“So will you one day,” Dov said. “And your wife will be free at last to marry your partner. They’ve been planning it for years.” He backed the jeep out. “Hop in,” he said to Israel and his brother. “Do we eat at home or should I stop by a restaurant?”
“Let’s go straight home,” Little Dov said, getting in.
They drove slowly, raising a cloud of reddish dust. The sun was climbing over the mountains, which didn’t look so red anymore; they were dark and distant.
“Now turn left and stop,” Little Dov said, and when Dov parked the jeep in front of a small house, he added, “and try not to provoke the old bastard.”
“That won’t be easy,” Dov said. He took the canvas bag from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder. “One day he’s going to bite his own hand and die of rabies.”
They went inside. Little Dov opened the door to one room and let them through. An old man sitting at the table lifted his eyes.
“Look, Pop, look who’s here,” Little Dov said. “And he seems to be in top form, too.”
“Where is Dina?” the old man asked.
“I don’t know, Pop,” Dov said.
“You come to me, your old father, and you can’t tell me where your wife is?”
“She’s a bad woman, Pop,” Dov said. He spoke with an effort, his eyes fixed on the old man who had begun to tremble with anger. “Forget her.”
“Women aren’t good or bad,” the old man said. “But some men just don’t know how to handle them. I spent thirty years with your mother, and for thirty years she did what I told her. And thought what I thought. Where is Dina, your wife?”
“She’s with another man,” Dov said. “She’s going to have his bastard.”
“You come to me, your old father, and tell me you married a whore? Is that why I fled to this land to father you, so you’d be born free? Is that why I swore to God that I’d give my children freedom, and paid for it with my health and years of hard labor?” He threw Dov a wild, maniacal look. “Where is Dina, Dov?” he yelled.
Dov picked up a glass of water from the table and took a sip. His teeth clinked against the glass.
“You’re old, sick, and mad,” he said to his father. “That’s all I have to say to you. You’re cruel like a child. But you’re old, and soon you’ll die.”
“Have you finished drinking?” the old man asked.
“Yes.”
“Then put the glass back on the table.”
When Dov did, the old man picked it up and threw it against the wall with all his strength. The three men leaped aside.
“And so it will be with anything you touch in my room,” the old man said. “Don’t ever come in here again until you go back to Dina or she comes back to you. You’re not a man, Dov. Now go away, all of you, and close the door.”
They walked out of the room and filed into the kitchen. Little Dov took three beers out of the refrigerator and placed them on the table.
“What a charming man our Pop is!” he said. “Too bad he’s a Jew. If he wasn’t, he could play the tooth fairy in plays for little kids.” He turned to Israel. “How do you find the old bastard?”
“I feel sorry for him,” Israel said.
“I don’t,” said Little Dov. “My wife often cries because of him.”
The door opened and a young woman entered the kitchen.
“My wife, Esther,” Little Dov said. “And this is my brother, Dov.”
“I’ve been hearing all kinds of stories about you,” Esther said, stopping in front of Dov. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She held out her hand and he took it gently, surprised how slim and fragile it was. “I’m glad you’re going to help us.”
“How can I help you, Esther?” Dov asked. He was sitting tiredly on a chair; he had pulled off his shirt, and they could all see his hard bronzed shoulders.
“It’s got to do with my fishing, Dov,” his brother said.
“You’re the fisherman, not me. I hate fish. I’m sorry, but I never liked them. I do like herring, but only when I’m drinking vodka. And you don’t drink. Don’t ever start. You’ll save yourself lots of trouble.”
“Dov,” his brother said, “do you know how much I made this year? Two thousand eight hundred pounds. And the season is almost over. I don’t think I’ll make four thousand this year. You know how much I made last year? Eleven thousand.”
“I told you I’m not a fisherman,” he said. “I can try lending you a hand, but I don’t think I’ll be of much use.”
Little Dov walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside. “Come here, Dov,” he said to his brother.
Dov stepped up to him, a bottle of beer in his hand; he leaned against the wall and then quickly drew away from it. They all saw the dark stain on the wall where he’d touched it with his bare back.
“I don’t need to admire the view,” he said. “I know Eilat. I was here in nineteen forty-eight, when we took the place.” He took a swig of beer from his bottle and placed it on the table. “Our whole force consisted of fourteen army jeeps.”
“Look at that truck, Dov.”
“It’s an old GMC. We had them in the army.”
“It belongs to some guys who fish here, Dov,” his brother said. “They’re stealing my fish and my money. They didn’t come to Eilat of their own free will, like I did. They were sent here by the police. For them, fishing is a nice cozy job. They’ve got motorboats; they can catch as many fish as they want. My fish. And now they bought this truck and make more money than they ever dreamed of in jail.”
“The sea belongs to everybody,” Dov said. “It can’t be fenced off with barbed wire. I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”
“Those guys know you.”
“But I don’t want to know them.”
“They know you, and they fear you.”
“That’s silly,” Dov said. “They shouldn’t be afraid of me. I mean them no harm.”
“I thought—”
“I know what you thought,” Dov said. “You thought that when your big brother came, he’d beat them up for you. Nothing doing. I’m almost forty. I want peace and quiet. And one more thing: if I start even the tiniest brawl, they’ll put me behind bars for a few years. Remember, I’m on parole. If anything happens, I go right back in the slammer. If I jostle somebody in the street, it’s all they need to lock me up.” He took the bottle of beer his brother was holding in his hand and finished it with one gulp. “Look, if my presence in this house bothers you in any way, just tell me. I’ll move to a hotel.”
“No,” Little Dov said. “You’re my brother.” He paused. “You really won’t help me, Dov?”
Dov raised his tired eyes.
“See that bag in the corner?” he asked. “Do you see it?”
“Yes,” Little Dov said.
“That’s all I have. The jeep isn’t mine. Try to live differently than I did.” He slowly stepped up to Esther and pulled her into the center of the kitchen, into the circle of light. “You have a beautiful wife.” He placed his heavy hands on her shoulders. “You don’t want to lose her. Try to live differently than I did, that’s all I can say.”
“I heard those guys want to buy another boat,” Little Dov said. “If they do I might as well pack my bags and leave Eilat.”
“So leave. You’re young and you have a beautiful wife. All you need to be happy is a bed and neighbors who sleep hard.” He went to the corner and picked up his bag. “Where will we sleep?”
“I thought I’d put you up in Pop’s room,” Little Dov said. “But now I guess you’d better sleep with us.”
“In the same room with you and Esther?”
“You’re my brother.”
“Yes, I’m your old, worthless brother who is unable to help you. I’d like to get some sleep now. We didn’t sleep at all last night.”