“Don’t worry, he’ll give it right back,” the old fellow reassured us. “He just wants to look at it… I’ll get it back for you in a minute…’’
The library door opened and Horatio emerged, wagging his tail and shaking scraps of paper from his fur. After him came father, his face blanched, his tie askew, an extinguished cigarette in his mouth. A scrap of paper fell from his jacket too. Despair stared from his eyes. The dog tried ponderously to jump on him and lick him but father flung him rudely aside.
The crowd of patients; ran up to him, shook his hand too, begged for more cigarettes. The old fellow pushed and pulled, trying to keep order. Father’s eyes met mine above their heads.
“Tsvi ruined everything! He made her think… she wants it all now… the house… everything. Ya’el is still talking to her inside… don’t go in… damn you, what have you done?”
“Here’s the lawyer!” someone shouted.
And indeed up the path in the early twilight came Kedmi, irritably waving his arms and shouting something. The patients moved back. The blonde woman released me. A low baying went up like the sound of hounds scenting prey. Kedmi rapidly approached us.
“What’s going on here? What have you been up to? Did you decide to settle down here for good?”
The patients turned to him. The old fellow sought to shake his hand too, but he rebuffed them, walking right past them.
“Yes? I beg your pardon, gentlemen. Please… let’s have a little air… give me some room here… another time…”
They frightened him yet he provoked them, unable to control himself.
“What is this, some kind of happening? What do they all want? At least let me have my child back. Where’s Ya’el?”
He pulled Gaddi toward him, hugging him hard.
“Where’s the locomotive?”
“He took it.”
“Who did?”
“He’ll give it back,” cried the old fellow. “He’ll give it back right away. I’m responsible.”
“Nobody asked you,” said Kedmi sharply. Without further ado he flung himself at the giant and tried extricating the toy.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Gulliver, taking things from little children…”
The patients surrounded Kedmi in an uproar. “He’ll give it back! He’ll give it back!” they shouted while I tried to restrain him. The giant clutched the locomotive with a terrified look, crushing it against his chest with his great paw while Gaddi watched in silent agony.
“That’s enough, Kedmi!” shouted father. “I’ll buy him another one.”
Kedmi was repulsed, flushed with rage.
“Where are all the nurses? Where are all the doctors? Where is the management? This is total bedlam! Come on, Gaddi, let’s find mom and get the hell out of here.”
Like a whirlwind he spun toward the library, kicking Horatio out of his way and flinging open the door. In the thin, dimming light inside mother was standing and talking to Ya’el, who sat listening quietly, her arms on her chest. The floor was littered with paper. Kedmi bent to pick up a piece of it and laughed bitterly. In a crushed voice he said to father:
“Well, this is the end. Extraordinary… she actually finished thinking…”
“I tore it,” declared father, while fresh anxiety shot through me. “Never mind now. It’s none of your business.”
“It’s none of my business?” marveled Kedmi in his quick, husky voice that was already a thought ahead. “You’re right, it’s none of my business! I only wish you had told me that a year ago. I couldn’t have put it any better myself: it’s none of my business and never will be… I’ve had it…’’ He crumpled the scrap of paper, shredding it in his hand. “If I had known you only wanted it to rip it, I would have given you blank pages…”
“Knock it off, Kedmi!” I broke in.
He looked at me jeeringly, “Ya’el!” he cried suddenly.
Mother and Ya’el stepped outside. A new light shone in mother’s face. She seemed very calm. Ya’el hurried to father and hugged him, whispering excitedly while mother nodded in agreement. All at once the patients surrounded her as though she were their queen, and the old fellow linked arms with her. Kedmi was already hurrying Gaddi away. Mother regarded me timidly, wanting to say something, to explain, but unable to. I backed slowly away as she stepped toward me, my briefcase swinging in my hand. I took a last look at the patients, my eyes lingering on the boneless blonde, who stood leaning against a tree. Next to her on a bench sat the giant, the crushed locomotive at his feet. I turned to go.
Mother whispered something to father. He called to me, his arms limp at his sides. I halted.
“Come over here. Mother asks you to forgive her.”
“Never mind. Forget it.”
“Forgive me,” said mother. “I’m asking for your forgiveness, Asa.”
“What for?” I mumbled, turning red. “Forget it.”
“Forgive me, Asa.”
“All right.” I winced. “All right.”
“It’s my fault… all mine…” Mother almost managed a smile, glowing with a sadly poignant beauty. “Just don’t hit yourself anymore. I thought you had stopped that long ago…”
“All right, all right.” I bent to kiss her and walked by myself toward the gate. Ya’el and mother followed me arm in arm, while father tagged along at their side, still very pale, absorbed in thought. Further back the crowd of patients trailed slowly after us. We crossed the lawns, Horatio lumbering between us, our sole connecting link. Kedmi’s car was waiting at the gate, already faced toward the main road, its radio blasting away. The engine started up and raced nervously.
“Tomorrow…” said mother in parting. “Tomorrow…”
Ya’el slipped into the front seat. Father was talking Russian again, hurriedly, urgently, intent on finishing his thought. But his words were drowned out by the motor. I got into the back seat with him after me. Horatio tried squeezing in too but the door banged shut on him. He began to howl, clawing at it frantically.
“Ya’el,” yelled Kedmi, “if he scratches up that door I’ll murder him…”
He stepped on the gas.
Horatio chased us. We watched him through the back window as he ran down the middle of the narrow side road, a diminishing point. Smiling to himself, Kedmi glanced in the rearview mirror. He slowed down and the dog began to catch up.
“Drive faster, Kedmi,” said Ya’el.
Kedmi sped up a bit and then slowed down again, stopping for a long while when he reached the main road. Horatio loped on down the middle of the side road, behind him the sea and a last gasp of sun setting in a wrinkled orange sky. Eyes narrowed to a slit, red tongue dripping sunlight, he almost touched the car with his wolfish cranium when Kedmi started up again and turned into the main road. Horatio chased us into it, still running down the center line, cars honking and screeching all around him.
“Stop, Kedmi!” cried father. “He’ll be run over.”
“Don’t,” said Ya’el. “Drive faster.”
But Kedmi neither speeded up nor stopped. All concentration, he led the dog away from the hospital, determined to kill him.
“Kedmi, what are you doing?” pleaded Ya’el. “Drive faster!”
He was deliberately staying behind a slow truck.
“All criticisms of my driving should be typed in triplicate, please…”
I said nothing. As soon as we entered Acre we lost sight of the dog among the cars behind us. We were in heavy city traffic now, stopping for lights, passing pedestrians with their packages of matzos and youngsters hanging out on corners between appliance stores and fastfood stands. In Crusader times St.-Jean-d’Acre had been a metropolis the size of London or Paris.