And I tell him about it, the whole story from beginning to end, and he listens with such concern, as if I were his daughter, trying to understand and not understanding. But suddenly I myself don’t understand why I was so obstinate. The whole business seems pointless when I describe it now.
“Why didn’t you say you were sorry?”
“I was crazy.”
And really, why not? A simple apology. That would’ve been that.
And he’s very close to me, he’s got a smell like straw. Smooth swarthy skin. All it needs is a bit of strength. Mustn’t give up now. Suppose I take him and kiss him. What could happen? He’s already resigned, hasn’t he? The main thing is not to lose the conversation. A wave of heat within, this is desire. Let him take me, embrace me, let him be strong. Suddenly I need to piss. Need it badly. “Just a moment,” I say and jump up all at once, the blanket flies off, I run to the bathroom half naked, close the door and sit down, burning inside and pissing noisily, like a cow. What a relief. What’s going to happen? Just so he doesn’t escape. I wash my face, brush my teeth and quietly, barefooted, I go back to him, finding him in the same place, sitting on the bed, thinking hard, only his head’s drooping, lying in the hollow that I left in the crumpled sheet. He doesn’t notice me coming in. He jumps up at once, blushing bright red.
“I must go.”
“Why? Wait for Daddy…”
“But he isn’t coming …”
“He’ll come … eat here, I cooked you a meal once before, was it so bad?”
I’m pleading with him.
He agrees. I put on a dressing gown and go to the kitchen, he goes into the bathroom.
I’m just about to touch her but she gets excited, jumps out of bed, scared, the blanket flies off, she runs out of the room, locks herself in the bathroom. That’s it, Arab. Go, go. Son of man go flee. Never. Say goodbye because in a moment she’ll scream. I’m desperate, I want to stand up but I can’t. The warmth of the bed that she’s left behind. This warmth at least. Here on the sheet there’s a little book — PeerGynt.I don’t know it. I’m fed up with these poems. I put it back. I can’t get up. Looking at the hollow that she’s left in the bed, in the crumpled sheet. Putting my hand there, wanting to kiss it. My prick’s burning, hard as stone, in a moment I’ll be all wet. Just get off and get out of here, that at least. I lay my head down. Must get out of here, before I make a fool of myself. But I’ve made a fool of myself already. Here she is, coming in quietly. She’s combed her hair, she looks new and fresh, her face washed. I jump up, to flee.
“I must go.”
“Why? Wait for Daddy…”
“But he isn’t coming.”
“He’ll come … have something to eat, I cooked you a meal once before, was it that bad?”
She’s desperate but she’s hoping too. She’s really pleading. “O.K.,” I agree, proudly, like I’m doing her a favour. She puts on a dressing gown and goes to the kitchen and I take Peer Gynt and go to the bathroom, a long slow piss, wetting my prick with a bit of water and giving it air and waiting for it to get back to its normal size. Meanwhile I read a bit of Peer Gynt but I don’t understand a thing. I’ve gone really dumb. Looking at the dark face in the mirror, washing my face, pressing toothpaste on my finger and brushing my teeth a bit, combing my hair, putting on a bit of scent. And thinking suddenly, maybe she’s a bit in love with me, why not?
A decadent meal. We ate in the dining room, on a white cloth and with the best china. I lit a candle in the middle of the table like I’ve seen them do in movies. And I cooked farmhouse pea soup and made a big tomato and cucumber salad, well seasoned. And I made a sauce too. And I fried four meat cutlets that were already half prepared, and I opened a tin of pineapple and put ice cream on the pineapple and pieces of chocolate on the ice cream. And then he helped me make the coffee and I brought in some nice biscuits. And he ate the lot and really liked it. And he asked me about Peer Gynt and I told him the plot, as far as we’d got in class.
And she gave me pea soup and salad and sauce and cutlets and fried potatoes and pineapple with ice cream and bits of chocolate. And I helped her to make the coffee and there were some really nice cookies. And it was all very tasty. We sat in the dining room at a table laid out like in movies, with a candle burning in the middle of the day because it was a bit dark with the shutters still closed. And I asked her about the play she was reading and she told me all about it. It was marvellous listening to her and eating the food that she’d cooked. I know I’ll never forget her to the day I die. And then there was a ring at the door and I thought — this is the end, but it wasn’t the end.
And suddenly at the end of the meal there’s a ring at the door. I go to open it and nearly drop dead. Shwartzy, large as life, still with the white bandage on his head, a bit dirty now. Smiling pleasantly, the fox, he wants to push his way inside but I hold the door, so he won’t see Na’im and the table.
“Dafi, are you sick?”
Him as well. If so many people think I’m sick maybe I really am sick.
“No … what’s up?”
“Is your mother at home?”
“No.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s gone to Jerusalem.”
“To Jerusalem? What’s happened?”
“I don’t know. She went early in the morning. Daddy’s there.”
“Oh, I see. They told me at the garage that he was away yesterday and today too. Has something happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“I was just worried. Your mother didn’t come to school today and she didn’t send any message, this has never happened with her before. We tried to phone here and there was no answer. When did you come back?”
“I didn’t come back … I’ve been here all the time … I just left the phone off the hook.”
“Oh …” He smiles at me playfully. “Why? If I may ask …”
You may, you may –
“I just did …”
I’m out of your jurisdiction, mister, out of your power. You insisted on expelling me before the end of the school year. Now you shall pay.
But he’s still trying to get inside, pressing forwards all the time.
“I hope nothing has happened … I was really worried … didn’t she tell you to give me a message?”
“I think there was something, I remember now, it was so early in the morning …”
“What did she say?”
“That she wouldn’t be in school today.”
“Then why didn’t you phone?”
“I forgot.”
Straight to his face.
“You forgot?”
“Yes.”
Out of your jurisdiction, mister, you’re not my headmaster any longer, you can’t do anything more to me.
He doesn’t go. Astonished, red with anger. He waves his cane in the air and puts it down again.
“There’s something wrong with you … something really wrong …”
“I know.” I look at him straight in the eyes.
Silence. Why doesn’t he go? Na’im is in there listening quietly, suddenly he moves a chair.
“But there is somebody in the house.” All at once he comes to life, pushing me out of the way and storming into the house, he bursts into the dining room, sees the table with the remains of the meal, and Na’im standing there all tensed up in the corner.
“Who are you?”
‘I’m Na’im,” he replies like an idiot, as if this is his headmaster.
And Shwartzy catches hold of him, grabs his arm, the same way that he catches hold of children during break, all excited.
“I know you from somewhere … where have we met?”