The Fairest Among Women

by Dalya Bilu

  This pregnancy in the fifth decade of her life took her completely by surprise. For from the day the last of her children left home to live their lives and she began to enjoy the grandchildren cradled in her lap, she had stopped menstruating. And from then on she could give herself to her husband night after night without fear of an additional pregnancy that would first stretch her sagging stomach and then slacken it, blacken her teeth, eat away at the calcium in her bones and leave them hollow, make her hair fall out, and cause brown spots to appear on her face.

  * * *

  On the night the event took place that would change the anticipated course of her life and bring disaster down on her head, the cooling apparatus in Joseph’s projector broke down in the middle of a particularly sad movie. The film was burned in a number of places, and it was impossible to mend it. The glum-faced Joseph was obliged to return the ticket money to the audience, whistling and catcalling below, and go home earlier than usual.

  Rosa received him lying in bed, bathed, perfumed, and wide awake. Her daily takings from the sale of her herbs waited in vain on the kitchen table for the takings from the ticket sales that evening, which had all been returned to the audience. After he told her sadly of the mishap, she comforted him in her arms until he felt the stiffening in his groin, and at the precise moment when all the cuckoo clocks in the house struck midnight, he penetrated her. As soon as he ejaculated and silence fell, she felt the spermatozoa swimming inside her, beating their tiny tails, groping their way through the dark tunnel of her body, sailing straight into her womb, which had been barren for nearly twenty years, and aiming their pointed heads at the target, the egg that had gotten away and survived. As soon as she felt the victorious spermatozoon hitting the egg, she shared her fears with her husband. Joseph, about to bury his head in the pillow and turn his broad back to her, sat up in amazement, bared his teeth stained yellow with nicotine in the grimace that passed for his smile, and waved his hand in dismissal: “You know that’s impossible. The door is sealed; there aren’t any more children.”

  The next morning, on her daily visit to her mother, after drinking the ritual cup of coffee Angela would examine behind her daughter’s back in order not to annoy her, Angela saw a new expression of pain on Rosa’s wan face. After that Angela began dancing attendance on her daughter, fussing unnecessarily, constantly inquiring after her health, asking her if she had eaten, and pressing freshly baked pastries still warm from the oven on her.

  After two months had passed, when her breasts began to weigh heavily on her and the nausea rose in her throat every morning, she underwent a series of tests to discover what was wrong, and asked the doctor hesitantly to do a pregnancy test as well. The doctor, who had attended at the birth of Laura-Liora, looked at her with a hint of mockery and said kindly, as if he were explaining the facts of life to a retarded child: “It says here in your file that you stopped menstruating two years ago. You’re a rational woman, Rosa. It’s not possible.” He added that he would recommend she cut down her calorie intake, since she was a big woman, and if she didn’t lose weight the menopause might endanger her health.

  At the end of the third month she felt the fetus stirring, and after it was seen by the doctors who clustered round her and clicked their tongues as they watched its beating heart and fishlike movements on the screen opposite them, her case was published in a local medical journal and soon reached the daily papers. And when the story reached professional journals abroad she became famous. On a television interview the young host, Danny Barakat, pressed his curly head to the belly of the “pregnant granny” and said that if it was a girl, she would surely be as beautiful as her mother. And with a theatrical flourish, he presented her with his visiting card, with the request that the girl get in touch with him on her sixteenth birthday. And Rosa, blushing furiously at his words under the thick layer of television makeup, nodded wordlessly. But when the taxi they had ordered for her brought her home she threw the visiting card out of the window, stroked her stomach, and made up her mind that when this child emerged from her tired loins she wouldn’t let them touch her.

  When the tests revealed that the child Rosa was carrying was indeed a girl, she knew that it would be different, because this pregnancy was different from all the others. First her skin tightened on her body and then on her face. Her breasts filled out, and when she inspected the changes taking place in her body in the mirror her nipples pricked up and stared at themselves. Her hair grew thick, her face grew smooth, as if she had been visiting a beauty parlor, her eyes shone in joyful anticipation, and her nails grew so strong that she could paint them red without fear of breaking them. All this the baby growing inside her did for her, as if to compensate her mother for her stubborn insistence on being born.

  When Rosa waited her turn to see the gynecologist, the other women in the waiting room didn’t give her inquisitive sidelong looks, they didn’t whisper behind her back or raise their eyebrows in mute rebuke as if to say that the task of reproduction should be left to younger women. Since she looked like one of them, she had no need to hide her face behind one of the women’s magazines and to pretend that the event was taking place in someone else’s body and the swollen belly didn’t belong to her.

  * * *

  During her pregnancy Joseph began to neglect the cinema and to concentrate on his wife. He stopped bringing the latest tearjerkers to Cinema Rosa, and instead of attending the nightly shows he stayed at home, stroking her protruding belly, cupping her heavy breasts in his hands, and lusting after her even more than usual. He wanted her every day, and the heavier her body grew the more it aroused him, until in the last months of her pregnancy he wanted her all day long, and kept her from doing the housework and tending her plants. After the pleasures of the night, he would take advantage of the erection that woke him from his sleep in the morning, embrace her as she lay with her back to him, and penetrate her gently from behind, to avoid the belly swelling like yeast dough in front of her. And thus he would rock in bed with her all morning, letting go only when she insisted that she had to go and pee, on condition that she came straight back to bed, where he went on delighting in her mountainous belly and heavy breasts till noon. When they were hungry, he would accompany her to the kitchen, stand behind her at the sink and put his arms around her thick waist, rub himself between her buttocks, dig his teeth into the nape of her neck, breathe lewd words into her blushing ears, and when she giggled in embarrassment like a young girl, he would shut her mouth with his lips and suck her tongue. And when she moved about the house he would press his loins to the slit in her backside and rock with her as he clumsily brought up the rear on the journey from the sink to the stove and the fridge, from the washing machine to the laundry line, and from the bedroom to the living room, reluctantly detaching himself only during mealtimes. Then he would sit opposite her, look into her shining eyes, stroke her fresh, taut skin, and sing the praises of her renascent beauty with his mouth full of food.

  And Rosa, while enjoying his attention and her rejuvenation, would think of the new baby and the changes it would bring to her life. And when she went at nine o’clock on the dot to Tzadok’s grocery, the men in the street would invade her neckline with their eyes and bare her bursting breasts, probe her vibrant body with their stares, and penetrate it in their imaginations with their stiffening members. Then their flaring nostrils would quiver with suppressed lust and with heartbreaking sighs they would breathe in the passionate smells of her secret places, mingled with the scent of Joseph’s lavender soap. And they would tail her in twos and threes, following open-mouthed the movements of the maternity dress full of goodies rising and falling on her firm buttocks behind and stretched tight over her burgeoning belly before, until she reached the entrance to her building. When she disappeared into the dark stairwell they would spend hours wallowing in the memory of the smell, and privately discussing among themselves what they would do to her if she fell into their hands. When the rumor reached Joseph he let it be known t
hat if any of the men who dared to dream about his wife fell into his hands he would “smash their heads like coconuts.” Since he was a big, strong man and everyone in the neighborhood was afraid of the gloomy expression on his face that boded no good, Rosa was able to go out to do her shopping and walk without fear among the men of the neighborhood, whose slack-jawed stares, heavy breathing, and swelling flies bore mute testimony to everything they were doing to her in the darkness of their thoughts.

  But not only men pestered her in those days. The neighborhood dogs too would station themselves at the entrance to the building, throw back their heads, and howl yearningly, with as much tenderness as their stretched throats were capable of producing. And when she walked down the street she was followed by a canine caravan whose rough paws clattered on the asphalt in unison, with a sound like glass marbles rolling along the road. Mangy, battle-scarred alley cats too would approach her, and in spite of their suspicious nature take food from her hands and even allow her to stroke their patchy fur and tickle their tattered ears. Even the crows joined the party, announcing her emergence from the building in a chorus of sharp, metallic caws and accompanying her with a royal escort of beating black wings to Tzadok’s grocery and back. And Rosa, who couldn’t understand what they wanted of her, would scatter crumbs and bits of food on the kitchen windowsill for them. With uncharacteristic shyness the crows would approach and nibble politely at the leftovers she offered them. And when she came home Joseph would be waiting for her there, full of longing, and do things to her that the neighborhood men didn’t dream of in their wildest dreams.

  When she consulted Rachelle, her richly experienced friend, about Joseph’s insatiable desire for her, and described the guard of honor of neighborhood men who greeted her whenever she left the house, Rachelle giggled and said that she wasn’t surprised. Because Rosa had grown so beautiful in her pregnancy that no man with a self-respecting, functioning member in his pants could remain indifferent to her appearance. And she added in a whisper, right into Rosa’s blushing ear, that it was a well known fact that if a woman had a husband who desired her every day and went to bed with her every day, some men, exactly like dogs, could smell the smells, see the sights, and hear the sounds. So it was no wonder that they gathered around her, she added, with a hint of envy in her voice.

  * * *

  Even after the tests showed that the fetus wasn’t developing properly and the doctors said that she should consider terminating the pregnancy, Rosa continued to stimulate the imaginations of the neighborhood men, and Joseph continued to realize their fantasies with as much pleasure as ever.

  Rosa said nothing to Joseph about the results of the tests, and went straight to Peretz the Cabalist in Katamon H. She had first heard his name from Rachelle, who had gone to him immediately after her divorce so that he would tell her her fortune, chase away the evil eye, and make up amulets specially suited to her. They said that he was a great expert at checking mezuzas. He would take the mezuza, look at it through a magnifying glass, and discover all the problems of its owner. His powers were attributed to his genealogy. Peretz was descended from a famous family of cabalists from Baghdad and the great-grandson of a very great cabalist who could bring the dead back to life and speak to souls. Despite his powers, however, Peretz had been unable to overcome his wife’s illness, an illness that sucked the marrow out of her bones, shriveled her body, and led to her premature death. When they buried what was left of her, a bag of bones covered with skin, he was inconsolable, and the neighbors would hear him weeping for her in the middle of the night, a terrible, heartrending weeping that frightened children, dogs, and cats and disturbed the rest of the neighborhood.

  Everyone in Katamon H knew Peretz, and the children showed her the path beaten to his door by the feet of all those seeking salvation, lined on either side by brambles and tall, dry thistles sharpening their claws. The thorn-protected path led the seekers from the bus stop through an abandoned junk field to a narrow dirt track winding between low houses, and stopped opposite a house that would have looked no different from the others, but for the dozens of women with hard faces and dull eyes who crowded outside the gate. Their hushed voices mingled in the air with the shrill mating cries of the emaciated cats clustering fearlessly round the battered trash can lying upside down at the entrance to the house.

  Rosa shooed the cats away and opened the low iron gate hanging crookedly from a single hinge that creaked rustily at her touch. A sign written in wavering, big black letters announced: PERETZ THE CABALIST LIVES HERE, and a second line announced in red: BANISHES THE EVIL EYE EXORCISES SPELLS AND DYBBUKS RETURNS LOST LOVES AND SOLVES DREAMS. The door with its peeling paint was half open, and Rosa found herself standing shyly in the parlor. Dozens of holy sages, most of whom were unfamiliar to her, gazed at her benevolently from the portraits hanging in a crooked line on the walls, and silently promised her a happy life. Parchment scrolls containing a variety of blessings, closely written in black ink, hung in gilt frames next to the saints and calmed her fears.

  Standing nervously at the door was a man dressed in a blue striped suit. In his hand he was holding a fine leather case, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles were white with effort. To an outside observer he looked as if he were about to take off and run for his life at any moment. Rosa looked at him curiously; she knew that he was famous, but she couldn’t remember where she recognized his face from. Next to him stood an elegantly dressed woman holding in her arms a thin, pale child, its body twitching spasmodically, and its mouth drooling with transparent threads of spittle that were absorbed by the large bib tied round its chin. From the shabby armchairs and sofa standing round the room eyes stared at her. A low murmur like the buzzing of bees rose in the air. When the women recognized her and greeted her respectfully, she felt their eyes besieging her on all sides, probing into her stomach as if to inspect its contents.

  Rosa, who was a sociable creature, shared her problem with the other women, and they told her their troubles. Young girls said that they had come to make sure of a good marriage, and barren women to ask the cabalist to banish the evil eye and open their wombs. The big fat woman sitting next to her told her in a whisper that she had come to ask Peretz to bring the husband who had deserted her back home. Rosa looked at the woman’s shabby clothes, the deep lines on her face, her chapped, callused hands, and her dry, henna-dyed hair with its white roots, and suggested tactfully that it might be a good idea to buy new clothes and get her face and hair seen to before she asked for the cabalist’s blessing, because if her husband came home now and saw her in her present condition, he would probably go right back to his mistress. Later on Rosa couldn’t understand why she had gone on to tell the unfortunate creature that her own husband had never cheated on her, and that he desired her all day and every day, and it was all because she took care of herself, kept her clothes and body scrupulously clean, and never neglected her appearance. When she heard this, the big woman shrank, averted her face, and pursed her lips in pain, and when she came out of Peretz’s room her eyes were dripping with tears.

  When it was Rosa’s turn she stepped into the room separated from the waiting room by a curtain of greasy wooden beads, which did nothing to prevent the waiting women from listening in on their sisters’ troubles. In the darkness illuminated only by the memorial candles covering the floor her eyes widened. The white-robed cabalist greeted her warmly, as if they were old friends separated in childhood meeting again many years later. He examined her with a searching look that brought her flesh out in goose bumps, and in a high, reedy voice, incongruous in such a heavy man, he asked her what the problem was. Then he asked her to tell him her name, and the names of her mother, her husband, and all her children, and made complicated calculations on a piece of yellowing cardboard. With a sigh that split her heart he told her to drop molten lead into cold water. With the help of a slotted spoon he removed the pieces of lead from the water and looked at them intently as they stared back at him, like malevolent gra
y eyes with dilated pupils. When his inspection was over, he asked her for her wedding ring and tied a piece of string round it. Then he took the end of the string carefully between his fingers, and the ring began to swing over her stomach, at first in expanding circles and then strongly to and fro like a pendulum, from right to left and left to right.

  In conclusion he looked into her expectant eyes, weighed her breasts in his imagination, and gave her grasses to burn and a liquid with which to bathe her private parts, wrote the names of angels on a parchment scroll in purple ink, and told her to soak it in a dish of water until the letters faded, and drink the water just before going to sleep. In parting he presented her with a blue glass eye. When he saw the confused expression on her face he sat with her for a long time and explained that every child, including the one she was bearing, had a mission on earth, and that she was on no account to consider an abortion. For if she aborted the fetus she would prevent its soul from incarnating in this world, and the soul, prevented from fulfilling its destiny, would return to her in nightmarish dreams, never let her rest, and ruin her life and the lives of all the family, “for every aborted fetus is like a lost soul straying in the world to come.” And he added that every woman who had an abortion was obliged to perform a purification ceremony, a Tikkun Nefashot for the aborted fetus on the seventeenth of Tammuz, the fast day in memory of the destruction of the Temple, for all the bloodshed in the world today was because of the thousands of abortions performed every year.

  As he spoke he gazed wide-eyed at her beauty, passed his hand over her breasts and her stomach, hesitated for a moment, and then said that he saw a girl child who would be like an angel. And when she paid him, despite his protests that no payment was necessary, he instructed her to return after she gave birth, so that he could banish the evil eye from the child, who would be more beautiful in this incarnation than any other, in the past or the future.