“Is it all right if I talk with her ... is she...?”
“In good shape? Definitely. She had a cold last week but now she’s better. She’s been waiting for you, your wife phoned two hours ago. She’s behind the cottage.... Yehezkel, come here ...”
The doctor gets up and grabs the old man in a bear hug.
I leave the room I walk down the path to the little woods I see the loony giant with his straw broom standing just where I left him still searching for me. And then I see her among the tall trees watering something with a hose a broad straw hat on her head as soon as I start toward her I hear a muffled growl that seems to come from the earth she turns her head in my direction the glitter in her eyes like droplets of water in the air. I walk uncertainly toward her not knowing if the dog is tied the last time I was here he attacked me I ask you gentlemen what other lawyer would agree to work in such conditions.
I never did understand exactly what was wrong with her not that I ever really tried to. I’m not sure that even Ya’el knows there are things that this family has hidden. And I know from the courtroom what rigmaroles psychiatrists are capable of it hasn’t made me think any more highly of them. The last few years I’ve gladly forgone the pleasure of visiting her I’ve usually waited somewhere with Gaddi while Ya’el went in to see her. Still she must be better if they’ve started treating her now with water therapy instead of electric shock. Apparently she’s taken to working in the garden hosing down the big trees that the Turks forgot to chop down in World War I to stoke their troop trains drenching everything in sight with Noah’s floods if the hose were any longer she’d be watering the sea.
I pick my way through the bushes the divorce file in one hand and two paper bags that are already coming apart in the other. If the dog jumps me I’ll throw him the strawberries. They needed special permission from the department of health to hospitalize him here the first time I set eyes on him when Ya’el introduced me to her family he was in the prime of life I said right away this dog needs either psychoanalysis or a bullet in the brain and the first he can get only in America they thought I was making another one of my jokes. All joking aside I can now make out the big mangy beast through the bushes part shepherd part bulldog and part monster getting slowly to his feet rattling his chain which I hope is attached at the other end to something solider than grass.
“Hi, there!” I call bizarrely jolly coming to a halt waving the file of documents moving slowly forward again to within a few feet of the dog who isn’t looking at me but knows that I’m there. After the wedding I tried calling her mother for a while but soon got over that aberration I even used to kiss her now and then. I was one confused person after that wedding.
She tosses the hose into an irrigation hole she bends down among the weeds to turn off the water and comes forward to greet me in the loose cotton shift that Ya’el bought her last year her strong legs in farm boots her uncombed blond hair that’s turned white with an odd luster falling gaily around her wrinkled freckled sunburned face. The day they all started saying that the baby looks like her was the day they spoiled the baby for me.
I press her hand.
“How are you?”
She smiles gently she ducks her head pertly she doesn’t answer.
“Ya’el sent this powder for the dog. It’s some kind of vitamins, I’m not sure which. I guess you mix it with his food. And these are some strawberries that I bought for you ... I saw them on the way ... luscious berries...”
She thanks me with a nod her eyes smiling she carefully takes the bags from me the smile is still there. If I had time I’d write a book about the connection between smiling and madness. We stand there for an awkward moment then lead each other to a bench beneath the trees we sit down she smiles uncertainly shaking her head with a slightly automatic motion.
“So he arrived the day before yesterday,” I begin in my most grandly auspicious even epic manner.
She listens still saying nothing.
“He looks well. Of course, he’s gotten older ... but who hasn’t ...”
Her eyes light up.
“Is he still complaining about that cramp in his neck?”
At last she’s said something. Although it remains to be seen what frequency she’s transmitting on.
“In his neck? I didn’t notice.”
What can she be talking about?
“A cramp?”
But she doesn’t answer she’s staring off into the distance.
“He still hasn’t gotten over the jet lag. He’s up all night and sleeps all day.”
She regards me searchingly.
“He doesn’t bother you ... the children...”
“Of course not. Why should he? Gaddi is so happy to see him.”
The name Gaddi soothes her she shuts her eyes.
The dog charges quickly out of the bushes wagging his tail dragging the chain behind him sniffing the ground around me sniffing me loudly licking the bags on the bench whining a bit circling then lying down against my legs beneath the bench.
“And Ya’el must be terribly tired.”
“No ... a little bit ... it’s all right, though...”
“Let her rest. Don’t pressure her.”
“In what way?”
But she doesn’t answer. What does she really feel toward me? At first when she was well a slight disdain now in recent years a soft loony affection. Asa and even Tsvi have grown remote from her only Ya’el still looks after her and I look after Ya’el.
Silence. The crystal-clear spring air. A trickle of water still running out of the hose.
“It’s so lovely here. The breeze, the sea ... everything, in fact. Did it rain here yesterday?”
Her head is cocked to one side her hands in the lap of her clean cotton shift strands of gold in the tresses of her hair she sits very straight.
“Whenever I think of you I tell myself how lucky we were to find such a quiet place. If ever I needed ... this is the place ... that is, I’d want to be put here ... I mean ...”
My big mouth again. That last sentence was uncalled for I have to shift into reverse now. But she’s listening to me carefully her fingers picking at the fabric of her dress nervously winding a loose thread. Far off in the middle of the path stands the giant with the broom rooted to one spot his blank face turned toward us.
At least here no one interrupts me when I talk.
I hand her the document.
“This is the agreement.” Suddenly I feel emotion. “I drew it up. It’s your divorce settlement.”
She regards me thoughtfully but doesn’t reach out to take it. I lay it carefully on her knees. The dog begins to whine he comes out from under the bench he rubs his red matted coat against me saliva dripping from his snout he lays his head in her lap sniffing the papers.
She looks at me. “He wants to read it.”
I smile caustically. Is she joking or being mad or both? She has a right to her mad jokes if I were her I’d make them too how tempting to be absolved of all legal responsibility for one’s words.
She opens the bag of strawberries she takes out a ripe berry she smells it and gives it to the dog who gulps it down.
“You’ve written so much here ... must I read all of it?”
“I’m afraid you must before you sign. That’s how we generally do it.”
“We?”
“I mean we lawyers.”
She holds the document close to her eyes trying to make something of it but grows tired at once and hands it back to me.
“Maybe you’ll read it to me. I can’t see a thing. My glasses broke ... I told Ya’el ... I couldn’t read that book she gave me either...”
I take the document from her carefully wipe off the traces of the dog’s saliva and begin to read slowly. The dog gobbles ripe strawberries from her hand nuzzling the tom bag. Kissinger sits in a palatial garden by the Nile explaining the disengagement agreement while the photographers scramble with their telescopic lenses through the distant bushes. Here and
there I pause to analyze the hidden meaning of some passage to point out a pitfall I’ve avoided or a loophole I’ve managed to close. But what does she understand? She doesn’t say a word just tightly grips the collar on the dog’s neck. At last I’m done.
“And the baby?” she asks. “She doesn’t wake you up at night anymore?”
“The baby?? Hardly ever.”
“I keep forgetting her name.”
“Rakefet.”
“That’s right, Rakefet. Write it down for me here, please.”
I write it down on a small piece of paper and give it to her.
Silence. The suspense is killing me.
“Why didn’t Ya’el come with you? Why did they send you by yourself?”
“She’ll be here tomorrow. So will he. We thought that ... that it would be best ... professionally speaking ... if I’d explain things quietly to you first...”
“Why didn’t Ya’el come? Something’s happened to her ...”
“Nothing has happened. She’ll come tomorrow or the day after. I’ll bring her.”
All at once the dog growls he’s already eaten the paper bag now he’s eating the air that was inside it. Once again total silence. It’s time for her to sign now I know these silences well.
“All you need to do now is sign here in the corner. At the bottom. Unless you have any comments to make.”
But suddenly she gets up the papers fall to the ground she’s having an anxiety attack.
“Why didn’t Ya’el come with you? Something’s happened to her...”
Well well well good morning. The devils have woken up.
I quickly gather up the papers.
“I swear to you nothing’s happened. She just didn’t sleep well last night. She was tired. Now if you would sign here ... we don’t have much time ... the rabbi’s expected by the end of the week. He came back from America especially ... you agreed by mail ... you promised ...”
I’m getting into hot water. The dog senses my agitation he pricks up his ears and growls loudly. The golem standing on the path shuffles toward us his straw broom aimed at the sky. How can I leave without her signature? My mother was right why did I get involved in their affairs. No one ever taught me in law school how to give legal advice to the insane someone should write a book about it the obvious candidate is me.
“I say it’s best to sign now. That’s all there is to it. Because it’s a good agreement that guarantees all your needs. Even if you should remarry someday, he’ll still have to support you.”
And I take hold of her shoulder.
But she backs away in a fright still gripping the dog’s collar he’s barking now he lunges at me clumsily. The filthy old mutt. I let go of her at once.
“Maybe you’d like to think about it some more ...”
She nods like a little girl.
“I’ll leave it here with you and tomorrow or the day after Ya’el will pick it up. Perhaps the two of them will come together.”
“Ya’el will come?”
“Of course.’’
She beams radiantly. I’m careful not to touch her again I don’t want the dog to get the wrong idea. Suddenly something straw-like tickles the back of my neck the golem has arrived he’s standing silently behind me. I smile forbearingly and grab the broom that’s prodding my head. The dog’s whining again he won’t attack him though he’ll attack me lie’s lost all his family instincts.
“Well, then, I’ll be off. Is there anything you’d like to ask or request before I go?”
She smiles affectionately at me.
This is where true liberalism began. I could write an interesting book about it. Thirty years ago they still tied up the crazies today they tie up anyone sane who gets in their way. I make a fast getaway. Not that it hasn’t been an experience. It certainly has been. But from a legal point of view I haven’t accomplished very much. I hurry to the gate it’s already half past four. Time’s flown like crazy today. It’s not ideas I’m lacking it’s time. If I had the time I could have written three books already but what would Gaddi and Rakefet eat? Books. It’s a good thing that check for a hundred thousand is waiting for me otherwise it would have been a wasted day one without a single legal orgasm.
It’s already twilight when I get back to the office. The corridors are dark. More shady customers are still waiting on the bench outside Mizrachi’s office. What brings them to him I ask myself it’s not his brains he doesn’t have any it must be his cut-rate prices. I open my office and tum on the light. She’s gone. I open the drawer right away I can feel there’s no check in it. What’s going on here? Good Lord! Where is it? Where did the bitch put it? I go through all the files and papers. This is all I needed. The end will be a heart attack. I’ll kill her I’ll really kill her let’s see what court will dare to convict me I expressly said put it in the drawer so she put it somewhere else and someone came and stole it. God in heaven have pity! I jump for the telephone to dial the police but I know them they’ll just send me some illiterate Ali Baba. If only I could cry I’d sell tickets to the thousands who’d like to see me I’ve ransacked the office she must have stolen it herself. Why not? For the past month she’s been warming herself by the heater and plotting it.
“Gaddi, quick, get me mom, on the double, not a word out of you.... Ya’el, I’ll tell you all about it afterwards, now I just have one question, do you know anything, did my secretary call about some check?...No? All right then, goodbye. I’ll explain it all later. If I don’t come home tonight, look for me in intensive care. It’s nothing to worry about, just a hundred thousand pounds down the drain.... What?...Later!”
I hang up madness coming over me. I yank all the drawers from their grooves I search the inside of the desk I tear the map off the wall and look for the check behind it. I go through the office like a storm I have to get my hands on her but how? Her family of cavemen doesn’t have a telephone finally I find her address written in a little notebook thank God I was smart enough to jot it down when I hired her only what kind of address is it some housing project with two numbers and no street I call the police to get directions I switch off the light leaving the office in a shambles behind me.
It’s already evening I drive down to the lower city through Wadi Salib through Wadi Nisnas through Rushmiyya where the hell am I. Don’t they even have Hebrew names for all these wadis all this desolate earth these narrow crooked streets stuck to the mountainside all at once the road comes to an end. I begin climbing up and down stairs I’ve never been here before a government project grafted onto deserted Arab houses twining grapevines water in the gutters sand weeds bursting through broken sidewalks farmland turned into a slum a dark store here and there lit by a kerosene lamp groceries where they spike the cottage cheese with hashish it looks like I’m in for another adventure. What a wasteland. Such quiet passive people how slowly they walk it’s only on television that they start to shout they’re all carrying packages now matzos for Passover when I grab them to ask the address they look at me calmly what family is it that you want. Pinto? But which Pinto? A good question that I feel I’m going to cry the Pintos who sell eggplant in the market the night’s still young if I have to I’ll visit every Pinto within miles.
And I do climbing up massive stone stairs to wildly constructed houses entering kitchens bedrooms living rooms until I get to some doorway where I’m shown a hundred-year-old Pinto in pajamas or a three-year-old Pintoette in her underpants all the Pintos I could wish for just not the one who has my hundred thousand a small gang of boys and one adult have become my escort they must get a kick out of seeing a big paleface like me running frantically around their neighborhood.
At last I’m brought to a small cobbled courtyard surrounded by blue walls full of furniture and empty vegetable crates I climb the steps to a little apartment whose front door is open at first I don’t recognize her barefoot and in a pair of shorts wearing a light sailor shirt how small she looks holding a small rubber hose cleaning the back stairs she stares at me as
tounded I must look as pale as I feel I’m ready to faint my big heart is beating so hard that it hurts.
“I have it,” she shouts. “Don’t be upset, Mr. Kedmi ... everything’s all right ... I couldn’t open the drawer ... the only key was with you ... I didn’t want to leave the check in the office ... I was afraid that something might happen to it ...”
I don’t say a word I just shut my eyes and finish fainting she dries her hands and runs to an inner room full of colorful pictures of her ancestors dressed like sheikhs she brings me an envelope I grab it from her I tear it open I pull out the check I look at it quickly and stick it in my shirt pocket throwing the tom envelope on the wet floor.
“I hope you weren’t frightened.”
I manage an ironic smile by now the whole family has me surrounded half a dozen short swarthy gangsters invite me to sit down but I still can’t get a word out I’m dazed from fatigue and excitement I raise one hand in a crazy salute and whisper thank you. I’m in a hurry all I need now’s to have to sit down and eat eggplant I turn to go opening a small door they rush to my side but already I’m in a tiny bathroom facing an old witch sitting naked in yellow water lit by the lurid glare of a heater Lord have mercy she whispers in terror already gentle hands are pulling me out she takes my arm lightly and steers me to the exit leading me down the stairs she’s worked a year for me now and I never knew she had such straight lithe legs they make me feel for her how was I to know when she’s always bundled up behind the desk we’re standing in the dark street now.
“I can see you were really frightened.” She does her best not to laugh. “You really were.”
I stand shaken in the desolate darkness.
“What a pity it didn’t occur to you that I know how to read. You might have left me a note.”
“You’re right. I didn’t think of it.”
I pat her head careful not to choke her.
IQ. That’s what it all boils down to. Their IQ evaporated in the Islamic sun. And that’s something you can’t give them along with their social security. Again I’m running through the alleyways looking for my car I’ve already got a title for my fifth book The Secret Life of the Underprivileged in the end I’ll write a book with nothing but the titles of the books I never wrote I’m lost in the sands of this ruined wadi at last I find my car I turn on the light I take out the check to make sure that it still has all the zeros I start the motor and depart from this vale of tears.
A Late Divorce Page 7
