by I J Shur
“What’s wrong?” asked Yinon with concern.
“Everything’s okay,” Udi replied in a voice that emphasized that everything was not okay. “You know, my father is not doing so well.”
“What’s going on?” Yinon sounded surprised.
“His mind is with us less and less.” Udi tried to be brief.
“How does it manifest itself?” Yinon insisted.
“He doesn’t finish sentences, he’s losing his memory…he’s very sensitive. He’ll start crying all of a sudden. Oh, let’s leave it!”
“I called you before about this. I want to make you an offer that I don’t think you’re going to be able to refuse,” said Yinon. He continued without giving Udi a chance to get a word in. “I got two weeks off from my job, and I decided to fly to South America. I haven’t decided where I’m going yet, but one thing I’m sure of is that I want you to come with me.”
“I am in no mood for a vacation,” said Udi. “I’m not in a position to travel right now. I’d be glad to come with you, but some other time.”
Yinon was insistent. “We’ll leave on a Saturday night, three weeks from now, and we’ll come back the following Wednesday—a week and a half later. That’s easy! What’s the problem?”
“It’s great that you’ve got it all planned, but I don’t know if I can do it now.” Udi couldn’t divert his heart from intense sadness and longing for Rona.
“Why not?” asked Yinon. “The cost?”
“Since you’re already asking, how much would something like that cost?” Udi hoped that the amount would dissuade him. He had a safe embedded in the wall of his office under the writing desk. He kept money there that he had accumulated over the years. He always thought he’d use it when he needed it for trips out of the country with Varda and the kids, or to pay off debts that threatened his credit rating. Varda knew that he kept money in the safe, but she’d never asked how much, and she’d never asked to use any of it. Yinon named an amount, and Udi thought that it was affordable.
“And what about work? Can you get off?”
“Work isn’t the problem, Yinon.”
“So, what’s the problem? Talk to me.”
Udi returned to the reality from which he had momentarily escaped.
They both knew what this was about. Yinon knew all of the details of Udi’s affair and breakup, and he knew that it was holding his cousin back, but he wanted to hear it from Udi himself so that he could give a response.
“For God’s sake!” Yinon sounded amused. “After all, you aren’t going to ask her to marry you—you turned down her offer. So come on! Give me the green light for this trip, and I’ll put it together. Don’t be such a drag! You have a lot of things that you need to take care of, so take a little break first.”
“You know what? I’ll think about it,” said Udi. “I can find the funds, but try to make it as cheap as possible.”
“Of course!” was Yinon’s reply. “It doesn’t come easy to me, either. I hope I hear from you soon!”
From the minute the conversation with Yinon ended, Udi felt as if he’d been thrown into some kind of whirlpool. On the one hand, he realized it would do him good to take a vacation, even just for the change of scenery that had been so lacking for the previous few months while he had been so obsessive in his love for Rona. On the other hand, he believed with all of his heart that she would call and would want to meet, so he worried that if he went away, he risked missing out on that opportunity. However, he heard a clear voice yelling from inside of his head. “Go! Go! Go!”
Over the years, Udi had learned that any subject matter his heart brought up for discussion would become stuck once his head began listing its pros and cons. He knew that every idea his heart brought up from within its core would be a good decision for him, something that would be in his best interests. When he isolated the good decisions he’d made from the bad ones, he saw that they had all originated from his heart. His heart was free of the gremlins that infiltrated his mind and his thoughts each time he needed to make a decision.
On more than one occasion, a subject had been brought up for discussion by his head rather than by his heart, and the whole thing turned upside down. After some time, he learned the hard way that he should have listened to his heart and neutralized his thoughts. He thought about Assaf, who always told him that the source of his thoughts was he himself, and he was the only one who could kill them or give them life. He believed he was the sole decision-maker regarding whether things were good for him or not. He alone had the authority to make a judgment as to whether to use them or to neutralize them.
“Why do you need to use your head to analyze the ideas that your heart brings up?” he could hear Assaf asking him. “Don’t you trust it? Don’t you trust yourself?”
He wondered, Is there any person in the world who wants the best for you in a purer manner than you?
Udi gave Varda a kiss on her cheek when he arrived home. “How are you?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said tersely, then immediately reminded him that dinner was his responsibility and the children had already asked, twice, what he would serve. He went to the kitchen, set the table, and began washing cucumbers and tomatoes. He cut them into even-sized slices and arranged them around the plates. He put a generous scoop of hummus at the center of each plate, and with a circular motion of the spoon, he created an indentation. Inside of the hole, he placed a spoonful of tahini. As he arranged the plates, four slices of pita bread thawed in the microwave. When they had defrosted, he lightly fried them and cut them into quarters.
“What? Again? Its Dad’s famous plate!” Michal said sarcastically as she sat down at the table. The difference between “Dad’s plate” and a regular plate began several years earlier when one of the kids sat down at the dinner table, looked at the abundance of different foods, sighed, and said, “Again I have to choose from everything that is put in front of me?”
Udi picked up on that and decided that instead of making the kids choose from a variety of things placed on the table, he’d arrange a variety of foods on their plates. After a few months of that, Michal had complained, demanding that once again the center of the table be made the meeting place of all of the salads and things taken out of the refrigerator so that she, again, would be able to freely choose what she wanted to eat.
Udi sat at the table with his children.
“How is Grandpa?” asked Meirav.
“Grandpa…he’s okay,” replied Udi. “His memory isn’t what it once was, and sometimes he doesn’t even know where he is. It’s a little difficult for Grandma to take care of him alone, so we hired Simha, who is helping out.”
“Wait,” said Michal. “If Grandpa has a nurse, that means something is wrong with him. Can you please tell us what’s really happening?”
“I just said that according to his doctor, Grandpa needs someone to help take care of him around the clock, so we found a caregiver.” He hoped they’d believe him.
“So what is his ‘condition’ then?” Tears welled up in Meirav’s eyes.
“What kind of condition is he in? Are you trying to avoid saying that he’s going to die?” Oren said suddenly.
“I don’t think he’s going to die.” Udi used the most relaxed tone of voice that he could muster. “Of course, his situation has deteriorated. He remembers less, he doesn’t talk very much, and he sometimes doesn’t know where he is, but he smiles a lot and it’s fun to be with him.”
“Will he recognize us if we visit him?” asked Michal.
“Sure, and I think that’s a great idea. He would be really happy to see you all.”
After their meal ended, Varda sat with him in the living room and they talked about the day. “Yinon called. He asked me to go to South America with him.”
Udi shared this and gave details. Deep in his heart, he hoped that Varda would oppose the idea, that s
he would ask him to stay, that she’d be surprised by the length of the trip, that she would complain and ask why he would go somewhere with his cousin and not with his wife. But she smiled and wore a contemplative look. “You need it. Don’t hesitate. Give him a call and finalize things.”
“Are you getting rid of me? You’re letting me go that easy?” he chuckled, feeling astonished at her reply.
“You have a lot of nerve,” Varda said. “Lately you’ve seemed uptight and far away. It’s clear that you need a break after everything that we’ve been through. Just remember that your wife approved of it with all of her heart.”
“Thank you. You’re right.” He tried to calm her because he didn’t want to get into another fight. “Thanks for the support.”
Then he took Mooshie for a walk. After a while, he rested on a bench under a streetlight swarming with flying bugs. Mooshie sniffed the ground, running back and forth. Udi took his phone from his pocket and typed a message. I’ve got to see you. I miss you like crazy. One big hug and that’s it. I need to recharge my batteries so that I can get through the near future. He stared at the message for a long moment, and his heart pounded. In the end, he deleted it. Mooshie rubbed her furry body against his legs, her sign for, “I’m done. Let’s go home. It’s late.” He patted her head and they went home.
That night, a strange dream took over his sleep. Rona appeared as a young boy with the wings of an angel, bright curly locks framing her head like some kind of natural crown. She fluttered around him, and he couldn’t tell if she was looking at him or not. Every time he got close to her, she moved away, keeping a safe distance. He knew that she felt his presence, but she gave him no sign that she noticed him. He stared at her but couldn’t get to her. He’d move away and she’d follow, but when he ran at her, she flew away. Her tiny hands played with the stems of a tall plant, and every so often she’d choose a flower and place it in her hair. His heart wept when he saw the hollow look in her eyes. Her lips were slightly spread, but there was no smile to be seen. He called out her name, but his voice was carried on the wind, sounding like a distant echo, and did not reach her ears. She was so unobtainable that he was finally enveloped in an incredible sadness.
He woke early and was engulfed in depression. He recalled the dream and tried to analyze it. For an hour he lay there, his mind trying to understand what he was telling himself. She was close, but she was unreachable, incredibly beautiful but lacking a smile, fluttering and floating around him but not in his arms. Again she had appeared in front of his eyes and then disappeared. What is she feeling? Is she in the same place as I am? Does she dream about me? Does she miss me? Has she written me a message, changed her mind, and deleted it? What are her days like? Am I in her thoughts in the same way that she’s in mine?
He remembered song lyrics. “I’ll go crazy if you say goodbye. I don’t understand how we got this far, since if you leave it will be hell. Harder than death, it would be the end of the world.” These words that he had heard sung so many times suddenly took on a new meaning. He got out of bed, made a strong cup of coffee, and stared out the window. Flowers bloomed, opening their petals, while busy bees darted in all directions.
He took his briefcase and went outside. He felt a cool breeze on his face. He looked up to the sky and breathed in the smells of the new day. Small, feathery clouds made their way slowly to the east, and blinding rays of sunlight broke through to create a fascinating meeting of power and serenity. The sunlight’s dazzling colors mixed with the white and light blue of the clouds attracted his gaze until it blinded him and he averted his gaze downward. For a long moment, he kept his eyes closed, looking through his eyelids at the red stain that flickered in front of him—the result of staring into the sun. He kept his eyes closed until the red spot disappeared, and then he opened them again and looked around. Insolent sunbirds swarmed around a nearby bush, whose yellow flowers swayed back and forth as if in protest.
A voice inside of him told him to go to the beach, and he remembered Rona’s words about the unique virtues of the sea as the perfect listener. “Go there when your heart is heavy,” she used to say. “Tell the waves everything that’s in your heart. Scream, whisper, sing your songs, look at it, and enjoy the sound of the crashing waves. It will always be there for you. It will always listen to whatever it is that you have to say. It will never criticize you or judge you. Its crashing waves will soothe your head and encourage you to empty your heart. The wind will stroke you, and the tumult of the water will dissipate your loneliness.”
He got into his car and thought for a moment about spending the morning at the beach, but he decided against it and went to work.
Within minutes, he merged onto the main highway and joined the slow-moving morning traffic that snaked its way south. It seemed that the traffic was heavier than normal, and soon he found himself in a huge traffic jam. He couldn’t see where it started, and many drivers got out of their cars to find out if they could see what was happening. Most of them milled around impatiently.
Pretty soon the radio reported that there had been a horrible accident between two cars in which several people had been injured and others were killed. The highway was closed in both directions, and nobody could predict how long it might be until they could reopen it. Ambulances and police cars sped by on the shoulder, their sirens making it feel as if they were on their way to a wild meeting of predators in a forest clearing to surround some startled prey animal. The line of cars behind him simply grew and grew; some drivers crawled along a dirt path that was beyond the shoulder, creating clouds of dust in their wake. Udi considered his options: He could wait patiently for the traffic jam to dissipate, or he could exit the highway. He made his way to the shoulder and found a way to exit through the banana orchards in the direction of the sea. A quick thought crossed through his mind, taunting him. I was thinking about the beach this morning; I shouldn’t have turned that down.
Udi decided that the bottle of water he always carried with him and the red apple he’d carefully washed before leaving the house would be enough for him, and he headed in the direction of the beach.
Chapter 61
He opened the old folding chair that he kept in the trunk of his car and set it in the sand, right at the water’s edge. He’d cut the engine but kept the key in, halfway turned, to play a radio station broadcasting soft rock. He took out the book that he had been reading and set it on his knees, looking at the horizon and trying to calm his raging heart. He closed his eyes for several minutes, and when he opened them, he looked around. To the north, he saw the silhouette of a woman’s body sprawled out on a towel; she was moving her limbs slowly from side to side. He shifted his gaze south and scolded himself for his wild imagination, but his curiosity once again made him look to the north. The woman’s limbs moved slowly, as if she were suspended in air.
He strained his eyes and tried to focus his gaze. No bathing suit or article of clothing was in that image; a small triangle of hair surrounding her erogenous zone stood out from a distance and left no question that she was as naked as the day she was born. He averted his gaze again, feeling guilty, as if he had been caught doing something wicked.
He looked at the waves for a while, and again, he couldn’t control himself. Now he noted her flexibility. She moved her arms back and forth like taut javelins. She pulled her knees forward, one and then the other, and returned them with precision. Her thin body leaned backward and rolled along the towel; her legs were spread and remained so after the body roll, giving the impression of a single, symmetrical, and monolithic ring. For minutes he watched her, hypnotized, and he forgot about the waves that lapped against his feet.
Chapter 62
On his way back from the beach, he called Yinon to say that he’d decided to go to South America. Yinon’s enthusiastic response made him feel happy, and they agreed to meet a few days later to talk over the details.
When he got to the main road, he l
ooked at his watch. It was too late to go to work. There was no trace of the previously heavy traffic from which he had escaped. He pondered whether to go home or to take advantage of the extra time in order to rest and take care of the tempest in his soul. His head buzzed like a hive of bees; Rona and his father, Varda and the upcoming trip to South America, each topic dizzying in its own right, like those fast ballet dancers that performed the “Russian Dance” from The Nutcracker Suite.
I wonder if Assaf can see me now. “Somebody needs to help me organize my mind.” This last bit he said aloud as he dialed Assaf’s number.
“What’s wrong?” Assaf asked in a dramatic voice when he answered the call.
“A million dollars if you can guess my thoughts.” Udi tried his luck at getting straight to the point.
“Hmmm…let me see… Well, today is your lucky day. I have an hour free. I’ll give you a discount—write me a check for half a million.”
Udi canceled two meetings, and within thirty minutes he was sitting across from Assaf, holding a cup of hot coffee in his hands.
“Talk to me,” Assaf said.
“I don’t know where to begin.” Udi tried to buy time. “I’m in a cycle of craziness. There’s no beginning and no end. Rona and Varda and my father! Everything is shaky, everything is blurry, nothing is clear. Am I being led or am I leading? Am I making my own decisions or are they being made for me?”
“What do you feel?” asked Assaf in an effort to make Udi focus.
“I want to introduce to you the triangle of entities that live inside of me. I find myself so unsure, not able to decide anything…”
“I’d be glad to hear about it,” Assaf said in a soft, almost singsong voice.
“I have a brain that makes decisions,” Udi began. “I have a heart that feels everything, includes everything, and recommends plans of action. And there is a soul, or a kind of spirit that runs between each of them. She’s a kind of indefinable creature that thinks and says and doubts and hurts and is happy. Sometimes I say things to myself, like, for example, ‘Get a grip.’ So who is speaking, and who is listening? Where is the voice inside of my body that speaks, and where is the listening ear located? I understand that the brain gives the commands to the limbs and to the other parts of the body. Who gives the commands to the brain? Who is located at the head of the entire operation? The heart? The soul? Sometimes the heart and sometimes the soul? And me. Who am I? My heart? My soul? My brain? My spirit?”