In my mind, I could hear Mirit say, but Mum was alone in the end, have you forgotten that? My mother had a heart attack and it took three weeks for one of the neighbours to notice. The medics who came said that if they’d reached her in time, there might have been a chance. Do you get it? Mirit goes on in my mind, I know that Doron is cheating on me, but at least I have someone in the living room who asks if I’m OK when I cut myself with the salad knife in the kitchen.
A second before I answered Mirit in my head, the doorbell rang. Noa, the student. They were out of milk. Come in, please, I told her, don’t be shy. She came in and before I could warn her, she banged her head on the new lampshade. What can I do, I said and straightened the swinging lampshade; we’re all midgets in this house. Everybody’s short in my family too, she said, rubbing the place where she got hit. So how did you turn out like that? I asked. I don’t know. My grandmother’s slightly taller, so maybe it’s from her, she said. There’s not much left, I apologised, waving the almost empty milk carton in the air. How about having your coffee here, I suggested, and without waiting for an answer, I filled up the kettle and took out a couple of cups. She talked to my back: She actually likes being tall. She was very introverted when she was a child, hardly ever spoke, and people noticed her just because she was taller than the others. Without her height, she would’ve been completely invisible. Well, I said, people probably notice you a lot now. With your legs, you could be a model without even trying. Don’t be silly, she protested and patted her thighs, and I thought: I’d take those thighs any day. I poured the coffee and milk, moved the carriage closer to the table and sat down. And what were you like as a child? she asked, blowing on her coffee. Me, I laughed, just the opposite. I was always the smallest, the last one in line in gym class, and that’s why I didn’t have a choice, I had to learn how to talk, to make myself heard. I had an opinion on everything from the minute I was born. I made sure everyone knew who Sima was. Besides, that’s how my mother brought me up — if you have something to say, say it. Don’t be afraid of anyone. Later on, when I was older and I used to argue with her for hours to let me stay up and watch Dallas, she was a little sorry she’d taught me that, and she’d say, raskh pehal hezar, your head is as hard as a rock, but I really think she was proud of me. And I’m like that to this day, stubborn. Like yesterday, for instance … I started to say and stopped. What happened yesterday? Noa asked. I liked her tone. Interested, but not pushy. Wanting to know, but didn’t have to know everything. So I started to tell her about the argument with Moshe, and before I knew it, I found myself talking about his family, how from the first minute, from the first family dinner, even before Moshe and I got married, they adopted me like a daughter. But on the other hand, they always gave me the feeling that I was a disappointing daughter, that I didn’t know how to make Moshe kubeh hemusteh the way he liked it, that I had too many opinions, that I didn’t know how to do up the house so it looked nice. If I offered them coffee when they came over, they’d get insulted and Moshe would explain to me quietly in the kitchen that I shouldn’t offer coffee first because that means I’m being stingy with food. But if I didn’t offer them coffee, they’d also be insulted. I’ve been with Moshe for eight years and sometimes I have the feeling that a whole life won’t be enough for me to learn his family’s rules. Yeah, Noa says and touches my elbow, I know exactly what you’re talking about. I waited for her to tell me a little about Amir’s family, but she didn’t say any more, so I told her about my mother, what a special person she was, and how she raised us by herself after my father ‘got religion’ and took off, and how she used to wear the same dress all summer so she’d have enough money to buy us books and notebooks, and how she’d sit with me and Mirit a week before school started to cover them with coloured paper and put stickers on them. She had a special folding technique, I don’t know how she did it, but the teachers would always say what beautiful covers I had, hold the books up and say, look at these, children you can all take a lesson from Sima.
I went on and on without a break, and Noa sat there quietly with attentive eyes, and Lilach was quiet too, probably from shock. She’d never heard her mother talk so much at once, and when I finished — I didn’t really finish, it’s more that I got tired — I saw that the coffee was cold and I got up, not only to make us black coffee, because there was no more milk, but also because all of a sudden, I don’t know why, I was ashamed to look Noa in the eye.
*
Whenever Amir has to deal with a glitch, he develops a twitch. Strangers might make a mistake, but Noa sees clearly when his lower lip starts to shake. And Noa herself? With her, it’s her face. Whenever it’s time to hand in work at Bezalel again, all her features scrunch up into a single focal point of pain. With the landlord, on the other hand, it’s his digestive tract. Loose bowels, to be exact. He was so stressed out during basic training that he had a constant case of the runs. And this last week too, the business with the kindergarten caused him so much aggravation that he felt the same heavy, burning sensation in his gut. And Sima, his wife? No sign at all. Not even when Liron drives her crazy, or Moshe drives her up the wall. Maybe because she won’t settle an argument with a kiss and a hug, she won’t sweep anything under the rug.