O my love
O my lord
Cherish thou my agony
Lest it be the death of me.
Yehuda Halevi
—Tsvi? Tsvi? Is that you, Tsvi? Tsvi?
—Refa’el. Tsvi?
—Refa’el. It’s me. Tsvi? Open the door a crack.
—Whom did you think it was?
—Nearly two o’clock. I was afraid at first it was your father.
—Nothing. I just thought I’d drop by. Were you really asleep?
—You don’t say! I knocked as lightly as a bird.
—Oh, dear! I’m so sorry. I thought I saw a light.
—There wasn’t a light on in the kitchen? But I saw the kitchen light from the street. I’m absolutely sure I did. It’s been on for at least half an hour. So I came up and knocked. But really lightly, like a bird.
—Are you sure?
—Perhaps your father left it on.
—But how could I be mistaken? It’s weird. Maybe that mouse of yours has been turning the lights on and off. Don’t laugh. Once a mouse got into my aunt in Jerusalem’s electric box and switched the lights on and off each time he ran around.
—Seriously. That’s no joke. They thought the house was haunted until a city repairman caught it. Well, I’ll be on my way. I see you really were sleeping. I’m awfully sorry to have woken you. But how was it you heard me? Are you such a light sleeper? I swear I hardly touched the door, just like a...
—Are you sure?
—Well, only for a minute. Really, only for a minute. I thank you.
—I don’t know what’s happened to me. I couldn’t catch a wink of sleep tonight. I’ve been driving around the streets for the past two hours.
—It beats me.
—Why in the kitchen? Go back to bed and I’ll sit beside you. Get back into bed. I’ll sit by your side and then I’ll go.
—Right. I’ll talk in a whisper. I’m terribly sorry. I’d forgotten all about him.
—Then we’d better sit in the kitchen with the door shut.
—Eh?
—I don’t know.
—What?
—No special reason. I’m just awfully nervous. A total wreck. The bottom’s dropped out of my life. Haven’t I already told you that you’ve made a hash out of me? I’ll live. But believe me, I’ll be a sick man from all this yet.
—No...
—Yes.
—Yes.
—Maybe.
—That too.
—You’re right. Of course you are. Just try not to mind me. I’ll live.
—Tea? No, don’t trouble yourself. Go back to bed. You’re still half asleep. I’ll be on my way...
—Are you sure?
—You really do feel like it?
—Only if you do too. I’ve noticed that you have a thing for tea in the middle of the night. You’re always looking for a chance to drink it. Maybe it’s come down to you from your ancestors in Russia who sat around the samovar.
—What? Yes. With us tea is like medicine. It’s something to drink when you’re sick.
—No, no, tea will be fine. By all means, tea. Tea suits me perfectly now.
—No, no. Honestly. Just tea. I’m as good as sick already.
—Any way that you like it. It doesn’t matter to me. You’re so kind. It pains me to have woken you. I never would have come if I had known you were sleeping. You shouldn’t have let me in. That light misled me.
—No ... never mind ... I’m angry at myself. Lately I’m angry at myself all the time.
—Thank you. Thank you so much. You know, it’s strange to see you without your glasses. I didn’t know you could manage without them.
—No, just a bit different. I have to get used to it. Now I understand your eyes better. I mean I see them. I understand them perfectly. Are those new pajamas?
—Very becoming. Soft. Very becoming. Where did you get them?
—Yes. They have lovely things there. Very becoming.
—How much?
—That isn’t so bad. They’re very becoming. Very handsome on you. So tell me first how your day was. When did he arrive? I phoned three times tonight but got no answer.
—What restaurant?
—Right. How is he? Have there been any new developments? Tell me.
—Just what you suggested to her...
—And what did he decide?
—In what way?
—Then...
—Congratulations! On Sunday ... that’s the day of the seder ...
—Are you sure you won’t want to be there? I can drive you.
—Never mind, I’ll manage...
—How can you talk about them like that? You slay me ... how can you possibly...?
—Their story fascinates me. Not just on your account. I can’t get over her face. She made a great impression on me. A noble woman. I was very touched by her.
—Really? I’m glad to hear that. Tell me, do you think I could peek in on him for a second?
—Your father. I’m terribly curious.
—Just for a second.
—In your room? Why?
—Right. Of course. It was his bed. That was thoughtful of you. Just for a second. I won’t make a sound.
—Of course, in the dark...
—Just a wee bit of light...
—He looks like you. Why, he looks just like you. It’s astonishing. He’s a handsome old man.
—The spitting image of you. As though I were looking at you twenty or thirty years from now, when I’m already in the grave...
—No, no, he’s a perfect likeness of you. It’s amazing. The little one looks like him too.
—Your brother.
—Really amazing!
—Me? Terrible. Can’t you see for yourself?
—I don’t know. Can’t you see? I’m a complete wreck. This is the third time this week that I haven’t caught any sleep.
—I don’t believe in them. Instead of helping me, they hype me up more. Six hours later they begin to take effect, just when I’m sitting down to the morning conference with Bleicher. Just when we’re trying to size up the trends and I need to be at my sharpest. A mistake then can cost the bank millions.
—At nine o’clock.
—Every morning. With today’s inflation it should be three times a day.
—That’s for sure. And who says a man needs to get seven hours of sleep? Maybe three are enough. Meanwhile I’m getting to know the city by night. There’s a lot going on in it. Tel Aviv’s become a real metropolis. And now that it’s spring and the air is so mild, it’s a pleasure to be out. I went to Sami’s first. I thought I might find you there, even though I reckoned that you’d be staying in with your father. He wanted me to hang around but what with all the young punks and the music and those whores of his—you wouldn’t believe all the whores—I decided that it wasn’t for me. So I stepped into Ma’ariv.
—Ma’ariv, the newspaper. They have a teleprinter there, we get the closing Wall Street averages over it.
—Right. It’s a direct line. We get them first thing in the morning. This way I could already start planning for tomorrow. What?
—Of course ... it’s already today ... I’m in a total fog.
—Does it interest you now? I see you’re really into the market.
—Of course. That’s the only way.
—What do I think? You want to know now?
—Why should I mind? I think that the dollar is in trouble and is about to take a bad beating. We’ve been talking about it at the bank for several days now. The way I read the figures coming over the ticker from New York tonight, it could happen anytime.
—A sharp drop.
—More than that. Much more.
—Anything can happen. It’s a crazy world. In case you haven’t noticed, money is psychology these days.
—What we’re planning to do tomorrow is unload a lot of the D series, which is linked sixty percent to the dollar, and buy a large mix of marks, francs and yen. We’ll do it even if it knocks the bottom out of IDC, which is the bank’s largest money fund. Do you get it?
—Why not? As the dollar drops, so will IDC. Then we’ll buy it back at a lower price. Not all at once, of course. We’ll spread it over a week or two. That will bring Option 8 back up, which is linked to IDC. It’s sort of its weak kid sister.
—The investors? They won’t lose. They simply won’t make the profit that they’re used to.
—Yes. We’ve been thinking about it for a few days now. But this morning we’ll have to decide on the exact amounts. That depends on how we feel about the dollar, and tonight I’ve come away feeling strongly. Bleicher is looking for a big killing, he’s prepared to go all the way. Your water is boiling...
—I’d say up to thirty points. The same thing happened in 77, only now it’s more dangerous, because it could ruin the stock’s credibility and send the market into a nose dive.
—Exactly. Because it’s hooked into so many other stocks and bonds, it’s a key to the whole market. But he doesn’t give a damn.
—Bleicher? Yes. He likes to shake the market up. And the management gives him a free hand. He’s one crazy German Jew, always looking for the biggest opening to put his money in. As soon as be finds it he goes in with all he’s got, even with closed accounts that he has no business touching. He’s perfectly willing to go for broke. Oh, he’s a big, dangerous son of a bitch.
—Not always. And if he didn’t have us three Sephardim, Atias, me and Ronen (whose name used to be Mizrachi, by the way), to keep an eye on him, he’d land us all in big trouble.
—One spoon.
—Yes. Mizrachi. Did you really think he was born Ronen?
—A pure Iraqi. I’m surprised you didn’t sense it. When did you meet him?
—What did he want from you?
—And you didn’t pick up on it? It’s so obvious. A pure-blooded Iraqi, you’d better watch out for him. I’m surprised at you...
—Yes. Terribly nervous, can’t you feel it? I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Maybe it has to do with the theater...
—Yes. The theater. We went to see a play tonight. Uncle Vanya, you may have heard of it. At the Tel Aviv Chamber Theater.
—Yes. Shekhov.
—How?
—Right. Chekhov. I beg your pardon. It’s the first time I’d heard of him. I suppose you must know all about him. I have the playbill at home with his picture and all.
—Yes.
—It was just one of those things. A few days ago the bank offered us tickets at three hundred pounds apiece. What’s three hundred pounds nowadays? The sugar and the water in this glass of tea cost more. But our executive organization is terrific at getting discounts.
—Exactly. Maybe because we work for a bank. They want to bribe us, that’s the only sense I can make of the bargains we get. The other day, I swear, we had an offer of some big two-door refrigerators for less than the wholesale price.
—It’s a shame I didn’t know.
—It’s a shame I didn’t know.
—You should always tell me what you need.
—It really is old and noisy. I’ll check if the offer is still on.
—It’s a shame I didn’t know. It’s the same with the theater tickets, you see, and I usually pass them right on to the secretaries. But this time there was no one to take them because of the holiday. My daughters are away too, so I said to her let’s go see it, it’s been maybe ten years since we saw a play.
—No. I don’t know. I’m not saying that they’re no good, it’s just that I don’t care for all those productions about Hasidim and fiddlers on the roof. I don’t have any patience for them. And she prefers films anyway, especially French ones. Now and then we go see some comic routine, light things like that. I don’t have the nerves for real theater. I always feel embarrassed for the actors, for the crazy kinds of things they’re made to say. Don’t forget, we’re a different generation.
—You know.
—A different generation. It’s a fact.
—Don’t laugh at me, okay?
—I’ve already told you but you’ve forgotten. I wouldn’t hide it from you. I told you long ago. I’m going on fifty-six soon after Passover.
—Thank you. But that’s the truth. There’s nothing to be done about it.
—Because I’m thin and light.
—So I was telling you ... I said to her come on, let’s go and see it, what’s there to lose, if we don’t like it we’ll walk out in the middle, we won’t be chained to our seats, why stay home all night eating your heart out over something that God alone is responsible for. Are you listening?
—So she agreed right away and we went.
—Yes. Tonight. A few hours ago. And it was first-rate. I mean the performance. A real surprise. At first I didn’t know what it was driving at, all those Russian names kept confusing me too. But we were right near the stage, fourth row center, and we saw everything the actors did close up—each time they laughed or cried or even breathed. You could hear every word. At first I thought that something special was going to happen. It took me a while to realize that it was happening already. I mean that the whole point was that it mattered to those people in the play ... how should I put it ... You say it’s Chekhov?
—Anton Chekhov. I’ll try to remember. But who was he?
—That’s all? It sounds so simple.
—No. I never heard of him. It isn’t my fault. All we ever learned about in school was that poet who saw God ... you know, in a pond of water...
—Bialik. Right. And a few others like him, that was all. Don’t forget, my dear, that my father pulled me out of school in the tenth grade and put me to work. It was during the World War. Remember, we’re a different generation. Did you learn about Chekhov in school? I’ll buy the book tomorrow—now that I’ve seen the play, I won’t have any trouble reading it. It’s something you should see too. I’ll take you myself if it doesn’t close before the end of the holiday. There wasn’t much of an audience tonight, maybe that’s why they sold us the tickets so cheaply. After your father has gone. You’ll see it for yourself. A really good, natural performance. The main thing was how natural and quiet it was, without any shouting. The actors seemed so real. I have their names at home on the playbill. I must take you to see it. But you’re laughing at me...
—No. She took it hard too. Already in the intermission I noticed how pale she was. And afterwards in the dark I saw tears on her face. I put my hand out to calm her but she didn’t even feel it. And then I started shaking myself. I don’t know what it was about it that grabbed me like that. I thought about you too. About us. About the whole desperate situation...
—What?
—No. You don’t understand. That woman, Helena, Yelena, don’t you remember how Uncle Vanya was hopelessly in love with her?
—You’ve forgotten. I’ll take you to see it. Then you’ll understand.
—Right. That’s just it.
—Believe me, I’ve been on the verge of tears for days. Even in the bank I feel a lump in my throat as soon as I’m alone in my office.... Whenever I think of it, all the desperation of it, all the joy of it, overwhelm me. That’s why I say I’m such a wreck. The bottom has dropped out of my life. It has no boundaries anymore. You take it all so easily. It’s natural for you but you don’t understand what you’ve done to me. Are you still listening?
—No. I’m beginning to bore you. Your eyes are closing. I can see how tired you are. I’ll go now. I’m wide awake.
—No. Never mind. And she has only the desperation, the poor thing. For her this whole business has been ... and I understand her so well ... I keep telling myself that if it were the other way around, I’d go out of my mind. But why did that play affect us like that? Maybe we were ready to be shaken up and it just happened to be Uncle Vanya that did it. Or maybe it was something else. When the lights came on at curtain time I saw that she was really crying. And it went on and on, she got more and more carried away. I couldn’t even bring myself to applaud. We just sat there staring at the floor, waiting for the people around us to get up and leave. And she went right on crying. Are you listening? She cried all the way to the car, and she cried in it too, quietly, as if once she’d started she wasn’t going to stop. There wasn’t a sign of a letup. And I knew that it was because of me, not the play. All because of me. The same woman who’s hardly spoken a word to me since ... What?
—About us ... that we...
—What?
—No.
—Yes.
—No.
—Maybe. But she couldn’t stop crying. She was like in a whirlpool of tears. And I decided not to try to make her. I thought it might be good for her to get out what was choking her inside. She’s usually a very quiet woman. She has this inner pride.
—It’s easy for you to talk. But to stand there and watch her cry ... and I couldn’t even let myself touch her, she’s been very sensitive to that since she found out. Not even to comfort her. To have to watch her cry like that ... But I didn’t say a thing. I didn’t want to quarrel, even though I knew it was all because of me. I’d sworn to myself never to fight with her—she’s suffering enough as it is. So I brought her home and turned on the TV, I thought it might get the misery out of her system. Right away, though, she walked out of the room. I said I’ll never bring home any more theater tickets, to add one extra drop of sorrow to your life is the last thing I want to do. She didn’t answer. By then she’d stopped crying but she’d stopped talking too. And the girls weren’t there to break the ice between us the way they do when they’re home. She hasn’t said a word about it to them because she doesn’t want them to be revolted by me. Those were her words.
—Revolted by me ... she thinks I’ll revolt them...
—What more can I do? I’ve already told her that I’ll never leave her. Do you hear me? I want you to know that too.
—I’m glad of that.
—I said, how can I be blamed for what happened to me? It’s my fate. Did I ask for it? If it had been a woman, you couldn’t be more right. You can even tell me that you’d rather it was one. That you’d have wanted it to be.
—She didn’t say anything. Her father was the son of a famous rabbi in Jerusalem. Her fear goes back to that. But I’ll take the sin on myself, I told her. I’ll pay for it in hell, me and no one else. It’s my responsibility.
—I know you don’t believe in all that. But I can’t take any chances at my age.
—Don’t start up with me now, Tsvi. Anything is possible. I’m a wreck. What I wanted to say to her was, a minute with him is worth a thousand years in hell to me, but I didn’t. What I said was, it’s God who’s punishing me. I might have gotten sick. Would you have liked cancer better? It’s a deep thing. It came from way down within me, what could I do about it? So then she said to me in this quiet voice—are you listening?—she said, I wish to God it had been cancer. Did you hear that?
—Exactly. That’s how desperate she feels.
—I wish to God it had been cancer. That’s what she said.
—What?
—Right. I said to her, you’re talking like a child now. This is something I may get over, but cancer I never would. I may get over it, I said, it can go away just like it came. So she said, are you crazy? It never will go away. All right, I said, suppose that I’m crazy? You can see that I kept my calm. Suppose I’ve gone a little crazy, I said, nowadays even crazy people get some consideration. Give me time. Maybe I’ll get over it. I feel that I will. That’s what I told her, although it isn’t what I feel at all—if anything, it keeps getting stronger. Only that I’m telling you, not her. And then she told me that she’s following us. What do you say about that?
—Not by herself. She doesn’t have the nerve for that. She hired a detective. Just imagine a shy, refined woman like her walking into a private investigator’s office and hiring a detective to tail us and take pictures. Have you noticed anything?
—Neither have I. But he followed us all the way to your mother. Just imagine. You didn’t notice anything?
—You’re laughing. Everything is a joke to you. But I was in shock. Mostly at her. That’s what sheer misery will do to a person. Do you know that he photographed you in the street?
—What can I do? She’s like a little girl. She tells me she knows everything. And she really does know all sorts of things that even I don’t. About your father and your mother, and the names of your sister and her husband in Haifa, and your brother and his wife and her parents in Jerusalem, and all their addresses and telephone numbers. She sat reading it all out to me from a piece of paper to prove God only knows what. But I kept my temper. I said to her, you see, you know everything. If you had asked me I would have told you myself, because there’s nothing I’m hiding from you. It’s all out in the open. If it were a woman, I said, I might have tried to cheat on you, to do it behind your back. You don’t know what some men are capable of. But since it isn’t, I can be honest. Because it’s not against you, and so it needn’t affect you or the tie between us. I don’t feel that I’m betraying you or what you are to me. It’s not adultery, it’s something else. You see the line I took with her. Very special, very logical, but also very true. What do you think of it?
—Exactly.
—Exactly.
—Right. That’s just what I thought.
—Yes.
—And without a fuss. That’s what I said to her. I’m being honest with you, why must you drag us all through the mud with detectives? It’s your good name too. And it’s a shame to waste all that money. Not that it concerns me, but you’d do better to buy yourself some new jewelry or a dress with it, and let me tell you whatever you want to know. Are you listening?
—No. Never mind. I have to tell you. So she said she wanted to know what you and I did and how we did it. Did you hear me? That’s how desperate she is. I said what do you want to know for, the less you know, the less bad you’ll feel. It’s thinking about it that’s hardest for you ... you see, she thought I put it into you ... but the reality is very human, like most things. Because whenever a person gives anything all his pain and emotion, it becomes very human. Do you get the line I took with her? You’re tired...
—I’ll be through in a minute.
—No. In a minute. I have to finish the story. The most famous people, I said to her, all kinds of celebrities, have been through this. I even mentioned a few names I had prepared for her.
—Do you think I remember? Aristotle, for example.
—Aristotle wasn’t?
—Socrates? I never heard of him. I’m weak on names. I looked them up in the encyclopedia. I was sure it said Aristotle. Are you certain?
—Never mind. I just wanted to give her a few examples to cheer her up. You don’t understand what this means to her. I might as well be a murderer. Her whole world has caved in. So has mine. But she’s simply being destroyed while with me something new is being born.
—Fifty? She’ll never see fifty again.
—No. The rest doesn’t matter. She started to swear at me terribly. That’s something she never dared do before. She’s always been a quiet, refined woman, she’s always borne herself with dignity even though she has no education—her parents never gave her any. She swore a blue streak and started to cry again.
—I didn’t answer back, of course. She said she’d tell her brothers. She has two of them. One is in some high legal position.
—The name doesn’t matter.
—What do you need to know it for?
—Some other time. You already know too much.
—No, some other time. Don’t make an issue of it now. Please, do me that favor.
—I know, but not now.
—No. Nothing. There’s nothing they can do. But I don’t want them to know, because from them it will get to the whole family, and worst of all, to the girls. We’ll destroy them. Give me time, I said to her, give us both enough time to catch our breaths. Then we’ll see. But you must be exhausted. Get back into bed, I’ll sit by your side.... What?
—It really interests you?
—It must seem like a joke to you. What can I do? Have a good laugh at my expense, my dear.
—No. Go ahead and laugh. Why shouldn’t you. We deserve to be laughed at. We’re another generation, a world you never knew. How old is your father?
—Going on sixty-five? Well, I’m not far from him then. And where did we ourselves come from? If my own father were alive now, he would want to bury himself. You’ll be the death of us all.
—No, don’t be angry. I didn’t mean you personally. It’s just that ... even if it’s true that ... that I had it in me all the time ... if I hadn’t met you it would never have gone beyond a vague longing for something that I didn’t even know I was longing for. But that there could be such a passion for ... that there could be this way of doing it too ... that it was even possible and not just something in dirty jokes ... and then all of a sudden ... all of a sudden ... What?
—No ... all of a sudden ... all of a sudden ... do you hear me?...all of a sudden she wanted me to make love to her, not because she wanted it but to test me ... What?
—Exactly. A provocation.
—Exactly. What?
—No. How could I? You must be joking. I said to her, I promise you tomorrow. I didn’t want to insult her, because it’s a terrible blow to the pride. And I haven’t ... done it with her ... for several months now ... and even then it was torture too. I began to be afraid that I might think that ... even ... oh ... that her breasts ... it really frightened me. So I said, I’ll be glad to tomorrow, but tonight I’m not up to it, the theater and all your crying and our quarreling have just knocked me out. Tomorrow I’ll do my best. I tried to be gentle, because I’m sure she didn’t want to either, I just didn’t want her to feel rejected. And suddenly she believed me and didn’t say another word. I helped her into bed and hugged her. It was like she had used up all her strength and had none left, the way she fell right asleep. And then I looked in her drawer and found a photograph ... one taken by the detective...
—Just a minute ... Here it is...
—You didn’t notice anything? What disgusting professions there are in this world!
—I think it must be Allenby Street. Here’s that store near the branch of Bank Ha-Poalim ... Do you see it?
—Yes. Absolutely. But whose arm are you holding there? Who is that man? Do I know him?
—Who?
—It’s the first I’ve heard of him. Who is he? Look how he’s clinging to you!
—No. Not especially. It just seems strange to me, to see him holding on to you like that in the middle of the street.
—No. I mean in the street. It’s just that ... how long have you known him? Does he have a family?
—No. I meant a wife ... children ... you never mentioned him to me. I was wondering who he was. Do you see much of him? Where does he work?
—Not especially. But it makes me clutch a bit. I don’t know why. Just some damn silliness. Suddenly to see a new face with you in a picture. I must be awfully on edge.
—I don’t want anything from you. It’s just that suddenly I ... you know ... I feel jealous ... I just do. Please forgive me, Tsvi ... my dearest ... my love ... I know it’s ridiculous ... but I couldn’t fall asleep ... suddenly I felt afraid of you...
—No ... yes ... afraid ... don’t laugh...
—No. But to do nothing but think about you all day long goes against all my beliefs ... and yet I can’t help it ... you have a kind of power ... sometimes it’s diabolic...
—No ... I beg your pardon ... no ... please try to understand ... I beg your pardon. And then there’s the money that I’m giving you. It frightens me too...
—I didn’t even mention it until now, did I?
—No, but did I? Tell me.
—On the contrary. What frightens me is how much I wanted to let you have it.
—What kind of a loan? Tsvi, my dear, you know you’ll never return it.
—No. Deep down I know you won’t.
—Fine, so you will. It doesn’t matter...
—You will, never mind ... it’s not that. I’m just asking you to be careful with me. I’ve fallen into such a bottomless pit ... and I don’t know if it isn’t too much for me. This whole country is too much for me. Just don’t destroy me ... No ... Don’t make me want you too much ... it’s too dangerous. Let me go at my own pace. I can’t afford to be enslaved to you. I have a home ... children ... responsibility ... and you’re an old hand at all this...
—No. Of course it’s not your fault. But I feel you’re an old hand ... you may be young, but you’re very experienced...
—No. Forgive me ... it’s just that, I’m telling you ... that the boundaries ... and I’m a child next to your experience ... the boundaries are all gone ... it’s like a wall has fallen inside me ... there aren’t any rules anymore. And I’m afraid to ask too much, because the more I’ll know, the more frightened I’ll become. Who would have thought a few months ago that I could be jealous of you? I thought it was just some sexual adventure ... a little bit of action ... but it’s already gone far beyond that. If it hadn’t, everything would be all right now ... but I fell for you ... and now I want you locked up in a room...
—I swear I don’t know. I’m attracted to your whole family by now. I was very pleased that you took me to see your mother in the hospital. It touched me that you weren’t ashamed to let me see her or the two of you together. Your whole story ... you know, your father intrigues me too ... what’s happening to me? Have I fallen in love with you? Can that be? Tell me, you know better than I do. I know I’m not your first ... maybe you even have a few other Refa’el Calderons in a few other banks ... can that be? You’re killing me. What do you want from me? Is it just the money? Tell me. You can’t just say nothing now. And don’t smile...
—No. Inside you. I feel that you’re laughing at me all the time there.
—It’s crazy for me to be talking like this. And it’s almost morning.
—Right.
—But how did you spot me? Flow did you know? You only saw me once or twice in the bank, and you already knew that I had it in me. And then when we went out for lunch you put your hand on my pants with such assurance. How did you know? I’ve already asked you that, but you’ve never really given me an answer.
—No, no, I won’t bring that up again.
—Yes. I beg your pardon. I’ve gone too far.
—Fine.
—All right. All right.
—I won’t say another word.
—No.
—Right.
—Maybe.
—No.
—Yes. You see, what I’ve told you about the bank verges on a criminal offense. If they found out about it they’d bust me right away to some small branch—and they’d be right. Bleicher is always warning us about leaks ... what counts most in all these transactions is the element of surprise ... because as soon as the word gets out, you’ve lost your whole edge. That’s why he’s lucky to be surrounded by us Sephardim. He knows we can be trusted to keep our mouths shut.
—No. No, I’m not prejudiced ... wait a minute ... you misunderstood me...
—No. He said that himself. That ... that...
—No. But it’s an attitude. He’s right. If he knew that I had relations with you ... that I could be blackmailed...
—No, try to understand...
—No, please try to understand...
—No. I didn’t mean that. Forgive me.
—No. Forgive me, my dearest ... my darling...
—You keep telling me that and I hear every word and I believe you. I want to believe you. But you have to understand. Even if I don’t say anything, I’m watching you just like my wife is.
—One minute ... one minute ... listen to me, my dear ... it’s not as though you had a real job...
—No ... one minute ... oh God ... what really is that investment company of yours? It’s nothing. I’ve looked into it...
—One minute ... I’m begging you to listen to me. I’m falling off my feet. Go ahead and reassure me if you can. Go right ahead...
—That doesn’t matter. But you have no capital. And who is this Gilat character that you work for? A bank joke. A man who juggles a few stocks here and there to create an optical illusion. Not that I mind, but...
—Hold on a minute. Listen to me.
—I know all that. I know. But believe me, I’m a specialist in these things. I know all about them. And I’ve seen more than one of these little investment companies come and go like flies. There’s no future in them.
—I didn’t say criminal. I said no future, which comes close to criminality. Not that it’s any of my business. It’s just that I keep asking myself ... it worries me sick that maybe you took up with me ... that it’s all ... because otherwise why should you ... with an old, worn-out man like me ... I even have wrinkles...
—No ... just a minute ... but maybe you’re trying to milk me for...
—Inside information. Hold on. Just tell me. I don’t care. I never said I wouldn’t give it to you. Just tell me if that’s what you’re after. I don’t care. I’ll tell you everything, whatever you ask for...
—No. I beg your pardon. Just a minute...
—Yes, shhh ... excuse me, I’ll lower my voice ... but what do you need all that for? I can get you a good job in one of our branches. You wouldn’t start with a high salary, but you’d be well placed and I’d see to it that you were promoted. I’d take terrific care of you from high up. Stick with me and I’ll look after you like my own son ... because that’s how I feel about you ... as though you were ... you’re the right age, after all ... but there I go again...
—Yes. I’m going right away.
—No. I’m going. I’ve already ruined your night. My dearest ... my love ... my desire ... oh God, look how I’m ranting at the mouth. I don’t know what’s happening to me, running around like this in the middle of the night—me, who used to be in bed at nine-thirty, after the evening news, and in my pajamas by eight. I can’t go on like this. I beg your pardon, I swore I’d never cry in front of you and here I am doing it again ... I’m on the verge of tears all the time ... Hold it, don’t move!
—Don’t move! He’s really there.
—I just saw him!
—The mouse ha ha ha.
—Yes. He ran behind you, by the stove. I swear he stopped to look at us. You were right.
—Hold it, don’t move! Don’t frighten him. By God, he’s a big one. Maybe it’s a rat. Or a very old mouse. He was looking at me...
—He’s in the stove, or behind it, ha ha ha.
—Why do I find it so funny...?
—You thought he was in the closet. But they like stoves.
—I guess the heat doesn’t bother them.
—You need a trap and a piece of cheese.
—Leave it to me.
—Me too. But it’s the killing that I mind, not the catching. I’ll come to spend a night here and catch him for you. It’s a real mouse ha ha...
—A really big one. I don’t know why it makes me laugh. Ha ha ha ha. A mouse...
—Yes, shhh ... I’ll be going now. What would you say before that though to a little ... it would suit my desperate mood splendidly ... I could really go for it now ... we’ll make it quick and quiet...
—Your father? Yes ... but...
—I understand.
—Quietly ... it would just take a minute or two...
—I understand. But suppose we closed the door. He’s fast asleep.
—No. I understand. All right.
—I could do it by myself. If you’d just let me do it by myself ... you can even fall asleep beside me. All I need is your hand...
—It won’t take me long. I’ll be quiet. I need it so badly now ... What?
—You just have to let me lie next to you. I only need to see you ... even in your pajamas ... you needn’t undress ... you won’t even feel me ... I’ll be like a bird. This whole night has given me the most awful passion ... I have it so bad ... I feel all shook up by it. What a terrible age to be! It’s like you’re feeling the beginning of the end. There’s an impatience with things ... I can understand your father so well. And it’s not just physical. It’s an actual psychological need ... what do you say?
—I don’t want to pressure you.
—Never mind. You’re killing me. You’ll kill me in the end, but never mind. In the end I’ll come down with some terrible illness ... I can feel it in my bones ... or else I’ll end up like your mother...
—All right. All right. You’ve been putting me off for a week now. And afterwards you’ll be tied up with your father.
—I’ll live. I just thought...
—It’s been at her brother’s house for the last thirty years. The whole family gets together. I’m petrified that they’ll guess right away that something is wrong. I can see already that it’s going to be a very hard seder for me. And I’ll have to sing too. It gets longer and longer every year, because her brother keeps getting more religious. Well, never mind...
—Right.
—Yes...
—Never mind.
—I’ve been one my whole life, haven’t I?
—My whole life ... never mind...
—No. I mean that I’ve been a good fellow all my life. I’ve been a decent husband, a wonderful father, a devoted uncle, a conscientious member of the clan—and now that I want a small time-out for myself, everyone is furious with me. Tsvi? You’re asleep...
—Yes, you are.
—It’s almost three. Get into bed. I’ll take a rain check. I’ll just stay on a while longer with that ha ha ha mouse of yours. Maybe I’ll discover where his hole is. It looks like he’s moved in with you. Get into bed, tum out the light ... I’ll sit by myself in the dark...
—What?
—At the bank. Why do you ask?
—Phone me at the bank. And if you want those shares, just let me know. I’ll take out an option for you.
—Fine. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I mean today. Don’t forget that it’s Friday. I quit work at one.
—When?
—You want me to wait for you downstairs? I know where it is.
—No problem.
—Let’s leave it open. I’m dying to know what you do with him. What you talk about. Is it ever about me?
—I understand. Do you think he could see me sometime too?
—All right. It’s something to think about. Try to find out.
—All day?
—When is he going back?
—No. To America.
—Shhh. How can you talk like that?
—Don’t expect me to believe you.
—What???
—How can you talk like that? Just the thought of it! If words could kill, there wouldn’t be a living soul left in this world. You’re groggy. Go to bed. I won’t be working on the day of the seder. If you’d like, I can drive you up north.
—That morning.
—Think it over. I’ll be glad to do it.
—All right. Now go to sleep. We’ll at least be in touch by phone. Thank you for having sat up with me. For being so patient. You’re so good to me. I swear, I knocked just like a little bird and you woke up right away...
—Go to sleep. You have some hard days ahead of you.
—Never mind, turn out the light. I have the key. I’ll lock up when I go. Don’t you remember giving it to me a month ago?
—I know I returned it. But I made myself a duplicate.
—In case you might be sick or something and couldn’t get out of bed.
—Let me keep it. It makes me feel better about you. I’ll never let myself in when you’re not here. You can have it back whenever you want.
—Yes.
—No.
—Maybe.
—Fine.
—Don’t worry. I won’t touch you. Maybe sitting here and thinking will calm me down. I’ve become like a child again. I’m having a second childhood...
—Good night, my dear. Until tomorrow. Just let me give you one hug ... one kiss...
—It’s not Tsvi, Mr. Kaminka, but it’s all right.
—It’s all right, Mr. Kaminka. I’m a friend of his. Tsvi knows that I’m here.
—He’s asleep now, but it’s all right. We were just having a chat.
—No. Who’s Yosef? I’m Refa’el Calderon. He’s never mentioned me? We do business together.
—No. I work in a bank.
—I was just passing by and dropped in to chat.
—Refa’el Calderon. I dropped by to help him with something ... with a mouse...
—No, don’t be alarmed. There’s a mouse here ha ha ha. We just saw him a few minutes ago. Tsvi’s known about him for several days, but wasn’t sure where he was hiding. So I told him the best thing was to wait for him at night, in the dark. He’s a little squeamish, and I don’t mind such things. I grew up in the old Jewish quarter of Jerusalem—we were used to mice there...
—Yes, a real mouse. It’s nothing to be scared of. If you ask me, it’s an old one that may have been living here for a long time. It’s odd, though, how it should have managed to get up here ... because you’re on the third floor...
—Ah, the dog we saw there. I remember him.
—In the hospital.
—I drove Tsvi up there on Tuesday.
—Calderon. Refa’el Calderon.
—No. I didn’t take part in their conversation. I was standing off to one side. It was then that I noticed the dog. A big fat one with a tawny coat.
—Yes. Exactly. I thought it was some hospital dog that she had gotten friendly with.
—It lived here? Then you couldn’t have had a mouse. A dog would have gotten it.
—Of course. How long has this apartment been yours, if I may be so free as...
—Well now, that’s quite a while. But please, don’t let me bother you. It’s very late, and there’s nothing to catch a mouse with now anyway.
—Nearly three o’clock.... How’s that?
—Your wife? In what way?
—No. I was off to the side and didn’t hear anything. I know nothing about it ... What’s that?
—Yes. Tsvi had spoken of it vaguely ... you’ve come to separate.
—Begging your pardon?
—Yes. To get divorced. Something of the sort. I didn’t really discuss it with him. I just drove him up there because the public transportation is so poor.
—In what way?
—I didn’t notice anything. She talked sensibly enough. In fact, at first I didn’t even know where I was taking Tsvi. I thought it was to some home for the elderly or something ... I don’t know the northern part of the country at all...
—Yes. Yes. In the end I realized that it was no home for the elderly.
—From a Jerusalem family. Third generation.
—Exactly. A thoroughbred Sephardi, you might say.
—She is? You don’t say. You don’t say.
—Half of one? On her mother’s side? How didn’t I sense it? I always do. I never would have thought ... she doesn’t look it in the least ... you don’t say!
—Abrabanel. Of course. It’s a well-known family.
—From Safed? But there was a branch of them in Jerusalem too. How curious. Tsvi never said a word about it. That explains to me something about myself. So Tsvi is also part ... very interesting! Most agreeable.
—Begging your pardon? No, I just...
—The way I talk? In what way?
—I never noticed.
—That’s odd. My girls also tell me that I sometimes talk strangely.
—Hebrew too. But not exclusively. I had one grandmother who spoke only Ladino.
—Just Hebrew. There are two girls.
—They’re grown up already. I don’t know why I keep calling them girls.
—Going on twenty-three. They’re twins. Beautiful, fair-skinned girls, you’d never know that they came from a Middle Eastern family. Almost blond...
—I’m sorry to say that I was never blessed with a son...
—Begging your pardon?
—A Sephardi expression? I didn’t know there was such a thing. I thought we all spoke the same Hebrew.
—In what way? I never noticed.
—Yes. We were always careful with our diction.
—A mixture? You may be right.
—I’ve never paid it much attention. Whatever comes to mind. One takes one’s words where one finds them. You’re right. Everything today is all mixed up. We live in a mixed-up age...
—Now that you mention it. I never thought of it before.
—Mostly newspapers. I have no time for books. Tsvi told me that your field is Hebrew language and style. That explains your ear for it.
—In the investment department of Barclay’s Bank. It’s an affiliate of the Israel Discount Bank. But I’m truly sorry for keeping you up. Very truly. Tsvi told me how tired out you were by the flight from America. I remember how he called his sister in Haifa several times on Sunday and kept being told that you were still asleep.
—For me it’s a lost night anyway. I couldn’t get any sleep. The later it gets, the more awake I become. But why should you have to stay up because of me...
—Yes. It’s a hot night. It’s suddenly gotten very hot, almost summery. To think that it rained just last night!
—Tea? Surely. I’ll put up some water.
—Yes, yes. I know my way around this kitchen. I already said to Tsvi tonight, you Russians like your tea in the middle of the night. We only drink it when we’re down with the flu. Black coffee is our brew.
—No, it’s no trouble. I’ll make it. I know where everything is. There are some chocolate cookies too that I bought yesterday. But perhaps you’d like to drink your tea alone. I’ll be on my way then ... it’s a shame for you to lose sleep...
—Not at all. It’s my pleasure to sit here with you.
—Thank you very much. I believe you’ve been here for nearly a week, haven’t you?
—Yes. I remember. Saturday night. I’m curious to know how you find this country now ... what you think of it...
—In what way?
—That’s very interesting. You may be right. When one lives here, one doesn’t notice the change.
—Really?
—Yes. All the filth ... of course...
—That too. But don’t forget that it’s only half a peace. People don’t put much credence in it. I myself know nothing about politics. Generally I support the government, whatever it is. I get annoyed when people try obstructing it...
—Yes, the one we have now too ... although I must say...
—Yes. A sense of gloom.
—Yes. But it’s mostly just talk. Believe me, people are rolling in money. I know them by what they have to invest, not by what they have to say. If it weren’t confidential, I could show you now with a pocket calculator what sums are in circulation in this country and who is doing the circulating. Some of them are listed as welfare cases. I get felafel vendors coming to me with wads of five-hundred-pound notes, still smelling of cooking oil. That’s why I’m not so critical...
—Yes. That’s so. There is a group that suffers.
—I hope not.
—We true, old-time Sephardim aren’t your troublemakers from North Africa. They really have a wild streak in them ... and sometimes we’re confused with them on TV ... but we’re actually a well-established middle class. You’ll find us mainly in the banks, the courts and the police—not at the very top, but in responsible positions. Wherever there’s still a semblance of law and order. It goes back to British and even Turkish times, when we were sought out for administrative posts. For desk jobs. That’s where we feel best. I once said to Tsvi, this business of a Jewish state, all of Zionism in fact, is really a little too much for us. It’s all too fast, too high-powered. We were used to the Turkish pace, to the British sense of decorum...
—Yes. I know I’m really talking nonsense. Every country is like that today. Even Turkey is coming apart at the seams—I’ve read about it in the newspapers. All the lights in Istanbul go out every evening. I suppose that only the English...
—The English too? You don’t say. Well, well, then there’s really no cause to complain...
—For about half a year. We met in the bank.
—Yes. It’s a sort of investment company.
—His boss’s name is Gilat. Have you ever met him?
—Yes, of course, you haven’t been in the country. I forgot. I’ve run into him once or twice. A young, energetic fellow who knows how to play the market. I just hope he doesn’t do anything foolish. For Tsvi’s sake. All these little firms take lots of risks, but sometimes they grow very nicely. Maybe this one will too, who knows? It’s just that the market itself is so volatile these days...
—I think Tsvi has a good head for it. He’s ready to learn. He’s always asking me questions. He has imagination too, and that’s important. But one needs a great deal of experience and patience. One has to develop a sixth sense.
—Of course. There’s that too.
—No. It’s not a science. There’s probably nothing that’s less scientific. One needs to have a sixth sense. A feeling of what to hold on to and what to let go of, of where to step in and where to lay back. The Israeli market is a small one. Everyone has a finger in it. All kinds of amateurs have gone into it lately too, and that’s an extra headache. Inflation makes the profits seem large but in fact they’re on the small side. It’s not a big ball game. I don’t know how much you know about these things...
—In America it’s a different story. There you have real gamblers. Not the Jews. They’re all over, but strictly in a service capacity. But you’ll find some tough, cold-blooded Gentiles who’ll risk everything they have on one throw of the dice and calmly step out for a drink while they’re rolling. The market’s wide open there. A stock can hit bottom ... practically go below zero ... or take off all at once like a rocket. Here we’re more cautious. And the government interferes a lot too. It can suddenly feel sorry for some company because it has a plant in a depressed area or directors who are friends of a minister. And we’re a nervous people in general, we don’t know how to hold on to a stock. We’re afraid to go for the big gain, because we don’t really believe in it. All that will come, though ... things are just beginning to warm up ... Is the tea too strong for you?
—The sugar cubes? They’re here in the closet. Tsvi likes to suck on them too. Here, is this what you mean?
—No. But I’ve been here often ... and I’ve seen him drink tea like that, with a cube of sugar in his mouth. I suppose he learned from you.
—Yes. Yes. All in all he’s just like you. I’ve already told him that. I too came to look more and more like my father, rest his soul. All of a sudden the resemblance breaks out.
—Right.
—Exactly.
—Begging your pardon?
—Yes. Tsvi told me. It’s really a nice apartment. It must be worth quite a few million. The location is excellent, and there are people with money today who are coming back to the city and looking for places to renovate. How far can the ocean be from here? A hundred meters? It does need some work. When there’s no woman around, the little things go untended...
—How’s that?
—Yes. That isn’t Tsvi’s strong point. What can you expect from a young man these days...?
—Still...
—Still. Don’t exaggerate. He hasn’t seen thirty yet.
—To sell? What for?
—I understand.
—I understand. I see. In principle let me tell you right away that I don’t recommend it. I don’t recommend it one bit. Not at all, if you’re asking me.
—Yes yes. I know. I hear about it every day ... the most astonishing stories, both kinds of them, about those who made a mint and about those who lost their shirts...
—Yes. So I’ve heard. But here I’m a wee bit conservative. A house isn’t just money. It’s a home.
—That may be so ... but I’d still think twice about it...
—A car is something else. Don’t misunderstand me. A car is something else. When I’ve seen some opening for a good investment I’ve advised lots of clients to sell a car, or jewelry, or even the family silver without a moment’s thought. But a house...
—Yes. But in spite of all that it’s a house. You never know.
—But why?
—Ah.
—Ah.
—And Tsvi?
—Ah.
—You think she’ll be released someday?
—Aha.
—Begging your pardon?
—In what way?
—I ... uh...
—Begging your pardon?
—No ... come again?
—Yes ... something of the sort ... I mean ... I didn’t know whether you knew or not ... I didn’t dare...
—Begging your pardon?
—Yes. I was a bit frightened. I wasn’t sure what you knew and what you didn’t. And suddenly...
—I understand.
—I didn’t know.
—I didn’t know at all.
—I thought as much.
—I understand.
—Now I understand...
—I didn’t know. I was suddenly afraid ... for Tsvi...
—Since adolescence? I understand. I suppose that...
—Your wife too? How interesting!
—The whole family ... I understand ... I’d so like to hear more about it. It fascinates me. Are the others happily married?
—No. I meant are they normal.
—Yes. He told me about him. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him, but I’ve been told that he’s very gifted. He teaches at the university in Jerusalem...
—No.
—Yes.
—No.
—Yes. Naturally I thought that you must know something. I didn’t know how you felt about it, though ... so that when suddenly you came down the hallway in the dark ... I was frightened...
—I’m glad to hear that.
—That’s a very sensible way of looking at it. Very refined. No, that isn’t the word. What I mean is considerate. So terribly human...
—Yes. I’m glad to hear that. Thank you so much.
—I know. That’s easy to say. But if I were in your place, Mr. Kaminka ... I ... well, never mind. I myself am a novice at this. Until recently I hardly knew that it existed. I never ... it was Tsvi who introduced me to it. It’s all so new to me ... and at my age ... that’s why I must seem so nervous and distraught to you. This whole last period of my life has been one flood of emotion ... it’s all so new to me...
—Just a few months ago ... after the autumn holidays ... until then I was perfectly normal. I didn’t even know that ... how can I put it?...that it was in me all along. That it was even a possibility. It’s only now that it’s surfaced that I can look back and see signs of it since I was a boy. Still, it’s been a great upheaval...
—In the bank. He used to come by my office, because his firm does business with us. He saw through me just from how I talked.
—Just a few days ago...
—No. Only my wife.
—It’s been very difficult. A real tragedy. You understand that. Very difficult. A terrible tragedy. So distressing.
—No. Absolutely not. It would be the end of both her and me. I can’t even imagine it. I could never leave her. Her whole family would murder me.
—Begging your pardon?
—I don’t know. Deep down I keep hoping that I’ll get over it. That I’m just going through a phase.
—I’m going on fifty-six. I was born in 1923. I’m not much younger than you.
—Yes. You can imagine how this has jolted me. Maybe in America such things are taken more for granted ... I’m reading an article about it now ... even among Jews...
—Exactly. I’ve heard about that synagogue in New York. God is truly all-suffering if He can put up with that too.
—You don’t say! It’s entertaining to read in the evening papers about all the oddballs in this world, but when it suddenly turns up in you ... when I think of everything I believed in ... you know, I’m from a religious family myself, I still keep up the traditions. Of course, religion with us isn’t as serious a matter as with you...
—Yes, I know. But I was thinking of those of you who are. We don’t get so ideological about things. You won’t ever find us making martyrs of ourselves or of others for some idea. In politics, if you’ve noticed, we’re the first to cross party lines or change sides ... but when it comes to family affairs, we’re terribly uptight. And I’m very much a family man. The family is everything to us. That’s the Middle East in us, the family and its honor. We’re very uptight about honor. Power doesn’t interest us, but honor does, because there was never enough of it in this part of the world. For that we’d go out and kill ... in theory, I mean ... I’m not sure you follow me...
—I feel that I’m going to cry ... I beg your pardon, Mr. Kaminka ... it keeps happening ... perhaps I’m disturbing you...
—I thank you.
—I thank you kindly. Take tonight. I’ve never had such awful insomnia before. You’ll understand me if I tell you that when Tsvi told me about you I said to him, I’m just like your father, only worse. We’re a generation that caught fire late ... maybe the emotions that we feel are a substitute for something else ... maybe they’re in place of some more basic crisis of values. Because we’ve been a conformist generation. Very conformist, haven’t we? Eh?
—In the sense that we never allowed ourselves any crises the way young people, or even older ones, allow themselves today. And we had no generation before us to hand us our crises ready-made the way they’re handed nowadays to twenty- and thirty- and forty-year-olds, who are so spoiled that they expect to get a new crisis every week. We’re not like that, are we?
—There was no one to do it for us. The old folks kept us on a tight leash.
—Do you mean that seriously? You really find it interesting? It makes me so happy that you understand. I’m not an educated man. Not at all. But I can’t help thinking a bit now and then.
—No. They’re just little thoughts. Just beginnings. What I must try to understand, though, is why all this has flared up so powerfully, so destructively. All the pain that we’re spreading around us ... when I think what will happen when my two girls find out...
—But they’re still only twenty-two. What’s twenty-two? My father, rest his soul, still whipped me at that age...
—I swear, he sometimes did. But it’s not just the girls. I’m talking about the whole family. About the old folks too, because we still have them. Yours, you understand, were all killed or left behind in Europe. They don’t keep bugging you. You’ve made your peace with them. You were stronger than they were anyway, and you did what you wanted. Now you have your nostalgic memories, but that’s just for the record ... on Saturday nights you dress up like them on TV in black caftans and beards, and it isn’t a bad feeling ... but if you were suddenly to find them in your living room along with that whole ghetto of theirs, you’d be in a state of shock. Well, with us they’re in the house all the time...
—A few of them have died, but only recently. Until my father passed away last year I used to go see him practically every day after work. And my wife’s mother still lives with my wife’s brother in Jerusalem ... not to mention various aunts here and there who know everything and are told everything and spend the whole day on the telephone, now that they’ve learned to use it, calling up the whole country. I have one aunt whose monthly phone bill is twenty thousand pounds. That’s the equivalent of a small bank branch’s...
—If you’re the type who can travel. But I’m not. Where should I go? Three years ago we went to Europe for a month, and by the end of it I was dying to get back here. Maybe this summer I’ll try Egypt for two weeks. We only eat kosher food, and that makes it difficult too...
—Yes. I understand you. I certainly do. But where to? In Europe we feel like strangers, even though I speak French. But the air there, that grayness all the time ... who knows, maybe one day soon the Middle East will open up to us and we’ll be able to vacation among the Arabs...
—Begging your pardon?
—Yes. When the Messiah comes ha ha. But one mustn’t lose faith ... if only they were a little more civilized. I can’t tell you how sympatico you are, Mr. Kaminka. I knew I’d like you. We’ve been excited since the moment we heard you were coming. It was I who brought Tsvi to the airport Saturday night, but I didn’t stay, because I didn’t want to intrude. Even tonight I had qualms about dropping in. Your family story attracts me greatly ... yesterday when Tsvi took me up there to see your wife ... I was very moved ... there I was, after feeling that my own family was too much for me, suddenly ready to take on another...
—Who?
—What’s his name?
—Zhid? A Jew?
—Ah, Gide. A Frenchman.
—A homosexual? I’ve never heard of him. Was he an important author?
—I’ve never heard of him.
—Really, he said that? That’s very extreme.
—Well, that’s not for me. I’m a family man ... and because of Tsvi ... because I’ve gotten so attached to him ... because I love him ... and now you too...
—What can I do?
—I’m sure he has a future. But he needs looking after. He worries me too. Sometimes I wonder whether he’s really suited to the market.
—Yes. He keeps flitting from one thing to another. It is a bit childish ... but he’s still young...
—Still...
—Still. I would have thought it more advisable for him to take a steady job in the bank. There’s a great future in banking. I could have placed him well and seen to his being promoted ... discreetly, from high up ... don’t underestimate me, I’m a power in the bank ... my word carries great weight there. I could have taken care of him ... like a father ... like his own daddy ... because after all, you’re so far away ... at the moment, I mean...
—Begging your pardon? Come again?
—Yes. I’ve lent him some money now and then ... helped him with some difficult transactions...
—Yes. It worries me too.
—I don’t believe that. No. Don’t tell me that, Mr. Kaminka. I have complete confidence in him. Don’t tell me ... and I have his IOUs ... he’ll always be liable ... no, don’t tell me ... you frighten me...
—What makes you say that?
—Yes. I agree. But I can’t turn him down. You have to understand, that’s my only happiness these days...
—I don’t want to hear about it. I’ll keep a closer eye on him. I’ll be more careful. But don’t you see, I love him ... no ... don’t tell me...
—You’re so sure of yourself. So forthright. It takes a daring man to pick up and leave his family like you did. You must have a great deal of courage ... although sometimes I ask myself...
—I mean ... I can’t help wondering ... well, never mind...
—I mean ... I beg your pardon ... I know it’s none of my business, but I can’t help wondering if it’s really necessary for you to get divorced ... even though ... that is, I’ve been thinking of another possibility ... but of course it’s none of my business...
—Begging your pardon?
—I don’t understand.
—Would you say that again?
—I beg your pardon?
—Are you serious?
—But how? You must mean figuratively ... in a manner of speaking...
—What? I don’t understand ... I beg your pardon ... one minute ..
—Here? Where?
—I beg your pardon?
—No. I didn’t know about it. Or maybe just a little bit ... I mean, I no longer know what I really know about you and what I would like to know. Tsvi talks too much, and of course I listen to him ... it’s none of my business, but I do. That’s his style, to say whatever is on his mind. It’s all so free with you people ... you have the confidence, the uninhibitedness ... or maybe it’s the innocence ... you can afford it. Perhaps it’s because you stopped believing in God so long ago that there’s not a drop of Him left in you. We simply hide things. We’re always trying to hide them. The fact is that I did know something about it, but I thought she had merely threatened you, the way people sometimes do ... that she went crazy for a moment, the way we all can when we’re under mental stress. I’m sure she didn’t mean it. I saw her, such a refined woman ... I beg your pardon for intruding, but I’m sure she didn’t mean it...
—With a knife? No, don’t tell me...
—I don’t believe it. Do you really mean it? I suppose she just waved it about...
—Where? Yes, I see a line. But are you sure it’s from that?
—I understand. I beg your pardon.
—I understand.
—She must have been under great stress. But what did the rabbis say? Blame not the man who sins in his grief...
—Yes.
—It was really right here? And Tsvi witnessed it? It must have been excruciating for him.
—I’m listening.
—Me?
—What would I have done? What can I tell you? In the end I’d have forgiven her. In the end I know I would have. One has to forgive, Mr. Kaminka. One has to think in terms of forgiveness. We’re Jews. And there are so few of us that we can’t afford not to. If only for the children’s sake...
—I meant your children.
—It’s none of my business, absolutely none of my business, but since you ask ... and I’ve become so attached to you...
—Yes. I know that there’s going to be a baby there. You can see that Tsvi tells me everything. But what can you do? I understand your problem, but there’s no point in insisting if she refuses. That’s my advice ... financially you only stand to lose that way. She still has her possessions here ... I saw her dresses in the closet. It’s always difficult to make a clean break ... and sometimes it’s better not to ... Oops, there it goes again! Just a minute, don’t move ha ha ha, it’s come out. It must be somewhere over there...
—Behind you. It was peeking out at us as though it were listening.
—It must have gone back beneath the burners. They should be taken apart and fumigated inside. If you ask the city to do it, they’ll only do the outside. They’ll scatter a little poison and that’s all.
—There’s no need to. I’ll take care of it myself.
—No. Not of killing him. That revolts me too. Just of catching him.
—A trap is the best way. Meanwhile try to keep all the food covered. Don’t leave anything out. You don’t want to eat from his mouth.
—All right. I’ll be on my way. Will you still be here tomorrow?
—Yes. I meant today.
—It’s already past three. How quiet the city is now. Suddenly I can feel all my tiredness. I’m sorry to have been such a nuisance...
—I know. There’s a breeze coming up. When do you expect the ceremony to be?
—The di...
—Yes.
—Will there be time for it on the day of the seder? The rabbis agreed to it then? Tsvi said you spoke to them this morning.
—Yesterday morning, I beg your pardon. I’m totally disoriented ... What’s that, the telephone?
—It must be my wife. I’m sure of it. Let me have it for a second.
—Yes. She knows the number here. She found it out ... just a second...
—Hello?
—She hung up.
—No. I’m absolutely sure it was her.
—I hope to God that I’m wrong. But I know it was her. She woke up and saw I wasn’t there. I’m sure of it...
—Let me have it ... just a second ... Hello? Hello?...She hung up again.
—No. I’m sure of it. It’s her. I’m going. If it rings again, don’t answer. Say I wasn’t here. There it is again ... I’ll take it ... if it’s for you, I’ll let you have it...
—Hello? Hello?
—Just a minute ... oh my God...
—Have you gone out of your mind? What happened?
—Nothing. I was just passing by.
—Please.
—I beg of you.
—All right.
—All right.
—Fine.
—Whatever you say.
—I’m already on my way home. I couldn’t fall asleep.
—What makes you say that?
—No. I’m with his father.
—You’d be surprised.
—I swear.
—As I hope to die.
—No. As I hope to die. By my own dead father.
—It’s not what you think.
—That’s enough. I beg of you.
—We can be heard.
—Yes. Just a minute...
—All right. I’m already half out the door.
—You don’t understand.
—You don’t even begin to understand.
—All right.
—All right.
—Stop. That’s enough.
—I know I’m to blame.
—Only me. I told you.
—All right.
—Later.
—All right. Later.
—How can you say that?
—What an idea!
—So do I.
—How can you say that?
—I’m listening.
—Not. It’s not that.
—I beg you. We can be heard.
—I’ll be a sick man from this. I beg you.
—How can you ... that’s insane...
—Cut off your breasts...?!
—Whatever you say...
—I promise.
—It’s too strong for me but I’ll get over it .. I’m in love ... Give me time...
—You can take who...?
—That’s fine with me.
—Whatever you say.
—All right.
—Not now.
—Not now.
—So do I.
—Never. Don’t you dare.
—All right. Later.
—Then I’ll never come home again.
—No. Right away. In ten minutes. I had one foot out the door when you called.
—Don’t call again. Promise me.
—I’m hanging up.
—I’m hanging up.
—I’m hanging up.
—I’m hanging up.
—No. He’s asleep. There’s only his father.
—I swear by the girls.
—You’ll pay for this.
—Enough. I’ve hung up...
—It was for me, Tsvi.
—Yes. It was her. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have stayed so long. But everything will be all right. If she calls again, tell her that I’m gone. Don’t talk to her. Goodbye, Mr. Kaminka. I don’t know if we’ll meet again.
—Yes. Perhaps at the airport. You’re flying back Monday night?
—Perhaps. That’s a good idea. For sure.
—I’ll wait for you there at five.
—I’ll live. I’ll wait for you at five. Don’t worry about me. And in the meantime, good luck. Enough, I’d better get going. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even mean to drop in. I just happened to pass by, I knocked like a bird, and you went and heard me...