Don't Ask Me If I Love

by Amos Kollek

  “I know the address of that American girl.”

  He laughed softly.

  “I thought you were walking out on her.”

  “Better dead than red. She’s better than nothing.”

  “Have a good time.”

  But I wasn’t buying. “You come along too,” I said.

  He took his hands out of his pockets and waved them in despair.

  “Can’t you do anything alone? You really don’t need me. It’s her you’re after, what the hell do you need me for? I’d only steal her from you, if anything.”

  “All right then, you can have her,” I said.

  He shook his head. “You’re supposed to be all grown up now. What’s the matter with you?”

  I picked up Ben Gurion’s book and looked at it with little interest.

  “O.K.,” I said drily, “want to see the football derby then?”

  He peered at me sadly for a long moment and then decided to give up.

  “All right. You win. Where does this bloody girl live?”

  I smiled to myself. “I’ll show you,” I said sheepishly.

  We had no problem in finding 22 El Rais Street, which turned out to be an Arab house, in a small narrow street in the Old City. It had an old green door, with no name on it, but I assumed it had to be the right one because there was no other entrance. I started feeling a bit stupid about the whole business and I was glad I had company even if he was a lot better looking.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  I knocked.

  Joy, wearing a white dress but a different one, opened the door.

  “It looks like you really like that color,” I said.

  “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well.”

  “Actually, I was secretly hoping you would ask us to come in.”

  She shrugged.

  “Please—come in.”

  “Thanks.”

  Muhammed had to be sitting there, of course, having himself a cup of coffee and looking good and at home. Although half-expecting it, I stopped midway in the door, but Ram pushed me forward, lightly, and closed the door behind us.

  “Good afternoon,” he said to the young Arab, and flashed his disarming smile.

  Muhammed smiled back.

  “Good afternoon,” he said.

  We were in a small, square room, furnished in Arab style, which gave it atmosphere, something you never find in Israeli apartments. There was a long, low table in the center and around it four small Arab stools. We sat down. Joy remained standing, leaning on the green door, looking down at us.

  “Any of you want a cup of coffee?”

  “Please,” Ram said.

  “I’d like tea,” I said, a bit aggressively, hoping I could at least start a quarrel, if nothing else.

  “O.K.,” Joy said, “amuse yourselves in the meantime.”

  She disappeared into a small kitchen.

  Muhammed put his small cup of Turkish coffee on the table and stared at us in polite curiosity.

  “Are you students?”

  “No,” I said, “we’re in the army.”

  “I am a student.”

  I didn’t give a damn what he was and didn’t want to know, but Ram’s interest rose immediately. Such topics appealed to him.

  “Where do you study?” he asked.

  The Arab smiled faintly.

  “Here in Jerusalem, at the Hebrew University. It is a most charming place.”

  “No student riots,” Ram suggested.

  “And no lynchings,” I added.

  Muhammed ignored me.

  “It is a most charming place,” he repeated.

  “What do you study?” Ram asked.

  “Political science and philosophy.”

  “Don’t you think,” I asked him, “that you profited quite some, here in Jerusalem, by losing the Six Day War?”

  He looked at me and smiled again.

  “No one likes to be ruled by strangers. Not even for a better education, but you do have more advanced systems than we have, and a very nice university.”

  “In which sometimes bombs explode,” I helped him along, “killing students, and lecturers, and other such armed soldiers.”

  “Yes,” he looked at me calmly, “that is most distressing.”

  “And yet,” I said, smiling at him, “the rumor’s that it is done by fellow students, who come from the eastern part of the city and who are seldom hurt on such occasions, and, in fact, rarely at all.”

  He just kept looking at me calmly. He was a cool one.

  “I’m an Arab,” he said finally. “And I am proud of it, but I would never plant a bomb in any place like a university. We are not all terrorists.”

  “You’ve just made me a happy man,” I said. “See? It’s easy.”

  Joy came into the room with the cups. She put them down on the table and sat down. I looked at her and she looked at Ram. I smiled to myself.

  “Having fun?” she asked.

  “Not much.”

  “Pity.”

  “Actually,” I said, “what we had in mind, was to pick you up and drive around a bit, since it is such a beautiful day, etc.”

  “Especially etc.,” she remarked. “So when are we going?”

  This surprised me. I didn’t expect to win at this round, and was filled with wonder.

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  She smiled. “Always ready.”

  “And you?” Ram asked Muhammed as I knew he would.

  Ram wouldn’t even shoot an enemy in the back.

  The Arab shook his head. “No, thanks. I was about to leave when you came. I have some things to attend to.”

  “O.K.,” I said, “so let’s get the hell out.”

  We went out and told Muhammed good-bye, and so long, and see you, and started driving with Joy sitting in front, by my side, and Ram in the back seat.

  “I have a virgin complex,” Joy said suddenly, “that’s why I wear white.”

  I drove to the western part of the city, trying to figure out which of the two possibilities this statement indicated. The girl seemed to be having a good time. She showed interest in everything we passed, and her face beamed.

  We went for a short walk in the Israel Museum. (“Got all those statues from Billy Rose, just like that,” she said as we went through the Art Garden. “How can you say this country’s running out of miracles?”)

  After that, we went, on her request, to Yad Vashem, which is the memorial for the six million Jews that were murdered by the Nazis. It’s in a small forest, on a hill on the outskirts of Jerusalem, and has a big library, and pictures, and all sorts of other things in memorium. I would never choose to visit this place since it is most depressing, and supposed to make one feel sentimental and considerate, not the way I like feeling. We walked around there for a long while, because Joy wanted to see it all and seemed much more shocked and concerned than I considered worth while some twenty-odd years after all that had taken place. When we finally left I sighed with relief. She shook her head. “That was awful,” she said.

  “Well, it’s the past.”

  She looked at me with surprise.

  “How can you say such a thing?”

  I shrugged.

  “It’s probably easier for you,” she commented as we approached the car, “you’re Jewish.”

  It occurred to me, then, that she was Christian.

  I drove to the Kennedy Memorial which is in the mountains, a few kilometers away from Jerusalem. I was obsessed by the newly acquired idea that Joy wasn’t a Jew. The oppressor. The girl with the virgin complex. I was suddenly wildly sexually attracted to her.

  The Kennedy Memorial is a white building in the shape of a cut tree. It is surrounded by young forests and, when not crowded, is most peaceful and pleasant. We walked around for a while and then sat down on the low stone fence by the parking lot. The sun was beginning to set.

  “I like this place,” Ram said.

&n
bsp; “Kennedy was a good guy.” I liked people who were young and beautiful and intelligent and rich and successful. They had to be good.

  “Lousy son of a bitch the man who killed him.”

  “Yes.”

  “Was he well liked here?” Joy asked.

  “Yes,” Ram said again. “But then, I think Kennedy was a symbol for youth all over the world,” he added.

  “So as not to get our hopes too high, he wasn’t made to last very long.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Joy said doubtfully. “I am not sure he was such a good President.”

  “What does that matter?” I said. “He had some charm, and style. He didn’t give the President the image of an undertaker this faceless bore does now.”

  “Take it easy,” Ram said.

  “It’s a gray world anyway,” I persisted.

  “I think I have to be going home,” Joy said. She looked dreamily at the red sunset.

  “What’s the rush?”

  “Well, I want to eat, and wash, and then go to some party I’m invited to.”

  I felt disappointed at that.

  “O.K.,” I said, “let’s go.”

  When she got out of the car in front of her house, Joy said, “Why don’t you go and have supper and then pick me up around nine?”

  I hesitated because I had the feeling this invitation wasn’t really sincere.

  She put her small white hand on my arm for a brief moment.

  “Well?”

  “O.K. If it means all that much to you.”

  She laughed and walked into the house.

  The party we went to also took place in a house in the Old City.

  The apartment belonged to a long-haired, strange-looking American named Alan. He seemed to be an old acquaintance of Joy’s. As we entered, he came to us enthusiastically and kissed her fondly on the cheek. He was short, maybe thirty and had a big black mustache.

  I disliked him immediately.

  As we went farther into the long, dimly lit room, it became clear that many of the people there knew Joy. They hugged her or kissed her, or slapped her on the back, or just shouted at her from wherever they were sitting. The place was rather crowded; mostly with Americans, but there were also a few Israelis, and two or three Arabs. Somewhere, in the background of the semidarkened room, a record player loudly played Aretha Franklin. Most of the guests were sitting on the floor or on small chairs and smoking. One or two couples were dancing, stumbling every now and then into the legs and arms of those who were sprawled on the floors. No one seemed to be saying much and through the thick, smoky air and faint light, it was hard to get a good look at the faces. You could, however, tell that they were by and large long-haired and dirty and not particularly worth seeing. I realized that Ram was not going to have the time of his life, and I wasn’t even sure about myself, though for different reasons.

  “I hope I am not corrupting either of you,” Joy said.

  We finally found three neglected cushions in one of the corners and crumpled onto them. She between the two of us.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I said to Joy truthfully.

  She was pressed close to me so that I could feel the warmth of her body through her thin white dress. I didn’t move at all, waiting to see what would happen next.

  A young American next to me handed Joy a cigarette and she put it in her mouth and inhaled deeply. Then she took it out and, putting her arm around my neck, placed it between my lips. She closed her eyes.

  “Have some grass, baby,” she said in her low-pitched voice.

  I took the smoke into my lungs and blew it out at length. I looked down at her chest, moving slowly with her breathing. Her breasts were clearly visible through the light material of her dress, which was white silk. She didn’t have anything under it.

  I moved my eyes away and looked up.

  There were two couples on the floor, doing a slow shake. One of the girls, a pretty black-haired American who was dancing with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted in abandonment, started unbuttoning her blouse. Underneath, she wore a black bra, and her tanned skin was sweating all over. It was very hot. I put my hand out and touched Joy’s neck. She was still sitting with her eyes closed, her head leaning backward, against the wall. She opened her eyes and looked wearily ahead of her. I offered the burning butt in my hand to Ram but he shook his head.

  “An officer and a gentleman,” I said to Joy. She didn’t react.

  My hand went down and dug inside her dress. I touched the warm skin of her breast, it was smooth and soft.

  “Dance?”

  I looked up. A tall blond American, whom I had not noticed before, was leaning over us.

  “Pleasure,” Joy said.

  She was up and away before I could say damn. The cigarette in my hand went out and I threw it on the floor. They started dancing. I glanced at Ram. He was watching the scene placidly, through half-closed eyes. He wasn’t looking for kicks. Ram was there just to keep me company.

  I shrugged helplessly, rested my chin on the palm of my hand and went back to regarding the blond couple. They were both excellent dancers and were obviously having a good time. In contrast with the phlegmatic, motionless figures around, they made a strangely vivid picture. Time went by and they kept swaying, showing no signs of fatigue.

  Someone tapped me lightly on the shoulder.

  “Have a joint, man.”

  Alan, the host, seated himself between Ram and me and offered me a freshly lit cigarette. His face twisted in a friendly grin.

  I took the cigarette and stared at it for a moment. Then I dropped it on the floor and crushed it with the heel of my shoe.

  Alan stared at me with utter bewilderment.

  “Now why did you have to do that, man?” he asked thickly.

  “That’s what I felt like doing,” I said happily.

  He shook his head.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, man.”

  I put my hand out and slapped him lightly on the cheek with my forefinger.

  “Don’t call me ‘man’,” I said to him. “I am not one of your bloody American friends.”

  He just sat there and stared at me uncomprehendingly.

  “Now, why did you say that?” he said, “I came here to settle.”

  I laughed for no reason.

  “Yankee, go home.”

  “I am as good a Jew as you are.”

  I slapped him on the back and laughed some more. I saw Ram stiffen.

  “Probably better,” I said, “probably better.”

  Ram shook me by the shoulder and started getting to his feet.

  “O.K., genius, we’re on our way.”

  His face remained impassive. He held out his hand and helped me to my feet. Joy and the tall American stopped dancing and came over to us.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  She was sweating and her dress was glued to her breasts and to her hips, so that the brown color of her skin showed through.

  “Oh, it’s you again,” I said.

  She studied my face with cool, pale blue eyes.

  “Take it easy, it’s only a party.”

  I turned away from her.

  “Oh, get out of my life.”

  I started walking out.

  Behind me I heard Ram’s calm voice. He was speaking to her.

  “He has his moods.” Pause. “That’s just the way he is.” Pause. “I’m really sorry about that.” Pause. “I hope you’ll have a good time.” Quiet.

  “Thank you.”

  Then he came after me.

  Chapter Four

  I WENT home and to bed without even brushing my teeth. I dreamed of a gray day in some unknown, ugly environment. Everything around was filthy and mucky and dirty. There was a strong, bad smell that came from nowhere. The thin gray walls, planted on the gray soil, added to the depressing atmosphere, even Joy added to it. She looked strange. Extremely thin, so thin, you could almost feel her bones underneath the S.S. uniform. E
ven the clothes were gray. It all seemed like a scene from a weird black and white movie. I couldn’t remember why I was there. The uniform I saw, as it all came closer, was ripped and torn. The missing pieces of cloth uncovered deep, ugly wounds, smeared with black blood. I looked at the pale, strained face and the white, strawlike hair that hung around in disorder, and wondered whatever aroused my interest in this girl. I was about to walk away from there when an invisible sniper began to play with his rifle. He was a crack shot. The bullets went squarely into Joy’s chest, making a dull, muffled sound as they crushed into the bone. I stuck my hands in my pockets and watched. She didn’t fall down and didn’t utter a word. Her eyes were opened wide and staring aimlessly. They were the only pretty thing about her. The shooting stopped abruptly but the sound didn’t. It was not the same as before, and was growing louder and louder until it became almost painful. I looked around, irritated, but there was nothing to see. Only the gray soil and the gray wall and the gray sky. My eyes fell back on her face. Her mouth was working frantically and it occurred to me that the loud, unpleasant noise was the sound of her screaming. I vaguely considered telling her to be quieter about her problems when I observed that her popping eyes were no longer aimless and I closed my half-opened mouth and followed her gaze. There was a small hole in the wall, just by her feet, and there were furry creatures eagerly crawling out of it. The rats started tearing zealously at her shabby clothes. They had long, glittering teeth and big bloodshot eyes. There were dozens of them, and their number was increasing constantly. They were eating the uniform quickly and it soon all disappeared. Joy made a helpless gesture with her hand and attempted to cover her breasts with a transparent arm, then dropped it lifelessly at her side and gave up. The small animals now started biting at her flesh. Her screams subsided and she sunk quietly to her knees. Her eyes focused on me, no longer wide and horrified. I lowered mine a bit. A vicious-looking rat which was bigger than his companions, climbed on her knee and thrust his teeth in her genitals. A dark stream of blood poured out. The rat pulled his hairy head back and stared at me for a moment from dark wolfish eyes. Then he pushed in again and disappeared in the recess of her body.