This is where the border was in the past, says Udi, and I say in surprise, what border, with Jordan? And he says, no, of course not, between the Kingdom of Judah and the Kingdom of Israel, and I have forgotten that there was ever any such division, I look around in astonishment, seeking traces of an ancient wall, but the land is one and the same wherever I look, salty, moonstruck land. Why did they separate, I ask, and he replies, the question is why they ever united, the division between them was a natural, ancient division that preceded the unification, the unification was weak from the start, and I lower my eyes, why does it seem to me that it’s us he’s talking about, a cold tension grips my spine, icy little animals crawl up it, vertebra after vertebra. What were relations between them like, I ask, and he says, full of vicissitudes, there were wars, reconciliations and alliances, and I strain my memory, Israel was bigger and stronger than Judah, right? So how come it was destroyed first? Precisely because it was stronger it was less careful, he grins, it dared to neglect God, while Judah which was weaker militarily took greater care, it had no choice. So perhaps it’s better to be weak, I say, and he nods, from God’s point of view, definitely, but that too only up to a certain point, otherwise it’s impossible to survive at all.
They were probably stunned over there in Judah, after Israel was exiled, I say, like a couple when the strong one dies before the weak one, and Udi says, the truth is that Israel was only stronger on the face of things, inside it was sick, unstable, there were fanatical prophets there preaching revolt, there was bloodshed, whereas Judah was relatively stable, it never changed its capital or its dynasty. But it didn’t help them in the end, they were exiled themselves after a few generations, I say, and he shakes his head, you’re wrong, it helped them a lot, even after the exile they remained faithful to the same capital and the same dynasty, and thanks to that they came back here and Israel didn’t. I’m sure it was a disaster for them, to be suddenly left alone in the country, I insist, and Udi looks at me in admiration, you’re wonderful, he says, and I demur, you’re joking, and he strokes my hand lying next to him, no, I’m serious, you see everything in such human, personal terms, I come here all the time with different groups and nobody reacts like you do, I didn’t fall in love with you by accident when I was twelve years old, he boasts, I already knew then that you had a special soul, I just didn’t know that you would waste it on the wretched of the earth, he adds sourly. Stop it, don’t spoil things, I slap his hand, and he smiles at me, look at you, your face has hardly changed, you look so young, and I am confused by all these compliments, I hasten to deny it, nonsense, look at the wrinkles under my eyes, and he insists, you look like a little girl, don’t argue with me, and I try to bask in the compliment, a melting sweetness fills me, and I want to close my eyes in the blissful hollow of his love, next to the springlike breeze tickling the window, to close my eyes and hope for the best.
You won’t believe what they’ve got in that monastery, he points to a small building, its dome glittering in the heart of the white plains of Jericho, the skulls of monks murdered by the Persians hundreds of years ago. You want to have a look? He is about to turn off the road, but I shudder, definitely not, and he yields with surprising ease, his mood is improving more and more the farther we get from home, his hair blows in the wind, his face is flushed, it’s impossible to believe that only yesterday he was lying paralyzed in the hospital, and I sigh in relief, it really is a miracle, what’s happened to him, it’s incredible, and I look around curiously, miracles are not foreign to these glittering slopes, out of the mountains dark holes gape at me like hollow eye sockets. Those are ancient caves, Udi explains, you want to climb up there? And I recoil, definitely not, but I go on staring at the empty eyes, they must have seen many wonders, I can’t remember what, something to do with the Jordan River, and I ask, where’s the Jordan, we haven’t seen it yet, and Udi laughs, that’s the best thing about the Jordan, that it’s almost invisible, anyone who succeeds in seeing it is always disappointed, it’s just a trickle, but nevertheless it seems to me that I can sense its presence, accompanying us to the right like the heart’s desire, faithful and disturbing, with green-gray steps.
What miracles took place here in biblical times, I ask, and he says, this region is loaded, especially round the Jordan River, a lot of prophets roamed around here hungry for miracles, it was here that Elijah ascended in a storm to heaven, here that Elisha cured the cursed water, here that Na’aman the commander of the King of Aram’s army washed his body seven times and was cured of leprosy, not to mention the miracle of the crossing of the Jordan, when the water stood up and a whole people crossed on dry land, but of all these miracles it seemed to me that the greatest and most amazing was the one that had been granted us, and only occasionally did I hear a whisper welling up inside me, quiet as the flow of water in the shrunken river, perhaps it isn’t a miracle at all, perhaps it has been an illusion from the beginning.
And people who don’t believe in miracles, I ask him, how do they explain all those things, is there another explanation? And he says, nothing on earth has only one explanation, it’s always possible to find a rational justification, for instance that there was an earthquake at precisely the moment when the children of Israel crossed the river, and heaps of marl fell into the water and dried it up, but by now I’m hardly listening as I look at his lips polishing the words. I suppose there’s someone in every group who falls in love with you, I tease him, and he laughs, why only one, and his hand wanders over my thighs, lingers between them, and this is what I do to them while I drive, he opens the buttons of my pants, and I say archly, how do I know that you don’t, and he says, if you don’t know that inside then you don’t know anything, and I actually thought that I did know, but still, who taught him to open buttons with one hand, while he’s driving, however this hardly bothers me now, not when he wants me so much, and I imagine that I’m a young tourist falling in love with the Holy Land and with the fascinating guide who knows it so well.
Udi, be careful, you need both hands on the steering wheel, I scream as the car opposite us honks its horn, we must have swerved into the wrong lane, but he grips me tightly and says through clamped jaws, I prefer to hold your steering wheel, it turns me on a lot more, and in a minute I’m going to start turning it for you, and I protest weakly, not now, Udi, it’s dangerous, but his fingers are sending shivers through my pelvis, I writhe uncontrollably, I feel as if I’m lying on the bed of an ancient, salty, oily sea, close to the savage inner life of this land, to the footsteps of the wild animals who prowled here thousands of years ago, and he holds me with sudden, provocative strangeness, as if he hasn’t been my husband since the age of twelve, only his hand inside me and his eyes on the road. Come, he says through his teeth, I’m not stopping until you come, and I say, my mouth dry, have a heart, it could take a year, and he doesn’t answer but his long fingers persevere, gathering my whole body round them, sheaving it like a sheaf of wheat in a field, startling hundreds of butterflies from its depths, tiny wings spread inside me, colliding with each other, stroking, fluttering, my throat is hoarse, and I try to whisper, why don’t you park on the side of the road, but he takes no notice of me, and by now I take no notice of myself, thousands of wings make me tremble inside, laughing and leaving kisses of nectar in my groin, and when I open my eyes I see to my horror black clouds of butterflies beating against the windshield, and I cry, what’s that, and he says, relax, it happens here sometimes, there’s nothing anybody can do, I’m trying to drive slowly, and he withdraws his hand gently, and surveys it with a triumphant smile.
I push my seat backward and give the sky an ingratiating look, how pleasant it is to drive like this, it seems as if this wild landscape is visiting my bed, I look at Udi admiringly out of the corner of my eye, yes, a person could still fall in love with him, even I could still fall in love with him, a pang of hunger tickles my stomach, an agreeable anticipation of food, and then I suddenly sit up straight, what about Noga, I forgot to ask my mo
ther if she had stopped her fast, and Udi stares at me in surprise, what’s wrong, I thought you’d fallen asleep. I have to find out if Noga ate this morning, I say tensely, and grab the cell phone, but there’s no reply at my mother’s house, and I don’t dare to phone the school, and Udi complains, whenever you’re happy you have to dig up something new to worry about from under the ground, and I flare up, it’s not under the ground at all, it’s above the ground, about one and a half meters above the ground, is that high enough for you? And Udi’s already bristling, you’re not helping her by tormenting yourself, I promise you that she’s eating very well, not that your mother’s capable of cooking anything, he pulls a disapproving face, and I can’t control myself, don’t you care about her, I say, and already my eyes are wet, and he growls, of course I care about her, she’s my daughter, isn’t she? I just don’t exaggerate like you do, that’s all, and I’m sick of you testing me all the time.
Disconsolately I stare at the sky, the farther north we go the more it clouds over, but I am no longer consoled by the prospect of rain, what did I do wrong, why is everything spoiled as soon as Noga’s name is mentioned, surely it should be the opposite, parents doting on their children together, we ourselves doted on her endlessly when she was a baby, why will this wound never heal, and I feel like saying to him, let’s go home, there’s no point to this trip, this wound doesn’t suit a fancy hotel, it needs to hide at home, until it heals we’ll never be happy together, and until we’re happy together it won’t heal, so let’s give up right now. Around us the air is cooling, the colors darkening, as if we have arrived in a different realm, more melancholy but far more real and reliable than the hot and savage realm of miracles and wonders, with the palms and the bananas, the vast cradle spread out between the Judean mountains and the mountains of Moab, and it seems that his face has darkened too, his cheeks hang joylessly on their bones, under his chin a fold of sagging flesh wobbles, an evil spirit is approaching him and I have to stop it, I have to restrain myself again, so as not to awaken the beast of conversion accompanying us, sleeping quiet and dangerous at the back of the car.
When will we arrive, I ask innocently, and he answers dryly, in about an hour, and I suggest, why don’t we stop on the way for something to eat, and he says, I’d rather wait, the food there’s the best, and it seems that the neutral conversation has relaxed his tension, but not mine, again I feel the cold creeping up my spine, icy worms clinging to the tired vertebrae, hugging them in a freezing embrace.
Do you want to have a quick look at the necropolis, he asks, and all I want is to sit in a warm place with coffee and cake but I don’t like to refuse again, he’ll snatch the opportunity to say again that nothing eternal interests me, that I don’t relate to history. It’s a pity I didn’t agree to go into the monastery, what’s a few ancient skulls compared to an entire city of the dead, and I try to enthuse myself, an entire city of the dead? And he says, yes, a burial city, from all corners of the Jewish world they came to be buried here, and I ask, why here in particular, and he explains willingly, it was already forbidden to be buried in Jerusalem, and also to live there after the Bar Kochba revolt, or even in a place from which Jerusalem could be seen. Altogether, all the burial customs changed after the exile, it was only then that the Jews began to believe in the resurrection of the dead, and I trail behind him into the deep, cold caves, each grave illuminated by a single light, which only serves to stress the surrounding darkness, a private reading lamp for every dead person. At the entrance we are greeted by a little girl who died at the age of nine years and six months, of what it doesn’t say, and I stand afraid next to her grave, what do you think she died of, I ask, and he says, what difference does it make to you, there’s no lack of things to die from, but her age oppresses me, exactly the same age as Noga, suddenly the long year between nine and ten seems to me terrifyingly dangerous, and I have to know what to beware of.
Proudly he shows me the signs on the graves, the Assyrian bull and the Roman eagle and the peacock, symbolizing eternity, and the seven-armed candelabra, and the goddess Nicea, the Roman goddess of victory, you see how tolerant they were, they weren’t averse to using foreign symbols, but I totter behind him freezing and frightened, because all these animals are circling round Noga’s head, threatening her life, and I stop listening to his learned lecture, all I want is to get out of there, to be resurrected like these silent, privileged dead, and when we emerge he is as proud and satisfied as if it’s his own private plot, the burial plot of his ancient family, and I look with hostility at the cultivated lawns, what has this place, from which you can’t see Jerusalem, got to do with me?
What’s the matter with you, you’re completely gray, he looks at me mockingly, and all I want now is to get back to the car and phone my mother, I’m tired, I say, dialing the number with tense fingers, and finally she answers, I went to see the doctor this morning, they say there’s no improvement, she threatens me, and I interrupt her, did Noga eat this morning? Of course she did, she boasts, I cooked her cereal the way she likes it, with chocolate flakes, and she ate it all, and I breathe a sigh of relief, instantly everything seems less threatening, even those burial caves, and I’m so thankful I’m ready to go back in again, and Udi says, you see, when she’s far from you there’s no problem, it’s only with you that she makes difficulties, and I lie back and ask in sudden interest, that surprises even me, how did this place look then? And he says, more or less like it does now, it hasn’t changed much, only these cypresses weren’t there, but pines, oaks, carob trees, and I look around, so this is what the parents of that little girl saw in the darkness of their eyes, after the long journey with the little body, jolted from time to time by the potholes in the road as if she were still alive, an ancient little girl, even if she’d lived a long life she would still be buried here today, in the depths of the cold stone, there’s no lack of things to die from, he said, there’s no lack of things to worry about, and I try to rouse my spirits with the words I saw engraved on one of the graves, be strong, pious parents, no man is immortal.
The farther north we drive the more the light retreats, as if the sun has set unseasonably before noon, a dense mist bars our way and we twist and turn with the narrow road over mountains of cloud, at close quarters their touch is strange and hostile, not the expected soft caress. Udi drives laboriously, his forehead almost butting into the windshield, his eyes narrowed, his shoulders swaying from side to side as if he’s rowing a boat, one after the other warning signs loom up in front of us, threatening us with aggressive exclamation marks, and beneath us the deep, hungry abyss breathes heavily. A black rain suddenly pours down from the clouds squatting like giant bears over the roof of the car, lashing at the windowpanes, and I move my feet nervously, already I can feel the tug ropes of the abyss coiling round them, while above my head the magnet of the dark sky rules, one more snatched breath and the eternal balance of terror between heaven and earth will be disrupted, and I will be left suspended in nothingness, like between my father and mother when I was a child.
As soon as we get there I’m jumping straight into the pool, says Udi, and I look at him in amazement, what makes him so sure that we will get there, the road is so narrow, and when an occasional car drives past us from the opposite direction we brush up against the mountain, there’s a moment when it seems that it’s them or us, our whole existence is in doubt and he’s occupied with luxuries, but now he turns onto a side road, escaping from the abyss which closes its mouth in disappointment, and already we belong to a different place, a spacious and welcoming estate that absorbs us quickly, like refugees whose wanderings are at an end. The narrow road above the clouds turns into a vague memory, and only the thought of the way back, on the side of the abyss, troubles me for a moment, but I quickly suppress it, so distant does our return home seem, as if by then new roads will be built throughout the land, and all the abysses will be filled with earth.
I stretch out luxuriously on the bed, it’s the biggest bed I’ve
ever seen, dwarfing me entirely, I stretch my arms and legs to the full but my hands and feet don’t reach the end, and I rebuke myself happily, you see, things don’t always go wrong, there are other possibilities besides the worst, Noga’s all right, and Udi’s recovered, and we have arrived safely, and we’re here in this palace with every luxury, and the icicles in my spine melt and turn into a warm solution, and Udi is already rummaging in the traveling bag, not resting for a minute, where are my bathing trunks, are you sure you didn’t forget them, and he throws our clothes on the floor, just like Noga, until he pulls out the narrow strip of black cloth triumphantly and puts it on and urges me to hurry up, and I’m still stretched out on the bed, I’ll come down in a minute, okay? He wraps himself quickly in a white terry-cloth robe and hurries out of the room, and I stare at the door broadcasting his unambiguous wishes, which immediately become my wishes, and I get up immediately and put on my bathing suit, examining my body suspiciously and covering it with the robe, here too it’s like some kind of hospital, everyone wearing white robes.
Husband and Wife Page 9
