Until Sweet Death Arrives

by Amnon Binyamini

  “Edna,” he said, freeing himself from her caress, “Edna.”

  She motioned him to be silent. He did not understand and merely repeated, “Edna…Edna…What’s the time?” he asked.

  32.

  “Why are you so worried, Edna?” Dr. Shmuel Perry was an old friend of the family.

  Edna often wondered if it was wise to have their friend as their doctor. At times, she thought Intimate health matters should be kept out of friendships. Now, however, as she sat confused and helpless in Dr. Perry’s well-appointed clinic, she was glad that he was both friend and doctor.

  Dr. Perry was a quiet, tolerant and courteous man. His silver hair, drooping eyelids and the network of wrinkles on his high forehead were evidence of his advanced age.

  While Edna searched for the best way to define the reason for their visit, Nahum sat silently staring at a painting of a colorful landscape on the wall.

  “He’s not the Nahum you know,” she began. “He’s very forgetful. At first, I thought it would pass, but it didn’t. We took a trip to Switzerland, to rest, but the situation became even worse.”

  The doctor listened attentively. Nahum, withdrawn, continued to gaze at the painting.

  “He never wanted to leave our hotel room. He kept asking why we weren’t in our own home. When I did manage to get him outside for a walk, he never once looked at the surrounding mountains, or the store windows. Wherever we went he kept his eyes on me, as if he was afraid I’d abandon him in the middle of the street.”

  Dr. Perry remained attentive, without speaking or looking at her as she described the course of events since their return from Switzerland. When she stopped talking, he asked her when she had first noticed the change in her husband and requested examples of unusual behavior, with as many details as possible relating to the past year in particular. The session lasted for a long time as she spoke and he made notes.

  Before he examined Nahum or spoke to him, he gave Edna a list of tests for Nahum, such as, blood count, vitamin B12, EEG and CT, among others. He also gave Edna a letter to a neurologist.

  “If I didn’t know that you feel obliged, as a close friend, to send us for every test known to modern medicine,” she said with a smile, “I would start to worry.”

  Dr. Perry did not answer. Instead, he went and sat next to Nahum, who sat with his eyes on the painting, not bothering to respond to the doctor.

  “Nahum, how are you?”

  “OK,” said Nahum, still keeping his eyes on the painting, too passive for the doctor’s liking.

  “Nahum, please stand up,” he said with a big smile and outstretched hand. Nahum stood up and followed Dr. Perry to the desk, where the doctor seated him. Nahum had stopped staring at the picture on the wall.

  “Is everything alright at work?” he enquired with a wink and a smile.

  “Yes.”

  “Is there something you want to tell me, any stress?”

  The ensuing silence was interrupted by Edna, “Nahum, Shmuel asked you a question.”

  “Yes?” Nahum replied, rolling his eyes at her in surprise, as though he had only just entered the doctor’s room.

  Dr. Perry looked directly at Nahum and said, “Tell me, Nahum, are you depressed?”

  No answer.

  Edna exerted herself to draw some cooperation from her husband. “Nahum, we’ve come to Dr. Perry in order to get his help. Please answer his questions. Have you been feeling depressed lately?”

  He answered her suddenly, “Do I look depressed to you, Edna?”

  Dr. Perry whispered into Nahum’s ear, “Would you prefer to speak to me alone?”

  Almost shouting, Nahum answered, “No. There’s no need for us to speak alone.”

  The doctor asked Edna if Nahum was on medication and she replied in the negative, saying that Nahum was generally healthy. Dr. Perry came and stood close to Nahum again. Obviously feeling threatened, the latter recoiled.

  “Do you want me to help you?” asked the doctor.

  Nahum stole a glance at the doctor and answered, almost without hesitation, “Yes.” After a pause he added, “Very much.”

  From then on, Nahum appeared alert and energetic.

  “I’d like to ask you a number of questions, Nahum.”

  “Sure,” he turned to the doctor, who was leaning over him, “I’m ready.”

  “How old are you?”

  The journalist looked quickly at the doctor and then at his wife. “Edna, look what he’s asking me!”

  She said, Nahum, answer the question. If Shmuel asks how old I am, I promise to answer.”

  Instead of answering the doctor, Nahum said, “Tell me, Edna, how old are you?”

  She answered promptly, “I’m fifty-four. Now tell the doctor how old you are.”

  “What’s the age difference between us?”

  “Two years,” she blurted.

  Nahum turned triumphantly to the doctor and, smiling for the first time, said, “Now you can work it out for yourself.”

  Dr. Perry was patient and pleasant. He tried to catch Edna’s eye to hint that she should stay out of his conversation with Nahum, but she had her eyes fixed on Nahum. Dr Perry continued addressing questions to Nahum.

  “Where are you, do you know?”

  “What do you mean, where am I?” Nahum, looking insulted, exclaimed, “Tell me, do you know who you’re talking to? Do you know who I am?”

  Edna leaped to the doctor’s defense again. “Dr. Perry knows what he’s doing. He wants you to say where you are, now.”

  “I’m in Dr. Perry’s office, Edna.”

  “Where’s that?” she persisted.

  Nahum fell silent for a moment and then hesitantly replied, “At the clinic?”

  “What day is it?” the doctor pressed.

  “Who are you asking? Me or Edna?”

  “I’m asking you,” said Dr. Perry in a calm but firm voice.

  “What was the question?”

  “What day is it today?”

  Nahum was, or pretended to be, hurt to the quick, “Are you asking me what day it is? Aren’t you ashamed? Do you expect me to answer such a question?”

  Edna rallied, “Dr. Perry,” she said, “I might also be insulted by such a question. I’m not saying for certain that I would be, but I can understand Nahum’s reaction.”

  The doctor suddenly lost patience. He explained that the questioning was part of the examination and were not intended as insults. He instructed her not to interfere with his work. Edna apologized and sank blushing into the armchair.

  Dr. Perry took a booklet from his drawer, leafed through it and opened it in front of Nahum.“What do you see in this picture?” he asked.

  Nahum looked at the picture of a dog and answered, “A dog. I see a dog.”

  “And what’s this?” the doctor asked, pointing to a different page.

  “A house,” Nahum answered quickly. He seemed to be enjoying the game and looked expectantly at the doctor’s hand, waiting for him to turn the page and insist on asking him more questions about the pictures in the booklet.

  “And what do you see here?”

  “A bird,” Nahum answered at once, happy to continue the game.

  Dr. Perry closed the booklet, “Nahum,” he said “I’ve given Edna a list of tests I want you to take, as well as a letter to a neurologist. Come back with the test results and a letter from the neurologist two weeks from today”.

  Nahum stood up with a light sigh of relief and asked, “Is that all?”

  Edna asked, “Can you tell us anything about Nahum’s condition, doctor?”

  His expression was grim, but he merely said, “We’ll talk when you come back with the results.”

  Edna left the room with Nahum hot on her heels. “See,” he said, “you’re worried over nothing.”


  As they were crossing the waiting room to the outer door, the doctor called out, “Nahum, may I ask you one more question?”

  Nahum turned to look at him, “Who, me?”

  “Yes. Only you.”

  “Sure. Ask what you like.”

  “What pictures did I show you in the booklet?”

  “The booklet? What booklet?”

  “This one,” Dr. Perry answered, showing him the booklet he had taken from his desk drawer. Nahum stopped and thought for a minute, his expression heavy and serious. He did not complain or ask his wife to help him, but took a long time to answer.

  “I have no idea,” he said going out with a backward glance and without closing the door behind him.

  They walked the short distance home from the doctor’s office in total silence.

  33.

  Aharon was outside the medical center when the Petersons emerged. He had been waiting behind a thick bush for over an hour since following them from their home. He was impatient and hot. He removed his big straw hat at intervals to wipe the perspiration from his forehead. When he was not doing this, or rubbing his face, he looked up in wonder at the impressive new medical center. It was some time since he had seen such fine architecture. His eyes were accustomed to the boring, dilapidated structures on the grounds of the closed institution where he was hospitalized. Here, everything was different, he was surrounded by lush greenery and colorful flowers.

  He had not eaten anything since he succeeded in evading Boris, the institution’s gatekeeper early this morning. Nobody was home when he stopped by his mother’s house to change into his own clothes and he was in too much of a hurry to eat before rushing to the journalist’s apartment house.

  He was out of touch with the outside world from the time he had been committed to the closed institution. He had not read any newspapers; in fact, he had no interest at all in the media. Maybe this was due to the dulling effect of the tranquilizers he was forced to take. In the last month, however, when his clarity of mind returned, he remembered his agreement with Peterson, the journalist; and it occurred to him with a jolt that Nahum might have broken the agreement and might have written about him while he was hospitalized. If so, the scenario was obvious: they would know that he, Aharon, was a coward and they would come and get him. They were evil. Very evil. Very evil and dangerous. And all of it, every bit of it, was because of a disloyal journalist who broke agreements.

  Edna noticed him first. She realized that he had been following them from the moment they left the medical center. His shadow stretched past them on the sidewalk. She heard his heavy, clumsy tread. Edna walked faster. Nahum walked alongside, unnoticing, as she kept glancing at the shape of the big hat that was part of the shadow. She slowed down till she came to a halt. So did Nahum. So did the shadow. Edna turned her head to look over her shoulder.

  Never before had she seen such an odd combination of clothing. The sharp contrast between the khaki shorts and the polished work boots he was wearing held her gaze. The hat was slanted across his forehead so that the wide brim partly hid his young face. From what? Edna wondered as she warily scrutinized him, but he was not looking at her. His eyes were steadily and suspiciously riveted on Nahum.

  “Hey-ho!” he flung at Nahum, keeping his eyes fixed on the apathetic journalist. Edna stood petrified, watching Aharon.

  “Hello, hello, hey-ho” he said negligently, then released a torrent of words, “I kept our agreement. I never once contacted you. Isn’t that so? Not once. Right? Right? Right?” Then, after a pause devoted to examining the couple, “Aha, so you’re not going to answer me?”

  With a few quick steps, Aharon came to stand facing Nahum and Edna. She stared fearfully at him, while Nahum looked at him blankly.

  “Ha, ho, ha-ho, it’s me, Aharon. Remember me?”

  Without hesitation, Nahum said, “Of course I recognize you. I’ve known you for thirty years.”

  Aharon’s face turned red. “Tell me, Nahum, do you think I’m an idiot? How can you know me for thirty years when I’m only twenty-eight?” He glared at Nahum, his face beginning to twitch with one ugly expression after another. He waggled his fingers and stuck out his tongue. Tired of his show of weird and repulsive facial contortions, still standing close to Nahum, he rebuked him loudly, “You too, hey? Like the hospital, testing me all the time to show that I’m not normal. Hey? Hey? Like everybody else, whispering behind my back that I’m crazy?”

  Edna remembered the disturbing phone calls she and Nahum used to get and Nahum’s description of Aharon’s crazy behavior when they met in the cafe. She shivered and, looking at her arms, saw that she had goose bumps. All of a sudden she found herself and Nahum standing alone with an unpredictable lunatic on the sidewalk. Aharon did not bother to look at Edna. He was now standing very close to Nahum. Too close.

  “Did you write about me?” he asked.

  For the first time, Edna intervened in this bizarre encounter, “What are you talking about? What do you mean?”

  Aharon started yelling hysterically, “Tell me, did you or did you not write about me in the newspaper? You did, didn’t you?”

  Nahum heard him; it was impossible not to hear him. His ears hurt with Aharon’s incessant shouting. He did not have to say much. He simply said, “Wrote? Sure I wrote; I wrote a lot.” Then he added, “I know you.”

  There was nobody in the street to see Aharon bury his head in his hands – hat and all. Not to hear him wail, “Oh! Oh! I’m finished! Now that you’ve written about me, they’ll know I’m a coward! They’ll come and get me. They’re evil! They’re terribly evil.” His face was terror-stricken, he sobbed, “I must escape now, before they come for me.”

  He walked away and, coming to a bend in the road, dashed to the other side. Before they lost sight of him, he ran back to Nahum and yelled into his ear, “You broke the agreement, Nahum. I’ll get you yet. I won’t leave you in peace! That’s a promise!”

  Nahum was suddenly furious. He screamed wildly, “Lunatic, lunatic! Get out of here! Go on! Get out! Lunatic!”

  Aharon ran for his life. Nobody had ever shouted at him like that. Not even in the sanatorium. Even he himself had never shouted at himself the way the journalist was shouting at him now. He was soon gone. He vanished as if he had never been there. All that remained with them was the sound of his ranting voice. Long after he was out of sight, they could hear him shouting, “You broke the agreement! I’ll get you yet! You’ll hear from me! You’ll see!”

  Then there was silence.

  “How lucky we are not one of those poor unfortunates.” Edna said. Her mood improved and she began to laugh. Her tension evaporated. She stroked Nahum’s cheeks and laughed. She kissed him on the forehead, on the lips, and laughed.

  “Nahum,” she said, between one gust of laughter and another, “How did you remember crazy Aharon?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “And I was so worried that your memory was failing.”

  With a hollow smile, he answered, “Why, Edna, did you think I am senile?”

  34.

  The series of tests was exhausting. Nahum was not very cooperative. He never voluntarily extended his arm for the nurse to draw blood. He behaved like a frightened child. When asked to roll up his sleeve, he wanted to know the reason; and the severe, elderly nurse answered with an unsympathetic look, “We need to take some blood for the test as it says here on the form.”

  He gave her a glassy stare and remained passively where he was. Edna took his arm and started to roll up his sleeve. He grabbed her hand and said, “We don’t have to, Edna; we don’t have to.”

  The nurse tapped her pencil to show that her patience was coming to an end. Her signal had its affect. Edna held her husband’s arm and the nurse rapidly tied the elastic tourniquet that made the blood course through Nahum’s veins.

  The laboratory tests were easy compared to the ordeal of preparing
Nahum for the CT scan. When asked to put his head into what looked like a hairy dryer, with the help of a polite technician, Nahum asked, “What’s this for?”

  Edna explained to her loved one that the instrument enabled the technician to see pictures of Nahum’s brain. When she finished explaining, he asked, “What’s this for?” as if she had not spoken at all.

  The technician wanted to move him closer to the instrument, but he cowered and clutched the arms of his chair, refused to loosen his grip and shouted, “Edna, I don’t want this test! It’s not necessary!”

  The technician tried to explain that the test was not dangerous, but nobody listened. Nahum continued to hang onto the chair for dear life, as if it were his last hope of safety before a disaster. Edna, on her part, was racking her brain for a quick, creative solution to the problem of getting her husband’s head inside the metal helmet without forcing him to do so. When the idea came to her, she became sharp and businesslike. She placed her own head inside the ominous helmet and spoke gently to Nahum, “See?” she said, “Nothing’s happened to me. It’s even quite pleasant,” After a while she said, “Now it’s your turn, Nahum.”

  He stood up and, before submitting his head to the smiling technician, asked Edna, “Is it my turn now?”

  Their visit to the neurologist was easier. Nahum was calmer. The doctor used a delicate hammer to tap Nahum’s knees, told him to stand up, sit down, raise his hands, lower them, to stand and open and close his eyes. He asked him to walk around the room, just walk. When the neurologist tapped him in the area around his mouth, Nahum’s lips pursed involuntarily over and over again.

  At this point he gave Nahum a test called the Mini Mental Test. Edna told him that the neurologist was going to ask him a few questions, and sat down beside him. She was most surprised when the doctor asked her to leave him alone with Nahum. She promised she would not disturb them. She would sit absolutely still She wanted to be included. The doctor insisted on carrying out his examination without anyone present. This was how he always conducted his examinations.