He walks back into the tent, lies down on his bed. His back hurts. The hunger in his heart makes him want to scream. But still, he sinks deeply into a dream.
Sometimes, when he wakes up in the morning, he reaches for his wife, thinking for one sweet, wonderful moment that he’s back in his old life.
*
Is Yotam here?
His mother was standing at the door with a ‘please-say-yes’ expression on her face.
No. He’s not at home?
He wanted us to go on a family outing today and … we couldn’t. I was sure he came here.
No, I said, and was filled with shame. I knew that it was him knocking on the door and I didn’t open it.
Where else could he be? Yotam’s mother asked, looking at me with forlorn eyes.
Let’s think, I said in an authoritative voice, and kept on kicking myself for not having opened the door. Maybe he went to a friend’s house?
He hasn’t been playing with other boys since … since it happened. I tried the houses of two kids who used to be his friends, but he wasn’t there.
If it was a weekday, I thought out loud, I’d try the arcade at the shopping centre. But it’s five o’clock now. The shops don’t open till seven on Saturdays.
That’s right, she said, and suddenly collapsed. Her knees buckled and she lost her balance. At the last minute, she grabbed my arm so she wouldn’t fall.
Come inside, drink some water. It’s very hot outside. I supported her until we got to the sofa in the living room. She sat down in silence and I went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of cold water and a napkin.
I don’t know what I’m going to do, she said, wiping her face with the napkin. Enough, it’s enough. It’s too much. Reuven says he’s not worried, Yotam went out for a few hours to make us angry because we didn’t want to take him for a drive. But how can we? Our feet are so heavy, and all the places we could go to — the Galilee, the Golan — we went to with Gidi, so how can we?
Yes, I said, nodding, and remembered: just yesterday I didn’t buy anything at Angel’s because it was strange that Noa wasn’t with me. And then I thought: how can you compare?
She looked at her watch and said, I feel like something bad could happen to him. When Gidi went to Lebanon that last time, I also felt in my body that it was dangerous. I told him that when we were standing at the door on Sunday morning, but he laughed at me. He said, Mum, you thought the training course was dangerous too, and when we went down to the territories, you thought it was dangerous. So it must be that your worrying keeps me safe.
I could actually imagine it — the woman sitting next to me and the boy in the huge picture hanging in her living room facing each other for a second before what they couldn’t know would be their last hug. She’s wringing her hands, he’s shifting the straps of his backpack to get the blood circulating in his arms again.
I won’t survive it, she said, getting up from the sofa abruptly, as if the very fact of sitting seemed irresponsible to her. I won’t survive another one.
OK, I said, getting up too. Let’s get a few neighbours and start looking for him.
*
Inside, there were two rusty cans, a pile of coals and a smell, like someone had done a poo. And there was a mattress that looked new and a long shirt that only had one sleeve. It’s really kind of nice here, I thought. There’s no fridge or TV, but there aren’t any gigantic pictures of someone who’s dead or memorial candles with a smell that makes you feel sick and parents who don’t talk to each other. And not having a roof isn’t so bad either. Winter’s over already and it won’t rain any more. So who needs a roof? Just the opposite. A house without a roof is cool, like the car David’s brother has with the convertible top, the one we once rode in to a class party. You can sleep on the mattress at night and see all the stars, the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper, and the Milky Way that has no milk. Yes, I said out loud so it would be harder to change my mind later, I’ll stay here until night-time. And if it’s nice, maybe I’ll stay here for ever. No one cares anyway. They even forgot my birthday. I could disappear for a year now and they wouldn’t notice. Just the opposite. They’d be glad. That way they wouldn’t have to talk about my problems at school and they could keep on being angry with each other. They probably think I’m at Amir’s place. But he doesn’t care about me any more either. He doesn’t care about anything since Noa left. And he won’t even tell me why she left. Every time I ask him, he makes up some stupid reason, like I’m a little kid who’ll believe anything he says, like we’re not friends. I’m sure he was home today when I knocked on the door. I’m positive. He was probably reading one of those fat books of his and couldn’t be bothered to get up. Noa probably won’t come back and he’ll move out of the apartment soon and I won’t have anyone to play chess with.
That’s it. I decided. I’m going to live here. I lay down on the mattress and looked at the sky, waiting for the stars to come out.
*
I never saw anything like it in my life. Half an hour after the minute I knocked on Sima and Moshe’s door, the whole neighbourhood was outside. Children on skateboards, old men on their way back from the synagogue, Beitar fans on their way to a game — they all streamed to Yotam’s house. His father was standing on the steps leading the operation. Contrary to what his wife claimed, he didn’t look calm at all. Maybe he’d just been trying to calm her before, and maybe the presence of all those people had roused him. I don’t know. In any case, he was awake and alert, and he divided the people up into search parties. He sent Sima and me to search the area leading out of the neighbourhood, where the shops that sell building materials are. Where’s Moshe? I asked her. He stayed with Lilach and Liron, she said and started walking. Isn’t it amazing, I said, trying to keep up with her fast pace, how everyone came to help? Yes, she said. You probably don’t know that the people here are divided up into a few clans, depending on what part of Kurdistan their family came from. There are Dahuks, Amadis and Zakus, and each one thinks they’re better than the others. They’re at each other’s throats all year long, but when something like this happens, they put all that aside and come to help.
Dahuks? Amadis? What is she talking about? I’ve been here six months, I thought, and I still don’t understand anything.
We were getting closer to the outskirts of town. From a distance, we could see the search party that had been sent to Doga’s to check out the cage of boxes.
But the thing is, Sima said, following them with her eyes, that even when the pressure’s at its worst, they never forget who’s one of them and who isn’t. I’ve been living here for six years, and they still consider me an outsider. Without even thinking about it, they sent me out to look with the only person here who’s more of an outsider than I am. You.
I’m sorry … I started to say.
You have nothing to be sorry about, Sima interrupted. And besides, I kind of like being with you.
She touched my arm lightly when she said that, and immediately moved away, as if she’d scared herself.
You know, I said quickly, before she could break away completely, Yotam knocked on my door.
When, today?! she said, and stopped in front of Shlomo & Sons, Building Materials, and turned to me.
I could have lied. I’d left myself an escape hatch by not saying when. But I wanted to confess and expose my back to the lashes of the whip. Her whip.
Yes, I said. Around three. After he left his house and before he disappeared. I didn’t open the door to him. I always do, no matter when he knocks. But this time, I don’t know. I pulled the blanket over myself in bed and didn’t move until I heard him walking away. You’re the first person I’m telling this to. I’m so ashamed of myself. If I’d opened the door, he wouldn’t have run away. I would’ve played a little chess with him, calmed him down … We talk, you know. I love that kid, I really love him. I should have opened the door.