to herself, in an attempt to soothe herself. She is in control. Her stomach surges. She swallows, trying to control the nausea and stop the tears from bursting out.

  He moves inside her, monotonously, back and forth, back and forth, his panting rhythmic and rapid. “I’m coming,” he whispers in her ear as he explodes inside her. She bites her lips and knows that it’s over.

  ***

  They drive from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem in silence. Dror is concentrating on the heavy traffic, and she is deep in thought. What a terrible weekend. What a terrible idea it was. Ehud Hirsch is an idiot. He probably gets a cut from the hotel he recommended. She misses the children. They never both gone away and left Nadav, and he’s only slept over at a friend once or twice. She’s used to being away from Ido, and even from Neta, with her youth movement and school trips, and she often sleeps over at friends.

  By the time they pick up Nadav from his friend, it’s getting dark. She gets out of the car, feeling like she’s just been released from prison. The clear Jerusalem air hits her in the face and she fills her lungs, trying to cleanse her body after the weekend. She comforts herself with the knowledge that next weekend will be different. It’s going to be exciting, and challenging, riding in the Judean Desert. This time, she even managed to convince Hagar to come along. Maybe when she’s the barren desert landscape will be able to erase the memory of yesterday and today.

  She hugs Nadav and kisses him on his head, inhaling his scent, finding it hard to let go. He’s what keeps her mood up, she’s so lucky to have him, to have all three of her children. They’re her pride and joy, the reason she gets out of bed every morning.

  ***

  She wakes up excited on Thursday morning. This is her time to be free, she deserves it. Against his will, Dror will be taking care of the children again. He’s not pleased, but she doesn’t give a damn. In any case Ido will be in the army, and Neta doesn’t need much. Basically, he only has to fetch Nadav from his friend and maybe feed him and Neta. The fridge is packed with plastic containers, each with a label and serving instructions. It’ll be fine. Dror promised to finish work by five.

  She opens the window to Ido’s room and airs it for a while, allowing the fresh air in, the stale air out. It’s funny how quickly she’s become used to sleeping alone. This time, she won’t feel strange sleeping in a single bed wherever they’re spending the next two nights. She really has no idea where they’re staying but she doesn’t care too much. Koby arranged it all. All she did was pay. In a short while, Orly will pick her up. They arranged to travel together and share a room again but when she asked Hagar if she wanted to share with them, she told her that her husband was also coming. She knows Amnon, he’s a good-looking man, always smiling. Sometimes he fetches Ilai, and he comes to all their parties. She wishes Dror would smile now and again, but she reminds herself that it doesn’t really matter anymore.

  She packs a few sandwiches and the cakes she promised, the vegetable sticks she sliced for lunch for everyone, and a packed meal for Koby too, of course. She knows how much he loves it when she pampers him, how much he appreciates her food, her concern, her love.

  The drive passes pleasantly. Orly looks a little tired and withdrawn, but they soon start to chat.

  Gradually, the landscape becomes more arid, flat and yellow.

  They arrive at eight-thirty. She loves to be there first, to lay out the refreshments, give Koby a hand, and to steal him away for a few moments before the crowd arrives…before she has to share him with the others.

  He welcomes them with a huge grin and open arms. He slings one arm around Orly, the other around her. She feels like one of Charlie’s Angels and she’s not sure she likes it.

  She unwraps the cakes and places them on the rough wooden picnic tables. She doesn’t mind the desert dust. The worst that can happen is that they’ll eat cake with sand. Koby makes Turkish coffee in the big Finjan while the other riders start to arrive.

  The last to show up are Hagar and Amnon. She waves hello to them while collecting compliments for the fresh cakes she must have put so much work into. She likes making an effort for the group. She likes to feel needed, loved, appreciated.

  “Whoever can’t hear me, come closer,” Koby says, “I want to go over the trail, so give me a minute and a half of your undivided attention please, I’m sure you can do it. We will start today with Nahal Kisan—”

  Avi, the idiot, interjects with a joke about kissing but Koby ignores him and continues. He describes the route along Nahal Halamish, Nahal Zohar, Maale Zaron, Neve Zohar. She tries to listen but her mind drifts. She doesn’t really care where they go, the main thing is to ride, with Koby and this group that has become a raft of happiness for her in the choppy sea of her life.

  Everyone applauds and she joins in. Koby tells them about the holiday resort they’ll be staying at for the next two nights, he mentions breakfast and dinner, which are included in the price, and the list of who’s doing what for lunch. She raises her head with pride. Naturally, she took on more than the rest.

  Koby checks that they all have water bags, snacks and sunscreen, and suggests they make a move. Primed and ready, she gets into ready position, knowing that the day is going to be great.

  At night she feels a deep longing for him. She’s not feeling lonely, she just really yearns to be with him. She tries to control herself but at two in the morning she breaks. She tiptoes out of bed, trying her best not to wake Orly, who’s asleep in the bed next to hers.

  Despite the heat of the day, the night air is freezing cold. She wraps herself in a sweater but her teeth are still chattering.

  She knocks lightly on his door, in case he’s asleep. Will he let her in? Will he open the door? It is very late.

  She waits impatiently but there is no answer. She tries again, hesitantly. She can see the light through the shutters. Maybe he fell asleep with the light on.

  She’s about to knock a third time but her hand stops in midair. Enough! As it is, she’s pathetic. She turns on her tracks and returns with a heavy heart to her room. The intense disappointment, together with a sense of humiliation or perhaps failure, gnaw at her. She’ll never know why he didn’t open the door. She’ll never know if it was because he’s in another woman’s arms. Can she live with not knowing? Probably. She’s burying her head in the sand as it is. She thinks she knows where she stands. But she needs him, like an addict who needs drugs and doesn’t care how she gets it.

  ***

  �
��Tell me, have you finally gone off the deep end?” he shouts from his chair at the computer, “Are you trying to bring us to economic collapse? Is that it?”

  “What are you raving about?” she approaches him angrily.

  He shows her the monthly bill on the screen. “Would you like to explain to me what’s happening here?”

  “No, not really,” she answers calmly, “I don’t owe you any explanation, Dror. Our incomes are shared, and maybe it really is time to separate them. I need to open my own account.”

  “I’m not prepared for you to take any more riding lessons, do you hear me?!” he shouts, “Private or group!”

  She says nothing. Miserable miser. He thinks he controls the money. Why should she answer to him? She’s a big girl, she’ll do as she pleases.

  “And what happened to our food bill recently?” he continues to interrogate her, “Look at this!” He narrows his eyes, runs his index finger across the screen, muttering to himself intelligibly.

  “Our expenses have almost doubled in recent months, Anat,” he snarls at her, “I guess that’s what happens when you cook for an entire regiment!”

  “To remind you,” she stings, “you have three children. There are five of us living here!”

  “That’s just it,” he shouts, “we haven’t been five in a long time! We’re between seven and sometimes nine!”

  Again, she doesn’t respond. How does he always manage to silence her? Why is she still so afraid of him?

  “That idiot is never coming into my home again, do you hear me?!” he screams, his face reddening. “Neither him or his children. I’m sick and tired of them infesting this home! I’m sick and tired of you cooking for them! Look how much money you’re wasting! What are you, his servant, that you’re cooking for him? Can’t he take care of himself?”

  “It’s none of your business!” she hisses, “He’s a good friend and I’m helping him. He’s alone and it’s hard for him.”

  “That’s not my problem!” he shouts, “I’m not going to support that vermin! A leech, that’s what he is! He homes in on people and sucks out whatever he can from them!”

  “You’re so nasty!” she says in a soft, steady voice, “I’m not willing to even have this discussion with you.”

  “It’s not a discussion, Anat,” he says, clearing his throat and speaking more softly, “I’m simply informing you that you are not to cook for him anymore, not as long as we’re living together.”

  She glares at him. He’s really playing with fire now. He’s the one who wanted to stay together, to fight for their relationship. How dare he give her conditions?

  “Anat,” he suddenly softens, “I want you back. I want my family. But I’m not going to live with Koby and his children. This is not one big commune. I’m sick of seeing his children hanging around here. I’m sick of seeing you walking out with pots and containers full of food. You’re supposed to cook for your own family, not for other families!”

  “Don’t tell me who I can and can’t cook for,” she says, controlling her voice but she can feel her blood boiling. “I’ll cook for anyone who appreciates my food, not for someone who always has something negative to say, who is never satisfied!”

  “That’s not true, Anat,” he defends himself, “I love your simple, homecooked food.”

  “You’re unbearable!” she says, “Not to speak of the fact that you’re only bothered by Koby and his children because of the bank account!”

  “What are you talking about?” he shouts, “That’s the last straw! That’s it! Do you think I like coming home and seeing them here? They’re here almost all the time!”

  “The children have become close,” she says calmly, “that’s not my fault. And it’s not his fault. Stop being so narrowminded.”

  He shakes his head in frustration, “I just can’t talk to you anymore.”

  “Since when have you ever been able to talk to me?” she shoots back.

  “We’ll talk about it with Ehud,” he says, shuts the computer and storms out of the apartment. The echo of the door slamming hangs in the air as flaky white plaster falls silently to the floor. She stares at it at length.

  ***

  “Don’t move, honey,” she tells Shaked who is writhing on the carpet. Nadav looks at her and giggles.

  “What are you laughing about?” she asks with a mischievous smile, “You probably have them too!”

  “Me?” Nadav says, his eyes wide, “No way!” and he casually runs his fingers through his hair.

  She presses the fine comb against Shaked’s scalp and pulls it through her hair. Shaked shrieks.

  “Shhh…” she tries to calm her, “we don’t have much more to do.”

  She swipes the small, metal comb over a wet wipe and checks the spoils. Three eggs. Not bad.

  “What would I do without you,” Koby blows her a kiss as she continues the tiresome job.

  “It hurts so bad!” Shaked whines and Koby silences her immediately. “You should be grateful that Anat’s not disgusted and that she’s willing to help you!”

  “Oh really, Koby,” she says dismissively, “why would it disgust me? We have lice at preschool all the time. It’s not the first time I’ve been exposed to them…”

  “Yes, but still, these aren’t your lice…” he smiles.

  She bursts out laughing. “I don’t think the lice I find on my own head or on the heads of any of my children would be any nicer. Lice are lice and they’re bastards no matter how you look at them.”

  Shaked and Nadav giggle freely.

  “Sorry,” she quickly apologizes, “sorry for the non-educational word.”

  Now Koby is laughing and the four of them roll happily on the carpet. She’s playing happy family again. Too bad it always has to end.

  By the end of the evening, she’s managed to fish out five lice and eighteen eggs. She counts them. They end the event with pizza from the nearest pizzeria. Noam joins them for dinner. Neta is home studying chemistry and Koby suggests they keep a slice for her. It’s a great idea, she’s just not sure that Neta will eat pizza. The last time she brought bourekas home, Neta wasn’t happy, to say the least She’ll give it a shot, maybe studying for chemistry for so long will soften her up a bit.

  “When can we come to you?” Shaked asks and bites into another slice of pizza.

  “Whenever you want,” she says and licks her fingers, “you know that our home is always open to you…”

  Shaked smiles and looks questioningly at her father.

  Koby shrugs. “Whenever you like, sweetie. Next time you’re with me we’ll go.”

  Shaked nods enthusiastically and scratches her head.

  “Are you still itchy?” her eyes almost pop out of her head, “But I got them all!!”

  Shaked’s not sure how to answer, so she just shrugs.

  “Well, her hair will just have to be combed again tomorrow and the day after, and again in a week,” she determines.

  “Her mother will never comb it for her,” Koby says scornfully, “and I won’t see her again until Tuesday.”

  “That’s terrible,” she says and sighs, and then glances at her watch. It’s eight-thirty. Nadav has to go to sleep. She stands up and clears away the leftover pizza and the napkins, then packs up three slices of pizza for Neta and tells Nadav they have to go, it’s terribly late.

  “We’ll talk later?” she asks and he nods. A quick kiss on the cheek and they’re gone, swallowed up by the starry night of Jerusalem.

  ***

  She sits facing Ehud Hirsch, her heart racing. She has something important to say.

  “How was the week?” he asks and smiles empathically, first at her and then at Dror.

  “We had an argument over the money that Anat spends on Koby,” Dror starts and crosses his legs, “and about him in general.”

  She looks
at him in despise. Idiot. She’d planned to start.

  “Okay,” Ehud says, encouraging them to talk.

  “Wait a minute,” she stops everything and sits up, “hold your horses.”

  Ehud looks at her attentively. Dror, too, sits up.

  Her chest is burning, really burning. She’s not sure she can go on. She takes a deep breath and blurts out: “I don’t want any more.”

  Ehud and Dror don’t say a word. Her mind is racing, trying to find the words. She sounds like one of the preschoolers.

  “We’ve had quite a number of sessions,” she says, “we’ve tried spending the weekend together, as you know, we’ve tried talking, we’ve tried to examine what we want and why we’re here…we’ve discussed everything…”

  “Aha,” Ehud nods in agreement, twirling his black pen in his hand.

  “And I don’t want any more,” she repeats, “I’m done.”

  “Okay,” Ehud says, “speak directly to Dror and tell him exactly what you’ve decided and what you want.”

  Why is he tormenting her? Was that not clear? Why do I have to put everything into words? They all know exactly what she means. She places her hand on her pounding chest and tries to steady her breathing. Then she changes the angle she’s sitting at so she can look at Dror, who is sitting beside her.

  “Dror, I’m sorry. I tried. It’s not working. I don’t want to try to fix our relationship. I don’t want to have any more therapy. I just want a divorce.”

  Dror doesn’t react, and nor does Ehud.

  She has no choice but to continue. “I feel like you’re trying to control me, and I’m not taking it any longer. I am not prepared to give up riding lessons. I’m not prepared to give up my relationship with Koby. I’m not prepared to give up on myself,” her words hang in the air.

  “Dror, is there anything you’d like to say?” Ehud tries to evoke a response from him.

  “I…” Dror mumbles and rubs his face, “no, I don’t really have anything to say. I think that she’s making a mistake, of course. She’s deluding herself that she’ll be better off, she’s become addicted to that idiot who has ruined our lives. She’s simply lost her sanity…she’s no longer thinking logically…but that’s nothing new. I’ve said these things before…”