“If you keep winning!” That was the best response she could muster to his arrogance. All this talk of legendary wealth, of the excitement of betting — win all or lose all— worked its magic. Her eyes glowed a bit, and she looked at him, expecting him to crush her doubt with his strong arms.
Had David not been so self-involved at that moment, he might have noticed that look that said, “Take it all, but do it quickly!” and swept her away. Instead, he continued to glide on the wings of the dream of his own grandeur. “I’m only just beginning, really. They say I have a great future ahead of me. It’s all ours. Yours and mine. I’ll share it all with you, you get it? We’ll go to Europe, to America, to the Far East. The high life! Next summer, when we come back for the racing season, we’ll be able to spend the season at the Windsor or the Cecile Hotel — such luxury! We won’t have to make do with a meager room at —”
“Like the one you have this summer?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. The rooms we rented at your place are anything but meager. I like it there. Your place is in an ideal location, walking distance from the track … but you’ve got to admit, it isn’t exactly the Cecile.” He laughed arrogantly. His confidence grew as he kept talking, “And there are ways for me to make even more money. I can gamble myself. I know which horse and which jockey to put my money on. Ha! True, the rules prohibit it, but between you and me, everybody does it, using a third party. And then, my dear, the sky’s the limit!” He took a deep breath and fixed his shimmering eyes on her, as if saying, Now, my fair lady, let’s see you say no to this!
“You think I can be bought?” she said coolly, but her voice wasn’t as steady as she wanted it to be, which annoyed her.
“Any woman can be bought, baby!” David Hamdi-Ali quoted Humphrey Bogart or Clark Gable.
She burst out laughing, but even her laughter was more hesitant than she’d wanted. Her laughter slowly died down, and she wanted to speak, but didn’t know where her words would lead. She’d already decided to gamble, to go with the flow. Wherever it may take her. Her nostrils filled with the smell of the salty breeze, and the moon was low, heavy and ripe. A heaviness also filled her breasts and stomach. She wanted to speak, but was thinking about other things. Her entire body was aware of her feminine blossoming, that wondrous summer bloom that took over young girls, until their lips parted with sweet moisture, and every muscle in their bodies was alert for something … for … “for a wedding, come on!” Grandma would have said impatiently. But this feeling meant freedom, she protested, while a wedding … she was scared of a wedding, of that constant friction with a stranger, who may see himself entitled to make all sorts of demands, view her as responsible for all sorts of duties, and worst of all — would never change. He’d always be the same man, morning, noon and night. Dancing with the same man, going out with the same man. The same hands caressing her body, maybe even beating it … She trembled when she recalled her cousin Adele, the eldest daughter of her aunt Tovula, who took a beating from her husband once in a while, and with a belt … What did she need this for? And why so soon? Especially considering how her parents gave her complete freedom, trusting her judgment, trusting her not to get into trouble. She wouldn’t get into trouble, but how about some pleasure? She had to remember, and look out, not let any of them cross that thin, fragile line that separated fun from enslaving devotion. Besides, and maybe this is the main thing, she didn’t want to part with her parents, and she missed her brothers in Israel. It might be odd to add this after all this talk of freedom and independence, but she knew she’d never feel better than at her mother’s side, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it. But not to David Hamdi-Ali, of course. To him she said only, “What you’re saying is very exciting, David, really wonderful, engaging stuff, this horse racing of yours. I can see how important it is to you —”
“To you as well!”
“Much more important to you than I am, and right-fully so!”
“That’s not true! You’re more important to me than anything in this world!”
“But still you won’t give up racing for me.”
“You want money, don’t you?”
“Money really isn’t everything,” she said, trying to sound sincere.
“Oh. I’m just so ugly and repulsive that even for my money you wouldn’t —”
“Don’t be silly. I just can’t. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Who, then?”
“Me, myself,” she said, and couldn’t decide if she should tell him the true reason, satisfy his curiosity and show him this was no whim. Yes, it was actually her duty to show him she wasn’t simply being spoiled and arbitrary, but that she was facing grave considerations. She had to explain to him that … Suddenly she felt tired. Who said she had to? She didn’t owe him a thing! He wanted something, she set a price. The ball was in his court, and she didn’t have to reason. He had a decision to make. Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t give up racing. No man would humiliate himself that much. Especially seeing how she insisted on not giving him any acceptable reason for her demand, thus making his choice even clearer. “It’s either me or racing,” she said monotonously, as if nothing he said or did would change that.
David wouldn’t give up, but he also seemed tired. They were like two boxers, looking at each other with beaten eyes, going on with the match with an almost mechanical inertia. “But why? Why?”
She walked toward the sea, her feet spraying sand behind her. Her dress clung to her, sending unpleasant chills through her body. She felt the moist sand spraying her. She wanted to take everything off and go into the lukewarm water, but she didn’t dare. Not that she was embarrassed to show her body; on the contrary, a mischievous urge to get undressed and tease him pulsed through her. But she was afraid he’d interpret this as an act of love, or surrender.
“Fine, I’ll give up racing. I’ll give it up, damn it!”
She stopped in her tracks. It couldn’t be. This was completely unexpected. She never thought for a moment he might agree. Now the ball was in her court. What would she say? Maybe he was lying. How could she know he would keep his promise? And actually, what did his promise have to do with her? She didn’t want him to stop racing. He could keep doing it till the end of time, as far as she was concerned. What now? Plain and simple, set another condition. Would he be willing to leave his country and his family for her, the way his father did for his mother, and follow her wherever she went? This was the pivotal question. But before she even asked it, she made up her mind: she didn’t want him to agree to go away with her. She wanted to be free. Even there. There, she might explore her future, leaving the past behind. She was young, a little girl, really. She wanted her mommy. What did this stranger want from her? She wanted to say, “Too late!” but knew this was a poor excuse. He’d continue to argue and press her. She didn’t want to say anything. She wanted to spread her wings and fly. The dress kept clinging, making her tremble with discomfort. Still, she had to say something, and wasn’t sure what.
Luckily, before she could speak, he said, “I’ll give it up … after I finish this season.”
The fool.
“No,” her legs started moving again, leading her into the water. “Starting now, this moment.”
“We’ll make some money, and then —”
“No!”
“I can’t! I can’t!” His face was tormented, he was paralyzed and helpless. “I can’t do this to him. I can’t do it to my father. I just can’t.” He reached for her hand and said the two words that sealed his fate. “Have mercy.”