The Arab boy watches me good-humoredly his foot on the wheel of the wagon. I stick the pad excitedly back in my bag. Why on earth a heavy smoker?
At home I find Asi sitting with his father in the dark living room tensely talking smoke drifting between them. His father wears a checked shirt his tie is pulled loose. I’ve noticed that he dresses in good taste he knows how to choose his clothes. I walk in the Arab boy after me with the large cartons. Asi jumps up. Have you gone out of your mind? Where have you been? The boy cringes and looks at the floor. What got into you? What have you bought here? He begins poking through everything. We already have cheese! He throws the box of it aside. What’s all this for? Who’s going to eat it? Where did you get the money from? I’m so mad I could kill him. The boy brings in the rest of it stealthily watching us with wide eyes. How dare he. Be quiet I hiss how dare you in front of your father. Go back inside. Already I hear the hoarse musical voice from the terrace.
“I’m a Tel Avivian, and with all due respect to Jerusalem, when evening comes on here I feel a slight metaphysical angst. I always tried to get back to the coast before it, to the scent of the orange groves. In Jerusalem I feel afraid that some prophet will come to haunt me in my sleep, ha ha… You do have a grand view here, though. Just don’t let anyone build on that empty lot in front of you. What are those lights over there on the hillside?”
I join him and stand by his side.
“Someone once told me, but I forget. It’s some place in the West Bank.”
The smell of his sweat. Asi is still rummaging through my purchases in the kitchen. He’s taller and broader than Asi. He leans powerfully on the balcony his checked flannel shirt stirring slightly in the breeze.
As the grass that hath dried as the blossom that hath faded as the shadow that hath passed as the cloud that hath fled as the wind that hath blown as the dust that hath scattered as the dream that hath vanished forever.
I touch him lightly on the shoulder.
“You have regards from Ehud Levin.”
“Which Levin? The author?”
“He said he was once a student of yours.”
“That’s right, he was. I’ve got them scattered all over.”
“What was he like?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Bright enough… rather sure of himself… always surrounded by girls…”
“He still is.” I laugh.
Asi gloomily joins us.
“Where do you know him from?”
“Asi sent me to show him some things that I’d written.”
“Do you write, then?” He eyes me with a warm smile.
“I try to.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He made a few comments.”
“But the gist of it.” That’s Asi no-nonsense impatient.
“He was somewhat encouraging.”
Silence. I wish they’d drop the subject.
“He said that you gave him a lot as a teacher. That you meant a great deal to him.”
He turns to look at me glowing in the dark.
“What, Levin? Really? I don’t believe it. He actually said that?”
“I swear. He spoke of you with great respect.”
He’s bewildered he smiles and wants to say something but is so taken aback that the words stick in his throat.
He takes out a handkerchief and mops his brow.
“Suppose you get around to making supper,” says Asi brutally.
“Are you hungry?”
“Of course.”
“All right. In a minute.”
I lean on the balcony grinding my stomach hard against the grillwork bending down toward the street below. Digging in.
“Come on, Dina, let’s go. You certainly bought enough food.”
His father watches from the side assessing us.
“Is there anything I can do to help? I’ve learned to cook in America… Connie actually depends on me to…”
“No, nothing, father.”
“Why isn’t there? You could teach us some new recipe. Asi likes to fool around in the kitchen too, he’s just too embarrassed to admit it.”
I steer them both into the kitchen. I hand Asi a knife and some vegetables. His father rolls up his sleeves opens the refrigerator and sticks his head in to ferret out what’s there. Finally he spiritedly suggests making some special egg dish. Do you have any rice? Not much. Where do you keep your spices Dina? And already he’s in the pantry going through old containers sniffing at bags tasting things. He asks me to light the stove he takes a bowl and cracks egg after egg he begins to scramble them. Asi stands darkly in the corner watching resentfully but I’m utterly charmed First you bathed Ya’el’s baby now you’re making us supper what will you do for Tsvi sew new buttons on his shirts?
He laughs rubbing his hands.
“Connie isn’t much for housework, she’s always held down a job. And I’m at home a lot these days, ‹specially in the winter when you can’t go out. I don’t teach many hours at the college, so I have time to be in the kitchen.”
He stirs forcefully trying to resuscitate the spices. I watch his long agile precise movements understanding all at once how he drove that bulky woman crazy feeling fear I leave the kitchen and begin to set the table halfway through I leave that too I have the need to write again I can’t hold it in the words press on some tender bladder bobbing taut and smooth in my chest I go to the bedroom I kick off my shoes I shut the door I take off my pants I undo the hook on my bra I throw back the covers baring the white sheets I jump into bed and cover, myself with a blanket my pad in my hand the pen gliding between my fingers my eyes are moist I warm up the paper with a torrent of remembered words…
Thou my strength thee the length of my days I shall praise thee implore all the more as I knock on thy door to thee sigh when I cry as each day goeth by and I pray yea I say O keep me from harm’s way.
A baby carriage by the entrance to the supermarket. The baby’s hair the color of honey. A description of his mother through her eyes. Worn-looking, talkative, her third child The candy has been prepared in advance. She follows her through the aisles. Her first planned hiding place. A dark stairwell. Describe precisely the run-down entrance, the peeling plaster. A broom and a bucket in one corner. The objects with realistic verisimilitude to balance her great excitement when she picks up the baby with the candy stuck wonderingly in its mouth. At first all it shows is surprise. A passive collaborator.
Asi comes in and sees me bundled in the blanket. I hide the pad immediately.
“What are you doing there? Have you gone out of your mind?”
“I’m just resting for a minute. I’m bushed today.”
“But you haven’t done anything!”
“I’ve had a lot of excitement. That’s work too. First the morning with you, then your father. I’ll be up in a jiffy.”
“What is he doing in there? Is he done cooking? I swear, he’s too much! Go set the table. At least do that.”
“In a minute. I already set part of it. He’s an unusual person, your father. Did he cook for you when you were little too?”
Asi doesn’t answer he looks at me grimly he goes to the closet.
“What are you looking for?”
“For a towel for him.’’
“Take the red one.”
His father stands smiling in the doorway peering jovially in.
“Are you resting?”
“Yes. Just for a minute.”
“I’m going to wash up. Don’t touch the pot. Let it simmer.”
Asi gives him the towel and he shuts himself up in the bathroom.
“You know, he’s a good-looking man. It’s no wonder that he found a young wife over there. He’s better-looking than you are.” Asi makes a face at me. “You aren’t so good-looking, but you’re sweet. Just don’t be so gloomy. In the end you’ll go crazy from all that tension and gloom. I can’t stand how tense you are. Come, give me a kiss. Lie down for a minute. Let’s take time out from the punishment.”