“Hey, someone’s down there!” shouted a youthful voice above me. “Some old man.” All at once a column of youngsters filed overhead, slithering out of the bushes like a colorful snake and tramping down the path a few inches from me with giggled whispers.
“What time is it, kids?”
“Almost eleven.”
The column continued down the ravine and vanished in the undergrowth. I climbed back up, passing the synagogue, which was now a kindergarten again. A heavy lock glinted on the door. The white car was gone. Dressed in old clothes Kedmi stood in front of his house with a hose, rags and bucket, washing his car and barking orders at Gaddi, who was assisting him.
“Are Asa and Dina here yet?”
“No.”
“Is Tsvi up?”
“Why should he be? Is the stock market open today?”
“What time is it?”
“Time enough for you to take a few more walks.”
I quickly climbed the stairs. The door of the apartment was open, admitting the sounds of the neighbors and of someone’s radio. Ya’el stood washing dishes in the kitchen while the baby sat gaily in her armchair at the table, waving a big-nippled bottle.
“Tsvi’s still sleeping?”
Ya’el smiled serenely. “He doesn’t want to wake up. You know what he’s like in the morning.”
“But we can’t let him lie around all day. I’ll wake him.”
And I stormed into the darkened living room, pulling open curtains, raising blinds, shaking him back and forth. “That’s enough, you lazy bum! On your feet!” An obscure anger swept over me. “Up, you brute!” I pulled off the blankets with one jerk. The smell of his bedclothes. He sat up in a daze, groggy and annoyed.
“What’s going on?”
“Get up! What’s going on is that I’m leaving for America soon, Asi and Dina are about to arrive, and you’re wallowing in sleep right in the middle of everything!”
He tried pulling the blanket back over him but I jerked it wildly away. His degenerate, smooth, unsullied face. A portrait of me as a young man.
“What’s gotten into you, father? Are you out of your mind? What time is it?”
“That’s enough, can’t you understand! The rest of us have been up for ages… that’s enough…”
He sat up, squatting on his haunches among the crumpled sheets, holding his head, regarding me with a troubled look.
“I think I dreamed about you again…”
“You dreamed about me?” I broke into a hysterical laugh. “God help us all! Now get up.”
“Don’t you want to hear about it?”
“Later. First get up.”
I turned on the radio full blast, rocking the house with loud choral music, and hurried back to Ya’el, who was in the bathroom getting ready to wash the baby.
“Here,” I offered eagerly, “let me help you.”
“Why bother, father? Go lie down. You’ve been on your feet all morning, and you still have a long day ahead of you.”
“I don’t want to lie down. I want to be with you all I can. Here, hand her over. I’ll hold her.”
I carefully undressed the baby, laying her on a fresh diaper, while Ya’el filled the little tub with water. Steam rose from it and fogged the mirrors. I removed her tiny shirt and undid her diaper, smelling her thin, odorous BM. I prepared the soap and baby powder and checked the temperature of the water. Outside we heard Gaddi and Kedmi, who had come back upstairs. The kibbutz choir on the radio sang even louder, celebrating the Festival of Spring. An announcer read verses from the Bible. Who would have imagined that all these old rituals were still kept up? Amazing. More voices of neighbors, someone stepped in to borrow a cup of milk. An Israeli morning. I took off my shirt to keep from wetting it and swung the baby’s rosy little body over the water, lowering her slowly into it, crooning to her and trying to make her laugh. Ya’el sought to help me but I waved her away. She watched my deft, vigorous movements with astonishment.
“We’ll miss you.”
“You’ll what?”
“We’ll miss you, father. I mean it. I never realized…”
“Don’t be silly. You’ll finally have a little peace and quiet when I’m gone.”
“No, it will be sad without you tomorrow.”
“Not for Kedmi.”
“For Kedmi too. He’s gotten to feel close to you these past few days. I can sense it. He doesn’t let it show but still…”
“Oh, I know that. He’s really not a bad sort. I’ve gotten more used to him too.”
“He really isn’t It just seems that way because of how he talks…”
She blushed, afraid of having said the wrong thing.
I smiled and said nothing. Rakefet gaily slapped the water with her hands, sending it spraying. Her chaste, dainty pudenda. With a start I recalled Gaddi had said she looked like Naomi. I gripped her little form hard to keep it from slipping. Tsvi came in to wash and shave, fully dressed, making his way between us to the sink, where he stood watching me in amazement. The baby shut her eyes while I took her for a swim in the water.
To have room enough for them all. Crazy thought. Out there peaking now the behind you before you darkness. Brave widow turned corpselike in the huge bed. Illimitable desires. Taking off from them a few hours from now perhaps really making them sad. Left to wish you were here. To miss you. But will they?
“That’s enough, father.”
“Just a little more. Can’t you see how she’s enjoying it?”
The choir was still going strong, soprano voices raised in an Israeli oratorio. Kedmi entered the bathroom too and watched me float the baby with superior amusement.
“We’ll miss you, grandpa. How will we manage without you tomorrow?”
“I just said the same thing to him.”
He walked out again, switching off the light and leaving us in moist, vaporous darkness. Ya’el spread a large red towel.
“That’s enough, father.”
I fished the baby from the water and handed her to Ya’el, who wrapped her quickly in the towel. The doorbell rang. Someone entered the apartment. Gaddi knocked on the bathroom door.
“They’re here from Jerusalem!”
I felt honestly moved to be seeing them both again and hurried down the hallway half naked, my hands dripping water. Timidly, like strangers, they were standing in the doorway’s square patch of light. She had had her hair cut boyishly short and looked different in her old-fashioned, puritanically long-sleeved black dress with its white, nunlike collar; tall in high-heeled black shoes, a black patent-leather bag in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, she might have been paying a condolence call. A pale black candle. Older-looking than when I last saw her, she stood chatting with Kedmi and threw me an anxious glance when she caught sight of me. Something in the beauty of her extraordinarily chiseled face with its high cheekbones and large bright eyes had changed, grown deeper and more inward. She stared at the floor, nervous to be meeting me again, while Asa, oblivious of my presence, made straight for the living room, where he halted by Tsvi’s unmade bed to examine the books on the shelves. I hastened after them, my heart pounding for no good reason, thrilled by her beauty as first I was in that Jerusalem street by the taxi.