by Galia Albin
Chapter 26
The next day, at three in the afternoon, Talia left Jenny and the kids in the sunny park, enjoying the rare, mild, summer-like weather. A strange, heavy feeling had oppressed her since early morning. Jonathan had not called. There’s no reason to worry, she soothed herself, imagining a possible scenario: Jonathan had overslept and Nahum, in his usual, boisterous manner, had come by to pick him up, leaning on his car horn until all the nosy neighbors had run to their windows.... Jonathan was in a hurry and didn’t have time to call her, though he’d always managed to before, no matter where on the globe his business took him. He’ll probably call tonight, before going out to dinner with Orna, she consoled herself.
Seven P.M. and she hated the cruel, silent phone. If Jonathan were home, he would certainly call. There was no point phoning him, but her finger dialed the number of the house on Emerald Street. Heinz picked up and answered her questions dryly, as if she’d disturbed his rest. No, he hadn’t seen Jonathan. He must have left early in the morning, while Heinz was still asleep.
Her concern turned to resentment rather than anger; Jonathan leaves her all alone while he’s having a good time with Orna. Which restaurant did they go to? Perhaps to the America House? “Their” restaurant? If this is what he’s done, she won’t forgive him! In her mind’s eye, she saw them sitting close, whispering intimately in the flickering candlelight. She felt her cheeks flush and her heart swell with jealously. She quickly tried to rid herself of the poison bubbling inside her, invading the bright, sunny day, permeating her soul.
She spoke to herself; Jonathan has a right to go out with an old high school friend. There is obviously nothing going on between them, she repeated over and over, like a mantra. Still smarting and feeling defeated, and as a last resort, she conjured up the image of Orna with her long, trustworthy face; Orna who looked younger than her years, tall and slender, with hair like sticks, who since becoming a lawyer dressed always in dark, mannish suits, at least two sizes too big.
The ruse worked; within seconds, she felt a wave of affection. Despite the differences between them, Orna and Talia had become friends as soon as they met. Jonathan used to “accuse” her of stealing his bosom-friend, the one person in the world with whom he could discuss anything when she flew in from Los Angeles, where she was a partner in a thriving law firm. Talia appreciated Orna’s integrity, intelligence and sense of humor. Orna had never married. “With me, it’s either/or,” she often told them. “It’s either a career or love and a family. I never found a husband like Jonathan, but at least I accomplished something else in life.”
It was ten at night, and Jonathan still hadn’t called. Talia telephoned Heinz at midnight. “What do you want from me, Talia,” he grumbled, “I was asleep.” “Go back to sleep then, I’m sorry,” She apologized, and hung up. Her hands were trembling.
At nine o’clock on Sunday morning, she called Hinz once more. Her heartbeat echoed in her chest. She asked Heinz to check the bedroom to see if Jonathan had returned. “The room is empty. Nobody has slept there, “he tried to cover up his own surprise with a matter-of-fact tone. Talia muttered something and slowly hung up, blinded by tears.
She will no longer keep quiet, she resolved. The situation is quite plain: he’s got somebody else! Maybe this explains his nervous behavior lately. Maybe this was the real purpose of moving to England; he had plotted the whole thing so carefully! He had removed her and the children, abandoned them, in order to be with his mistress. How she’d fallen into the trap, how easily she believed him! Ditty used to say that the wife is always the last to know.
But then she remembered their last lovemaking; the gentleness, the ecstasy, his hands caressing her body, his passionate kisses; and how she’d responded to his ardor! He’d never kissed her like that before, been so fervent and demanding, and she’d never been so wild and abandoned, as if there were no tomorrow.
