You don’t run a marathon every day. And it’s not every day that there are articles about you, even if it’s just a local paper.
Hello, Hagar, Yoav speaking. I didn’t know that you run. Well done, that’s great. And I saw that you’re about to take part in the Upper Galilee Marathon in another two weeks. And it’s your first time. Amazing. I wanted to wish you every success. Tell me how it went.
***
May 12
He hasn’t called yet.
I gave it to him four days ago, and the article is only a third of a page. And two pictures. One of me running, and a portrait that Yaron took, you can only see my face. It was a sunny afternoon, I was sitting on the terrace. “Look at the way the sun falls on you – it’s so beautiful,” he said and aimed the camera at me.
***
Eight minutes. That’s the time it takes to read that article.
And half a minute. Or a minute. That’s how long it takes to ring me up to say, Hope it goes well for you, good luck.
***
He must have read it.
Perhaps he can’t call, perhaps he has already gone away. He said that we couldn’t meet, so maybe he’s already left.
But he’s read it - he must have read it.
***
May 24
“Hagar, try to calm down, look what a bundle of nerves you are. It’s going to be okay, you’ll do it, you’ll see - it’ll be all right,” Yaron told me that last night. We were already in bed, the light was off, yet neither of us could get to sleep.
“Yes,” I answered, my face to the wall.
He drew close to me, hugging me from behind.
“You suddenly decided to go to Dr. Marom, you told me that you wanted to go, you didn’t tell me why. I didn’t ask. It’s not my business, it’s your right. If a woman wants to go to therapy, her husband can’t tell her not to go.”
I kept quiet.
“I hope it’s doing you good, I’ve heard about him, he’s well known.”
“It’s all right.”
“Hagari, you can tell me if you want, you don’t have to. I only want you to feel better and calm down. Look at you, you’re impossibly tense.”
“I’m sorry, Yaron, I’m so sorry; I don’t want you to worry about me.” How could I have told him about everything that was happening? That I had found the letters. That I had found them a while ago, almost a year. That though I knew they weren’t mine, I couldn’t hold myself back, that I had read a little. That there’s a picture there of the two of them, maybe he doesn’t even remember that picture. That I don’t know where it’s from, maybe Eilat. Is that why he never wants us to travel to Eilat? That we don’t have one single picture of ours like that, not even close - I ransacked the whole house. That what he had with Aya thirty years ago is like it happened here, right next to me, as if I had seen it, heard it, as if what happened to Yael was happening to me, that I was beside myself. That I had tried to go to Yoav, that I couldn’t think of any other solution, I so hoped it would help me. And now I’m no longer sure if Yoav is doing me any good or if it’s bad for me. Maybe he’s not all that interested in me. Or not enough. Maybe I’m slightly boring to him. How can I know if I am? He didn’t choose to have these meetings with me. And it’s not as if it’s critical for him if I come to him or if I don’t. It’s his work, I can’t blame him for it. And I pay him for every hour, for every minute, and that drives me crazy, maybe he only meets up with me and smiles at me because that’s how he earns a living. Maybe he doesn’t think of me at all when I’m not there, maybe he shouldn’t be thinking of me when the fifty minutes are over, why should he think of me? He’s got his own things to think about, after all, I’m just work for him. And I don’t completely understand this profession – how is it even possible to go to someone with your troubles if you’re just a job for them. Maybe I slightly sold us out to Yoav, maybe it’s not okay that I talked to him about us and about Aya’s letters. And the way I broke down at his place was ghastly, it was horrible beyond belief.
And that article has been with him for two and a half weeks already. Whenever the phone rings I jump. Just to hear him say, Good luck in the marathon, Hagar. It’s the day after tomorrow. What am I going to do if he doesn’t ring? How am I even going to run?
How can I tell Yaron all this? The things I’ve been going through for months now - he has no idea.
“I’m sorry, Yaron, I’m just a little tense with all these preparations. It’ll pass.”
“Are you sure?”
I turned around, squeezed into him. He wiped my eyes, hugged me to him. My face against his chest. I so love that scent of Yaron. I always loved it. Ever since we’ve been together.
Since that first time he took his shirt off, slowly, so slowly, then smiled right into my eyes, for the first time. The sun was penetrating a little between the blinds, the red sun at sunset. And a paraffin stove was alight in the corner, the flicker of its flame so tender. And Yaron stood like that in front of me, his shirt tossed aside, and he went on smiling at me, and drew me to him. And he saw my embarrassment, and he drew me close, close to him. And he whispered to me, “Come to me, Hagari,” and he stroked my face. And he held my head in both his hands, and he gazed into my eyes. And then he covered both of us in a blanket and whispered into my hair, “My Hagari,” and we were together. The first time.
Perhaps that’s what’s important, the scent.
Perhaps that’s the main thing; perhaps all the rest is simply not that important. That scent of Yaron.
”Yes, I’m sure.”
May 29
I arrived. I could hardly get out of the car. My whole body was cramped. I went into the room. My heart was beating so fast, in anticipation, that he would know, that he would say something, ask something, perhaps he’d already looked on the Internet and had seen me at the finishing line. Yaron and Iddo and Michal and Yael all running towards me, the girls that I’m training in the team screaming Ha-gar! Ha-gar! Yaron embracing me with a towel, Iddo grabbing a chair and shouting, Move over! Let her sit down! Michal hugging me from the other side, Yael taking photos, everyone around me with all the sweat and the water and everything.
“Hello, Hagar, won’t you come in.”
I went in, I sat down.
He brought me the glass of water, put it down on the small table. He shut the door after him, sat down facing me, smiled at me.
I lifted my eyes to him, I sat up straight. I smiled at him. Now he’ll say it.
“What would you like to talk about today?”
30. Aya
“It’s so good that we’ve come here,” I whispered to Uri, a sleeping bag spread out beneath us, our hands intertwined, the skies strewn with stars.
“We needed this,” he answered, “ages ago.”
“Yes,” I said. It’s one of our old, old rituals, sleeping at the seashore all by ourselves. A tent, a sleeping bag. A ritual we’ve been careful to keep up. For years we’ve kept it up, even when the kids were small. How could we have almost let it go?
There’s so much life-force to a sleeping bag on the sand. To this air, to the night, to the breeze coming off from the sea. To the distant stars.
And to Uri’s shoulder, beneath my head.
“It’s ages since you’ve talked to me about your work,” I said.
“It’s ages since you’ve asked.”
“That’s true, Uri, that’s true. But I’m asking now.”
And he told me about Sivan, who left the boarding school almost three years ago. And, from his shirt pocket, he drew out a letter she had sent him. It arrived in the post yesterday.
I got up, went into the tent and brought out a torch. And I sat down next to him, the letter in my hand.
Hello Uri,
Right now I’m sitting next to a lake, not far from my parents’ home. They made a little lake here. Like the one next to the boarding school. There are even some swans here. Maybe they’re the grandchildren or great-grandchildren of those swans, from th
e boarding school; do you think they might be?
Today I got my A-level certificate. It arrived in the post. A brown envelope, and stamped on it, a blue symbol. The State of Israel, Ministry of Education. To: Sivan Binjamini. Perhaps you don’t remember that day, when you sat next to me at the edge of the lake at the boarding school, a few days before I left. I was throwing stale bread to the swans. “You see that swan?” you said to me. There was one grey swan there. “Just like he goes for the bread, that’s how you’ve got to go for your A-levels. You can do it, I know you can. And you know it, too.” I took a stick, and I scratched on the ground. I was making that noise with the stick on purpose. But you went on talking. “One A-level exam, then another one, then a third. One day it’ll be over. Done. You’ll have your A-levels. That’s going to be your bread and butter; it’s your key to life. Like those breadcrumbs for that swan.”
So today the certificate arrived in the post and I wanted to let you know.
Whenever I needed you, you always had time for me. And not only for me. For all the kids – all the girls and boys. All those times we spent talking outside, or by the lake, or in your room, you never once glanced at your watch.
Say hi to your Aya. And to Iddo and Liora, who must have really grown up since I last saw them.
Sivan.
“It’s unbelievable, Uri. Amazing. She did it.”
“Yes, she did.”
“You always knew she’d succeed. You always believed in her.”
“It’s true. And you believed in her too.”
“It’s ages since I asked you about her. I completely forgot.”
“I know,” Uri answered, and his voice dropped. “Yaron took up all your headspace,” he added quietly, his eyes fixed on the stars.
“Leave it, Uri, let’s leave it. It wasn’t him. It was me. I’ve explained that to you so many times.”
We fell silent.
But the slight breeze continued to blow, bringing the scent of the sea. I lay down next to him, on the sleeping bag. And his shoulder was once again the pillow for my head, our fingers interlaced.
And a few weeks later, a fresh sea breeze was again blowing, and our tent stood pitched, again, on that same strip of beach.
31. Hagar
The end of June
“I have to get you out of this, I simply must,” Yael decided today.
It was morning; I was dozing off on the couch when I heard her inserting her key in the lock.
“This is some mess…” she muttered as she started picking up the newspapers that were scattered all over the living room, organized them in a pile, and then pushed them into the newspaper holder.
“Leave it, I’ll get round to it later.”
“Did you run today?”
“I didn’t feel like it.”
“What about yesterday?”
“Give me a break.”
“When was the last time you ran?”
I mumbled something, just so she’d leave me alone.
“Tell me, Hagar, when was the last time you ran?”
“I need to rest after the marathon.”
“That was a whole month ago; you need to get yourself back to it.”
She started folding the laundry scattered around the living room. “Leave it,” I threw out at her, but she went on.
“Hagari, it looks like you’re depressed.” I didn’t have the strength to argue. Let her think whatever she wants. “How could I have missed it; it’s staring me in the face and I didn’t get it.”
“I’m sure you’ve eaten nothing today,” she said to herself, left the laundry and went into the kitchen. I heard the water boiling as she switched on the kettle. Then, she sat down next to me with a pot of herbal tea and two slices of toast spread with tahini and honey. She wanted to pamper me with that healthy nutrition that I’m always lecturing her about.
“I’ve never once seen you like this, never. Even when the kids were small and Yaron wasn’t home, even during the toughest times. Why are you making such a big deal of Yoav? Just put it behind you and forget him, he doesn’t have to be so important.”
How could I explain it to her? That it was no longer connected to Yoav, or to Yaron, or to Aya, or to the letters. That it was me, that it was simply all about me. How I must be so incredibly uninteresting if even the man that I was paying to listen to me preferred to forget me the moment that I closed his door behind me.
“I just don’t get this profession,” I told her.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Come on, drop it. You’re not to blame.” I didn’t have the strength to prop her up as well.
“I saw that you were completely immersed in those letters and I didn’t seem to be able to help you, so I thought it might be worthwhile if you went to someone. But when it dawned on me that it wasn’t doing you any good, then I should have persuaded you to stop.”
“I wanted to go. For myself. I actually wanted to talk to someone I didn’t know, who didn’t know me. To understand why those letters grabbed me the way that they did, why they engulfed the rest of the world for me. It was almost like I needed a sort of technician who’d show me the faulty part and help me mend it, that’s all. Until all of a sudden, that connection with Yoav sucks you in and you discover you can’t get out.”
“I started to read a bit about it,” she said. With Yael there’s no such thing as a bit, she must have ploughed her way through the entire library. “It turns out that there can be side-effects to this thing that people call therapy.”
“Is that so?” My sarcasm was pointed. Why did I have to be so disgusting, and to her of all people? “How interesting that no one mentions it to you before you start on it.”
And again she said that she was so sorry, and again I said that she wasn’t to blame. Then we lapsed into silence, and she went back to folding the laundry, and then came and sat down next to me. “You must eat something,” she pushed the plate of toast towards me. “Later,” I could scarcely find the strength to answer her.
“Tell me, Yael, do you really think that I care about the girls on the team? Do you think that they interest me?”
“Hagar, you’re insane, I personally heard you calling Dana one day to find out how her training had gone.”
“What of it?”
“And Shira’s parents – you gave them a fifteen-minute speech about why it’s so important for her to keep up with the strengthening exercises at home. Three times a week, you told them, “Try to make sure it’s at least three times, strengthening the knees is critical.”
“But maybe I don’t really care about them. Maybe I do this because it’s my work. I’m paid for it, aren’t I? I’m paid to be the person who trains the team.”
“Hagar, this story with Yoav is sending you off the rails. You always did what you wanted to and what you thought you needed to, and that was it. And now you’re starting to tie yourself in knots with all these questions.”
“He doesn’t have to be interested in me. He really doesn’t have to be. And he can’t. How can he be interested in everyone who comes to him? And certainly not above and beyond the fifty minutes that I’m with him. And if I wanted him to read that article so much, then I should have given it to him there, when I was with him. He has to keep to the boundaries; you must have read about that in all those books of yours.”
Again she fell silent. And she polished off my toast as well, to save it from hanging about on the plate.
“All right, Hagar, boundaries. But how is it possible to treat someone if you don’t really care about them, or if you’re a little indifferent to them. It’s not as if it’s technical work. Caring isn’t something that can be shoved into the angle of a clock’s hands, into fifty minutes.”
“Maybe it can. Maybe that’s just as it should be. Maybe that’s exactly what they have to do to make sure those boundaries of theirs are kept.”
The End of July
And she’s not letting go
Yael doesn’t let go. I’ve become
her project. And now the academic year is over, she’s no longer teaching. “Tomorrow morning, first thing, I’ll be round,” she announced last night.
Today I was doing my impersonation of a couch potato on the sofa again. Half the summer holiday has gone and I’ve spent it lounging on the sofa. I heard her key turning in the lock of the front door.
“Hagari, whatever will we do with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Two months have just gone by.”
“So they have.”
“Is it still Yoav?”
I didn’t answer.
“You have to forget him. Look how well you’ve done, look how proud everyone is of you. Yaron doesn’t stop telling the whole world about that marathon, there isn’t a single person to whom he hasn’t sent that Internet link where you’re coming through the finishing line. I just can’t understand why you’re making such a big deal of Yoav.”
And then I was a real bitch.
“Yael, do me a favour, I’m really not up to any of this. For months you’ve been telling me that you need to get some clothes because nothing fits you. The sales are on; don’t waste the day on me.”
Yael got up, went into the toilet, locked the door. She never locks it if we’re alone in the house. I heard her blowing her nose, and then water running in the sink. Finally she emerged, went straight into the kitchen, and sat with her back slightly to me so I wouldn’t see her eyes. She started leafing through last week’s paper that was lying on the table. I knew that I should go over to her, tell her I was sorry. I just couldn’t move.
So We Said Goodbye: A Contemporary Fiction Novel Page 15
