“How did it happen?”
“One of those men was wearing spiked shoes,” the doctor said. “And when he started kicking your brother he did irreversible damage to the tissue.”
“You mean my brother will never—” Dov began, but he couldn’t finish.
“Yes,” the doctor said. “Never again.”
“What about his wife?”
“After some time he’ll stop caring.”
“After how long?”
“I don’t know,” the doctor said. “Nobody knows.”
“And what if he never stops caring?” Dov asked. “What if he thinks about it constantly and suffers all the time? What then?”
“I don’t know,” the doctor said again. “And neither do you. Nor does he. Only God knows, but nobody can make God tell him the answer. Can you?”
“No,” Dov said.
“I can’t either. I did all I could so your brother wouldn’t suffer. And I’ll do all I can so that he’ll find out the truth as late as possible. But that’s all I can do. The rest is up to you. His family.”
“I’d like to go now.”
“You can go. Just remember what I told you. I told you that as a doctor, not a cop.”
“Then, as a doctor, tell me one more thing: what will happen to those men? What will happen to them for doing what they did?”
“They’ll stand trial.”
“Charged with what?”
“Accidental mayhem.”
“And what sentences will they get?”
“I don’t know. Maybe five years each. Maybe ten.”
“And then they’ll come back to their women,” Dov said. “To their wives, their whores, and enjoy themselves with them, doing things he’ll never be able to do again as long as he lives. Isn’t that so?”
“I don’t think anybody can make the charge of intentional mayhem stick,” the doctor said.
“If you were a real doctor,” Dov said, “you’d know there’s only one thing you can do for my brother. If you were a real doctor who understands people, and not just a man in a white coat.”
“Shhh,” the doctor said. “This is a hospital. In each of these rooms there’s some poor wretch who believes we can help him. Even if you don’t.”
“Have they been arrested yet?”
“No,” the doctor said. “The police are waiting for my report, the medical evaluation of your brother’s injuries.”
“When will you have it ready?”
“It’s ready”
“Give it to me,” Dov said. “I’ll take it to the police station.”
“You really will?”
“Yes,” Dov said. “That sexless thing lying in that room used to be my brother.”
“Maybe it’s only now that he’ll begin to be your brother,” the doctor said. “Now that he’ll need your love, your help.”
“You said that,” Dov said.
HE STOPPED OUTSIDE THE HOSPITAL, HOLDING THE large, sealed envelope. It was already dark. Without looking behind him, he tore the envelope into pieces and threw it away. He checked his watch; it was eight. He drove slowly through town, gazing at the dark sky, the first stars over the bay, feeling the first breeze begin to blow. He stopped the jeep in front of his brother’s house, but he didn’t go in. For a while he stood there, breathing hard and looking at the lighted window.
“Esther!” he called quietly.
She came out a moment later.
“Esther,” he said, “bring me that picture of Dov that’s hanging on the wall. And get me my leather wrist straps. You’ll find them in my bag.”
“Why don’t you come and get them yourself?”
“Bring me everything, Esther,” he said softly. “I’m tired. I never asked you for anything. But I’m asking you now.”
She came back a short while later; he held out his hands and she fastened the bands around his wrists.
“What do you want to do?” she asked.
“I have to go after a few fish for my brother’s sake,” he said.
“And why do you need his picture?”
He took his brother’s picture from her and looked at it for a moment. “You’ll never be like this again,” he said, and smashed it against the wall.
“What happened to him?”
“Nothing, Esther. You’ll find out. With time everybody will. Now come closer.”
When she did, he drew her against him and kissed her hard, making her part her lips, and felt her body cling to his, passing on its warmth — now that the day was over, had burned itself out in the sweltering heat. He felt her hands pulling his head closer and he pushed her gently away.
“I needed that,” he said. “He’s my brother.”
“I don’t care about him,” she said.
He moved back a step.
“You don’t care about him?”
“No,” she said. “You can hit me if you want. He was right.”
“Who was?”
“Israel, your friend.”
“What are you talking about, Esther?”
“It wasn’t that woman who was after you,” she said. “It was me. I wanted you! If anything’s happened, it’s my fault.”
“Do all you women have to be like this?” he asked. “Can’t you even pretend to feel shame?”
“I speak only for myself,” she said. “But no, I can’t pretend to feel shame. And I can’t pretend to feel love. Ask your brother.”
“He loves you,” he said. “And he’s waiting for you.”
“But I love you,” she said. “And I’m waiting for you.”
“Do you know, Esther, that I could have you now if I wanted? I really could?”
“You could have had me always,” she said. “You could have had me the day you came to this house.”
“I won’t walk into this house again,” Dov said. “I won’t enter it until I fix those men like they fixed my brother.”
“We don’t have to go in,” Esther said. “You can have me anyplace, anytime.”
He gazed at her for a moment, then climbed into the jeep.
“Tell my father that he’s old,” he said. “And God will take pity on him and take him away.”
“And who’ll take pity on me?” Esther asked.
“Go in and wait,” he said.
“Now that you’re wearing those wrist straps I’ve nothing to wait for,” Esther said.
She turned around and walked back into the house. He could still feel the warmth and smell of her body; driving down the dark side streets he thought of her firm young lips, and it was harder to bear than pain. He parked the jeep a hundred yards away from the garage and approached the low building on foot. He walked inside and looked at the man sitting in the grease pit and drinking beer. Then he looked at the man’s shoes.
“Do you know what’s happened?” he asked.
“Not everything’s happened yet,” the man said.
“Where are the others?”
“They left.”
“They left or ran away?”
“They left,” the man said. “You can’t run away. There’s nowhere to run to. I spent five years in Auschwitz; I know. But they weren’t there, so they might not know.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?” Dov asked.
The man looked up at him. “I was waiting for you,” he said.
“And what would you do in my place?”
“Same thing as you’re going to do, Dov.”
“Do you know he’ll never be a man again?”
“I didn’t want that,” the man said. “That’s why I stayed. I’ve been waiting for you for hours.”
“Give me some beer,” Dov said. “I’m thirsty. Throw me your bottle.”
The man tossed him the bottle and Dov caught it. The beer was warm; he took a mouthful and gave the bottle back.
“Why didn’t you leave with them?” he asked again.
He was already sitting in the GMC truck and driving slowly toward the man standing in the shallow pit; then he turned on the headlights, blinding him. The truck’s front bumper touched the man’s breast.