She shuts herself in one of the other rooms, to calm her nerves with total solitude.
The children are still shouting among the ruins.
The sun moves over to the other side of the house, withdrawing its rays of light from the holes in the yellow and blue sky of the curtains.
Later, she comes back. Eyes solemn, hands shaking. She walks up to the man. Stops. Takes a deep breath. Grabs hold of the feeding tube, closes her eyes, and pulls it out of his mouth. Turns around, her eyes still closed. Takes an uncertain step. Sobs “Forgive me, God!” picks up her veil and disappears.
She runs. Through the garden. Down the street…
The sugar-salt solution drips, one drop at a time, from the hanging tube onto the man’s forehead. It flows into the valleys of his wrinkles, then toward the base of his nose, into his eye sockets, across his chapped cheeks, and finally into his thick, bushy moustache.
The sun is setting.
The weapons awakening.
Tonight again they will destroy.
Tonight again they will kill.
Morning.
Rain.
Rain on the city and its rubble.
Rain on the bodies and their wounds.
A few breaths after the last drop of sugar-salt solution, the sound of wet footsteps slaps through the courtyard, and into the passage. The muddy shoes are not removed.
The door to the room creaks open. It’s the woman. She doesn’t dare enter. She observes the man with that strange, wary look in her eyes. Pushes the door a fraction wider. Waits some more. Nothing moves. She takes off her shoes and slips quietly in, remaining on the threshold. She lets her veil fall to the floor. She is shaking. With cold. Or fear. She walks forward, until her feet are touching the mattress on which the man is lying.
The breathing has its usual rhythm.
The mouth is still half-open.
The look is still mocking.
The eyes are still empty, soulless… but today they are wet with tears. She crouches down, terrified. “Are you… are you crying?” She sinks to the ground. But soon realizes that the tears come from the tube; they are sugar-salt tears.
Her throat is dry, her voice deadened. Blank. “But, who are you?” A moment goes by-two breaths. “Why doesn’t God send Ezraeel, to finish you off once and for all?” she asks suddenly. “What does he want from you?” She looks up. “What does he want from me?” Her voice drops. “You would say, He wants to punish you!” She shakes her head. “Don’t kid yourself!” Her voice is clearer now. “Perhaps it’s you he wants to punish! He’s keeping you alive so you can see what I’m capable of doing with you, to you. He is making me into a demon… a demon for you, against you! Yes, I am your demon! In flesh and blood!” She lies down on the mattress to avoid the man’s glassy stare. Lies there a long moment, silent and thoughtful. Traveling far, far back into the past, to the day the demon was born in her.
“After everything I confessed yesterday, you would tell me that I was already a demon as a young child. A demon in my father’s eyes.” Her hand touches the man’s arm tenderly. Strokes it. “But I was never a demon to you, was I?” She shakes her head. “Or maybe I was…” Her silence is full of doubt and uncertainty. “But everything I did was for you… in order to keep you.” Her hand slips onto the man’s chest. “Or actually, to tell you the truth, so that you would keep me. So that you wouldn’t leave me! Yes, that’s why I…” She stops herself. Draws in her knees and curls up on her side, next to the man. “I did everything I could to make you stay with me. Not just because I loved you, but so that you wouldn’t abandon me. Without you, I didn’t have anyone. They would all have sent me packing.” She falls silent. Scratches her head. “I admit that to start with I wasn’t very sure of myself. Wasn’t sure I could love you. I didn’t know how to love a hero. It seemed so out of reach somehow, like a dream. For three years, I had been trying to imagine what you were like… and then one day you came. You slipped into the bed. Climbed on top of me. Rubbed yourself against me… and couldn’t do it! And you didn’t even dare say a word to me. In total darkness, with our hearts beating furiously, our breathing all jerky, our bodies streaming with sweat…” Her eyes are closed. She is far away, far from this motionless body. Drowning in the darkness of that night of desire. Of that hunger. She remains there a moment. Totally silent. Totally still.
Then: “After that, I very quickly became used to you, to your clumsy body, your empty presence, which at that point I didn’t know how to interpret… and gradually, I started to worry when you went away. To keep watch for your return. I used to get in a terrible state when you went away, even for a little while… I felt as if something was missing. Not in the house, but inside of me… I felt empty. So I started to stuff myself with food. And each time, your mother would come over to me, asking impatiently whether I didn’t feel nauseous at all. She thought I was pregnant! When I told other people-my sisters-about this distress, about the state I got into when you were away, they said I was just in love, that was all. But all that didn’t last long. After about five or six months, everything changed. Your mother had decided I was barren, and kept hassling me all the time. And you did, too. But…” Her hand reaches up and swipes through the air above her head, as if to chase away the remaining words bent on attacking her.
A few moments later-five or six breaths-she continues: “And you took up your gun again. Left again for that crazy fratricidal war! You became conceited, arrogant, and violent! Like all your family, except your father. The others despised me, they all did. Your mother was dying to see you take a second wife. I soon realized what was in store for me. My fate. You know nothing… nothing of all I did, so that you would keep me.” She rests her head on the man’s arm. A timid smile, as if to beg for his mercy. “You will forgive me, one day, for all that I’ve done…” Her face closes. “But when I think about it now… if you had known, you would have killed me straightaway!” She leans right over the man and looks at him for a long time, staring into his vacant eyes. Then she rests her cheek tenderly on his chest. “How strange this all is! I’ve never felt as close to you as I do right now. We’ve been married ten years. Ten years! And it’s only these last three weeks that I’m finally sharing something with you.” Her hand strokes the man’s hair. “I can touch you… You never let me touch you, never!” She moves toward the man’s mouth. “I have never kissed you.” She kisses him. “The first time I went to kiss you on the lips, you pushed me away. I wanted it to be like in those Indian films. Perhaps you were scared-is that it?” she asks, looking amused. “Yes. You were scared because you didn’t know how to kiss a girl.” Her lips brush against the bushy beard. “Now I can do anything I want with you!” She lifts her head, to get a better look at her vacant-eyed man. Stares at him a long time, close up. “I can talk to you about anything, without being interrupted, or blamed!” She nuzzles her head into his shoulder. “After I left, yesterday, I was filled with such a strange, indefinable feeling. I felt both sad and relieved, both happy and unhappy.” She stares into the thickness of his beard. “Yes, a strange relief. I couldn’t understand how, as well as feeling upset and horribly guilty, I could also feel relieved, as if a burden had been lifted. I wasn’t sure if it was because of…” She stops. As always, it is difficult to know whether she is blocking out her thoughts, or groping for the right words.