by I J Shur
“I hope you spared Mom your terrible sense of humor,” Udi said. “I’m sure that there’s no room for it at this point.” He kept talking so Ethan wouldn’t be able to enter the conversation. “I talked to Orit and suggested that we all meet with Mom tomorrow and see our father. I think that we need to maintain a certain presence there and share the responsibility of staying with Mom to help out. We need to give her some support and let her know that we love her.”
“I don’t think that I have the time to sit by Dad’s side right now,” said Ethan. “Especially since he doesn’t even know if we’re there or not.”
“It’s very important to Mom,” said Udi.
“So what do you suggest?” asked Ethan.
“We’ll all meet there tomorrow and divide up the time. We won’t give you any extra responsibilities. We just need to meet there and figure out the situation.”
“Fine,” said Ethan. “See you later.”
Udi felt that he was choking. He wanted to talk to someone who had been close to his father and might be able to offer some moral support. Not Rona—Simha. He thought about his father’s nurse. It was time to talk to her. He dialed her number.
“What’s wrong?” asked Simha, as if this was a foregone conclusion.
“How are you?” asked Udi.
“How are you?” she replied, implying that he might be a little higher on the sadness ladder right now.
“Talk to me about him a little,” he said. “Tell me a little about how he’s been lately.”
“I want you to know that I really, really love him,” she said with a tremor in her voice. “It might sound ridiculous, but I fell in love with him. You don’t meet men like that every day. Most of the time, he just lay in bed. He’s over a foot shorter than me, but I always felt that I was in the presence of a giant with him.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Udi.
“He asked me about my daughters, about my ex—he was really interested. I’ve been caring for people for years, and they all tell me about their problems—not only my patients but their families too. Your father is an important man and very intelligent, but with me, he talked eye to eye. He knows how important I am to him, and he feels like he could never thank me enough. He knows how important he’s become to me too, and that made him feel very emotional.”
Simha was silent. She blew her nose loudly, and he knew that she was in tears. “I really don’t want him to go. I found a friend. For many years, I didn’t have anyone who was so close to me. I sit by his side for hours and massage his hands and his feet. He really enjoys it. He tells me I have the hands of an angel. He tells me that my touch makes him feel good, that his body and his soul need my hands as much as a nomad needs an oasis. He told me that if he had met me when he was younger, he would have taken me into his arms and made me into a queen.”
Simha paused her monologue for a moment and giggled. “Look Udi,” she said. “I know your father spends many hours in his own world, and I know that the fine line between reality and imagination is a little blurred for him right now, but what do I care? I miss hearing those words so much, and I can tell by looking at him that he was a real man. I fly with him to wherever he’ll take me. I simply enjoy his company, and I love him with all of my heart. When he opens his sparkling blue eyes and looks at me, he says, ‘Here is my Simha.’ Do you understand what it is that even my name and who I am brings to him?”
“I understand, I understand,” said Udi. “I’m excited just to hear this. It’s not exactly the father I knew, but that really isn’t important. That’s how I would like to remember him, exactly the way you’ve described.”
“Come and be with your mother.” Simha awoke momentarily from her dream. “She needs the three of you.”
“We’ll be there tomorrow,” he replied.
“Did you talk to Orit and Ethan yet? Give her a hug. She’s really sad, and she doesn’t want him to go. They’ve been together for many years. She needs you there. Think about her now. These are her moments.”
“We’ll be there tomorrow. Please send her my love.”
“I will,” she said.
“One more thing,” he said. “Thank you for who you are to him. I don’t take that for granted. We could have found someone who was impatient. It will be easier for all of us to let go knowing that he has been surrounded with love and physical contact during these last moments.”
“Thanks. See you tomorrow,” she said, her voice choked.
Chapter 74
In the early evening hours, Udi arrived home. Varda stood in the kitchen preparing dinner.
“Hello, you!”
Without turning around, she replied, “I’m fine. The children are waiting for dinner, so call them. The food’s ready.”
Udi walked up to her, feeling very emotional. He wanted to hug her, and he hoped that she would turn and hug him. All of a sudden, he felt like a fallen leaf, lying next to her on the ground. He wanted to turn the clock backward, he wanted to erase years of animosity. He hugged her from behind and she recoiled, but he didn’t let go.
“Leave me alone,” she said.
“I want to tell you something,” he quickly interjected.
“So say it!”
“My father lost consciousness this morning. I don’t know what this means, but the doctor is not optimistic.” Udi looked into her eyes, wanting to see a little empathy. He hoped to hear some warm, supportive words; he imagined her approaching him and hugging him, stroking him, breaking down the barriers and the silences.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said in a neutral voice. “I hope he’ll recover and that things will return to normal.”
Udi could not believe his ears. “My father is in very bad shape.” He raised his voice. “The doctor says that he won’t come out of it, and all you have to say is that you hope he feels better? That’s it? Is that your contribution to this conversation?”
Varda stepped back. “Lower your voice! The children are home.”
“Really? They’re home? Good thing that they are—that they know they have a father who becomes emotional when his father is lying in a coma and his end is near.” Udi’s voice broke.
“Udi!” Varda called him by name, and he realized that she had not used it for a year or more. “I’m not the cause of your father’s situation. Don’t take your frustration out on me! I’m very sorry that things are like this. Why don’t you call the kids to the table and then you can tell them all about it?”
Great! Avoid confrontation! Why don’t you simply change the subject instead of having a conversation, or having a fight—God forbid—and then finding a solution to the issue?
Udi went to the stairs and shouted to the kids to come down to eat.
“Be there right away!” Michal called from her room.
In a deafening silence, Udi and Varda set the table together. Udi collapsed into his chair and waited.
Meirav came down first. “I’m so hungry,” she said, and grabbed a piece of cucumber.
Udi kissed her. When she saw her father’s face, she said, “Is something wrong? You don’t look too good.”
“I’m fine. Let’s wait for your siblings.”
A moment later, Oren and Michal galloped down the stairs, both trying to get the seat by the window that was considered the “best” seat.
Oren got there first but immediately gave in to his sister’s begging.
“All right, Dad, put the food on the table already,” Michal said. “I’m hungry and I need to get back to my homework.” She dipped a piece of bread into a plate of olive oil that Udi had prepared.
Udi took a deep breath. Oren looked at his father and was silent.
“What happened? Come on! Say something!” said Michal in an imploring tone.
“Your grandfather lost consciousness this morning.”
“What doe
s ‘lost consciousness’ mean? Is he going to die?” Michal cried out.
“Daddy!” cried Meirav. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“It happened this morning. The situation isn’t good. The doctor isn’t sure if he’ll wake up. They’re doing everything they can to help him.”
“Why is this happening to me?” Michal burst into tears. “Why do bad things always happen to me? This isn’t a good time for this to be happening! I can’t cope with this right now!”
“When Grandpa wakes up, if he does at all,” said Meirav as she walked over to Udi and hugged him, “I’m sure he’ll apologize for his lack of timing, but at this moment, it is what it is, and it hurts.” Her small shoulders trembled.
Oren walked up as well and squeezed his father’s hand. Udi hugged both of his children.
“I’m sad,” said Meirav. “I don’t want him to die.”
“I feel the same way, but it’s not in our hands. We need to pray that he’ll come out of it, but we have to be ready for any possibility.”
“Are we all done eating?” asked Varda. “I’ll come and say good night to each of you with a hug and a kiss.”
“I’m sorry,” Michal said before walking up to her room.
“We’ll get through it,” said Udi.
Varda wasn’t hurrying to clear the table as usual. She sat across from him, staring at her plate, her fingers playing with the napkin that was in front of her. Something is up with her. She’ll probably lift her eyes in a second, apologize, hug me, and say a few words of encouragement. Udi looked at her. Then an annoying thought flashed through his head. Is she too proud to say something nice?
“I have thoughts,” Varda said in a quiet but deliberate tone.
Udi wasn’t ready for that, and her metallic voice grated on him. He held his breath, and he, who so longed to see his wife lift her head and speak to him, suddenly found himself praying that she would not continue. His heart pounded and his fingers, holding on to his glass, began to tremble, so he placed his hands in his lap.
“You go to a psychologist and talk there. I don’t have a psychologist, so I talk to myself. Lately I ask myself if we’re making each other happy. Isn’t it true that each of us should go our own separate ways in order to find the happiness that we deserve? Maybe we’re not right for each other. Maybe with other partners we could find true peace and happiness.” Varda stared at the floor—maybe because she felt that if she looked at Udi, she would not be able to continue.
Udi’s heart felt as though it caught on fire, and raging flames threatened to devour his soul. He took a deep breath and tried to organize his thoughts. He was dizzy.
“Are you talking about separating?” he managed to say. “Is that what you’re talking about?”
Varda looked at him. Her gaze was hollow, and Udi could sense a vague smile flicker over her face.
“I don’t know. Of course, it crossed my mind, but I really don’t know. It feels like the two of us don’t care about each other. I think that we both deserve partners who are a better fit for us. I don’t think that we’re there for each other. Often, we aren’t there.”
Udi glanced toward the window and tried to appraise the situation. Was she hinting at an idea that hadn’t yet crystallized in her thoughts? Or was she taking pity on him and trying to spring it on him in small, measured doses? Had she decided already, or was she somehow expecting him to fight for her? On the one hand, Udi had learned that there was nobody more decisive and together than Varda, and he knew that she always meant what she said. On the other hand, the woman who didn’t expect her man to put up a struggle for her had not yet been born.
“It’s hard for me to think about separating,” he said. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if there is anything to say. I don’t feel experienced enough in these types of situations to know the correct things to say.” He paused for a moment and then asked, “Would you agree to come with me to a session with my psychologist?”
“I don’t think that it’ll help, but if it’s important to you, I’ll consider it.”
“It’s not easy for me right now,” he said in a voice so quiet it could hardly be heard.
“I know,” she said. “Me too.”
“I’m going to bed. I don’t have the strength for anything right now.”
Chapter 75
Udi got into bed and stared at the ceiling. His soul was stormy. He thought of watching TV to distract his mind, and he considered reading a book in order to change the direction of his thoughts. He wanted to call a friend and tell him about his troubles, to sit on a barstool at a wooden bar somewhere downing beer and whiskey and blurring his consciousness. He thought about taking a long hit off of a joint and smoking until he became weightless and thoughtless.
Looking out the bedroom window, he saw the black skies full of stars; some twinkled, some shone, and others were nearly invisible. A streetlight gave off a yellow glow, and hundreds of flying insects swarmed around it. A light went out in the neighbor’s bedroom window, a dim light came on in another room, and he could see the daughter’s silhouette as she sat at her computer, a bluish light making the room glow. A low, monotone buzz came from the refrigerator, and from somewhere in the house came the sound of gas being released from a bottle of carbonated water. Udi stretched his legs and his arms. He grabbed his butt and tried to straighten the arch in his back. He pressed his back to the bed and tried to fill in all of the space between his back and the mattress. A wave of relaxation swept over him, his thoughts flowed, his breathing became heavy, and he fell asleep.
The next morning, he awoke with a heavy feeling. Varda’s back was to him. This woman lying here isn’t mine anymore. I won’t be able to share things with her any more, to touch her, or make love to her. When exactly was the last time we made love anyway? He tried to remember. It was on a warm Sunday last summer. We came home after having brunch with friends. Something must have turned her on that day since we came home and, unlike how it usually is, she initiated the sex. When we went to bed, she got on top of me and really took control and showed some passion.
Udi left the house very early that morning and went to the coffee shop to pass the time until nine o’clock. He tried to organize his thoughts. She’s leaving me. She’s leaving me. She’s leaving me. I was so busy in my world and in my affair with Rona that I forgot I also have a wife.
Rona seemed smaller all of a sudden, less important, maybe even a burden. He wanted to make it official, to close off the affair that had ruined his marriage. Was that really what had ruined his marriage? He called Rona but knew that he wouldn’t tell her about Varda and their impending breakup.
“Hi, Udi.” She answered the phone happily. “I was just thinking about you.”
“And me about you too,” he said. “Can I see you?”
“Is something wrong?”
“I’ll share it when we meet. Can it be now?”
“I’ll come,” she said.
When she arrived, she approached him cautiously. He kissed her, and she sat next to him. Udi had trouble speaking. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but tears overcame him.
“Talk to me!” Rona said. “That’s why I came.”
“My father,” he opened in a weak voice. “He went into a coma yesterday. The doctor who came to see him said that we should be prepared to expect the worst. I don’t know what this means, but it’s very hard for me.”
He didn’t tell Rona about the conversation with Varda so as not to mix one thing with another and so that he could continue with his original plan. He looked at her and his heart pounded. Memories flooded his mind, along with words that had been spoken.
“We need to stop our relationship,” he said.
Rona’s eyes filled with tears. She pulled her hands back from his and recoiled. He tried to take her hand again.
“Don’t touch me!” she said.
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“I need to go and visit him today.”
She cut him off. “I’ll come with you. Don’t go there alone.”
“Thank you!” he replied. “But I’ll be meeting my mother there, and my brother and sister. It’s complicated enough as it is.”
Rona sobbed so loudly that Udi worried the other patrons would stare. He tried to hug her.
“Don’t hug me,” she said in a broken voice. “I’ll get by without you.”
The thoughts of Varda and his father strangled Udi’s mind and caused him pain. He didn’t have the patience or the power to deal with Rona now as she sat in front of him sobbing. He looked at her.
“You can go. I’ll be fine,” she said.
“I’m not leaving you like this,” he replied.
“You’d better believe that you’re leaving. I’ll be fine. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
Udi kissed her, and her tears wet his nose. She took a ring off of her finger, kissed it, and placed it on his pinkie. “You don’t have to wear it, but I’ll be happy if you save it for a while before you decide what you want to do with it.”
Udi took off the scarf that he often wore and that Rona really liked. He tied it around her neck, and then tried once more to hug her, but she pushed him away.
“I love you more than I have ever loved anyone before,” he said, and she was hit by a new wave of tears.
Udi left the coffee shop and went to his car. I wonder what Assaf would say now.
He found himself calling Assaf.
“Rona will get over it, Udi. Anyway, it didn’t come to her as a total surprise,” said Assaf. “Make yourself free for your father now. You might not have another opportunity.”
“Thank you,” said Udi. He felt a new inner power—the power of himself. He was not only parting from Varda and Rona but also from his father.