Husband and Wife

by Zeruya Shalev

  I listen to him with my eyes closed, it’s hard for me to look at him, my heart goes out to him so much, I’ve become so used to being on the side of the women, but now the borders seem to be blurring, the pain is the same pain, even if it’s borne differently, it’s common human bad luck, which makes no distinction between men and women, and again I think of Udi, what would he do in similar circumstances, but immediately I remember what he’s already done, left me for less than a baby, for a woman with a baby that’s not even his, and when I open my eyes I see him looking at me curiously, his tongue wetting his lips, and he whispers, what are you thinking about? Suddenly everything came together, I say hesitantly, suddenly I realized how connected we all are, it should bring us closer but instead it estranges us, and he smiles, it doesn’t estrange me, I felt close to you from the moment I saw you sitting in your office and smiling with sad eyes, and don’t get the wrong idea, I don’t usually find it easy to come close to people, and I say, I wasn’t talking about you and me, I was talking about humanity in general, and he declares solemnly, ah, humanity, that’s your field, I don’t know anything about it, I only know how to build homes.

  Or to wreck them, I say and immediately regret it, and he clamps his lips and takes his wallet out of his pocket with a sharp movement, I’ve chased him away, he’s going to pay and leave, but instead of taking out a banknote he takes out a snapshot and hands it to me, a strange family snapshot, usually in photos like these everyone is clustered together, in the garden, or round the table, looking at their empty plates, but here they’re all in motion, as if they’re playing catch. At one end of the photo a brown boy is smiling at me, dimples in his cheeks, and not far from him a little girl in a sundress, with dozens of thin braids sticking out all over her head, and at the other end a tall, mannish woman in shorts is trying to catch up with them, my interest is naturally focused on her, one tanned leg resolutely thrust forward, she has big blue eyes in an attractive face, but her shoulders are broad, her haircut mannish, making a disagreeable impression, I expected him to have a completely different wife. I’m prettier than she is, I conclude in surprise, but nevertheless she has him and I have nothing, and again I study the photograph, the vigorous movement of the leg which seems hopeless, she’ll never catch up with them, but what difference does it make, they all look content, calm, only he, the photographer, is not content, nervously lighting another cigarette, do you understand, he urges me, and I ask, what exactly am I supposed to understand?

  Our lives are free, he says, that’s the only way we can live together, she never asks me where I’ve been, I never interrogate her, over the years we’ve learned to free ourselves of both the truth and the lies, she knows that I come home because I want to see her and the children, not because I have to, and that’s enough for her, and for me, we’ve learned to believe in actions, and that’s how we live, without guilt and blame, without prying into each other’s souls all the time, and that’s how we bring up our children, in a family where there’s room for everyone, and the more he talks the more humiliated I feel, as if he’s holding a mirror in his hand and showing me my life, fundamentally false, choked with guilt, resentment, ancient bonds, a combination of a prison and a torture chamber, where everyone is both inmate and warden, torturer and tortured. Suddenly I feel that he is utterly alien to me, what have I to do with him, what have I to do with this polished propaganda speech, for one minute sorrow penetrated his life, and I entered through the same breach, but soon his sorrow will be banished and he will return to his comfortable, rationally managed life and I will return to mine, and again he wets his lips, I’m sorry, he says, I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I bow my head, it isn’t you, it’s reality, it does that, you know. He puts his hand under my chin and raises my face to his, angling it like a mirror, I don’t know what to do, he says, sliding his tongue over his teeth, I should never have started it, but she was so sweet, she would stay behind in the office on purpose until everyone left, ask my advice about all kinds of things, provoke me, so I had a little fun with her, I never imagined that it would end in such a mess.

  You forgot the facts of life, I say sternly, and he sighs, give me a break, Na’ama, you know I go over that one time in my head every night, curse myself for not holding back, one lousy time, after she’d flaunted herself in front of me all day in a miniskirt without any panties on, and the minute we were alone she sat down on my lap, and I rummaged in the drawer and saw I was out of condoms, and in the end I said, okay, so we’ll go back to the old methods, and bingo, it happened, there isn’t a night that I don’t go over it in my head, and I lower my eyelids modestly, why on earth is he sharing all these details with me as if I were his confidante, but at the same time I’m busy reconstructing the scene with him, it sounds so provocative, despite the unhappy results, and then I realize that this was precisely his intention in telling me, to stimulate me, to let me know that he was open to all comers, and that if I were to flaunt myself in front of him without any panties on, it would happen. For a moment I feel angry, who does he think he is, what does he take me for, but the next I steal a forgiving look at him, how can I be angry with him, his frankness is so disarming, and in fact, why not, I’m free now, not only deserted, not only abandoned, there’s another side to my plight, exciting and unfamiliar.

  In a transparent gesture I look at my watch, and he grins, do we have any time left to talk about the situation? I nod quietly, feeling more excited than I have for years, and he brings his face up close to mine, at close quarters his skin is coarse and pitted, just like the leather wallet lying on the table between us, and do you want to talk about the situation here or somewhere else, he asks, why don’t we go to the place where the situation began, and I whisper, all right, suddenly my doubts and hesitations are over, I follow him spellbound, for the first time in my life not thinking about the consequences, or the price to be paid, simply following a man I’d never met before this morning, and my whole body wakes up, new currents of life stream through it, this body that was exclusively Udi’s, and that perhaps, by means of another man, will come into my possession again, and I don’t think of Udi or Noga or Yael, only about the seductive grace flowing generously from his every movement. Drive behind me, he says, it’s very near, and I get into the car and drive behind him, as if there’s a thick cable joining us, he’s the tow truck and I’m the damaged car attached to his rear, without the freedom to indulge in doubts.

  Next to a small, well-tended building we stop, two potted plants greet me with a bright smile in the stairwell, and I follow him into an elegant and, more crucially, empty office, today everybody in the office gets off early, this was our regular day, he says, and I laugh, suddenly everything seems delightful and entertaining to me, everything I had shrunk from for years, even the thought of the fat soon to be revealed underneath my clothes, embarrassing as stolen goods, the appalling private body odors, all the things that only Udi could love, no longer bother me, for the first time I am experiencing what every girl goes through in her youth, and it’s a lot less frightening that I thought, a lot more simple.

  His hand brushes my shoulder, directing me to his office where the floor is covered from wall to wall by a bright red carpet, exactly the same color as my blouse, and his voice gurgles in my ear, when I saw you this morning, you know what I thought? And I nod because I know what he’s going to say, I thought how much I wanted to see you lying on this carpet with your lovely yellow hair, and he comes closer to me and strokes my hair, he’s so close that his lips are almost touching my cheek, and briefly I pull back, in a minute his mouth will cover mine, and all the traces of the food we’ve eaten today and the words we’ve spoken today will mingle, how strange that one little organ should perform so many functions, there should have been a special organ just for kissing, what have I to do with the remains of his food, the remains of his words, and his lips breathe on my ear, don’t run away, Na’ama, he whispers, don’t worry, we won’t do anything if it makes you nervous, I just want
to see you on the carpet. I look at the carpet beneath my feet in embarrassment, how am I going to get down there, but he sits down lightly and pulls me after him, lays my limbs down one by one, precisely as in a drawing, arranges my hair around my head, he radiates an innocent enthusiasm that wipes out my reservations about myself, his admiration seems exaggerated but it’s so reassuring, covered with the sweetness of a daydream like the icing on a cake, an illusory sweetness there’s no point in arguing with because it’s not real anyway, all you can do is lick it, until all the icing is gone and the cake is left without it, dull and naked, but I don’t care, I’ve worried about the future enough, I made all kinds of secret agreements with it that only I kept, now the future can worry about itself.

  I’m not asking you anything, he says, looking at me with his eyes lit up, but you can tell me everything, and I try to smile but a little tear is already staining the carpet when I say, my husband left me exactly a week ago, I’ve never been with another man, the shameful declaration escapes my lips, but he isn’t put off, he strokes my lips with the tips of his fingers, he’ll come back, you’ll see, he whispers, I promise you that he’ll come back, and I’m ready to believe him, touching his handsome face, even from close up he’s beautiful, even if not so young, I never guessed how deep the frown marks between his stern brows were, but his smile is warm and sensitive before his lips press mine, let me love you, he whispers into my mouth, into the evening descending on the room, a soft summer darkness, faintly perfumed, with the smell of fresh fruit wafting from it, warm plums just plucked from the tree, melting in the mouth like candy, as he gently peels off my clothes, you’re so white, he tells me, your skin is so smooth. Without his shirt he looks heavier, accustomed to Udi’s boyish body my hands measure the breadth of his back in surprise, but it feels pleasant to the touch, no reservations poison me. How simple it is, I marvel, to make love to a perfect stranger, without all the old grievances and resentments of a life in common, how come it never occurred to me that you can only really love a stranger.

  His finger travels provocatively over my body, it seems to me that the roots of my hair are shuddering with pleasure, splitting the dry earth of my scalp, don’t be shy, he whispers, show me how you really are, and I become lighter and lighter, as if I have just shed a heavy load, sacks full of baggage, a minute before the ship went down I threw all I possessed into the sea, and now I am standing alone on the deck, with nothing left to lose, concentrating on the journey of his finger, now it rests for a moment in my mouth and I lick it like a cat enjoying a juicy fish bone, and now it hides itself from me in the depths of my body, and his abrasive tongue is at the bottom of my neck, and already he is completely naked, standing on his knees before me short-legged as a dwarf and drawing me toward him, and I am trembling round his hot, surging penis, in a minute it will break, smash to pieces, like my father’s giant barometer exploding at my feet on my wedding day, and I hear him cry out, gasp, don’t run away from me, Na’ama, I can feel you running away, and I say, I’m here with you, and he shakes my shoulders, disappointed, you’re not, you’re not, and immediately I make haste to comply, to prove to him that I am, my whole body goes round in circles to please him, circle within circle like a target board, with his hypnotizing penis stuck in the middle, and nothing can change this, not my father’s sorrow, not Udi’s unfaithfulness, nor Noga’s hurt, this is the one and only fact, and with a wild fling of freedom I throw back my neck, raising the blinking barrier to let the sugared coaches of pleasure through, and here they come, one after the other, like the train cake I made for Noga’s second birthday, three gorgeous coaches covered with chocolate icing, which she didn’t even get to taste before she fell.

  So that’s what I had to tell you about the situation, he suddenly announces in an alarmingly loud voice, as if a loudspeaker had been turned on in the depths of his throat, the white shirt already making its way to his shoulders, his face shifting like the face of a child who has received a gift in honor of a tragic event and doesn’t know whether to be happy for the gift or sorry for the tragedy. You understand me, don’t you, he crushes my shoulders, I made love to her three times on this carpet, four times on that chair, two or three times on the desk, I’ll be glad to demonstrate them all to you one day, maybe I forgot to mention another once or twice, so what does it mean, that we can be man and wife, she and I? That I should leave my children, break up the family I love so much, you tell me, what does it mean? What price am I expected to pay for my pleasures? I didn’t rape her, you know, I didn’t even seduce her, when it happened I did all I could to help her fix it and she was the one who refused, I went to your shelter and signed papers to say I was prepared to acknowledge paternity or consent to adoption, what more do you want, for me to love her? I’m sorry, that you can’t compel me to do, you can’t control my feelings, and I am surprised by the sharp transition but not afraid, there’s something soft about him which doesn’t endanger me, and I look at his shirt as his broad fingers button it up, how can it still be so white at the end of the day, and I draw his hands toward me, kiss his fingernails, every nail seems to me to have its own little face, and they all smile at me shyly, like his face bending down to me, and I lay his head on my chest, his thick fragrant hair covers my breasts, don’t worry, I whisper to him, don’t worry, everything will be all right.

  When I drive home in the dark I laugh out loud, because right next to the car he said to me, you know that Hava would never have done such a thing, that’s why I said I preferred you, and I giggled, poor Hava, she has no idea what she’s missing, and I see him in the mirror looking after me, a big, grateful man who was granted an unexpected pardon, but as I get closer to home I force myself to think of poor Yael, I didn’t help her at all, I only helped myself, in a strange and unexpected way, nobody would have believed it of me, and I myself can hardly believe that it happened, that at long last I had dared to finish what had been broken off then, in the rooftop studio on the day of the first rain, as if that was the real sin for which I’d been punished, that I didn’t permit myself to stay with him there, and that now that the deed was done the sin had been wiped away.

  When I come home I see them sitting in the living room, waiting for me tense and silent, my mother and Udi and Noga, as if they are my anxious parents and I their wayward child. Mommy, where were you, only Noga dares to ask, and I answer lightly, I had a few meetings, and Udi looks at me, hardly able to stop himself from interrogating me as usual, I haven’t seen him for a week and his body seems to have shrunk and his gloom swollen, his eyes are red as if he hasn’t slept since then, and my mother says, you look radiant, Na’ama, stealing a provocative look at him, and I feel like saying to her, that’s exactly what you looked like when you came home from your meetings, looking at us in astonishment as if you didn’t remember who we were or what we wanted of you, but I look at them in silence, it seems to me that they have all conspired against me to sabotage my modest happiness, and I won’t let them, I mustn’t let them. Noga, have you done your homework, I pounce on her, firmly changing the subject, and she as expected says no and shuts herself in her room, and my mother says grimly, I’ll make something to eat, and retires to the kitchen, and Udi gets up slowly and stands facing me, his limbs locked in the tangle of his thoughts, I told you you’d be better off without me, he whispers in a sanctimonious tone, his eyes darting over my face, and I melt at the sight of his helpless frustration, so this is happiness, for years I’ve been seeking it in vain in the domains of friendship and lovingkindness, when all the time it was hiding here, in the cracks between victory and bitter defeat, between absolute emptiness and memory ceaselessly seeping in, this is happiness, to see an old enemy bound in chains, he has no right to ask where I was and what I was doing, he has no right to look for incriminating clues, and only his embittered steps going downstairs leave a demanding question in their wake, a question whose answer has always been there waiting.

  Nineteen

  That night she stands next to
my bed, the still, breathing statue of a child, and I open my eyes and immediately close them again, and turn over onto my other side, his wife’s tanned leg invades the bed, planting a rude kick in the heart of my dreaming groin, that’s what women do to keep their husbands and only you give up without a fight, you haven’t got the guts to fight for him, or maybe you don’t think he’s worth it, that’s exactly what he would say, whenever we fell into the trap of so-called heart-toheart talks, you don’t really want me, you think you deserve something better, you only stay with me for fear of being alone, not for love, but I never really listened to him, I only waited for my turn, to sweep his arguments away like twigs on the tidal wave of my accusations, and now I remember his offended look on the stairs, barely one week has passed and you’ve cheated on me already, you’ve given me up more quickly than I thought.

  Cool currents of air penetrate my bed, stepping hesitantly over my limbs, for the first time, as at the end of a shower when the water is still hot but your skin can feel the threat of the cold hiding behind it, I sense the approaching end of this hard summer, and I sit up to look for the blanket and I see her again, her eyes closed, asleep on her feet in the middle of her watch, what is she guarding with this mixture of dedication and negligence, and I touch her skin, Nogi, you’re freezing, get into bed, and she says, Daddy doesn’t love me. You’re cold, I insist, can’t you see that it’s getting cold at night, and she says, I know he doesn’t love me, and I pull her to me angrily, when I finally manage to fall asleep she has to come and wake me up, what harm have I done her to make her persecute me like this, and only then do her words sink in, and I don’t say anything because I have nothing to say, perhaps she’s right, I have no idea whom he loves. He hardly spoke to me, she goes on, he hardly listened to me, just looked at his watch all the time, as if someone was waiting for him, and I force myself to hug her, instead of the wave of pity I should feel I am seized by savage anger against both him and her, I feel like running away from the pair of them, let them solve their problems without me. Noga, let me sleep, I grumble, I can’t be responsible for your father, I have no idea what he feels, I only know that I love you, but when she falls into a rebuked silence I wonder if even this is true, what did he say, buttoning his white shirt, you can’t force me to love, and I bury my head in the pillow, I’m sick of loving, I admit it, all I want is for love to be given to me, and for nothing to be taken from me in return.