And suddenly I was afraid he might be angry if he knew he’d been dealing with an Arab.
“From here … from this neighbourhood.”
“And your parents? Where are they from?”
“From Poland,” I replied, without even thinking, because they’d told us in school that all the Zionists came from Poland.
And I still didn’t move, weeping in my heart for the hundred pounds that had gone on just one pair of pyjamas. And still I didn’t touch my pyjamas, which were lying there before me in a bag. At last I said, “But I’ve still got to buy a toothbrush, I need a toothbrush as well, I can’t take such expensive pyjamas.” And then he went through a door into a back room and came back a few seconds later with a toothbrush, which was red and not exactly new. He put it into the bag and said, “There you are, boy, I’ve given you a toothbrush as well, I’ve made a deal with you.” But when he saw I was still rooted there, in a panic over the money I’d lost, he put the bag in my hand, took my arm and led me out into the street, closing the door behind him.
And so I was left without a cent, just with a set of crazy pyjamas wrapped in a plastic bag. Heavy rain started falling. I still had five hours to go till four o’clock and I didn’t even have the money for the bus. I walked up to Carmel and arrived at his house, still with three hours to go before four o’clock. I didn’t want to wait on the stairs so I found a little shelter opposite and sat down there to wait, until somebody came along who didn’t even live there and said, “Move, get out of here.”
So I moved. I circled the streets of the neighbourhood, which was nice even in the rain, and went back and sat under the shelter opposite the house and waited for the time to pass. And again two men came along and said, “What are you doing here? What are you waiting for?” I didn’t answer, just got up and started walking around again. I’ve noticed before that as long as we’re moving, working or walking they don’t take any notice of us, it’s only when we stand still in some place that they start getting suspicious. And so I walked about, very tired and completely wet and even though the sun came out now and then it couldn’t dry me because I was as wet as a rain cloud. And I went back again to my shelter and it was already halfpast two and the children were coming home from school, first the younger ones and then the older ones. And I saw her arriving, the last of all maybe, running along without a raincoat, without galoshes, just in a short coat, soaking wet. I watched her disappear into the house. The sun came out again.
I threw Stars Outside, that Alterman book, into a dustbin, it was like dough it had got so wet. Then his wife arrived. I recognized her right away by her green Fiat 600. Once I’d tightened the brakes and changed the oil for her. And she took out a whole lot of baskets and then stood and fumbled for a long time in the letter box, though I’d already checked it out and I knew there wasn’t any mail for them. Ten minutes later she came out again and drove away and came back with some milk and after half an hour she drove away again and came back with bread.
Slowly the street emptied and there was a strange sort of silence. People were arriving in their cars and disappearing into their houses with baskets, closing the shutters. And I was still sitting there opposite the house waiting for him to come. I was already sick of the whole thing. The door to the balcony was open and the girl came out to look at the sky. I tried to huddle up small so she wouldn’t see me, but she stared down at me like she was trying to remember something. And the rain started again. Her mother shouted something and she went back inside. And now it started raining really hard and I thought I was going to be swept away, off the pavement, down the hill and into the sea that you couldn’t see because of the mist.
Already I was feeling miserable as hell, the rain was getting inside my head, driving me crazy. I was regretting the whole thing now, even love. Sitting alone in the street watching the sealed shutters, it was already after four o’clock and he hadn’t arrived yet and I was afraid I’d be stuck there all night in the street with the pyjamas. Perhaps he’d forgotten me and the job he wanted me for. But at last I heard his American car coming down the hill. Before he’d even had time to turn off the engine I’d opened the door for him. He smiled at me like we’d only just parted, and he asked, “Have you just arrived?” “Just now,” I lied. He said, “Good, come and give me a hand,” and he started unloading flowers and cakes and bread and nuts. Looks like everybody here cooks and eats his own food.
We climbed the steps to his house, he rang the bell and the girl opened the door and he said:
“This is …”
“Na’im,” I said, just moving my lips, The girl looked at me in surprise. And again I was stunned by her beauty. And the woman came out straightaway to meet us and when she saw me she took the flowers and the bread from me and said, “Why didn’t you come in before? Why did you wait outside all the time?” Adam was amazed. “You waited outside? In all this rain? You must be crazy.” I didn’t say anything, just wiping my feet all the time on the brown mat beside the door. And they said, “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, come inside,” but I went on wiping my feet, staring at the floor. In the end Adam took hold of my arm and pushed me into the house like he’d only just realized how wet I was. And I went inside and maybe they were sorry they’d said it didn’t matter because straightaway I made their carpet all dirty with mud. Then I took my shoes off and that made things worse because my socks were wet and torn and my feet were black, there was a black puddle under my feet and wherever I went in the house the puddle went with me. It was only then they began to realize how much water I’d absorbed during the day. And so frozen and trembling before the girl’s stares, I started messing up their nice clean house.
There was nothing to do but shove me into the bathroom. It was the woman who realized the state I was in. She went and filled the bath with hot water and insisted on me getting in. The three of them started fussing around me, fetching towels, shifting the laundry out of the way. The woman was the most friendly, more than him, he was horrified at the dirt I’d brought into the house and maybe he was even sorry he’d asked me to help him with his job.
Before long I was alone, lying there in the hot bath with scented bubbles. In the hot water I slowly warmed up. It was nice lying in the Jews’ bath, in a little room full of coloured towels and all kinds of bottles. I don’t think anybody from the village has ever had a bubble bath like this in a Jewish house. Meanwhile they were looking around for clothes for me in place of the wet things that I’d taken off, but they didn’t find anything because they’d never had a son of my age, only a daughter, and they didn’t want to put me in a dress. In the end the woman, who was standing all the time on the other side of the door talking to me, suggested I put my pyjamas on while my clothes were drying on the radiator. I said, “Fine,” what else could I say, but I was so ashamed I could have drowned myself in the bath and to hell with this night job. I went on lying in the water, washing and scrubbing myself, at last I pulled out the plug and started cleaning the bath that I’d made very dirty. I dried it with a towel and I cleaned the floor as well and I even polished the sink, and I cleaned other things that I hadn’t made dirty but I didn’t know if they’d remember it wasn’t me. Already it was dark and I couldn’t find the light switch and so in the dark I put on the pyjamas, which were really crazy, and I thought of escaping through the window but there wasn’t a proper window there. I was scared to go out and I just sat there quietly in the dark. But they were getting worried about me and Adam opened the door and saw me in my pyjamas and burst out laughing, and the girl came running in to see me and she burst out laughing and the woman started laughing too, even though she came and took me by the hand and led me out of the bathroom. And I tried to laugh too so they wouldn’t be embarrassed because they were laughing but somehow the laughing changed to tears. This was the end. I broke out sobbing. It was awful. It was all the weariness, all the excitement, I cried bitterly, it was years since I’d wept like that, not even when they buried Adnan. I couldn’t stop, like a baby, like an idiot, tears pouring out like the rain was still inside me, weeping and weeping before three strange Jews, before the girl I love who’ll never be my love.