Then he put the wrench away. He filled a saucer with milk for the cat and her kittens in the shed. He turned on the sprinklers for the lawn and watched them for a while, then entered the kitchen through the back door. Remembering that the newspaper was still outside on the windowsill, he went back and picked it up, then put on the percolator. While the coffee was brewing, he made some toast. And took the jam and cheese and honey out of the refrigerator, set the table for breakfast, and stood at the window. Still standing he glanced at the headlines of his newspaper, but he could not take in what was written. He did take in that it was time and switched on the transistor radio to listen to the seven o'clock news, but by the time he remembered to listen to what the newscaster was saying the news was over and the outlook was fair to partially overcast with moderate temperatures for the time of year. Avigail came in and said: "You've got it all ready by yourself again. Just like a big boy. But how many times have I told you not to take the milk out of the refrigerator till it's needed. It's summer, and milk that's left out soon turns sour." Yoel thought about this for a moment; he found no error in her words. Although the word "sour" struck him as rather too strong. He said: "Yes. That's right." Just after the beginning of Alex Anski's chat show, Netta and Lisa joined them. Lisa was wearing a brown housecoat with huge buttons down the front, and Netta was in her light-blue school uniform. For a moment she struck Yoel as not plain, almost pretty, and after a moment there came into his mind the suntanned, mustached, thick-armed kibbutznik, and he was almost glad that her hair, for all that she washed it in all kinds of shampoos, always looked greasy.
Lisa said: "All the night I didn't close my eyes. Again I have all kinds of pains. Whole nights I don't slep."
Avigail said: "If we took you seriously, Lisa, we should have to believe that you haven't slept a wink for the past thirty years. The last time you slept, according to you, was before the Eichmann trial. Since then you haven't slept."
Netta said: "You slep like logs, the pair of you. What's all this nonsense?"
"Sleep," said Avigail, "One says sleep, not slep."
"Tell that to my other granny."
"She only says slep to make fun from me," Lisa said ruefully. "I am sick with pains and this child is making fun from me."
"Of me," said Avigail. "One does not say 'make fun from me,' one says 'make fun of me.'"
"That's enough," said Yoel. "What is all this? That'll do now. If it goes on like this, they'll have to send the peacekeeping troops in."
"You don't slep at night neither," declared his mother sadly, and nodded her head several times as though she were mourning for him or agreeing with herself at last after a hard inner dispute. "You got no friends, you got no work, you got nothing to do with yourself, you'll end up making yourself ill or else religious or something. Better you should go swimming every day in the swimming pool."
"Lisa," said Avigail, "what a way to speak to him. What do you think he is, a baby? He's almost fifty years old. Leave him alone. Why do you get on his nerves all the time? He'll find his way in his own good time. Let him be. Let him live his own life."
"The one who really ruined his life," Lisa hissed in a whisper. And stopped in mid-sentence.
Netta said: "Tell me, why do you always jump up before we've finished our coffee and start clearing the table and washing up? Is it because you want us to finish and piss off? Or is it a protest against the oppression of men? Or do you want to make everyone feel guilty?"
"It's because it's already quarter to eight," Yoel said, "and you should have been off to school ten minutes ago. You'll be late again."
"And if you clear away and wash up, will that stop my being late?"
"All right. Come on, I'll give you a lift."
"I have pains," Lisa said softly, to herself this time, as though mourning, repeating the words twice, as though she knew no one would listen, "pains in the belly, pains in the side: all night I didn't slep, and then in the morning they make fun."
"All right," Yoel said. "All right, all right. One at a time, please. I'll deal with you in a minute." And he drove Netta to school without saying a word on the way about their meeting in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning, with the Safed cheese and the spicy black olives and the fragrant mint tea and the tender silence that went on for about half an hour, until Yoel went back to his room, without either of them violating it.
On the way back he stopped at the shopping center and bought his mother-in-law some lemon shampoo and a literary magazine she had asked him to get. When he got home he called and made an appointment for his mother with her gynecologist. Then, carrying a sheet, a book, a newspaper, a pair of glasses, a transistor radio, suntan lotion, two screwdrivers, and a glass of iced cider, he went outside to lie in the hammock. Out of professional habit he noticed from the corner of his eye that the Asiatic beauty who worked for the neighbors was carrying her shopping not in a heavy basket and bags but in a wire cart. Why hadn't they thought of it before? he asked himself. Why is everything always solved too late? Better late than never, he replied, in the words his mother always used. Yoel checked this sentence as he lay in the hammock, and found no error in it. But his rest was disturbed. He left everything behind and went to look for his mother in her room. The room was empty and flooded with morning light and tidy and pleasant and clean. He found her in the kitchen, still sitting shoulder to shoulder with Avigail; they were whispering animatedly while they chopped vegetables for a soup for lunch. The moment he entered they stopped talking. Again they looked to him as alike as two sisters even though he knew that really there was no resemblance. Avigail looked at him with the strong, bright face of a Slav peasant, with high, almost Mongolian cheekbones, her young blue eyes expressing resolute good nature and crushing kindness. His mother, on the other hand, looked like a bedraggled bird, with her elderly brown dress, her brown face, her pursed or sunken lips, and her bitter, offended expression.
"Well? So how are you feeling now?"
Silence.
"Are you feeling better? I've made an urgent appointment for you to see Dr. Litwin. Make a note. It's at two o'clock on Thursday."
Silence.
"And Netta got there just as the bell went. I jumped two traffic lights to get her there in time."
Avigail said:
"You've upset your mother and now you're trying to make amends, but it's too little and too late. Your mother is a sensitive person and she's not well. It would seem that one catastrophe was not enough for you. Think carefully, Yoel, before it's too late. Think carefully and maybe you'll decide to try a little harder."
"Of course," Yoel said.
Avigail said:
"There you are. You see. That's just what I mean. With that same coolness. That irony of yours. That self-control. That's how you finished her off. And that's how you'll bury all of us one by one."
"Avigail," said Yoel.
"All right. Off you go," said his mother-in-law. "I can see you're in a hurry. Your hand's already on the door handle. Don't let us keep you. And she loved you. Maybe you didn't notice, or no one remembered to tell you, but she loved you all those years. Right to the end. She even forgave you for Netta's trouble. She forgave you for everything. But you were too busy. It's not your fault. You simply didn't have time, and that's why you didn't take any notice of her or her love for you until it was too late. Even now you're in a hurry. So go. What are you standing there for? Go. What is there for you to do in this old people's home? Off you go. Will you be back for lunch?"
"Maybe," said Yoel. "I don't know. We'll see."
His mother suddenly broke her silence. She addressed not him but Avigail, and her voice was soft and logical:
"Don't you start with all that again. Enough of that we heard from you already. All the time you just try to make us feel badly. What's the matter? What did he do to her? Who shut herself away like in a golden palace? Who didn't let the other one come in? So just you leave Yoel alone. And after everything that he did for you all. Stop making us all feel badly. As if you're the only one that's all right. What's the matter? We don't keep up the mourning properly? So do you keep up the mourning? Who was it went straight off to have her hair done and a manicure and a facial even before the stone-setting? So you can't talk. In the whole country there's no other man does half as much in the home as what Yoel does. All the time trying. Worrying. He doesn't even slep at night."
"Sleep," said Avigail. "One says sleep, not slep. I'm going to give you two Valium tablets, Lisa. They'll do you good. Help you calm down."
"See you later," said Yoel.
And Avigail said:
"Wait a minute. Come over here. Let me just arrange your collar for you if you have a rendezvous. And comb your hair, otherwise no young lady will even look at you. Are you coming home for lunch? At two o'clock, when Netta comes back? Why don't you simply bring her home from school?"
"I'll see," said Yoel.
"And if you get detained by some beauty, at least give us a call to let us know. So we don't wait lunch for you till all hours. At least try to remember your mother's mental and physical condition, and don't add to her worries."
"Let him be, already," said Lisa. "He can come home whenever he likes."
"Listen how she speaks to her fifty-year-old child." Avigail chuckled, her face radiating forgiveness and overwhelming good nature.
"See you later," said Yoel.
As he was leaving Avigail said:
"What a pity. I could have just done with the car this morning, so I could take your electric pad in to be mended, Lisa. It helps you so much with your pains. But never mind, I'll walk. Why don't we both go for a nice stroll? Or shall I just call Mr. Krantz and ask him for a lift? Such a lovely man. I'm sure he'll come and get me and bring me back. Don't be late. Good-bye. What are you standing there in the doorway for?"