Three

by D. A. Mishani

  She likes it from the first moment.

  Gil opens the door, turns on the living-room light and says, in Hebrew, “So this is it.” As he walks her around the rooms, he says no one has lived there for a few months and he only started sleeping there less than two weeks ago. He still needs to get rid of some things the previous tenants left. Apart from superficially cleaning the toilet and bathroom and his bedroom, he hasn’t had time to do much because of his long hours at the office and an overseas trip, and also because he doesn’t know how to turn someone else’s flat into a home. There are two small bedrooms, each with a matching kid’s bed, desk and double-door wardrobe, and Gil says they will be Noa and Hadass’s rooms when they come to stay, three times a week. The master bedroom does look slept in—the large bed is covered with a blue sheet and a blanket, and there are three pillows scattered on it—and in the living room are a couch, a coffee table and a television on the wall. The walls in all the rooms are bare.

  “It doesn’t look like home yet, but it could, don’t you think?” he says when they go back to the living room. Then he disappears into one of the rooms and Emilia is left alone. He returns with a bucket and mop and asks Emilia how long she thinks she’ll need.

  After he leaves, Emilia walks around, opening the blinds and windows to let in some air and light. The air is cool and warm at the same time and the light is bright. Spring sunshine. She is alone after so long.

  She takes off her jeans and T-shirt in the bathroom and puts on sweatpants and a red sweatshirt that she brought in a plastic bag. The last time she wore those clothes was when she cleaned the one-room flat in Bat Yam and set it up, and its smell is still on the clothes. Gil’s place floods her with other memories too. It reminds her of her parents’ home after she removed their belongings to get it ready for the music teacher who rented it after her father died. The two narrow bedrooms with kid’s beds remind Emilia of her own room at Nachum’s, and also of her childhood room, even though that room did not have a window. She thinks about Noa and Hadass, who will come to stay here, about how they will have rooms in two different homes, and she tries to imagine what the rooms will look like once they fill them with their stuff and hang pictures and mirrors. It’s been so long since she’s seen a young girl’s room. For so long she has spent time only in the rooms of people with death crawling inside them, or in empty rooms that contain no life.

  Even though Gil did not ask her to, she opens the wardrobes in the girls’ rooms and finds them empty. She cleans them thoroughly, first with a duster and then with a cloth that she dips and wrings out in a yellow bowl of water she found in a utility cupboard on the balcony. She spends the most time on the girls’ rooms, as if they were going to be hers. Then she moves to the master bedroom, shakes out the blanket and pillows and puts them to air on the windowsill, which looks out on to a little courtyard where Emilia thinks she sees, for the first time that day, just for an instant, Nachum, sitting under the shade of a tree, the way they used to sit together when he was alive. The old wardrobe that covers an entire wall reminds her of the one in her parents’ bedroom because of the strong smell of mothballs when she opens it, and because of the shelves made of thin, light wood. A few shirts are folded on them, two pairs of trousers hang, and in one drawer there are a few pairs of underwear and socks. In the bottom drawer, meant for shoes, Emilia finds a plastic bag with hundreds of foreign-currency coins, two pens, some old-looking notebooks and a file, and three newspapers, two in Hebrew and one in a different language. She doesn’t know if these things belong to Gil or if they were forgotten by the previous tenants. When she takes them out of the drawer to dust it, she finds that in the three newspapers there is a photograph of the same woman, roughly her age or a little younger, and she places them with the pens and notebooks and the bag of coins on the floor next to the bedroom door, ready to be thrown out if they turn out not to be Gil’s.

  Her phone beeps from the kitchen, and she finds a message from Gil: “If you want me to pick you up earlier, let me know. I’m nearby.” Then she thinks she hears the front door shut and she goes to the living room, but no one has come in, and she realizes it must have been the door in another flat. Since evening is near and the sky is overcast and it might rain, she shuts the blinds and windows when she finishes washing all the floors, towards half past four. She only leaves the window in Gil’s room slightly open, to let in the fading light that filters through the blinds and falls on the bed.

  Gil is surprised and delighted to find the flat so clean—Emilia can see that when he gets back.

  He goes into the girls’ rooms and his own bedroom and is impressed by the newly shiny floor and furnishings. When he sees the pile of rubbish Emilia left by the door, and next to it the things she took out of the drawers in his room, his eyes darken for a moment, and she thinks she should not have opened the wardrobes and drawers. She explains that she wasn’t sure if they were his or the previous tenants’, and he says they belong to the old tenants. But he puts them back in his room and explains that he’ll sort them out later and throw away what needs to be thrown away.

  He drives Emilia to Jaffa.

  On the way he asks if she had time to get lunch, and when she says no, he suggests they stop at a restaurant, but Emilia cannot be late. Gil says next time he can pick her up earlier, and that is the first time he hints that he would like her to come again.

  There is an awkward moment when he pulls up by a square full of tourists and asks how much he owes her. Emilia doesn’t know. He says, “Fifty shekels an hour is good, right? I’ll pay you for five hours. And before next time, why don’t you ask around what the going rate is? I can find out too.” He hands her the money in cash, three bills of a hundred, and adds, “Mostly, I hope you don’t regret coming.” Emilia quickly puts the cash in her pocket, without counting it or giving him change, as if it were money she did not deserve or would not want anyone to see her taking. After Mass she puts all the bills Gil gave her, still clumped together from the dampness in her pocket, into the donation basket that is passed around, and she thinks she sees Tadeusz looking at her just when she does that. He doesn’t say anything about it when they sit facing each other in the priests’ room afterwards, and Tadeusz asks how she is and how her week has been. She doesn’t say anything either, for now, about her feeling that today might have been the day when He brought her to the place she was supposed to reach, that perhaps the waiting and searching will soon be over. But she does pluck up the courage to tell Tadeusz about seeing Nachum, and the young priest looks at her understandingly.

  “You see him because you miss him, isn’t that so? And probably other people too,” he says.

  “Yes. But I also see him because it is sign, because he wants to tell me something.” Then, alarmed by her own candidness, she asks him, “Don’t you think that’s possible? That he really was there?”

  Tadeusz says they can talk about the world that is not this world, but not today because it’s a long conversation, which they both have to prepare for. He asks if the situation at the nursing home has improved and, for no reason, she says yes. Still, when she goes back to Adina she does feel more protected, as if the hours she spent working at Gil’s have clarified something significant about her life or restored a part of herself. She can more easily tolerate Hava’s furious looks for getting back late and another night on the sofa bed. Adina wakes up shouting in the middle of the night, and Emilia stays with her for a long time until she calms down, warming the old lady’s fingers with her hands.

  Before the next time she goes to Gil’s flat, she pulls out the cardboard box she’d stored on the balcony, removes the embroidered tablecloth and brings it with her to spread on the table in his dining area.

  7

  All at once spring arrives. The forty days of Lent are coming to an end. The mornings are cool but the afternoon sun floods Adina’s room, and when Emilia hangs the linens out to air on the balcony, she sees the first bath
ers on the beach.

  The Mass also changes, becoming more severe. Longer. The fate of the Son of God is more present in the prayer hall and in the worshippers’ hearts. Soon it will be the time of the crucifixion, the torments, the temporary death and the resurrection. Tadeusz urges Emilia to go to confession before Holy Week so that she can receive Communion, but Emilia refuses because there are things she cannot confess. She merely insinuates to Tadeusz that she has found the place and the road, and that her search might be over.

  Gil picks her up every Sunday before noon from Balfour Street and takes her to the flat. On the way he tells her about his mother and his divorce. He says Esther’s condition is not improving, her depression is affecting her health and she will soon need full-time care. She rarely leaves home, because of her grief over Nachum’s death and her loneliness, and does not even do simple grocery shopping. Emilia’s heart goes out to Esther, but she does not dare tell Gil that she wants to care for her, because she still hopes the offer will come from him. Esther’s health is preventing Gil from telling her about his separation, which is now official. The divorce papers are signed and the property divided. Since his wife makes a lot less than he does, he gave her most of the assets and will also pay significant alimony so that she can maintain a respectable lifestyle. Custody arrangements for Noa and Hadass are also finalized, and they are supposed to start staying with him soon, when they feel ready and his home is set up for them. For now he sleeps alone in the big, empty flat.

  Emilia doesn’t talk much in these conversations. She listens to him. She hears the language of things.

  Gil explains that the girls need time, they are finding it harder to accept the divorce than he and his wife are, but they came over one day to see the flat and they liked it. “It’ll be good for them, too, eventually,” he says.

  From the moment Gil moves in, the flat becomes filled with life, even though he has very few belongings. A carton of milk, a tub of cream cheese and an open bottle of wine appear in the clean refrigerator. In the bathroom there is shampoo, shower gel, shaving cream and a new razor.

  Emilia unpacks the cardboard box she stored over winter under the chair on Adina’s balcony. She puts the basket meant for baked goods or fruit on Gil’s dining table, and hangs the copper bell from the bedroom window that overlooks the garden with two trees where she saw Nachum on her first visit. When Gil notices Emilia’s additions, he thanks her and wants to pay her back, but she refuses. She explains that she bought them for herself and has no need for them because she will probably have to leave her flat soon and move in with the lady she cares for at the nursing home.

  Gil asks if she wouldn’t rather stay in her own place, and she says of course she would, but she may not have a choice. He enquires about her financial situation and asks if she needs more money. He still does not raise the possibility of her going back to live with Esther or moving into his flat, but he does tell Emilia that if she needs anything, she should not hesitate to ask: “Do you need to send money to anyone at home?” She says no.

  “But if you do, you’ll ask me, right? I would be really happy to help you, Emilia.”

  Sometimes he stays in the flat while Emilia works. Other times he goes to his office for an urgent meeting and comes back early with lunch for them both in plastic takeaway containers. Schnitzel with roast potatoes and green beans, or Thai food, which Emilia finds too spicy. Gil sets the table while Emilia changes from her work clothes into a clean outfit, blue jeans and a white shirt she bought recently in Jaffa.

  He watches Emilia. At the nursing home she still puts nothing in her mouth except vegetables and the occasional apple, but at his place she eats, albeit slowly, aware of the way her mouth is moving, because he watches her. During one meal he tells her he’s started going to the gym and riding a bike. He is also coming to life, like the flat. From one conversation to the next he talks more about Nachum’s death and the way it changed him. Emilia listens thirstily, not only because his words arouse memories of Nachum but because she senses he is talking about her, too, and about her father’s sudden death, not only about himself.

  He offers Emilia a glass of white wine with her meal, and on the second time of asking she agrees. She has finished cleaning. Since she hasn’t had any alcohol for a long time, the wine affects her quickly. A warmth spreads through her body and she feels her bare feet on the cool floor. She had never been fond of wine. And their conversation is confusing. Gil looks at Emilia’s neck and her flushed cheeks and says quietly that she doesn’t talk much. He asks why. He asks whether she feels lonely in Israel and if she’s homesick, and she says that when she was with Nachum and Esther she did not feel alone, but now she does.

  “Where do you call home? Is your home here now, or there?” he asks, and she does not answer. When he asks if she’s ever been married, she turns red and takes another sip of wine and then says no, without confessing to what was once almost a wedding, many years ago, but ended with a broken heart and a stillborn foetus at seven and a half months.

  After they finish eating, Gil washes the dishes and Emilia clears the table. The flat is painted in the setting sun’s light that comes in through the blinds and gives off a lemony-clean scent.

  Gil is grateful to Emilia. He says that without her he couldn’t have made a home for Noa and Hadass, and he feels that she’s helping him start his new life. More and more he understands why Nachum was so attached to her, he says, and that makes Emilia feel guilty for hiding the fact that she doesn’t have her own place and is staying with Adina in the nursing home.

  She says he doesn’t have to thank her. She believes that everything happens for a reason. Gil thinks so too. Her face responds to his smile. When his fingers move close to her for the first time, she shuts her eyes and struggles to think about Nachum’s hands. She used to hold them in a basin with hot water and some baby oil to soften the skin. She tended patiently to his nails.

  He runs his fingertips over her narrow forehead and her cheeks and chin, then moves down to her neck, and Emilia shuts her eyes harder, but she still knows Nachum is watching them with his torn black eyes because she saw him earlier in the living room. She wants Gil to stop because his father is watching, but she will not tell him that. Nachum is there almost all the time now, with his mouth open, looking grey. She thinks about Tadeusz’s fingers, too, those olive-oil fingers when he holds the carafe and fills her empty glass with water, and about the long, white marble fingers of the sculpted Son of God that she looks at during Mass.

  Gil’s fingers are soft and slow over her clothes and under them. Lingering on every spot on her skin, sharpening it with their touch. Emilia wants to think about other things when his fingers climb up her neck and when she smells his breath close to her face for the first time. She must visit Esther and she must go back to Adina at the nursing home, she thinks, and out of those two senses of obligation her father also appears behind her closed eyes, as if she needs to take care of him, too, and may be given the opportunity to.

  When she steps out of Gil’s car outside the church he says, “See you next Sunday?” But he starts sending her text messages in the middle of the week. Usually late at night, at nine or half past nine, after Adina goes to sleep. He writes in Hebrew: “Can you meet, Emilia? I miss your smell and your body.” Emilia sometimes answers him in Hebrew: “I can come in half hour,” because she needs time to get dressed and put on make-up and get to Balfour Street.

  Emilia’s time is short.

  She has to make sure Adina is sleeping deeply enough for her to shower off the smell of the home. She opens Adina’s jewellery box, which is buried deep in her wardrobe and locked with a key that she hides in her bedside-table drawer, and she borrows a pair of earrings and a very thin gold chain with no pendant. She hopes the front-desk receptionist thinks she’s going outside to talk with other caregivers in the garden or to sit on the boardwalk, and that none of them sees her when she leaves the buildi
ng and walks towards Balfour Street, and especially not when she comes back an hour or two later. She hopes Adina doesn’t wake up and call her name while she’s gone.

  They sit at the café where they went the first time, and sometimes they sit in Gil’s car. In the dark, in an empty car park by the beach.

  He is capable of touching her lustfully, but can also touch slowly, moving back to see her face as he walks his soft fingers along her body, from her forehead to her thighs, over her clothes.

  Not a single car enters the car park, and when Gil turns off the headlights the darkness around them is complete.

  Emilia explains that she must get home because the next day she has to be at Adina’s early, and Gil says, “Just a few more minutes. It’s so quiet here.” He opens a window to listen to the sea and then shuts it because the wind is cold.

  “I feel so good with you, Emilia. Do you feel that way too? That this is the beginning of the new life I told you about? I want to help you, too, and protect you, so you’ll be safe and feel that you have a home, do you understand what I mean? You deserve that, because of what you give me. Do you feel that I’m taking care of you and that you can be safe with me?”