I would be happy to hear even the nurse’s footsteps now, but it seems that we have all been abandoned, like children left without adult supervision, and I go up to the deserted doctors’ station and peer into the recesses behind the counter, a mild din can be heard rising from the adjacent room, a buzz of gossip and the smell of fresh coffee, and I approach the almost closed door, in order to fulfil their obligations they have left a narrow crack and I peep through it, the young doctor is chewing a roll with enthusiasm, checking anxiously every now and then to see how much of it is left, the nurse restricts herself to coffee, a few other members of the staff are busy eating and laughing, and I look at them as if they are pictures on a screen, I see them and they don’t see me, there is a transparent barrier between us, they are the conquerors, they are the lords of the land and I the least of their subjects. They are in the middle of their ten o’clock coffee break, but for me it’s already the middle of the night, I didn’t even have a chance to drink a cup of coffee this morning, and the smells make me giddy, but it no more occurs to me to go up and pour myself a cup than it would to join a feast taking place on a movie screen, and I stand and stare, hugging Udi’s X-rayed spine, until the doctor notices me and his chewing subsides, is anything wrong, he asks, and I hold the envelope out to him, my eyes hot and imploring, and despite the humiliation, against my will, I feel my lips trembling and I start to cry.
He looks at me flustered, his eyes move back and forth between me and the roll, they all fall silent and look at me, they don’t even try to hide their revulsion, and I too am revolted by myself, I wish I could control my tears, but they control me, shaming me in public, lucky Udi can’t see me now, he hates it when I cry. Without looking in the mirror I know that my face is red, under my eyes this morning’s makeup is running in black tears, and I begin to retreat, trying to hide my disgrace behind the envelope, but the doctor stands up and throws the remainder of his roll into the bin with an accurate aim, his childish face softens as he comes up to me, takes three X rays out of the envelope and examines them opposite the light, and I am afraid to breathe, my eyes are fixed on his face, trying to interpret his expression, to guess the verdict, and then he goes into another room with me trailing behind him, attaches the X rays to an illuminated board and looks sternly into Udi’s insides, I can’t see any pathology, he says, there’s no damage to the spine.
That’s good, isn’t it, I mumble, and he says, I don’t know if it’s good or not, we always have to consider the alternative, he can’t move his legs, and that’s not good. We’ll have to hospitalize him for tests, he tells the nurse standing at the door, rapidly listing the names of the tests, it sounds like almost the entire alphabet, and I still wanted to ask him what they were looking for in all these tests, but he has already vanished into one of the rooms, and I can only run after the nurse as she makes straight for Udi’s bed, getting there one step ahead of me.
Were you crying, he asks in a hostile voice, and I mumble, of course not, it’s just a cold, and the nurse swallows a smile, she doesn’t miss a thing, you’re going up to the ward, she informs him, and he’s taken aback, but a glimmer of pride flashes in his eyes, like a pupil promoted to the next grade, and she’s already filling his chart with blue lines, sending me to get the forms signed, and I hurry away, the aging messenger girl of the emergency room, and miss their farewells, because when I return his bed is already standing in the middle of the hall, him looking like some kind of birthday boy, his body covered with the papers and envelopes that have accumulated over the past few hours, like the gifts of generous relatives, and under them all his delicate face peeps out, and perhaps I’m mistaken but it seems to me that between his lips I see the tip of the tail of a secret smile of triumph.
Four
As we begin our journey to the internal diseases department ambulances drive up at high speed, their sirens wailing in our ears like demanding babies, and we are instantly left to our own devices, all attention turning to the new guest. With embarrassing curiosity I look round to get a glimpse of the new king, and then I see her, on a gurney red with blood, I haven’t seen her for years, except in my nightmares, but it’s definitely her, it’s Geula, and I begin racing with the bed, praying that she won’t see me, until I understand, she’s half-dead, she wouldn’t even recognize her own child now, the veins are cut and the blood’s streaming, how would she recognize her own child when another mother is rearing him in her place, little Daniel, with the sharp, peaky face, and all because of me. How many times she threatened, if you take him away from me I’ll kill myself, I’ll chop my veins into a salad, but we saw the child going crazy, thin as air, covered with blue bruises. She was jealous of him as of a lover, she wouldn’t let him go to kindergarten, so that he wouldn’t fall in love with the teachers, she hit him if he smiled at another woman, not that I ever saw him smile, she would stand him on a chair and kiss him, pushing her black nicotine tongue into his hollow mouth. We had to save him, we told her to send him to kindergarten, make him food, give him a healthy framework, and she would go berserk, you won’t tell me how to bring up my child, clasping him to her like a hostage, if I ever see your mug again I’ll kill the kid and off myself. In the end we got a court order, tore him from her body, as in a dangerous birth, and she screamed after me, you think you’ll bring your daughter up while I stay without Daniel, you won’t have a minute of happiness, and I anguished over it for days, how could I have separated them, and I decided to give up this job, where every decision was right and also wrong and always cruel, and I went to work at the shelter for pregnant girls, and later on I heard that she had tried to appeal, but no court was prepared to give her back her child, and afterward she tried to kill herself, but in that too she failed, and now she’s here, after another attempt, pursuing me, the forgotten curses resurrected.
You’re crying again, Udi opens one hostile eye, and I can’t restrain myself, you remember Geula, whose child was taken away for adoption, they just brought her in, she must have tried to kill herself, and it’s all because of me, and he opens his other eye, I always told you that you social workers in that welfare bureau went too far, who did you think you were, God on earth? Waging war on nature? How can you take a child from his mother? And I park the bed angrily next to the wall, we’re already far enough away, his reaction infuriates me, but at least it’s his from home, familiar to me, not like the new fawning smiles. What are you talking about, I burst out, you and your nature, nature can be horrifying, nature is a catastrophe, that mother destroyed her child, she tortured him, you should have seen his body full of blue bruises, his mouth without any teeth in it.
But she loved him, he declares provocatively, always defending the side under attack, and I say, so what, sick love isn’t worth a damn, she drove him insane with that love of hers, and he says resentfully, that’s what you used to say to me once, that my love was sick, remember? Nothing interests him unless it’s about him, and I try to squeeze a little sympathy out of him, Udi, what does it mean that she’s here, it frightens me, it’s a bad sign, and he repulses me again, not letting me lean on him even for a minute, what does it mean that I’m here, that’s what I’m thinking about, that’s what interests me, but not you, you always cared more about all your lame ducks than about me. How can you say such a thing, I protest indignantly, it’s so untrue, and already we are surrounded by astonished looks, how can we be fighting here, in the shadow of the dripping infusion, here where we should be united, and I fall silent, leaving Geula behind me, not looking back, able only to guess at the efforts at resuscitation seething around her, the young doctor bending over her dark body full of sorrow and smoke, and when I think of her dangerous love, of her life bitter as poison, I don’t know what to wish her.
When I went there he would hide from me like a frightened animal, shut up all day in the dark one-room apartment, with the empty fridge and the brimming ashtrays, once I brought him crayons, and he didn’t know what to do with them, in the end he put one in his mouth
and started to suck it, and she began to make one of her scenes, what are you bringing him presents for, you want him to fall in love with you, for him to love you more than me, he’s mine, get that into you head, not the fucking state’s and not the fucking welfare service’s, and I would try to explain to her, you’re right, Geula, he is yours, but if you don’t look after him properly we have to be concerned about him, we’re on the child’s side, not yours, and she would open her bloodshot eyes wide, me and my kid are on the same side, we’re the same body, we’re one body, and she would immediately clutch him to her, crushing him to her bony body, you won’t tell me how to look after him, and I would leave at a loss, the two possibilities roaring at me in the stairwell, both equally frightening, to take him or leave him, and when I finally decided to recommend adoption, the judge was surprised that I had waited so long. She loves him so much, I tried to defend her, myself, and he said, the question is not whether we love or not, the question is how we love, and I shivered as if he was talking about me, about me and Udi, I had been telling myself for years that he loved me, whereas I should have been asking how he loved me, and whether I liked his love.
And perhaps because I knew the answer I didn’t dare go into the question, be happy that you’ve got a husband who loves you, I would silence myself, it’s better to have a love like his than no love at all, but now as we approach the internal diseases department I rebel, why no love at all, why be so defeatist, maybe there is still something out there for me, waiting for me to notice it. You tried once and you saw how it ended, I hurry to put out the little flame, because now it’s final and absolute, now our true marriage is taking place, in the shadow of the dripping infusion, because if I haven’t been able to leave him up to now, when he was healthy, from now on I’ll never be able to leave him, the gates of my life are closed, with no one going in or out, and when I look at myself in the elevator mirror, a stooped figure bending over a narrow bed, with untidy hair and anxious eyes, black makeup smudged around them as if someone punched me in the face, it seems to me that I don’t know what to wish myself either.
In the ward we are received with silent indifference, the documents piled on the bed speak for themselves, a cute nurse takes us to the room with the polite expression of a hotel chambermaid on her face, and I am surprised to find a sleepy policeman sitting outside the door, yawning incessantly. I look round apprehensively, what VIP is being guarded here, and to my astonishment I see opposite Udi’s bed a handsome youth with long fair hair, fettered with handcuffs to his bed, almost naked, only his leg clothed in bandages, and I ask the nurse, who is he, and she says, he was injured in a fight in jail, but don’t worry, he’s restrained, and I ask, isn’t there another room, and she says, this is the only bed, do you want to lie in the corridor? And I hurry to correct her, I’m not the patient, he is, pointing to Udi lying motionless, his eyes fixed piously on the ceiling, and she persists, you’re better off lying here than in the corridor.
Carefully, as if he’s a newborn, we hold him and take off his tee-shirt and replace it with a faded pajama jacket, with most of its buttons missing. The nurse’s hands are smooth and slender, her nails are manicured, and for a moment I see my hands next to hers and I shudder, the premature sunspots, the lackluster skin, the creased lines of indelible curses engraved by time, and I try to hide my hands, letting her put on his pajama pants alone, the catheter tube hiding modestly in its corner, with a strange indifference I watch her beautiful fingers busying themselves with him, with the body that was mine, which has suddenly been removed from his control and mine, abandoned to the mercies of its new masters, and already his head is resting on the pillow, and his eyes are on the ceiling, ignoring me resentfully, what have I done now, I can’t even remember.
I drag up a chair and sit down next to him, my ability to move surprises me for a minute, there are three of us in the room and only I can move, bring a chair, help myself, me of all people, as opposed to all expectations, and perhaps this is what angers him, perhaps he’s jealous of the gap that has suddenly yawned between us, unexpected, almost grotesque, jarring as the laughter of fate, and I try to stroke his arm but the sight of my hand disturbs me and I hide them under my thighs, as long as I live I’ll never have another pair of hands, or another husband either. Would you like me to bring you something to drink, I ask, and he says, I’m not thirsty, indicating the infusion with his eyes, and I go on, something to eat perhaps? And he says, all I want to do is sleep, Noam, I haven’t got any strength, and I immediately soften, he isn’t angry with me, he’s simply tired, and I put my head on his shoulder, go to sleep, my Udi, I’m here with you, and already his deep, even breathing is covering the words, and a pitiful whine is heard, the whine of a puppy left outside on a rainy night, not from his lips but from the beautiful lips of the prisoner, both of them are asleep, like brothers in their shared room after they have finished fighting.
I steal quietly outside, on tiptoe, even the policeman has abandoned his post, so I can too, and I hurry to the elevator, enjoying the lightness of my movement, only me myself, without a baby carriage, without a hospital bed, I go down to the cafeteria and buy myself a cup of coffee and a roll, sit down with a sigh of relief next to the window, it seems to me that this is the exact same roll the doctor in the emergency room was eating, in the distance I see him entering the cafeteria, and I send him an ingratiating smile, even a woman with a sick husband is entitled to a small pleasure, but he ignores me, I wanted to ask him about Geula, but perhaps it’s better not to know, perhaps it wasn’t even her, I wanted him to see that I too have a roll in my hand, that I too am a human being, but he doesn’t linger, he goes off immediately with a bottle of Coca-Cola, perhaps it isn’t even him. I watch his short legs in action, one of them always dancing in the air, he moves with such lightness, and not only him, everyone around me moves their hands and feet as naturally as if they were born walking, and only my Udi, three floors above me, is lying motionless, and again the anxiety rises in my throat, repulsing the mess of chewed roll, as dense and palpable as phlegm, he’s sick, a sickness has come and taken him away, drawing him into its fathomless depths.
I pour the rest of the coffee down my throat and run out of the cafeteria, arriving at the ward breathless, Udi is still asleep but the prisoner is writhing on his bed, do me a favor, come and uncuff me, he whispers in a hoarse voice, and I say, I can’t, how can I uncuff you, and he says, I know you can, the cop gave you the keys, and I say, no he didn’t, I swear he didn’t. So what are you doing here, he says resentfully, and I explain, my husband’s here, and immediately I inquire sympathetically, what happened to your leg, and to my astonishment he raises his voice, what’s it got to do with you, he shouts, who said you could talk to me at all, and I blush hotly, sit down next to Udi and turn my back to him. I hear him call the nurse, this crazy cow is bothering me, get her out of here, and when she arrives, the same polite smile on her face, I make haste to defend myself, as if she’s the teacher coming to separate a couple of squabbling pupils, I only asked him what happened to him, and she smiles at me, don’t get upset, he yells at anyone who tries to be nice to him, he only knows one language, right, Jeremiah? Where on earth did he get a name like Jeremiah, I wonder, but I don’t dare say anything, I hardly dare to breathe, in case I arouse his wrath.
As it turns out, my silence provokes him no less than my speech, and he asks with exaggerated politeness, do you by any chance have a cigarette, and I reply rashly, you’re not allowed to smoke here, and he says, who said anything about smoking, I just want a cigarette. I take an old packet of cigarettes out of my bag and hand it to him, and he says angrily, who needs your stinking cigarettes, I don’t touch this brand, and I return to my place, hearing him yell, nurse, nurse, I need a cigarette, in a minute I’ll open these cuffs and finish off the lot of you. In a minute the policeman will come back and finish you off, the nurse shouts back from the corridor, and he sniggers and turns to me again, what’s the matter with your husband? And I say,
there’s nothing the matter with him, and he laughs, I bet he wanted to get away from you for a bit, but you stick to him like glue here too, let him breathe, or else he’ll die in front of your eyes, you can die from nothing too you know, I’ve seen a lot of people die from nothing.
I steal a look at him, what an appalling trick of God’s, to wrap such a warped personality in such angelic beauty, I know I should keep quiet but I can’t let it go, there has to be a way to reach him. Look, Jeremiah, I try gently, this is a difficult day for us, my husband’s sick, he’s come here to get better, I’m worried, don’t make it harder for me, and he’s silent for a moment as if considering my words, and then he bursts into ugly laughter, I’m making things harder for you? I was lying here quietly and you came and bothered me with your questions, you think it’s easy for me? Tied to the bed like a dog, if my mother saw me now she’d go blind on the spot, and an electric current seems to pass through his body, his snakelike muscles writhe convulsively, trying to get free of the cuffs, and only when the policeman comes in, his paunch preceding him, does he stop twitching and lie quietly like an obedient child, sending me a sullen look from time to time.
Udi is still sunk in his stubborn sleep, why do I suspect him of only pretending to be asleep, taking pleasure in seeing me humiliated, defeated by the hopelessness of the human condition, silently continuing the ancient argument between us, people are garbage, he claims, you’re wasting your life on garbage, on the lowest of the low, you’ll never reform anyone, you’ll never save a single child. You think that if you uproot a child from his home and plant him in a different soil he’ll be saved? You can’t deceive nature, your pretensions are absurd, outrageous, you people need to reconcile yourselves to nature, accept it. Time after time he would go out on his hikes, sometimes completely alone, sleeping in tents in all kinds of godforsaken places, returning with shining eyes, for three days I didn’t see a soul, he would tell me proudly, as if he’d succeeded in evading a dangerous enemy. He never complained about floods, sandstorms, insect bites, he accepted it all with understanding, as part of an intimate dialogue between him and nature, while I sank deeper and deeper in flesh and blood, and it seems to me that he is listening now to this conversation and glowing with an inner smile of triumph, and I rest my head on the edge of his bed, overcome with weariness as if I have been defeated in battle, and as in a dream I hear the conversation being conducted behind my back, it has the logic of a dream, an absurd, threatening, iron logic, either his remand has to be extended or he has to be released, the policeman explains to the nurse, they’ve just called me and said we have to bring a judge to the hospital to extend the remand, otherwise it’s illegal.
Husband and Wife Page 4
