Until Sweet Death Arrives

by Amnon Binyamini

  A few days later, Edna announced that she was prepared to make enquiries about a suitable institution for Nahum. She gave no explanation for her change of mind and neither Michael nor Gilat asked for one.

  Yochevet House was chosen on Gilat’s recommendation.

  Nahum and Sharon were asleep in the back of the car. Lights appeared through the trees. Nobody was there to greet them when Gilat stopped the car in front of the building. Michael got out and approached the front door while the others remained in the car. He knocked on the door and waited. Then he knocked again. Getting no response, he turned and looked helplessly at Gilat.

  “The bell, Michael,” she called. “Ring the bell until somebody comes. Maybe most of the staff has gone home.”

  Michael kept his finger on the bell and a young woman with a thick braid eventually opened the door.

  “Are you the Peterson family?” she asked coldly.

  “Yes,” Michael answered.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” she said. “Do you require a wheelchair or can the patient walk without help?”

  Edna, who had joined them at the entrance, now said in an injured tone, “My Nahum is perfectly capable of walking without help. He doesn’t need a wheelchair. We will accompany him.”

  Michael went and took Nahum’s suitcase from the trunk. Then he stood behind Gilat as she leaned over Nahum in the back seat, shaking him gently and murmuring, “Daddy. Wake up, Daddy.”

  Edna called, “Gilat. He’s fast asleep. Let him sleep. We can wait a little longer. There’s no need to rush home, now that he’s not there.” She was obviously finding it hard to accept that she was actually saying goodbye to her husband.

  Gilat decided to appeal to her mother’s sound reason, “Mother, if we let him sleep now, he’ll wake them up in the middle of the night. We’d better wake him up.”

  Edna could not deny the logic of this. She had spent enough wakeful nights making sure that he didn’t get out of the apartment, or eat newspapers, or defecate and urinate on the living room carpet, or destroy things, or climb over the balcony railing, or shout, or undress, or drink from the toilet bowl, or move at all, because any movement was likely to cause harm to himself or his surroundings, tearing her nerves to shreds.

  “You’re right. Wake him up quickly and let’s get him inside.” She turned to the woman at the door and said, “We’re bringing Nahum, now.”

  He opened his eyes and gave Gilat a beatific smile as she leaned over him. With Michael’s help, she assisted him out of the car. Sharon woke up and went into the building with them. They found themselves in a large hall leading to a flight of steps.

  “Third floor,” said the woman with the braid, adding in her cold voice, “Please follow me.”

  Michael found the stairs difficult to climb because of his disability and the fact that he was carrying Nahum’s suitcase in one hand and supporting him with the other.

  “Isn’t there an elevator?” he asked the woman.

  “No.”

  “How do people get up the steps if they can’t go up by themselves,” asked Sharon.

  “Two attendants come in the morning and help those who need help. Anyway, I suggest you all save your questions for Dr. Wolf, who’s waiting for you in his office.”

  On their way up, they heard someone shouting, “Food. I want food!”

  “I hear somebody asking for food. He must be very hungry,” Sharon said. “Why don’t you give him something to eat?”

  The woman replied, “That’s Fuad. He forgets that he’s eaten as soon as he finishes his meal and that’s why he shouts all the time.”

  When they reached the third floor, they heard a woman singing one line of an old, forgotten song, “Rachel, Rachel. Your light will shine,” over and over in a loud monotone.

  Like the coldness with which they were received by the young woman with the plait, this and the other sounds they heard on the way upstairs did nothing to lighten their sadness.

  Nahum’s room was at the end of a passage. It was medium in size, with wall-to-wall carpeting that lent it an air of warmth. A big window with brightly painted bars filled one wall; and the main item of furniture was a large metal bed with a safety rail. A well-designed shower and lavatory unit added to the visitors growing sense of relief. Indeed, it was just as the brochure promised: “Much attention has been invested in providing comfortable conditions and consideration for the needs of the patients.”

  Michael offered to stay in the room with Nahum, “To help him get used to it,” he said while the others went to meet the Director, Dr. Wolf.

  “Hello, the Peterson family! You’re a little late, aren’t you?” He smiled broadly, obviously wanting to put them at their ease.

  “We left the house late because Nahum was still asleep and I didn’t want to wake him,” Edna explained.

  “You did the right thing,” said the doctor. Then he added, “Please introduce yourselves.”

  Edna introduced everybody, after which Dr. Wolf said, “And Nahum, I assume, is in his room.”

  Getting to his feet, he declared, “First, I’ll see the patient. With all due respect, the most important person for me, at the moment, is Nahum. I’ll be back when I’ve visited for a while. Please don’t get up, I’m just doing my job.” So saying, he walked out.

  To the lady with the braid, who was standing in the doorway, he said, “Olga, please offer the visitors something to drink while I visit our new patient.”

  Olga brought coffee for the grownups and a soft drink for Sharon. Edna was pleased with Dr. Wolf’s humanistic approach which put Nahum as his first priority. She felt that since they had to place Nahum in an institution, a private one run by someone like Dr. Wolf was best. His attitude was what she had hoped for when she allowed herself to be persuaded that Nahum should be cared for in an institution.

  After waiting for quite a long time for the doctor’s return, Edna suggested going to Nahum’s room, but Gilat said, “Michael’s there with Daddy and Dr. Wolf needs time to get impression of Daddy. Why disturb him?”

  Olga had vanished after silently serving the drinks and Edna and Gilat lapsed into a restful silence in the doctor’s office.

  “Your Nahum’s a very nice fellow,” Dr. Wolf said, striding into the room, “He’s going to be fine with us, that’s for sure!”

  Michael was close behind the doctor and Edna jumped up nervously when he came in. “Michael! Why have you left Nahum by himself?”

  “He’s sleeping,” Michael said excitedly, “Dr. Wolf put him to bed and stayed until he was sure Mr. Nahum was asleep. You should have seen how professionally he handled him!”

  Edna and Gilat were delighted. For the first time in ages, Edna felt the weight lifting from her heart.

  “I see that I’ll be able to relax and close my eyes tonight, knowing that my Nahum is in good hands,” Edna said, with a hint of a question in her voice, looking directly at Dr. Wolf in the hope of further reassurance before leaving her husband in his new home.

  Dr. Wolf sat down and looked at her with his serene smile, preparing to answer her, but before he could speak he was interrupted by Michael.

  “Mrs. Edna, our Mr. Nahum is in a very professional institution. You can be absolutely sure of that.”

  Edna filled out the questionnaire that the doctor placed on the desk in front of her and concluded the financial agreements for Nahum’s accommodation and treatment. As they were preparing to leave, Sharon bounced up with a question.

  “Doctor, why do they call you wolf?”

  He gave her a paternal, patient smile and answered reassuringly, “That’s what my family is called.”

  She persisted, “But why? Why do they call you wolf?”

  He smiled his good smile again, “That is the name I got from my parents.”

  “Why do you wear sunglasses in the night?”
<
br />   “So that I can see better.”

  “But why sunglasses?”

  “Because my eyes are sensitive to light, and I can concentrate on answering your questions instead of being bothered by the light, that’s why.”

  He was amused, but Gilat was embarrassed. She spoke sharply to her daughter and told her to stop making a nuisance of herself with her silly questions.

  As they were leaving, the doctor stroked Sharon’s hair and said to Gilat, “The youngsters today are so observant. I think you should allow your daughter to ask questions. She’s a very intelligent little girl.”

  Taking him at his word, Sharon had another question to ask, “Dr. Wolf, why do you dress like that?”

  He looked down at his clothes, then transferred his gaze to the child, “And what’s your name, my girl?”

  “Sharon.”

  He bent his knees so that his face was on a level with hers, “Sharon,” he said, “you can ask your mother. Doctors wear white coats. That is how they dress for work. And before you ask your next question, I’ll ask it for you and then I’ll answer.”

  After a pause, he continued in a childish voice, “Dr. Wolf, why is it white?” and then in his natural voice he continued, “For the sake of hygiene and sterility, little girl.”

  They wanted to see Nahum before they left and he led the way to the room, motioning them to be quiet. They tiptoed to Nahum’s bedside and looked at him, happy to see him so deep in sleep.

  The dauntless child had another question on the way out of the building. Noticing a barrier on the stairs leading to the roof, she asked, “What’s that for?”

  “There’s no railing on the roof,” he explained, “and because our patients aren’t clear in their minds and might come to harm, we need the barrier for their protection.

  “Wonderful!” said Michael.

  Edna managed to extract three identical promises from the doctor before they said goodbye:

  “Promise me that you’ll take very good care of him, Doctor.”

  After each repeated request, he promised without a trace of annoyance.

  “I understand. It’s perfectly natural. Don’t worry. I want to promise you that it will be good for Nahum with us. You can rest assured.”

  As they were driving home, Gilat turned to her daughter and asked, “Why did you have to bother the doctor with all those silly questions? Why do you care what he wears? Have you never seen doctors in white before?”

  “I didn’t mean his white coat, mommy,” she said, sounding frightened. “I only wanted to know about his red shirt. I know doctors wear white coats for work. I just never saw a doctor with a red shirt under his white coat, like this Dr. Wolf.”

  52.

  It was five in the morning and the first rays of the sun were climbing the wall of Edna’s room. She got out of bed, wrapped herself in her robe and shuffled wearily to the bathroom, where she splashed her face with cold water.

  The first night without Nahum, which should have been peaceful and free of responsibility, had been one long nightmare for her. A sense of uneasiness had troubled her since she left the institution. Her inability to get to the root of it had kept her awake. She went into her dear Nahum’s empty room, hoping to find comfort and clarity as she stood looking at his unmade bed. Then she went to the living room, where she settled herself in an armchair and deliberately relaxed, to free her mind and allow it to focus on the cause of her uneasiness. As if stung, she jumped to her feet and ran into Gilat’s room.

  Gilat was fast asleep. When her mother touched her shoulder, she opened her eyes and said sleepily, “What” before falling asleep again.

  “Gilat, wake up. I’m sorry to wake you, but I have to ask you who recommended Yochevet House.”

  Gilat turned away without opening her eyes and said, “Nobody. Let me sleep, Mother.”

  Edna persisted, “Think carefully, Gilat. How did you get in touch with Dr. Wolf? How did you find the institution? How did you contact them?”

  “I didn’t contact them; they contacted us. They phoned us, here, at home.”

  “Who’s ‘they’?” Edna asked anxiously.

  “The secretary and Dr. Zeev Wolf himself.”

  “What did he say?” Edna sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for a more specific answer.

  “He told me he owned an institution for the special care of journalists and writers suffering from Alzheimer’s. He warmly recommended placing Daddy in his institution. He even offered a special reduction.”

  “Why should he offer a reduction? Did you ask him?” Now waiting for an answer and with a growing sense of foreboding, she plied her daughter with more questions.

  “How does he know Daddy? From where? How does he know that Daddy’s a journalist?”

  Gilat said, “I have no idea.”

  “How did he know there was someone in this house with Alzheimer’s?”

  Gilat sat up, suddenly wide awake. Blushing, she said, “I didn’t think of that, Mother.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Olga came into Nahum’s room. He was lying in bed, his blank eyes fixed on her. Without looking at him, she said in her cold voice, “You have to get up. Wolf said I must wake you and bring you to him.”

  She dressed him as he lay on the bed and he neither resisted nor cooperated. Then she sat him up and pushed his feet into slippers and led him from the room. He let her take him by the hand and passively allowed himself to be pulled along, as if this was a matter of course.

  “Come in,” said the doctor in response to Olga’s knock, and she led Nahum into the office.

  “Here he is, Wolf,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Dr. Wolf said, contemplating the elderly man standing in front of him. Older by several years, made even older by the illness that had taken his mind captive, that had rendered him seen but unseeing. Present but unaware. Suffering and causing suffering to his surroundings.

  Wolf smiled at Nahum.

  “Thanks,” he said to the nurse in the doorway, “You can leave us alone, Nitoosh. You may go, now.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Very agitated, Edna dialed the telephone exchange and asked for the telephone number of Yochevet House. Gilat stood nervously beside her while they waited for the operator to find the number.

  “I’m sorry; we have no record of any organization or institution by that name,” came the reply.

  “Maybe it’s an unlisted number, or a newly installed phone?” Edna suggested.

  “I’ll check with the shift supervisor,” said the operator, who returned after several minutes saying there was no institution by that name on their list.

  “Let’s look under the doctor’s name, Gilat said, already leafing through the phone directory. “Wolf…Zeev Wolf…Wolf…” she muttered, but Zeev Wolf, M.D., like Yochevet House, was not listed.

  Edna hurried to the front door and Gilat asked in surprise, “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to get Michael, I want him to come with us to Yochevet House. We’re going to get Nahum out of there right now!”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  “Please, please go faster,” Sheila urged the driver of the police car.” I don’t want to let Shuni slip through my fingers again. Every time I come close to catching him, he manages to get away at the last minute. Come on, step on the gas! Please!”

  The driver was irritated by the flow of instructions coming from the young woman with the American accent.

  “Lady,” he said in a burst of annoyance, “stop nagging me. I can’t go faster than this on a dirt road. The bumps can damage the car, as I’ve told you a hundred times already. Just please keep quiet!”

  Sheila opened the window, lit a cigarette and stopped talking. The rows of cypress trees on either side of the slowly moving car seemed to stretch on forever.

  “As long has he doesn’t
get away this time,” she muttered.

  After that day in Haifa, when he managed to run away, she decided to turn to a well-known private detective agency whose employees were mostly ex-policemen. They traced him and informed her that Shuni was now calling himself Dr. Zeev Wolf and was the director of an Old People’s Home for welfare cases. They put a watch on the place; and when they were familiar with his daily routine, they convinced the police that Dr. Zeev Wolf was, in fact, a dangerous, slippery conman who changed his identity the way a snake sheds its skin. A search warrant was issued and, under cover of great secrecy, plans were made to raid the isolated building. Three police cars set out for Yocheved House, with Sheila in the lead car, since she would be able to identify the man.

  The rows of cypress trees began to thin out and the building appeared in the misty distance. They would have less than fifteen minutes to surround the building and capture Shuni – Adiv - Dr. Zeev Wolf, or whatever he was calling himself at the moment.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  “How are you feeling, Nahum? Nahum Peterson the Great!”

  Wolf was in a good mood.

  “So tell me, you don’t absorb anything anymore? Don’t understand? Don’t talk? You certainly don’t know how to write anymore, right? Nahum Peterson, the great journalist!”

  Briefly taking his eyes off Nahum, who was standing in front of him like a statue, Walf pressed the button on the inside line.

  “Yes, Zeev?”

  “Nitoosh, we’re leaving soon, get ready.”

  “Okay, Zeev,” the young woman said obediently, “but I don’t think I’ll manage…”

  He interrupted her with a shout, “I didn’t ask if you’d manage; I said we’re out of here! Said, not asked! Said, not discussed! You hear me, Nitoosh?” In a more placatory tone of voice, he added, “I’m sorry I had to talk to you like that. The police are on our tail; we’ve been under observation for over three weeks already. I’ll finish with the journalist and join you.” He cut the connection, but immediately called again.

  “What do you want now?” came the weary response.

  “Nitoosh, he said, “we’ll leave through the basement. Wait for me there. And don’t forget to activate the dummies. We have to distract the police! Okay?”