“What happened next?” Israel asked. He was looking at the wall where he knew the light switch was. Dov didn’t say anything; he continued to lie immobile, his hands behind his head. Israel, still looking in the direction of the light switch, quickly repeated his question. “What happened next, Dov?”
“You know,” Dov said, as if he had not heard him, “I just remembered something. It happened before we got married. I took her to a hotel in Haifa, and afterward I lay there on the bed and watched her walk around the room. She said it was too hot for her in bed. And I saw her feet leave wet marks on the stone floor. As if she had just come out of the river. I still remember that fucking floor.”
“It wasn’t in Haifa,” Israel said.
“No? How come?”
“You told me that story before,” Israel said. “Only you said it happened in Jerusalem. I remember it well, Dov. Sometimes it seems I know your wife so well I’d be able to recognize her in the street, even if I didn’t know what she looked like. I feel I know her as well as you do.”
“This goddamn darkness,” Dov said. He got up suddenly and started groping for the switch. “My mind gets muddled. You’re right. It was in Jerusalem.” He walked over to where Israel was sitting and turned on the light, saying, “Sure, in Jerusalem. I remember she was embarrassed to go to a hotel and begged me to wait, said her mother would be going away next week and we could use — Israel, what happened to your face?”
“Nothing, really,” Israel said. He looked up at Dov and tried to smile. “It’s still in place, isn’t it?”
“Did somebody beat you up?”
“No.”
Dov continued to stand by his side, staring down at him. Then he stretched out his hand and gently touched Israel’s face.
“Somebody must have done it,” he said softly. “And I don’t need to rack my brains very hard to figure out who it was.”
“No,” Israel said. “A boy jumped out into the road when I was going around a bend and I had to brake hard. I was flung forward and hit my face against the steering wheel. I was all sweaty and my pants were getting stuck to the seat, so I raised myself a little, and that’s when that kid jumped right in front of the jeep. I wasn’t sitting properly and that’s why it happened. I haven’t gotten used to this heat yet, that’s the trouble.”
“And you never will,” Dov said. “But you shouldn’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying,” Israel said. “Why should anybody want to hit me? I’ve been here only one day. Do you think that’s long enough to make enemies?”
“I always make enemies,” Dov said. “Sometimes all it takes is a couple of minutes. I want to know who beat you up.”
“Nobody, I swear. If you intend to look for trouble, don’t use me as your excuse.”
“What can you swear by?”
“That won’t be easy,” Israel said. “I’m a Jew from Europe, so I don’t really know what’s holy and what’s not. And I don’t have any family. I could swear to you by the six million Jews who perished in the Holocaust, but I’m not sure that’s something holy enough. I don’t believe in God, justice, or the Day of Judgment. And I don’t think people will ever improve or that they really want to. So what can I swear to you by, Dov? Maybe by those six million murdered Jews, even though all that’s left of them are their ashes, and men have committed many foul deeds since. Memories don’t help; they get in the way. You should know that, Dov. You can speak very beautifully of love, but I don’t believe in love either. As you see, it really won’t be easy for me to find something to swear to you by.”
“Swear by your mother’s grave,” Dov said.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that, too, isn’t something I consider holy,” Israel said. “My mother was an old, stupid, and selfish woman who did everything she could to ruin my life. I never want to see her grave again. And I never feel sad when I think that she’s dead. I’m sorry, Dov. Her grave isn’t holy to me.”
“Is there nothing in the whole world you consider holy?”
“Can there be anything holy in this world?”
“Don’t answer me like a Jew,” Dov said. “Jews always answer questions with questions, and that’s not the best way to communicate. I’m a Jew, too, you know. I know how to play this game. But I also know that a Jew can swear only by God’s Ten Commandments, and that he must cover his head when doing so. Swear by the Commandments.”
“I don’t believe in them,” Israel said. “I guess I should have told you that earlier. There were times when men broke all the Ten Commandments one by one and nothing happened to them. And I’m sure that nothing has happened to them since and nothing ever will.”
“So there’s nothing you believe in?” Dov asked.
“I believe I’m going to die one day and disappear forever,” Israel said. “And that that’ll be my end. I can swear by that.”
Dov was still standing over him and touching his face; Israel pushed his hand away.
“Do you want me to?” he asked.
“No,” Dov said. “You’re a strange man. You know how to squirm out of one’s grasp like a snake.”
“I’ve seen lots of people much stranger than me,” Israel said. “But I don’t want to think or talk about them. You can rest assured that nobody beat me up.”
“Anybody who’d beat up a friend of mine would soon start regretting he was ever born,” Dov said.
“I know,” Israel said. “And so does everybody else in this town.”
“I’m not so sure,” Dov said. “There are some men here who weren’t born in Israel. I’m pretty positive that if I spat one of them in the eye, he’d say it was raining.”
“And if you hit him?” Israel asked.
“I’m sure he’d do nothing,” Dov said. “He’d stand there waiting until I tired myself out slugging him, then he’d go to the police station and raise a racket there.”
“You think none of them would defend themselves?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think,” Dov said. “I had a good look at them so I know what I’m saying.”
“And how would you call them?”
“Well, how can one call them?”
“Don’t answer my question with a question of your own,” Israel said. “You just said you don’t like that yourself.”
“I’d just say I’m sorry those men didn’t stay where they were born. And didn’t perish there,” Dov said. “You know, Israel, I don’t have a very high opinion of myself. It was a shock to me when they kicked me out of the army, but it made me realize I’m not the greatest thing on earth. Still a man has got to know how to defend himself. If he doesn’t, the quicker he dies, the better. For if he lives, others may die because of him. Don’t you agree with that?”
“Yes,” Israel said. “I agree completely. But I wouldn’t have been able to put it that simply. You were born here and you were taught everything in a very straightforward manner: this is bad, this is good. I was taught differently: this is very bad for some, but good for others. Actually my teachers taught me nothing that could be useful to me here.” He got up from his chair, walked over to the mirror, and peered at his face. “Yes, they taught me nothing useful,” he said again.
There was a knock at the front door and Dov moved back to his makeshift bed.
“It’s probably that guy from the airport I promised some dough for letting me put up my notice,” Dov said. “I asked him to come in the evening. Tell him I’m not here. Or that I’m asleep and you don’t want to wake me up. He’s probably in such a hurry to collect his money he won’t want to wait until tomorrow. But tell him he has to. And tell him it’ll be just as hot tomorrow as it was today. I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear that. We shouldn’t have turned the light on.”