“If you live, we’ll meet in jail,” Dov Ben Dov said. “We’ll be doing time for the same thing. Accidental mayhem. And then we’ll come back to our women.”
He closed his eyes, let in the clutch and with all his force stepped on the gas. For a moment he heard the screech of tires turning in place, and then — with his eyes still closed — he backed the truck out from over the pit, switched off the headlights, and drove out of the garage into the yard.
He walked back to the jeep and drove off fast without turning on the headlights. He parked close to the street on which his brother’s house was, and, making his way through the back alley, reached the house where Ursula was staying. He peered inside through the window; she was sitting on the bed, exactly like two days ago, a book by her side. He gave the door a push and walked in.
“Are you waiting for me, too?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“It’s strange how everybody seems to be waiting for me today,” he said. “Esther, Yehuda, and now you, Ursula. All my life nobody would wait for me, and now nobody wants to run away from me. Before, everybody used to run.” He held out his hand. “Come. Come with me.”
“Where do you want to take me?”
“I won’t harm you,” he said. “I wouldn’t ask you to leave this room if I wanted to hurt you. I want to talk to you, but the cops may be on my tail any moment. And they’ll come here. My jeep’s parked only a dozen yards away.” Once again he held out his hand. “Get up and come with me,” he said.
He went out and started walking toward the jeep; he knew — without turning his head — that she was following. She sat down next to him, and he began to drive along side streets and alleys, again with his lights off, heading for the desert.
“Things went wrong,” he said.
“What happened to your brother?” she asked.
“I no longer have a brother,” he said. “That thing in the hospital is not my brother. It’s neither a man nor a woman.”
“Is he dead?”
“No,” he said. “He’ll live. But he’ll never be a man again.”
“Oh my God!” she said. “That can’t be true.”
“It is,” he said softly. “And there is nothing you can do about it. You should’ve thought about that earlier. Before you put sand in the engines of their boats. But you couldn’t foresee this, could you? You just wanted to get me involved in my brother’s feud with the fishermen so I’d get sent off to jail. Then Israel would leave with you. Was that your plan?”
“Yes,” she said.
He stopped the car.
“I won’t even have time to say good-bye to Israel,” he said. “Take this jeep, the two of you, and leave Eilat as quickly as you can. You should be in Tel Aviv by morning. Get on the first plane and leave this country.”
“And you, Dov?”
“I was born here,” he said. “My father’s here. And so is that thing which used to be my brother.”
He climbed out of the jeep.
“Will you know how to find your way back?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said. She got out of the jeep, too, and stood next to him. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No,” he said. “Everything’s done now.”
“Why did it all have to end like this?” she asked. “You never really liked him, you know. You probably didn’t even realize that, did you? You just wanted to have him next to you like a mirror, to see yourself in his eyes. But maybe you weren’t aware of it.”
“I see it all now,” he said. “But I can’t change anything. Take the jeep and leave Eilat.”
“That’s why he sent you over to me that night,” she said. “So that he could come to me the next night and prove to himself that there’s something at which he is — if not better than you — then at least your equal.”
“Good-bye, Ursula,” he said. “The two of you don’t have much time.”
“But I want you to understand,” she said. “I can’t just leave after what happened to your brother.”
“No woman can leave after she’s ruined everything,” he said.
“Don’t you really understand anything at all?” she asked.
“You know how to talk beautifully,” he said. “Each of you, you goddamn whores, can talk better and faster than I can. I’m sure you’d love to be a man, wouldn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you?” she asked.
He slapped her with all his strength; she fell backwards, hitting her head against the jeep’s hood, and when she rose to her feet, he slapped her again; once again, she fell against the jeep, but this time her head struck the bumper and she didn’t get up.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want that. Get up.” When she didn’t respond, he said again, “Get up. You don’t have much time. You have to reach Tel Aviv by morning. That’ll be best for everybody.”
But she didn’t move. He leaned over her, turning her face to the sky, then switched on the headlights. Her eyes remained open and empty.
“ISRAEL,” HE CALLED OUT SOFTLY.
His friend turned in his direction. “Where are you?”
“Here,” Dov said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Israel walked up to him. “Ursula’s not home?”
“No,” Dov said. “That’s why I’m waiting for you here.”
“Why didn’t you go in?”
“Come with me,” Dov said. “You’ve got to help me.”
He went ahead and climbed into the jeep parked in yet another spot. He drove fast, but not down back alleys as before — he drove straight along the road leading to the desert.
“You know what happened to my brother?” he asked.
“I know he’s in the hospital.”
“He’ll be impotent for the rest of his life,” Dov said. “Do you know why they did it to him?”
“No,” Israel said. “I—”
Dov interrupted him. “Because Ursula ruined their boats,” he said. “And I don’t need to explain to you why she did that, do I?”
He stopped the jeep, turned off the headlights, and started walking. Israel followed him. Finally Dov came to a standstill and waited for Israel to catch up with him.
“Over there,” Dov said.
“What’s that?” Israel asked.
“That’s her,” Dov said.
Israel walked up to him slowly. “What happened to her?”
“She’s dead.”
“You killed her?”
“No,” Dov said. “She insulted me, so I slapped her in the face. She fell, hit her head against the bumper, and didn’t get up.”
Israel stepped back. “What will you do?”
“I’ll do what I have to do,” Dov said. “I’ll go to the police and tell them what happened.”
“Then go,” Israel said. “Why did you bring me here?”
“To tell you how it happened,” Dov said.
“Tell that to the police.”
“I want you to be my witness,” Dov said. “Don’t turn away.”
“I can’t be your witness,” Israel said. “I wasn’t here with you.”
“That’s why I brought you here. To tell you how it happened.”
Israel looked at him. “Do you really think any judge would believe me? Don’t you remember how it was the last time, when I said I started the fight? Nobody believed me. Why should anybody believe me now?” He walked over to Ursula’s body and knelt down by it. “Get up,” he said. “Stop this game and get up, damn you!” He began throwing handfuls of sand in her face. “Get up!”
“She won’t,” Dov said. “She’s dead.”
Israel lifted his gaze to him. “Why should I testify? I wasn’t here. Nobody was. And even if I was, I would’ve turned my back. I can’t bear to look at such things. Why me?”
“Because I have only you,” Dov said.
“Listen,” Israel said, still kneeling by Ursula’s body, “I can’t. I’m a weak man. Nobody’s going to believe me. And why should they? You’ve killed before.”