Oh Lord of the Universe the eyes sink in darkness the cupboard before me goes black the corners turn and split farewell cupboard farewell table darkness approaches black mist quickly quickly farewell carpet farewell chair I am going and peace all around good at last I shall think in peace but of what?
The cars have gone from the road farewell bus what’s this the siren of a ship like the wail of a little cat hearing nothing seeing nothing farewell street enough street and suddenly a little bell a whistle oh the telephone is ringing like a little lamb beside me someone is calling wants me weaker and weaker not a bell but the whistle of a dying wind I know but do not hear too bad too bad about me too bad for I am dead too bad, for I am not.
ADAM
What is this? What’s going on here? Who’s here? The whole place is dark. Pulling down the blinds in the middle of the day. These new ideas. Na’im standing there in a corner dressing.
“Daddy don’t do anything to him he isn’t to blame Daddy have mercy on him.” Why’s she yelling at me like that? Dafi’s completely disturbed. I shall have to do something about her. I hardly understand what’s going on here. I’m the one who needs pity, not him. I’ve spent two mad days on the road. I go closer to see if it really is Na’im and what the hell he’s doing here and he tries to slip away or it looks as if he’s trying to, and I catch him by the shirt, the shirt that’s already torn, and he dangles in the air, either he’s very light or I’ve forgotten the strength in my arms that’ve slumbered for so many years, there was a time when I used to lift engines, turn cars over, bend steel pipes and put doors straight.
Now I just hold him for a moment in the air, by the shirt that I haven’t torn, in the dark room, and he’s sure I’m going to strangle him and he shakes all over. I’m shaking too, I’m capable of anything. And Dafi leaps up, throwing off the blanket, getting dressed, quite hysterical. I’ve never seen the girl in such a state, so aggressive. Na’im is silent, I’m silent, only Dafi speaks.
“Leave him alone, he came to say he’s resigning.”
And Na’im, still suspended in the air, repeats after her in a choking voice, “Yes, I’m resigning …”
“Resigning from what?”
“From everything … from working with you.”
I drop him on the floor. This is crazy.
“You’re not moving from here now even if you have resigned, do you hear?”
“I hear …”
“Tell me exactly what’s happened to the old lady. Where is she? I rang and there was no answer.”
He looks at me, very quiet.
“I think she’s already dead.”
“What?”
“Since yesterday she’s been paralyzed. She doesn’t talk, doesn’t answer, doesn’t eat.”
“Then why did you leave her?” I yell, suddenly I feel like stamping on him.
“But he’s resigning …”
Dafi again. I go to silence her once and for all, but she slips away.
Asya is in the doorway, looking in silence at the chaos of the darkened room, the blankets on the floor, the crumpled sheet, Dafi’s clothes. Na’im hurriedly buttons his trousers, puts on his shoes. From the living room comes the sound of the television. Gabriel is attacking civilization. Now we shall lose him again.
“What’s happened?” she asks.
“We’re going down to see the old lady, come on you …”
Gabriel’s sprawled in an armchair, he stares at the little Arab, who stares at him. We leave the house. A drizzly summer evening, the hamsin broken. I have great difficulty starting the Morris, it’s exhausted after the long journey. The battery’s almost dead. I jump out and go to Asya’s car, quickly remove her battery and throw it onto the back seat of the Morris, in case of need. Also, I think, better they shouldn’t follow us there.
Na’im curls up in the seat beside me, scared by the little black car that looks like a coffin. The sight of the tasselled apron, the fringes, the tin can with the severed side curls, the big fur hat and the other ritual objects scattered about the car, all perplex him. He’s careful not to touch them. He wants to say something but before he can open his mouth I say, “Shut up.”
We drive fast to the lower city. The gear box shakes, the engine goes on bubbling and shimmying, the whole thing’s falling apart, but I hurry on, cutting the corners, the sea on our left, the bay all green and red, a strange sick colour.
“What’s this? What’s happened to the sea?”
I’m talking to myself, he looks at the sea, he’s about to say something.
“Be quiet, it doesn’t matter …”
We go up to the old lady’s apartment. A heavy twilight. I’ve forgotten this apartment, so long since I’ve been here. We find her in the armchair in the big room, leaning forwards a bit, dead. The telephone on a little stool beside her. She’s still warm, she died just a few hours ago. I take a sheet that’s lying beside her and spread it on the floor, I say to him, “Come on, we’ll lay her on the floor,” and together we lift her. Newspapers start falling from her, scattering and drifting. Copies of Ma’ariv and Yediot Aharonot sticking to her body, she’s upholstered with newspapers. I’ve never seen such a mass of newspapers. Na’im looks at me, wants to say something, but he’s afraid.
“Well?”
“She loved newspapers …” An evil smile twists his mouth.
I pick up the phone, to pass on the news, but suddenly I change my mind and put the receiver down again. I don’t have the strength now. Let’s give her one night at least.
It’s seven o’clock, still traces of light outside, but in the room it’s dim. Na’im lights himself a cigarette, offers me one, with an adult sort of gesture, I take it, he gives me a light, I look at him, now I begin to realize what’s happened between him and Dafi. I sit in the old lady’s chair, seeking a moment’s rest.
The old lady lies there in front of me in the clear light of evening. Through the open window — the sea, endlessly changing its colours.
“Pack your belongings and bring them here,” I tell him quietly.
He goes to his room and returns with two big cases.
So, he really did mean to leave –
And with property –
We go out, closing the door behind us, leaving the old lady lying on the floor, covered with a sheet, newspapers scattered about her. For a moment it seems there’s a slight movement there, but it’s a newspaper stirring in the breeze. The Morris sinks under the weight of Na’im’s cases. The engine won’t start, but I keep on trying, playing with the accelerator. At last I get a spark and start the engine.
But what to do now?
Where to?
A grey evening in spite of the clear skies, thin smoke covering the town, a hamsin wind. We’re still stationary, the engine running, charging up the almost dead battery. Na’im sits beside me, listening to the engine. What’s he thinking? He’s a stranger really, another world, and I thought he was close to me. No, I’m not angry with him. From his point of view, why not? And anyway, what use are words, I must just get him away from here.
But where to?
“How long has this been going on with you and Dafi?”
I don’t look at him.
“Only today …”
“Did you sleep together?”
He doesn’t know … he thinks so, isn’t sure, doesn’t know … this was the first time in his life … if that’s what they call it … he isn’t sure … he thinks so …
He stammers, his voice shaking, as if he’s about to burst into tears. I remember how he stood and cried outside the bathroom.
He’s become a little lover in the course of the year –