The Beauty Queen of Jerusalem

by Sarit Yishai-Levi

  Rosa had been right: Luna was different from all other people. She wasn’t like her sisters Rachelika and Becky. They’d all come to their house, sit around the radio, and she, she wouldn’t be interested in hearing what they’d have to say. She’d go into her childhood room and occupy herself with nonsense. Rachelika had made him very angry when she’d gone to Haganah activities without his permission, but at least she’d cared, at least she’d wanted to be part of establishing a Jewish state in Palestine. But Luna, nada. Her magazines and lipstick were her culture. He felt he had failed in her upbringing, and what hurt most was that he had been slowly drifting away from her and now preferred the company of his clever, good Rachelika.

  Gabriel tried to ease his position in the cushioned chair, but every movement hurt him. He turned up the volume on the radio. Lately he’d also had difficulty hearing. The radio was permanently set to the Voice of Jerusalem station, and it had become the center of his life. From the moment he’d open his eyes in the morning he’d switch on the radio and not turn it off until he went to bed. Since he’d stopped leaving the house, the sound of the radio had become his pipeline to the outside world. He’d learned from the radio that the curfew imposed on Shabbat had been dubbed Operation Agatha by the British, and the Black Sabbath by the Yishuv. More than a hundred thousand soldiers and policemen had surrounded Tel Aviv and Jerusalem and imposed a curfew on dozens of settlements and kibbutzim. Some three thousand Jews had been arrested, including members of the Jewish Agency. He’d also heard on the radio about the hanging of three British sergeants. Everything announced on the radio immediately became the talk of the day.

  The situation in the country seemed to be changing quickly. Rachelika told him about a bunch of children who encountered English soldiers as they exited the Alliance School near the shop. The children stood facing the soldiers and began singing “Kalaniot,” which had become a song of mockery of the British soldiers. The soldiers lost their temper and started chasing the children, cursing them in English, but the children evaded them to the joyful shouts of the vendors and merchants, who all gave the English the finger.

  “They’re not scared of the kalaniot anymore, Papo. I actually heard somebody yell ‘Gestapo’ at them.”

  Gabriel was sorry he was not able to be in the Mahane Yehuda Market at a time like this. He would have spat in the faces of the English himself. And when the big demonstrations erupted, with masses of people carrying banners and shouting, “Free immigration, a Jewish state!” he was deeply saddened that his physical condition did not allow him to participate. Fortunately he had his radio and Rachelika to keep him abreast of the situation, and happily the neighbors came and sat with him by the radio and exchanged views. That at least made him feel included, that he wasn’t completely cut off from what was happening outside. Each day Rachelika had brought him a paper from the fat newspaper seller who always asked after him, but due to the family’s finances, she’d started buying only one copy per week.

  The newspaper seller, who noticed that Senor Ermosa’s daughter wasn’t coming every day, would pass by the shop and give her a copy of the previous day’s paper.

  “Give it to your father,” he’d tell her. “Yesterday’s news is good today as well.”

  Gabriel silently thanked his newspaper seller friend for yesterday’s paper but still felt a twinge in his heart. If things didn’t get any better, tomorrow the market stallholders would start sending him fruit and vegetables, and the butcher would send him meat. He was deeply ashamed that he was in such dire straits. He, who had always given freely to others, now felt like a beggar.

  “Gabriel querido”—he heard Rosa’s voice from the other room—“heideh, the food’s on the table.” How could he get up out of his chair and go to the table in this state? “Querido, the food will get cold,” she went on. He tried to get up but couldn’t.

  “Do you need help, Papo?” Rachelika was beside him. How the child read his thoughts!

  “May you be healthy,” he told her as she helped him up and linked her arm in his.

  They walked slowly to the table, and although it was only a very short distance, Gabriel found it difficult. They stopped for a moment so he could gather his strength.

  “Mi alma,” he whispered to her as if sharing a secret, “a few days ago Luna was here and she asked me if I love her. I told her I love her very much, but she said, ‘You love me more than anyone, don’t you?’ I could see her spirits were low, that she was sad and that I had to strengthen her, and so I told her, ‘True.’ But the truth, Rachelika, hija mia, the truth is that I love you most of all.”

  * * *

  Luna came back from work very upset. “Mr. Zacks sent me home,” she told David, unable to conceal her emotion. “The shop’s as dry as the desert. Not even a stray dog comes in. For whole days I’ve been sitting behind the counter doing nothing. I was so bored I started playing with the mannequin in the window—undressing it, dressing it, undressing, dressing. Mr. Zacks got annoyed, but what could I do, David? If I’d sat there all day like an idiot I would have gone out of my mind. Mr. Zacks hardly comes to the shop anymore. I open up, I close. He doesn’t even come to check the takings. There’s nothing to come for, there’s no money. Today he paid me my last wages and told me not to come back.” She sobbed. “What am I going to do, David? What will I do now without my job?”

  He took her into his arms and stroked her hair, and with the tenderness he had recently adopted when speaking to her, he said, “Don’t worry, Lunika, you’ll soon be very busy. We’re working on it, right?”

  She smiled at him through her tears. Ever since they’d come home from Shabbat evening dinner at her parents’ house a few weeks before, he had changed completely. He’d stopped going to the cinema after work and came right back to their rented studio in Mekor Baruch. She was usually home already, but if not, he’d meet her at her parents’ house and they’d walk home together from there.

  Rachelika noticed a change in her sister. She was happier now, she laughed more.

  “You did a good deed,” she told Moise, nodding at David and Luna, who were sitting close together on the couch in her parents’ house. “Look at them, a pair of lovebirds.”

  At the first chance she had of catching Luna alone, Rachelika asked her, “Is everything with you and David all right now?”

  “Everything’s wonderful!” Luna replied, smiling from ear to ear.

  “And David, he’s good to you?”

  “Good? He’s as good as gold. He’s trying to make up for the hard period we went through, and he’s like he used to be before the wedding, like he was when I first met him, when we’d go to Gan Ha’ir and sit on the bench and kiss till I saw stars.”

  “At this rate, Lunika, you’ll be having a baby together with me.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears, amen!”

  * * *

  After his talk with Moise, David was determined to fix what he had almost broken. When they entered their little studio apartment, he’d hugged her, turned off the light, and undressed her in the dark. He’d kissed her gently on her forehead and ran his fingers down her back very slowly, lingering on each muscle and tendon. His lips were hers, his tongue hers, and then he kissed her eyes, her neck. She lengthened the kisses, the embraces, putting off the moment when he would try and penetrate her. No, she didn’t like that. It hurt her and made her feel uncomfortable, especially when he’d whisper in her ear, “Hold it, help it,” and groan as if he was laboring to breathe. She felt the shame burning her cheeks, amazed by the revulsion she felt when she took his penis, as slippery as an eel, in her hands. She was frightened when the eel stiffened almost as soon as she touched it and grew in her hands.

  And when he took her hand, guiding it up and down, holding her fingers on its crown, moving them as if they had a life of their own, as if they didn’t belong to her hand, to her body, her soul, she thought that at any moment she’d die of shame and nausea. She could feel the veins pulsing in it, but she neve
r dared to look down and see what was in her hands.

  “Now put it inside,” David whispered, giving himself up to the pleasure, not noticing her disgust. She tried to insert his penis, which seemed to have grown even bigger, but without success. Even though she opened her legs as wide as she could, the garden was locked and the gate refused to open.

  “Hold it,” he whispered. “Hold it, don’t let it go.” When he eventually managed to penetrate, gripping her shoulders tightly and rocking above her forcefully, she shut her eyes and prayed for him to finish. He hurt her so much her body screamed, but she bit her lip and held back. He forced himself into her again and again, his eyes shut tight, completely in thrall to pleasure, and she lay beneath him like a log, not knowing what to do, whether to move at his pace, make sounds like him, pretend she was enjoying it. God, she hoped it would work this time. She couldn’t stand people’s questioning looks at her flat belly, she couldn’t stand the whispering behind her back. She knew that the whole of Ohel Moshe was talking about the fact that Rachelika got pregnant before her even though she was married after her. She hoped she’d get pregnant and put this nightmare behind her.

  After finally releasing a choked shout, he slackened and lay on top of her. She felt like she was suffocating. She wanted to go to the sink and wash herself, but Rachelika had told her she mustn’t move, because if she did, God forbid, and if she washed her thighs, she’d spoil her chances of getting pregnant. Despite the discomfort, she remained on her back, pressing her thighs together, following the instructions Rachelika had given her.

  David fell asleep on top of her, his body heavy. Luna gently slipped from under him, hurriedly put on her nightgown, and moved over to her side of the bed. She closed her eyes but couldn’t fall asleep. She felt disgusted. Tears began to flow from her eyes. God, what’s wrong with me? I’m supposed to feel happy, I’m supposed to be hearing bells, soaring to heights, and instead I feel hurt and humiliated. The thoughts were running through her head like scenes from a film. How she’d wanted him to make love to her, how she’d wanted them to bear children. How she’d looked forward to the moment he would treat her like a husband treats his wife, and now it was finally happening and all she wanted was for it to be over. Did every woman feel this way? Maybe it was only the men who enjoyed making love. Maybe it was the world’s biggest lie that women enjoyed it as much as men. Maybe it was a secret shared by all the women in the world. It wasn’t possible that only she lay there with her legs apart and prayed for it to be over. And why did you have to do it so many times to get pregnant just once?

  Luna got out of bed and shuffled to the sink to wash her body in the ice-cold water. Pregnant or not, she couldn’t stand this repulsive stuff on her body any longer. She scrubbed and washed with soap and water. Now there’s no chance I’ll get pregnant, she worried. I’ll never be a mother. But the compulsion was stronger than her; she was incapable of stopping. She scrubbed and scrubbed, almost peeling the skin from her body. It was only when her skin was reddened and scratched that she finally felt clean, and she threw her nightgown into the laundry basket and took a clean one from the closet. The scent of laundry soap soothed her. She put on the nightgown and went back to bed. What a crazy woman I am. David will leave me, I’ll be on my own, and I’ll never hold a baby in my arms.

  * * *

  Luna’s next period didn’t arrive, but a few weeks later the morning sickness did. She was excited, and even before David she told Rachelika, who jumped for joy and hugged her.

  “Our children will grow up together. Mine will be six months older than yours, they’ll go to school together. They’ll be best friends.”

  “Am I really pregnant?” Luna asked her excitedly. “I’m not imagining it, am I?”

  “If you’re nauseous and your monthly present hasn’t arrived, you’re pregnant,” Rachelika replied matter-of-factly.

  “Should I tell David?”

  “Of course, who else should you tell! Run and tell him, go make him happy!”

  And she did make him happy. He hugged her and lifted her in the air, twirling her as he danced around the room.

  “Put me down, put me down. I’m feeling sick as it is,” she said through her laughter.

  He put her down, cupped her chin, and kissed her. “I’m mad about you,” he said. “You’ll be the most beautiful mother in Jerusalem.” Once again she noticed that he didn’t say, “I love you.” Since the day he’d started courting her and even when he’d proposed, he had never said, “I love you.” He’d say, “I’m mad about you,” express his affection for her, but never did he declare his love. And again, like on the previous occasions, she let the thought pass without further ado. She was going to be a mother, and that was the important thing.

  * * *

  David did his best to fulfill all Luna’s odd pregnancy requests, and thank God, because she had a lot. She hadn’t yet spoken to him about the baby’s name, but it was clear to her that it would be named after her father. There was just no other option.

  “How many times do I have to tell you that the firstborn son is named after the husband’s father?” Rachelika told her angrily. “I’m done arguing with you about this.”

  “I’m arguing?” Luna replied, playing dumb. “You name your son after your husband’s father. I’m naming mine after Papo.”

  She is so breathtaking, pregnancy suits her, Rachelika thought. I’m as fat as a bear, and on her, except for a small belly, you can’t see a thing. The legs, the arms, the face are all perfect. Ya ribon, how is it that you gave all the beauty in the family to her and didn’t spread it out among the three of us?

  Unlike Rachelika and all her friends who couldn’t stop complimenting her on her pregnancy, Luna hated being pregnant. She felt clumsy, hated her swelling breasts, her bloated thighs, this weight that had suddenly landed on her. She felt robbed of her beauty and had already discovered several dark blotches on her pale skin. Even the visit to the seamstress who made her new maternity dresses from Burda patterns did nothing to cheer her up. Rachelika made do with two dresses that she alternated, while Luna had ten and still wasn’t happy. She felt like an elephant. The only good thing about the pregnancy was that David stayed away from her at night.

  “So we shouldn’t lose the baby, God forbid,” he had said. She knew that they wouldn’t stop at one child and that they’d have to do it again after the first one was born, but they didn’t have to do it right away. They could wait a year or two. In the meantime, with God’s help, the first baby would be born with all his fingers and toes, and he would be named Gabriel.

  8

  GABRIEL WAS SITTING in his chair, his ear to the radio. The news wasn’t good. The English had intercepted another boat carrying illegal immigrants and transferred its passengers to an internment camp in Cyprus.

  The children would be here soon. They wanted to talk, and he knew what about: It couldn’t be helped, they had to sell the shop to Mordoch the Kurd. Very soon now there wouldn’t be enough money for food. It was all over. The shop was finished, his health was finished, and very shortly his life would be finished too. This way at least there would be enough left for Rosa after his death. She’d been so quiet lately, he hardly heard her. She tended to him as if he were a baby and didn’t complain. She helped him up from his chair and into bed, dressed him and undressed him. He was unable to do anything himself and was totally dependent on her. And she, in her quiet way with a force he never knew she possessed, worked around the clock just for him. She’d wake up before him in the morning, make him tea with bizcochos, help him hold the cup so it wouldn’t fall from his shaking hand, and wipe his drooling mouth. Then she’d take off his pajamas and put on a new pair. Lately he wore pajamas all the time. He was uncomfortable in tight-fitting clothes and needed something loose. Yes, he was now officially sick. He’d stopped fighting the disease. He’d stopped trying to seek relief. Anyway, in times like these, it was impossible to travel to the Dead Sea and the hot springs in Tiberias. There, in the
warm, oily water, he could feel a little better. If only it were possible to bring the Tiberias springs to his home.

  When the children arrived, he’d instruct them to do what they deemed fit and sell the shop to the Kurd. His grandfather was probably turning in his grave. It was as clear to him as today was Sunday that he was being punished for his sin against his father, that Raphael had not forgiven him even from the grave. It was clear to him that his mother’s damnable curse was still haunting him. She hadn’t come to visit him even once since he’d become ill, hadn’t even sent messengers. He would die before her, he could see that. She would bury him and only then would she rest. Don’t worry, madre querida, I’ll soon be gone and your soul will finally find peace. Your darling son is going to die.

  * * *

  They sold the shop to Mordoch the Kurd for five hundred lirot, a price which, in normal times, would have been considered a bad joke. They knew he was ripping them off, but what choice did they have? Nineteen forty-seven was a bad year for business. Nobody was buying or selling except for thieves like Mordoch who had gold under their floor tiles. The heavily pregnant Rachelika and her good Moise negotiated the sale as toughly as possible. She was no fool. She went from shop to shop in the market on her swollen legs, checking the value of their shop with the various merchants. Rachelika knew they were selling to Mordoch for less than half the shop’s value, but he’d known how desperate their situation was and wouldn’t budge from his original offer. “If you don’t like it, try and sell to somebody else,” he’d said, knowing that nobody else was doing business at a time like this.

  “You go and close the deal with him,” Rachelika had said to Moise. “I can’t do it.” Tears flowed from her eyes and she sobbed like a little girl.

  “Basta, querida,” Gabriel told her, “you’re breaking my heart all over again. We’ve no choice. If we have to sell then we’ll sell, but without tears.”